#because you want your kid to be happy against all the odds

[purecommemasolitude]

You guys ever think about s/c/a/r/e/c/r/o/w. Augh.

[i-cant-sing]

Mmmhhh thinking about Yandere Batfam reacting to a reader who runs a very popular blog where she absolutely bashes Batman and Robins- and the batfam takes your criticism very seriously. Maybe not at first, but then Damian (the easiest to tick) got pissed off when you wrote how "he's just a kid in a cheap Halloween costume" and when Damian gets pissed off, he whines. He whines and whines and whines until Dick and Bruce finally listen to him and do something about it. That's when they find out about the extensive threads about them, criticising meticulously each and every action of theirs, how they're causing more financial harm to Gotham and allowing themselves to be idolised and causing more people to comit crimes just so that they could have their 5 seconds of fame with Batman. And ofc theirs a whole page about the Batsignal.

I mean, Damian and Tim have already found out who runs the page (though they had a little bit of a hard time sniffing u out. You were good at covering your tracks). While Damian and Tim are busy going to "have a talk with you", Bruce is at home reading your entire blog about Batfam and realising how some of your points.... kinda makes sense. So, he buys the app where you write your blogs, then has Damian bring you over to the Wayne offices, where he explains he just wanted to meet the person running the blog that generates the most readers on the app. You, just a 23 year old student who's blogging as a side hustle.

You're obviously stunned because why are you meeting Bruce Wayne and also confused because again, why are you here exactly??? Bruce just says that he likes your insights and would like to know more, and he's happy to pay you by the hour you spend talking to him and also on the blog.

He's very much determined to make Batman and Robins be good in your mind, and not that he cares much about what people think about him, it doesn't hurt to have good PR for heroes, lest people should try revolting against Justice league and only end up hurting themselves. There's only so much he could do to calm his metahuman friends.

You're again- CONFUSED, but you like money. The only thing you tell him is that you get to write whatever you want, complete creative control and that you can write about anyone you wish. Ofc, it doesn't register to Bruce that you could possibly write against his family- against his name.

So in the beginning, things are going great. Reader continues making calculated judgements and comments about Batfam and how they could possibly improve themselves, the batfam takes note and tries to do most of the things. Then you'd write something that could almost be seen as praise for "changing their old ways" and they all feel a little bit proud. They don't realise it but some members of the batfam (like damian and Dick) start craving your approval of their actions.

Perhaps something happens, maybe you don't find it fun to write about the bats anymore, so you shift your mind towards a new topic-

The Wayne's.

You research a bit, finding it a little odd at Bruve Wayne's generosity to be adopting random ass kids, a super duper clean record, no scandals or anything- it just- it doesn't feel right. No one's that clean. They have to be hiding something.

So when u can't find anything against them, you let your imagination go wild and start making conspiracy theories, kinda feel like reader goes in her gossip girl era to stir things up so that someone would come forward with something- anything.

Bruce's eyes almost bulge out as he reads the blog's headline-

"The secrets of Gotham's favourite billionaire playboy!"

Shit- did you figure out he's batman?

Nope. In fact, you covered everything but that. From theories about him adopting troubled kids for PR, to the Wayne family actually being a chauvinist cult, to conspiracies about his ties with the Rothschild, his philanthropic donations being a front for illegal activity, the Wayne Manor holding lavish nsfw parties, and even a classic "they drink virgin maiden blood!"

Bruce stood in your apartment, eyes narrowing at your sleeping form on the couch.

"Bruce? What- how did you get in?" You don't remember unlocking your door.

"What is the meaning of this?" He pulled up your article on his phone.

"Huh?" You took a closer look, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. "Oh. Yeah, I wrote that."

"Why?"

You shrugged. "I was bored."

"What?" Bruce could feel himself getting angry. How could you be so nonchalant about the lies you wrote?

"You know this isn't true." "I do." "Then why did you write it?" "I told you, I was bored. Besides, you told me I could write about anyone." You get up with a sigh. "I don't get why you're so worried about this. Barely anyone reads this stuff."

Bruce's brows went up. "There's a 1000 plus views on this already!"

"What?" your eyes twinkled. "A thousand already? Its not even been 24 hours since I posted. Wow, people really do enjoy conspiracy-" you shut up when you saw his glare. "Right, sorry."

"Take it down, now." Bruce orders, brow twitching when you just walk past him and into the kitchen, pouring yourself some coffee. "Why?" you asks after taking a sip.

He glares at you. "Because it isnt true-"

"Then give me something that is."

Bruce stared at you. Is this... is this your way of wanting an interview?

You sighed. "Look, just let me interview you family, I promise to only write the truth and only the truth. No conspiracies, I swear."

"Or I could just fire you. Better yet, have you sued for defamation."

You nodded. "You could, but honestly that would only bring more attention to the articles and more conspiracies would arise. Besides, you and I both know you cant stop me from writing even if I'm in jail."

Bruce watched you walk upto him, holding your phone in your hand. "Come on, just one week- one week at your place, I'll even let you read the article before I post it. If you dont like it, I'll delete it."

I mean... it did sound like a pretty good bargain. Besides, at his home, youd be in a more supervised space.

So here you are, standing in the lobby of the Wayne manor as a posh butler leads you to Bruce's office. Of course Alfred will be a part of your articles. He's too fancy to not be.

And so over the course of a week, you dont really find anything particularly intriguing about the family, even after you interviewed each member. You're mentally groaning at the thought of writing yet another boring article... that is until you accidentally discover the batcave (ok not accidentally, u hid a recorder in Bruce's office and u heard the man discussing about it with Dick)

Anyways, it didnt take long for you to discover the cave, and it took you even less for you to write a scandalous article.

"RICH MAN COSPLAYS AND PRACTICES HIS JUJUTSU SKILLS ON THE MENTALLY ILL! SEE PICTURES OF WHERE HE ROLEPLAYS IN MASKS!"

Unfortunately, before you hit "post", your phone is snatched and you're knocked out.

When you come to, Bruce is sitting in front of you looking beyond pissed while you're tied up in your seat.

"We had a deal, Y/n." Bruce gritted out.

"So? Deal was off the moment I found out you were Batman." You shrugged.

"We had a deal-"

"You really expect me to just pretend like I'm blind after I found out who you really are? Do you think anyone would just give up on a scoop this big?" You tilt your head at him.

Bruce narrowed his eyes at you. "Scoop? Thats what this is to you?"

You nodded. "Sure, you're a hero who fights crime and brings "peace" to Gotham, but who knows for sure? After all, thats how you want the world to see you." You lean as far as your restraints allow you. "I dont trust you, Bruce. Not one bit. There's just- this gut feeling about you. Nothing personal, but I dont get good vibes from you."

"Is that so?" Bruce raised his brow before sighing. "I guess there's no reason to let you go then."

"What?"

He nodded to himself. "Yes, if I let you go now, you'll only cause more trouble for me, but also for yourself. If you post content like that, people will target you- yes, I definitely cant let you go. You're an impulsive idiot who'd endanger herself just to not be bored."

Your eyes widen. "You cant kill me."

Bruce scoffed. "Dont be ridiculous, I can, but I wont. I just want to take care of you, protect you from yourself." He stood up. "I did a little bit of research on you too, yknow? You keep your personal life super private, I have to give credit to you, it wasnt easy to find out about your family. But... money makes the mare go."

Your throat dried as you saw a glint in his eyes. He knew... he couldnt-

Bruce's footsteps echoed as he neared you and ruffled your hair. "Poor you... having to deal with a schizoprenic mom." He leaned down to smile gently at you, but you could sense the sinister intent.

"Dont worry, she'll be taken care of at Gotham Asylum while you stay with us."

girl idk where i was going with this, i just needed to get it out of my drafts (i have another long incomplete draft about platonic yandere dick x gymnast reader where he basically is intrigued by this mini tonya harding who lives for her dead beat father's approval who doesnt give a shit about her unless she comes first. so its upto dick to adopt u and make u a part of batfam)

[b00tyliciousbabe]

munch

bisexualbigboybf! x THICC!male reader

summary: manifesting my future husband

notes: THANKS FOR 1k ppl dem! BEEN IN DRAFTS FOR A WHILE. i think there needs to be some more love + appreciation for bi men and big boys so i amalgamated the two. not a fetish y’all, just a preference, they be taking care of my inner princess and for that i will ALWAYS be grateful. a lot of feminisation in this one so tread carefully. it’s a lil messy (jumps in tenses and stuff like that) but i litch couldn’t focus without getting too excited. ENJOY MY HEARTS.

song rec: normani - big boy (feat. starrah)

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your big boy bf didn’t think he had a chance with you at first, nor did he even want one. at first he hated you, watching how all the other men in your life were one flirty conversation away from having a piece of your juicy ass, and how the girls envied and coveted your thick hourglass figure. your sweet personality sickened him ; you made sure to give them your gym routine and your diet, being the beauty guru you were. but what he realised, was not that he hated you, but that he hated not having you. when he realised this, he needed you, more than anything.

you embodied a refreshing style of hyper femininity that made you all the more attractive to your bi man. seeing your body in its thick glory made him love himself more. how your belly added to your voluptuous figure, your plump cheeks, and fleshy muscle surrounding your chest and thighs, he was mesmerised by your form. you were, in his eyes, divine. little did he know that you had fallen first; his broad shoulders, strong biceps and pudgy belly practically had you ovulating. your gigantic teddy bear, standing at a foot taller than you, had a heart of gold and this protective aura around him, enamoured you.

when you debuted your relationship online, you were met with a flurry of mainly positive responses. yeah sure there were the odd few denouncing your femininity and body shaming y’all, but you ignored them because you don’t have to convince the world that you’re THEE baddie b and your man is the sexiest mf to ever exist.

luvagoalz: they are literally the embodiment of the wattpad height difference. I NEED.

user222: y/n getting dicked down DAILY by a giant is so girlboss of him.

sza: bestie got himself a big boy - y/n send me the deets for the wedding.

your bf is a huge gym rat and when you two became exclusive, your already voluptuous figure became all the more defined with his help. you were flawless. you love seeing him in the gym, sweating as the veins in his forearms pop out making him look so attractive. he definitely enjoys your company there, teasingly rubbing his bulge against your ass and face when no one was watching. his exhibitionist kink goes crazy seeing how beautifully your workout clothes hug your butt and cinch your waist. he used to be slightly insecure about his stretch marks but after a cool down session, and you complimenting them like lightning bolts imprinted on his skin, he felt superhuman. you always knew what to say to make him feel better.

he’s so protective of you. always sleeps on the side closest to the door and isn’t afraid to send someone to hospital if they even look at you the wrong way, or in a manner he doesn’t like. in his mind he’s seeded you and you’re literally carrying his kids and thus it’s his responsibility to protect you. it’s almost primal. he isn’t controlling or anything, but finds it incredibly important to remind you that with him you are completely safe.

they say the best way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, and boy was that the case during your talking stage. it was perfect; you love to cook and so he’s more than happy to try your baked goods. your boyfriend loves his sleep on the weekends and so in true house husband fashion you often prepare breakfast in an apron with your thick cheeks hanging out from behind. one day he woke up to the sweet smell of you making his favourite. groggily stumbling into the kitchen, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, long dick swinging out of his briefs as he advanced towards you.

‘good morning love.’ his deep voice sent shivers down your spine as he kissed the words into your neck. he held onto the groove of your hips, caressing your lower back with the tip of his index finger and watched as you writhed beneath him. ‘babe, what are you doing up? you need your sleep, you’ve been working so hard lately.’ you said, breathing haphazardly as he ground himself into you. ‘i missed you. and i want my morning kisses.’ beginning to untie your apron he turned you around, and removed the lace from around your neck. hiking you up on the table top, the heat of your bare ass, that his dick previous massaged into you, was cooled by the granite. you wrapped your legs around him, as your hands stroked his beard. wiping that shit eating grub off of his face, your lips came closer to his own, as you could feel his heartbeat in his throat - this man is so in love with you. the kiss lasted quite a while, precum staining the opening of his boxers and pooling on your thighs. you knew that you were about to be fucked dumb and so you turned of the hob to avoid burning the house down. the fire inside y’all was more than enough to keep you going.

your man doesn’t fully realise his own strength. he was very hesitant to have sex with you for a while and mostly stopped at groping you before his dick got too hard to ignore. so, for your first time, he had to refrain literally ripping your clothes to get to the prize of your nudity. he absolutely loves seeing you (try to) deepthroat. the reason? his size kink goes insane when you attempt to take his gigantic package. this man is LONG and GIRTHY, capable of splitting you in half and abusing all your spots with ease. the veiny sausage he’s packing could do some serious damage but he held back when it came to your first couple times with him.

he always takes time to ensure that your safe and comfortable. initially his size intimidated you, your mannerisms connoting your subtle anxiety. he kissed the fear out of you, reassuringly saying, ‘you know I would never do anything to hurt you.’

your boyfriend is the KING of consent, always ensuring that you want his big cock just as much as he wants to feel the warmth of your boy pussy. one day whilst he was working from home, he noticed you squirming like an omega in heat. he sighed and smirked. ‘d’you want me to fuck you?’ he burst out. already used to his blunt disposition, you nodded. advancing closer towards you, staring down at the desperation in your face, he stroked your hair. ‘use your words y/n, i wanna hear how badly you want it.’ his charisma practically had you high. ‘I need you, please.’ you began to undo the string that held up his joggers, as he removed his tshirt. ‘i can never say no to my baby boy.’ he smiled, pants bunching at his ankles as he slowly railed on the edge of your shared bed.

he encourages you to take him fully each time, praising you because no one else had been able to take him past halfway. ‘i know baby, i know, do it one more time for me.’ he said endearingly, wiping the tears from your face as his dick invaded your throat.‘THERE IT ISSS UGH FUCK! i love your mouth.’ he cooed.

equally, your bf is the only man you’ve been with that’s been able to satisfy you sexually. you steered clear from all the men who were only interested in your body and not your heart and so you had very minimal experience outside of toys and your hands. the few you may or may not have been with were damn near clueless. on the other hand…your man has had plenty of hoe phases. it sly bugged you how he’d been intimate with a greater number you could’ve imagined but all that disappeared when he first made love to you. the best thing about him is that he can handle allat that ass. despite the clear size difference this doesn’t stop you from being a FREAK. He even encourages it. loving your thick globes of ass flesh kiss his lower belly as you push back and twerk all over his dick. his favourite part of your shape are your hips. he wants to breed you full of his children.

whenever he says ‘fuck yeah baby, back that shit up.’ it sends you orbital. it’s well known that the two of you share a huge affinity for doggy. the way you stroke his pudginess while he rails you in that position has become a safety mechanism - one that he has learnt to make the experience all the more enjoyable. with one hand holding you up (realistically struggling to, under the sheer passion of his fucking) and the other one bent behind your back fingering his belly button. his huge dick borderline tears you open and by grabbing onto him makes you feel safe. he usually recognises that it’s getting a bit too much when your moans become screams, and you get tighter. and as much as he loves seeing you overstimulated and fucked out on his cock, he doesn’t wanna break you (completely). so he slows down, soothing your pain with sweet nothings and his large hands massaging your ass cheeks.

for him personally though, he loves to smush you underneath his weight. in prone bone, he has direct access to your ear, whispering words of affirmation but degrading you with the grip of his arms around your neck. his beard hair softly touching your cheek, causing a wave of bliss to hit you, always gets him going. he knows you love hearing him praise you; his grunts are so delectable, a symphony with the percussion of him clapping tf outta your cheeks. as you whine like a lil bitch, they become guttural, like an alpha in his rut. the carnal passion of your heavier and rougher sessions reveal a callous side to his possessive nature. dangerous how much it turns you on.

words can’t really describe how much you love his stomach, happy trail adorning his belly, and riding him offers you the opportunity to see allat that on a platter. his smirk as he tries to contain his excitement that your his and only his.

on the topic of eye contact, you’re favourite mutual position is definitely missionary - your bf adores every inch of you. how your body becomes compliant. your hole crafted to take his big dick. the way it pierces through the walls of your pussy, massaging your gumminess. he sometimes drools from how lost he can be in the experience. ‘take my cock, yhhh baby, fuckkkk.’

slowing down his jack hammering pace, he’d lean forward with his low hanging balls rutting into you agonizingly slow.

‘you like that shit, huh baby? yeah? loving on my dick so well.’ whispering as he begins to mark your collarbone. then moving upwards onto your neck, massaging your previously pummeled throat as you looked up, desperate to kiss him. he exhales into your mouth, breathing life into you that he had taken away with his hard thrusts. his softness escaped as quickly as it arose, thrusting his entire load into you.

‘shit’ you scream as he laughs hoarsely, the rasp in his voice a melting honey.

in the same position, you love his cum face. something about how his eye and nose scrunch as he pants and grunt deeply. his beard ticking your chin. it also allows him to be vulnerable with you. he would hold your head cradling it with an affection rivalled only by how sweetly his tip kisses your prostate with each lengthy thrust. when he first enters, he’s checking to see if your okay, if you want more lube. you say no. legs just above his hips, you bring your hand to stroke his beard as he concentrates on directing his dick in a way that doesn’t make him cum immediately upon re entry.

‘i love you.’ you say getting all emotional from how well he’s treating you. ‘I love you too y/n.’ he leans down for more kisses as your hand now snakes around the back of his head.

he stops, letting you catch your breath, playing with your hair and caressing your face lovingly. your arms drop immediately at the warmth of his touch. he lifts and cradles your head, a delicacy opposing his rough demeanour.

‘I fucking love you,’ your bf grunts, placing forehead kisses, panting, as he starts moving faster. your legs now wrapped tightly around his abdomen like a vice. he plants both hands behind your head, balling his fists at either side of your head to create the perfect foundation to fuck you hard. brings one of his hands to cradle your hair and to bring your head closer to his. your temples meet ensuring that you’re so close and intimate. the man brings his body up, still inside you, collects your legs together, one leg on each shoulder holding onto the thick flesh of your upper thighs, allowing you to adjust, before toppling over onto you again to get deeper inside your pussy. later, moving his hands up to behind your knees, his rugged fingertips grip the flesh of your hamstrings.

your boyfriend brings his fingers up to stroke your cheeks and remove the hair sticking to your face. he’s growling at his need to go ham, but he exercises self-control as a means to take care of you. however, what he doesn’t realise is that his painfully slow strokes transport you to a utopia of bodily ecstasy.

he ABSOLUTELY loves seeing the imprint of his girthy cock in your stomach, pressing down on it to add to your respective pleasures. and when you both reach the top of the mountain, the visual of you being completely fucked out on his huge pole, as it protrudes through your stomach which is now decorated with your own personal release, makes him wanna rail you again. and again. until you pass out or his dick becomes limp. the latter would never happen because wherever you are, that cocks gonna be UP.

aftercare is so underrated with him. in his past relationships, it was usually a hit and quit it situation - his words not mine. thus he didn’t really know what to do at first. he’s so used to hookup culture, that he never bothered. but with you, he knew he had to change; one, because he knew you’d never let him near you again if he didn’t take care of you, but mainly two, because you were his and he had a responsibility to cherish you. considering you literally couldn’t walk and body was limp, your man needed to ensure you were taken care of. though he always reassures you, you make sure to do the same. the first time you spooned him he slept like a baby. BIG BOYS NEED CUDDLES TOO Y’ALL.

he gets really apologetic, constantly asking ‘did I go to rough.’ as he massages the bruises on your hips. sometimes feels guilty that he fucks you too hard. You put his mind at ease telling him that you do like it. your bubble butt and tight hole were made to take his cock.

this still doesn’t stop him from confessing to you; ‘baby, I’m so sorry.’ he kisses your skin. ‘when I see that ass if yours jiggle, it drives me crazy, I just can’t stop.’ it often leads to him overcompensating. as the his cum seeps out of your obliterated cunt. he just wants to make you feel safe. the same safety he feels when he’s with you.

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tag list:

@gayaristocrat

@ghostking4m

@lysanderplume

[justanothervigalanty]

Jason’s little guy

you and Jason were in the hospital. With a 4 hour old baby boy who was tiny. Very tiny. In all seriousness he was lucky to be alive unlike you you wished you were dead welst expecting child birth for the first time. But yeah your little boy was an early baby and when I say early I mean you were only 32 weeks pregnant and had only recently told your families! This was probably the most stressful terrifying thing for not only you but Jason because your water didn’t just break no no no. Jason needed backup in crime alley and you were the closest person so you put on your suit, red mast and went to kick some criminal ass. Jason was not happy about you being there but he needed the support so he didn’t complain. Until one off the shooters must off notice you small but visible pregnant belly. So take a wild guess at we’re this idiot kicked you. Your stomach. To which you feel to the floor in shock and well according to Bruce the red stain all up his suit was ketchup. So that’s how you ended up in the hospital. Yay (no). Jason had been waiting since the moment you both had talked about kids, holding a small mini him in his arms. But the odds were against him because well the kids check ups took about 1 hour to make sure he was okay and you needed to try Brest feed him which he wouldn’t take. Back to the checkups, he also to Jason’s horror had needed a injection around 1 inch long in his arm and thay just did it right there in front off him before carrying Jason’s screaming baby away again!? He just wanted to hold his son so when they brought him in and handed him to you he immediately gestured that he wanted to hold his kid. So you handed him over showing Jason how to support his head and not to squish him. God you had never seen your boyfriend so happy in your life. He didn’t say anything for about 10 minutes he just sat there staring at his son. Then around 3 doctors walked in. “Um miss L/n and mr Todd we believe your son may have some sort of genetic illness” one said walking over to a now very worried Jason with you terrified on the hospital bed. “As you can see your son has a very bold streak of white and we noticed his eyes Are glow in the dark green.” The doctor said as your son opened his eye to reveal your E/c past on to him. “What?! His eyes were green we all saw it not E/c!” Just then you and Jason laughed a bit. “What why are you laughing this is a serious issue you’re son could be permanently sick!?” Another said a bit disgusted. Jason just laughed and pulled down the hood on his jacket to show his jet back hair and white steak “it’s just some genetic from me” he said “and the eye thing is just how y/n’s eyes look in some light” Jason said holding your hand. “Oh then you should be good to go this evening. Which you gladly did. But there was a change off place you went over to Wayne manor because you had realised you hadn’t told anybody about your baby’s sudden birth. So when you walked in with a hospital bracelet and Jason holding what looked like a small pile of baby blankets Bruce was confused and concerned. “Y/n! Jason! We didn’t see you on the group patrol last night are you ok?” He asked standing up. “Well you could say that” Jason said walking over and handing over your son to him. “I told you I was good at keeping secrets” you said walking over “he is tiny!”

[running-on-coffee-and-anxiety]

Know what? I'm gonna try throwing my hat into the ring for Danny Phantom.

I accidentally electrocuted myself as a kid and never told anybody- nothing serious, I grabbed the three exposed prongs of a half plugged in laptop charger in the middle of the night and didn't want to get in trouble since nobody else was awake. Even if it isn't fatal, it's terrifying and your vision completely blacks out and your arm tingles for days afterwards, and for the whole day after you got shocked your fingers on the hand that grabbed the prongs will randomly twitch, open or close or jerk to the side. You have no control, it's like when the doctor hits your knee to check your reflexes.

Now, from what I can tell from the scene where Danny went ghost for the first time, he really was electrocuted. From what I can tell, his ghost and human halves seem kinda separate- not completely, but the change is there. Where is this going?

Danny never told anyone about the accident- not anybody that could help him, anyways. I propose that, since he never got medical treatment or physical/occupational therapy after the accident, his motor function deteriorates over time.

More specifically, his small motor function is effected- I will be using personal experience in this section, since my small motor skills were so bad I couldn't use zippers or tie my shoes until I was 12, but I'll try putting things in reverse.

Danny starts fumbling with tying his shoes, laughing it off as being tired. Buttons take a few minuets, and even snap buttons become a bit hard. Odd, mildly confusing, but nothing to be concerned about. Then it progresses. He can't properly use tools anymore, it's like nothing is ever precise enough, everything takes a few tries to get it right. His fingers are fumbling everything, his handwriting turns to chickenscratch that not even he can read at times, he struggles to comb his hair because it's hard to coordinate movements, his back teeth are always textured because he struggles to brush his teeth and he can't really reach the back ones properly anymore.

I don't know if this is connected to small motor or not, but he starts dragging his feet and the toes of his shoes wear out quicker because walking while lifting his feet any higher doesn't feel right. This was something I had fixed during occupational therapy, but I don't know if it was just me or not.

Eventually, it becomes sunlight-on-clean-pact-snow levels of blindingly obvious that something is incredibly wrong. Danny's hair is knotted and half-matted because he is unable to brush it properly, when he smiles there is plaque on some parts of his teeth and not others, he always wears slip-on shoes or his laced shoes are always untied, buttons always seem like they could unslip because they're only half-buttoned, zippers in his jackets getting stuck in shirts and he doesn't bother to fix it, teachers can no longer read his assignments and his friends can't read his notes. Nobody can ignore it, but nobody knows how to help when Danny gets so clearly frustrated when he has to do something with his hands and it just doesn't work. It seems like he suddenly developed a hole in his lip, since he always had to lean far over his bowl or plate to not end up on food with his shirt because his hands can't hold silverware steady.

But Phantom? None of those issues. He became a ghost after being electrocuted, of course. Why would there be damage from the initial creation of this half? It could be why he ends up enjoying fighting the ghosts, his hands actually work with him instead of against him.

Feel free to take this idea and do what you want with it, I really liked writing this!

Also if you use this for a fic, please comment the link if possible, I wanna see all the ways people use this :)

Edit: So I started a mini-series about this. Is it any good? Probably not, but writing makes me happy.

Noticed But Hoping For The Best

[esthercore]

𝐇𝐨𝐧𝐤𝐚𝐢 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐥 𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐞 (#𝟏)

(Gn! Reader)

Aventurine | Jing Yuan and Blade | Dan Feng | Veritas Ratio | Boothill

CW: bullying duh, mild(?) exhibitionism, a bit of a power play, reader is sort of a wimp, tiny dub-con, high school au

Aventurine was one of the cool boys in school, rich, popular, and damn attractive, but one of the sweeter one at that or that's what you thought, as your and his mom introduced you two, as new neighbors. You, one of the poor kids, the one labeled as a charity case.

God, the way he glared at you, like he wanted to kill you was enough to send you into a panic attack, as you immediately excused yourself. The next time you went out of your house, he cornered you, dragging you in on the building's rooftop, pinning you against the railings, half your back hanging in the air, threatening to cut your tongue off if you dared utter a word to this to anyone in school.

Since that day, your high school has been a living hell, as he made his goal to instill fear in you, after all he can't have you, spilling his secret out, the illusion of his power ruining.

You weren't dumb, it was all too obvious to see his mightier-than-thou persona, was a facade to fit in. Yet, you being the little wimp you are, you put up with his bullying, it only started as few teases, and remarks, which you didn't mind much.

After all, you were used to such treatment by his friends already but, this was also a surprise for them too, since you were the first one the Aventurine ever picked on.

All was just fine, till he started invading your safe space, your home after school, because, luck could never be on your side, as your mothers became besties, bonding over being single parents bonding of two teenagers. So you sat every weekend during dinner, in front of Aventurine, as he put on his good-boy act, and you had to witness, your damn mother coddling your bully, all too oblivious.

Holy mother Gaiathra, how tempted you were to tell your mom about all the bullying, but seeing how much she enjoyed the company of her new friend new friend, your bully's mom, you decided to suck it up, for the sake of her happiness.

But soon his actions started getting more and more invasive, as he started shoving you around the hallways, forcing you to sit beside him during lectures, throwing paper balls at you when you refused, and so on. But none compare to the times when he forced you to not attend your classes, dragging you to a random hide outs, making you sit beside him, as he hung out with his friends, bunking classes, as they sat somewhere playing poker or other stupid games.

And don't you dare utter a word when he's playing, 'cause then the hand that's been resting on your shoulder this whole time, will find it's way under your shirt, pinching your cute little nipples?

The first time this happened, was the first time you physically tried to fight back, only to get laughed at by his friend, as they coaxed you into accepting it, after all, it's Aventurine, everyone's dream boy, giving a loser like you his attention, 'you better learn to appreciate it'.

So you did, you learned to just stay there and take it, as his punishment soon turned into a normal occurrence, sometimes making you sit on his lap, as he played, absentmindedly playing with your chest, as you squealed and nuzzled into the crook of his neck, trying to save face, which surprisingly none of his friends found odd, sometimes the one closest to him taking the lead and making you join their little hangout, cause they "like seeing Aventurine happy".

And the worst of it all were, your friends, who teased and shipped you together. How sweet of them to ship you with your damn bully, who invades your personal space, and makes you feel so gushy-mushy inside.

This isn't a romance novel after all!

No, no he's not getting softer to you, giving you random trinkets, like some cute stationary or a toy he won in the arcade. And your heartbeat definitely didn't start rising up whenever you were sitting beside him in class, as he laid a hand on your thigh, before dozing to sleep.

You're just - just going crazy! That's it, crazy enough to let (help) him sneak into your room at night and let him hold you as you both drift to sleep, as he apologized for being mean to you, his hand under your shirt, your arm around his waist, only to wake up alone the next day.

It was supposed to be a one-time thing! When you let him in through because you saw him, crying, and drunk, on the same rooftop, he once threatened to throw you off.

But, you couldn't help it, Aventurine, no Kakavasha, as he made you call him, was just a lonely boy, who wanted fame and power, amongst others, just a boy insecure of not having the same status as his peers, and your heart softens at the fact, after all, you too were once insecure as a child, well not as crazy as Aventurine, going as far as using a different, fancier name in school, or doing reckless stuff to fit in, but everyone has their own story to tell, right?

Perhaps, you could be his friend, he's sweet enough when not in front of others and maybe you are fine with his little groping, right? His friends do call you his lucky charm. Just friends, sure.

Just two friends who sneak in kisses between classes in private, just two friends who found each other under each other sheets in the dead of night, just two friends who hung out randomly in cute little places like cafes, or arcades, but only the ones far away from school, as he still gave you the same treatment in school.

All until one usual day in the hallway, as you were busy stuffing your lockers, and one of his 'friends', a rando, who sometimes joins in, who you didn't know much about, except the fact that he's loaded decided you were the perfect punching bag, to release his anger on.

He pushed you against a wall, his fist up, as you cowered, trying to cover your face, but the punch never came, only a tiny cracking noise, and gasps from the students around you.

Slowly, you removed your arms that were blocking your vision, only to see the boy lying on the ground nose bloodied, and Aventurine glaring at him.

Before you could even say anything Aventurine grabbed your arms and dragged you into an empty classroom, pulling you in a big hug, apologizing profusely.

Thud* Thud* Thud*

You could hear your heartbeat in your ears, as you nuzzled in his embrace.

"This would never happen again, I make sure of it," he promised, looking into your eyes with genuine care and sorrow. The same boy who was so desperate for others' approval, just broke someone's nose in front of so many people, to save a pathetic loser like you.

Your brain freezed at the thought, you didn't even think what you were doing and immediately got on your tip toes, grabbed his collar and smashed your lips together, you saw his eyes widen for a second, and then his gaze softened, as he grabbed your waist pulling you in, and closed his eyes.

After few seconds you both pulled away, and your eyes meet again, except both of your visions were blurry, due to the tears flooding in.

Maybe, you didn't want to be friends anymore, but you didn't get much chance to ponder on it, as in only few for the whole school now, you were already labeled his, something he took pride in (you too).

So as the night fell, you two found him in your bed again, nuzzling into you in his sleep, except this time you woke up next to his pretty face and got peppered with kisses first thing in the morning.

(After that you both got teased a lot by your mothers)

imma post some yan! Aven soon, this was too sweet for me, but i can't see this boy being too mean, unlike some others (everyone else) on the roster

[coeurify]

actually on my knees begging for a girl next door blurb with Ellie

like imagine moving into the house next to her’s and her being all grumbly and closed off because she cannot physically face the reader because she’s just a loser lesbian and OMG THE UNKNOWN PINING SUJDJSNSNDB

I NEED HER I CANT-

WHERE IS THE LOVE FOR LOSER GND!ELLIE ⁉️

giggles.. cause like.. yea.

if we r talking modern!ellie, oh god would it be the most cliche shit ever (plz tell me if u want jackson!ellie version cause i’d be happy to do that too. or jus more of this concept) [not edited]

⋆˚✿˖° im talking, ellie looking out from her window in her old house, eyes narrowing as a moving truck pulled into the pretty blue house next door. the neighborhood had been recently taken over by young families, which ellie hated— cause why was she being interrupted in her ‘laying in her bed while blasting music and complaining to herself’ alone time by a bunch of kids screaming outside? either way. she expected another one of these cases.

⋆˚✿˖° but then you popped out, trying to handle three boxes all on your own, cheek pressed against the cardboard as you yelled something ellie couldn’t hear to whoever else was in moving truck. you had glanced over at ellie’s house, maybe even up at her window. and maybe ellie was just dramatic, but she flipped away from that window and face down onto her bed so quickly she was pretty sure it was a new record. because fuck you were pretty.

⋆˚✿˖° and it only got worse later, when el was pulling her hair down from its bun, glancing the sun pressing below the clouds. her fingers moved to close the curtains of her window, and there you were, standing at the window directly across from hers. like— shit straight from a taylor swift music video or something.

⋆˚✿˖° and you, almost as awkward as her, let your hands fall down from their place above your head. you had been putting up shades, but once you caught the gaze of your messy haired neighbor, you smiled at her. fuck, you smiled and waved and ellie just turned away and shut her curtains. you know, like the master at social interactions she was.

⋆˚✿˖° a twin frown painted both your lips at the interaction that night, and at the same time you both huffed out, “god, why’d i do that?”

⋆˚✿˖° nothing really got better from there. not when your family forced you over to ellie’s house with a plate of cookies, your sweet smile the first sight ellie had seen that day as she turned the doorknob to shoo away some girl scout selling something. “we don’t need— oh— oh hi.”

⋆˚✿˖° you looked so fucking pretty. ellie was sure it was fake. maybe she was still in bed dreaming. maybe this was about to turn into one of those really weird s- never mind. you were talking now, and not asking to borrow sugar, so definitely real. “hi! uh— I just, we— i mean, my family, we just wanted to introduce ourselves. and give a gift i guess,” you glance to the plate of wrapped up treats and chuckle lightly. because really, cookies?

⋆˚✿˖° ellie was about red as the shirt she was wearing, stammering a thank you as joel creeped behind her at the door. “you the new neighbors kid?” joel had asked, making ellie clam right up. she backed away from the door, like— just side shuffled out of your view with an awkward wave.

⋆˚✿˖° your eyes followed her, fighting back the odd sense of disappointment that you were no longer staring at the freckled and flushed face of your new neighbor. “uh, yea—yes sir.” you eventually spoke again, offering your grin to joel instead.

⋆˚✿˖° one time joel was doing yard work the same time your family was outside working on the garden. you were fanning your sweating cheek with your hand, the warmth from the sun along with carrying in and out heavy tools was not exactly ideal, and you only felt more heated when ellie came outside the door at the exact moment joel ended up making conversation with your mother.

⋆˚✿˖° “your girl in college?” you could hear him ask, but it was lightly muffled, your attention instead on watching as ellie struggled to bend over and tie her converse against the wall. what an odd way to do it. she was balancing some sort of notebook between arm.. maybe pencils too? did she draw? or maybe write? why couldn’t you stop wondering about it?

⋆˚✿˖° your mom answered joel’s question with some version of the story she always does, gushing about how you were doing so well in school, how she was so proud of you. you didn’t tune back in until joel was speaking again, “ah yea, my — well, ellie, she’s in school too. physics major. but she’s got this thing for astronomy too. kid’s always talking about double majoring.”

⋆˚✿˖° god, she was cute and smart? and her name was ellie? you swore the sun got even hotter at the thought of her talking to you about quantum something-or-other, just nodding along. god you could see it now. a hand in that pretty auburn hair.. mumbling ‘mhm.. whatever you say ellie.’

⋆˚✿˖° then you saw her trip down the stairs on her porch as she looked over. full on hand on the side of the stairs to keep her from eating shit on the rocks there. you sucked your bottom lip between your teeth, stifling a giggle as you wave her way. only to be given a tight lipped smile as she quickly moved away to her car. god. what an odd girl.

⋆˚✿˖° ellie simply lost it the moment she sat in her car, groaning loudly as she slammed her sketch book on her face. “stupid fucking shoes!” she muttered, as if it was the shoes fault for tripping, and not the way she had been intently staring at your face from across the yard. definitely not.

⋆˚✿˖° but really she couldn’t help it, you looked so good, you were wearing shorts, and ellie was happily taking in the sight of skin before that evil fucking creaky porch board got her tumbling down. fuck. she couldn’t ever talk to you again. not ever. she let her head fall to the steering wheel as she went through a million and one ways to simply become invisible and escape any way of running into you. maybe she should become nocturnal.

⋆˚✿˖° but when she let her head fall to the steering wheel, it honked. like a loud, drawn out honk that had you, joel, and your mother’s head turning to the direction of the sound.

⋆˚✿˖° ellie screeched, and you pressed fingers to your lips to contain another smile. you were pretty sure living here was going to be kind of great.

[mayhemories]

Hi could you possibly write Neteyam x reader?

- Reader is best friends with Kiri and has feelings for Neteyam

- Reader sees herself as ugly, undesirable and believes Neteyam sees her as a little sister

- Yet Neteyam loves her and respects her

- Sexual tension between Neteyam and reader. linger hands and sneaking glances

- Kiri notices and secretly sets them up one night

Best Friend's Brother

Oh Jesus Christ I loved writing every moment of this, but I kinda strayed away from your last point in the request, I'm sorry! I still hope it satisfies <3

Pairing: Neteyam Sully x Reader (James Cameron’s Avatar) 

Requested: Yes | No

Warnings: Just fluff, some lowkey spice. No minors, get outta here! Reader is insecure and self-conscious, Neteyam puts a stop to that rather quickly. 

Words: 3.7k

Author’s Notes: 

Neteyam is 19, reader is 18 but only a few months older than Kiri. Lo’ak and Kiri are roughly 17, moving on to 18. Lil Tuk girl queen is the same age as the movie because I will protect her childhood. How old even is she? 8? Maybe im a fake fan. 

Please note that the reader utilises she/her pronouns. If you’d prefer male or gender-neutral pronouns in fic I’m more than happy to repost a male or gn version of the story, otherwise include any pronoun preferences in the request box!

Read below the cut:

High Camp provided so much warmth, love and safety for its people. You were not old enough to remember Hometree or the destruction of it. But you could not imagine living anywhere else but in the densely protected cave systems of the Hallelujah Mountains. 

Everyone knows everyone, all the kids play together, live together, laugh together. The community that Olo'eyktan Jake Sully, and his mate, Neytiri had fostered here was against all odds. 

Your mother was one of the most talented hunters in the clan, this love of hunting easily transferred to warmongering, alongside the leadership (or maybe the leashing of your mother’s bloodlust) from Neytiri and Toruk Macto. Neytiri and your mother grew up together, so closely. Neytiri never forgets her friends and knows every name and face of the clan. You couldn’t help but admire her for this. Your father, on the other hand, was an irreplaceable healer and herbalist. He worked alongside T’sahik Mo’at, training younger Na’vi who showed promise in interpreting the ways of Eywa’s medicinal signs. With your family’s connection to the Sully’s, it was impossible to avoid them, even if you wanted to. 

You grew up with the Sully kids, being a year younger than Neteyam, their eldest, and only a few months older than Kiri and Lo’ak, the four of you would always be playing. Running through the majestic forests of Pandora, swimming through creeks, lakes and rivers, kissing the dirt as you rolled down hills into meadows of wildflowers. The older you got the closer you got to Kiri. The sister you’ll never have. 

You loved your parents, you did, but they made it clear that one child was enough for them. Your father loved the Sully’s as you did, he thought with his entire heart that Jake was the best for the clan. He was Toruk Macto, after all. Your mother, however, made things harder. She loved Neytiri like a sister, and always wished for her happiness. 

“I remember when Jake was like a baby, you know.” She would say at mealtimes, your father would have a small smile. You could do nothing but roll her eyes. “He was trouble maker, still is.” She was grumpy. You knew that she trusted Jake and saw him as a good Olo’eyktan, but the disdain grew from your friendship with his kids. 

“His boys are the same, no different.” She would always say the same thing, with the same pointed look. 

You and Kiri had just finished your rituals of womanhood the week prior. For the both of you finding a mate was expected. For Kiri, nothing was ever expected in terms of mateship. In fact it was almost the opposite.

“You never have to do something you don’t wanna do, Babygirl” Jake said, smoothing down Kiri’s wild hair. The two of you sat in the middle of the floor in the Sully’s tented home. Braiding beads into your songchords to commemorate the recent transition from child to adult. 

“What about you, (y/n)?” Neytiri asked, watching the two young girls weave their cords, reminiscing on her own bead.  

You sighed, knowing your parents had been pushing the topic for a while:

“What about Tsu-wey? Or, Marek or Teyk’ah?” Your mother said, rattling off the names of warrior boys, flinging her arms around, exasperated. You shook your head, you weren’t really interested in anyone. 

Your father, always taking the approachable, personal angle, sat next to you, tucking your shoulders under his arm. 

“What about Aäna? She’s a lovely girl-” 

“Dad!” You shot up, crossing your arms over your chest, the blood rushing to your cheeks. “It’s not that Dad, I just don’t like anyone like that yet really.” 

“You’ve got to work it out, (y/n),” Your mother said harshly, “Soon.” 

“Uh no, no I haven’t really got anyone in mind.” You replied quietly. 

“Ugh come on, lets scram.” Kiri said grabbing your wrist and practically marching you out of her family home. 

“Ughh Kiri, I only just finished my chord-oof” Your complaints were quickly cut off as Kiri stobbed abruptly, your whole body coming in contact with her back. “You skxwang! What are you doing-” 

“Brother.” Kiri chirps, cutting you off. Neteyam stood in the doorway, leaning against the timber frame, smirking. His braids fell around his face, his high cheekbones and delicate features seemed to play with the soft golden lighting of High Camp, his tail flicked subtly from side to side, amused. 

“Sister, (y/n),” Neteyam replied, sounding almost bored. “Where are you two running off to?” his fingers fiddled with his waistband, running down to his songchord. You knew you were staring, tracking the motion of his large hands, rubbing each bead, shell, and stone in between his thumb and pointer finger. It was embarrassing, you couldn’t look away, and why should you? There was nothing inappropriate about the action. Just his large, capable hands and skilled fingers…

Oh Eywa, that is enough. 

“None of your business, big brother,” Kiri said, teasing as she often did. You swore she only knew how to convey her thoughts through sarcasm and hints. 

Neteyam chuckled, his fingers resting on his crossed arms once, more. Your plain eyes found his warm, deep ones, as he said:

“I think it’s my business where my girls run off to, no?” You knew he did not mean it the way your stupid little brain heard it, you know he meant it as a brother. Nothing more, nothing less. But god, you wished you were his girl. You always had, since you were twelve. All of a sudden, you woke up one day and Neteyam was cute. Cute turned into cool, cool gave way into hot, and hot turned into so incredibly sexy as you got older. And you stayed, well awkward and plain and not much to behold. 

But, you could pretend, that was something you were good at. Rolling your eyes, you broke the contact with Neteyam, shoving Kiri with your shoulder and righting the way of the world, again. 

“The meadow.” You said flatly. 

Kiri wasn’t as much of an airhead as you seemed to think she was. She knew her best friend, and she knew her big brother. Neteyam was a loser, a goody-goody with a desperate need to be the perfect son, the perfect soldier. Around you, he became this swaggering popular guy that Kiri knew him not to be, really. Maybe around his stupid Ikran Rider friends. But never around Kiri, or Lo’ak or Tuk. He never bought that facade into their home, save for when you were in it. 

You, on the other hand, Kiri knew you like the back of her hand. You were shy, sweet and just so obviously and painfully in love with Neteyam. She watched you watch him, and him in turn trying to memorise every freckle, scar and nick on your body. 

Neteyam cleared his throat, embarrassed that Kiri had caught him, once again, stealing glances at her best friend. 

“Just be home for dinner, before eclipse, yeah?” He questioned, the muscle upon his brow bone tilting slightly upward. 

“Of course!” Kiri yelled out as the two of you ran off, hand-in-hand, giggling as you did so. Neteyam watched your retreating figures flee High Camp. Pulling his attention towards his own songchord, his most recent bead was longer than the others, a hollowed-out green gemstone, mottled with white and silver patterning. The one he chose for himself the year prior at his own ceremony, welcoming him into manhood. Neteyam smiled to himself, remembering the bead you had obviously chosen for your own ceremony, made from the same little green stone. 

Neteyam didn’t know how much longer he could go on going like this. He felt like he was walking in circles, orbiting you, waiting for his gamut to eventually crash him into you. Sighing he opened the flap to his tented family home. Maybe it was time to ask Toruk Macto for advice. 

The long grass of the meadow was a deep shade of green, almost the colour of seagrass. Its long strands waved in the breeze, tickling your face as you lay on your back, watching the clouds, birds and everything that called the clearing it’s home. You felt connected to the place, like you were in the lungs of the world, simply floating in the breath of Eywa. 

Kiri sat at your feet in the long grass, facing you, but with her knees drawn close to her chest, playing with the end of her face-framing braids. She was thinking hard, hyperfocused on a thought that was so deep-rooted it took you multiple attempts to get her attention. 

“What’s wrong my Kiri?” You asked, finally catching her eye-line, sitting up to mirror her position. 

“Nothing is wrong, why would anything be wrong?” Kiri responded, trying to act nonchalant. 

“Do not bullshit me, you penis face.” You say, pulling a smile out of her distracted figure while nudging her leg with your foot. 

“You would be my sister if you mated Neteyam, you know that right?” She asked, like she didn’t say the craziest fucking sentence you’ve ever heard in the world. 

All the air left your lungs at once, she may as well have punched you in the stomach. You were going to retch. 

“What are you talking about!” You felt the blood rush to your face, fanning itself over your nose, cheeks, ears and shoulders. Your whole chest felt like Kiri had taken a flare to it. You couldn’t bear it, you felt hot all over. You covered your face with your shaking hands. 

Oh, mother Eywa I will die here, I will die here of embarrassment and pass through to you.

“Don’t be stupid, I know you loooooove him,” She said stretching out her o’s as she so often did when teasing, she poked you a few times too, for good measure. “He obviously is pining for you too, you skxwang.” 

Kiri was a tease, she was sarcastic and blunt and hilarious. But she was not mean. Which, is why you couldn’t work out why she was being mean to you now. About something so personal, too. You felt the hot tears start to form. 

“Why are you being mean?” You asked softly, pulling your hands away from your eyes, to try and read her face. 

Kiri was taken aback by how upset you were. She did not mean it to be mean, she was serious. She quickly took you in her arms, all jokes aside. 

“Ma (y/n) why are you crying?” Kiri asked softly. You sniffled, letting the tears fall freely now. 

“You know I love Neteyam, why would you tease me like that knowing it is like stones in my heart.” You began to ramble, as you so often did when you were emotional. “Neteyam sees me as his little sister, nothing more, nothing less.” You said seriously, vehemently. Lip quivering, you felt stupid and pathetic crying about it. But now that ball of thoughts had started to be unwound in your mind you could not stop, all the words you could not say since you were twelve just fell out of your little mouth. “And besides, if Neteyam didn’t see me as just a little annoying sister, I am ugly Kiri.” Kiri started to shush you, but you did not listen.

 “I am not unique in features like you, I am not as elegant as your mother, I’m not as alluring as Aäna, or as talented as Lor’ät. I’m so fucking boring.” Your tears fell so freely down your face and neck, you felt them fall behind the straps of your breast cover. You hated it. You hated everything about you and you would never be enough for Neteyam. 

You would never be enough for anyone, really. When you thought critically about it. 

Kiri held you close as you sobbed like her mother would, smoothing down your hair like her father would. She was beyond confused about how you could ever think this about yourself. Knowing fair well what a lot of the hunter boys Lo’ak was friends with say about you, what Neteyam’s Riders say in confidence, what the healer girls under Mo’at whisper about during Kiri’s training. Usually it makes her want to gag. But in this moment she wished she told you earlier. Maybe it would’ve given you more self-confidence in a perverse roundabout way. You were so wanted. If it wasn’t for Neteyam’s possessive nature of you, you could have anyone you wanted. Kiri reasoned, that if Neteyam wasn’t going to let anyone else have you, but not move on you himself, Kiri would have to set it up.

You and Kiri came back to High Camp, just before dinner and just after you finally stopped crying. You asked Kiri to never talk about the whole thing, preferring to just shove the whole thing into a little lockbox, throwing it away into the undercurrent of your consciousness. 

You stopped dead in your tracks infront of Kiri’s home, hearing Jake’s laugh and Tuk’s squeals. Neteyam was in there. No, you couldnt it was way to fresh. To have dinner with them would be the last petal in your funerary basket. 

“Come, lets eat.” Kiri whined, pulling on your arm. You stood firm like an island of stone against the tide. 

“I think I will eat with my parents tonight, I’m sorry.” You said in a low voice. “I’ll be back to normal tomorrow I promise.” You quickly added, to appease your headstrong sister. 

“Okay.” Kiri said softly, taking both of your hands into her five-fingered ones. “It’s all going to sort itself out, (y/n). I promise.” 

The usually short walk across High Camp to your family home felt unusually long, cold and dark.

Kiri flopped down on the woven mats around the firepit with a huff. Next to Jake and Neteyam, Kiri was hungry and angry and sad for her friend. 

“Hey , Babygirl.” Jake said, kissing Kiri on her forehead. Jake looked toward the door, confused. “Where’s my other beautiful girl?” Jake asked, confused. (y/n) always joined them for dinner, he couldn’t remember a night her presence had been missed since she was born. 

Kiri sighed, big and deep. “She’s having dinner with her parents.” 

“What has happened?” Neytiri asked, serving dinner on a leaf for little Tuk. 

Kiri felt internally conflicted. It was not her business to share, not her secrets to lay bare. But her best friend was hurting, and the skxwang next to her was the only one who could fix it. But (y/n) never begs for anything, and she begged Kiri the whole walk home to say nothing. 

She could not say nothing, but she did not have to say anything, either. 

“(y/n) was sad, about finding a mate. Her parents are really hard on her about it.” Kiri was not one to lie, and this was not a lie she convinced herself. But not the whole truth either. 

“Bro, that’s so stupid. Literally everyone is asking her mom for courting meetings.” Lo’ak piped up. His sentence muffled due to his full fucking face of food. Kiri screwed her face up.

“Courting meetings? What do you mean?” Neteyam looked panicked. The face he usually reserved for Lo’ak’s antics on the field. 

“I don’t know man, some of the guys were talking about it today during lessons. But her Dad keeps turning them away for now.” Lo’ak answered, shrugging nonchalantly, stuffing his face still, despite the family’s disgust. 

Kiri stared at Neteyam, reading every inch of his face as he calmed down. He was running out of time, she knew it. But, Neteyam looked at Jake. Jake raised his eyebrows at his eldest son, turning his head slightly and shrugging. It was a shared look, Neteyam knew exactly what Jake meant, though Kiri felt left in the lurch. 

The Sully’s did not talk about it for the rest of dinner, thankfully. 

Neytiri was putting Tuk to bed. Jake, in a rare moment was teaching Lo’ak how to properly clean a gun. Kiri sat, next to Neteyam, running her hands up and down her own songchord, anxiously. Neteyam was evidently anxious too, his legs pulled up close to his chest, he stared at the fire pit as if the answers were going to lash out and brand him. 

“She is in love with you, Neteyam.” Kiri said softly. Neteyam felt like he was going to pass out and bleed from his nose. 

“I don’t think so baby sister,” Neteyam ruffled her hair, trying to present himself in a lighthearted way, despite his creeping blush. Kiri smacked his hand away. 

“Listen to me, you idiot.” Kiri’s serious voice felt like a hot knife running through Neteyam’s soul. She never sounded this way, this upset. “She loves you. And, and she thinks that you only think of her as a little sister.” Neteyam chuckled at that, he never treated her the way he treated Kiri and Tuk. Surely, that was obvious, no? “I know. I laughed too.” Kiri said with a small smile. She took Neteyam’s hands into her own, like she did with you only a few hours prior.

“Neteyam, she thinks that she’s ugly, that she will never be enough for you. She thinks she’s not talented.” Kiri’s round eyes filled with empathetic tears for her best friend, thinking back on your small frame sobbing in the long grass. 

Neteyam’s blush soon turned to anger. His heart finding the possessive pit that he reserves only for his feelings for you.  “I do not understand, does she not know that everyone wants her?” Neteyam hissed in a low voice, Eywa forbid, Neytiri heard him talk about how the other boys of the clan view (y/n). Neteyam hated how they spoke of her body, her face, her mind. Her beautiful voice and nimble hands. Only he was allowed to think of you like that. And the Great Mother only knows how they think of you at night, how they think of you when they- 

Neteyam stopped himself before he went any further. He knew how he thought about you at night when he has a hand between his thighs. 

“She does not know.” Kiri said, bringing Neteyam back to the forefront of his mind. “I have never told her.” 

Neteyam’s heart swelled in a terrible way. You were so sweet, so innocent, you did not know that boys rutted into their own hands at the thought of the way your waist dips, or the mound of your breast. He needed to protect you, and Jesus, he thought he had by laying an unofficial possessive claim. But, it seems that the future Olo’eyktan has been ignored. 

A growl fell out of Neteyam’s mouth. To Kiri it looked like a dark light fell over her brother’s features. A man possessed. He stood, cracking his neck and shoulders, like he always did, but this time Kiri flinched. She had never seen Neteyam so…scary. 

“I will fix this tomorrow, sister.” Was all Neteyam said, as he retreated to the sleeping quarters of their home. 

(y/n) did not sleep a wink. All she could see in her mind’s eye was Neteyam. Neteyam laughing with other girls, Neteyam riding with other girls. How they wave to him when he walks past.

Neteyam. Neteyam. Neteyam. 

You felt so guilty, so, so guilty. As the night went on your thoughts went south, went dirty and wrong. You dreamt about kissing Neteyam; How soft his lips would feel against your own. His rough, calloused hands would hold your face in place and he would kiss you like he loved you, kissed you like he meant it. 

Simply, you did not deserve to hold romantic thoughts about Neteyam in your heart like that. He was not yours. He would never be. 

You quick hands made light work of the repair you were currently undertaking. You enjoyed your work as clan seamstress. Fixing, making loin cloths, beading breast covers and threading jewellery. You enjoyed the freedom to create things, but to also be useful to your clan. You could never offer them safety, food, medicine or freedom. But you could make sure they were warm in the cool rains, and protected from the glistening sun in the heat of the day. 

You folded the repaired loincloth, placing it to the side. Ready for its owner to pick it up when they had a moment to spare. 

The flap to the tent flew open, causing you to jump out of your skin. The last person you wanted to see stood in the entry way, ripped loincloth in hand. 

“Good morning, Neteyam.” You said softly, casting your gaze downwards. He quickly sat across from you, legs crossed like a child. 

“Well, it’s good now.” He smiled brightly. You felt all the blood run to your cheeks. “Do you uh, do you mind fixing this for me?” He said, stumbling over his own words, handing over the dark green textile. 

“Of course, easy fix.” Your fingers brushed his and you felt like your hands had been set on fire. Shaking, you began stitching the fabric back together. You knitted your brows together as you worked, not wanting to see his face any longer, the more you stared at your hands, the worse they shook. This tear made no sense, it was cleanly cut with a knife. Neteyam had purposely ripped his own loincloth. “How did this even happen?” You asked. 

“I needed an excuse to come and see you, my (y/n).” Neteyam spoke softly, reaching out to take one of your hands, distracting them from their job. His eyes caught yours, and you knew you were done. So warm, so full of life and love. 

“Neteyam-” You started, but he cut you off. Something of which Neteyam had never done before. 

“I know you do not see yourself how I see you.” He started, his stare holding you to the spot, you sent a brief prayer to Eywa, that this was not some cruel trick. “You are the most beautiful creature that has ever walked these lands. You care so deeply for the people, the forest.” His hand ran the length of your arm, goosebumps rising in his wake. “I see you. I love you. I want you.” Neteyam said vehemently. 

You felt everything, everywhere, all at once. Everything you have ever wanted to hear had fallen out of his mouth like it was always meant to be. It sounded so right. It sounded natural and real. It was so out of character for Neteyam, to be so open, so raw and honest with his feelings. 

So, under the guise of love, you acted out of character too. Like for like. 

Taking his beautiful, soft face between your small, shaking hands, you kissed him. Pulling away for breath, you remembered what needed to be said.

“I have always seen you, Neteyam.” 

[therainscene]

I've described myself in the past as "overly-queerbaited" as a way of explaining why it took me so long to come around to Byler endgame as a legitimate possibility... but that's kind of a misleading way of putting it.

Truth is, I've always been too much of a cynical fuck to fall for queerbait... or any other story that promises positive queer rep.

[Sherlock couldn't touch me; I saw this cringe homophobia coming from a mile away. Fans mistaking straight anxiety jokes for meaningful gay subtext was clearly doomed to end in mockery. Nobody deserved to be treated like that... but god, it was easy to predict.]

I think it's a symptom of having grown up under Section 28 -- feeling like I'm being unreasonable for wanting to see queerness normalized is such an ingrained habit that even today I instinctively recoil like a vampire touching sunlight whenever an optimistic queer story falls unrequested into my lap.

But I'm hardly alone in feeling this way -- many queer Millennial and Gen-X fans of Stranger Things are against the idea of Byler because it would ruin the catharsis of watching the gay boy growing up in the same era as we did slowly succumb to the same despair that we did.

[For those who haven't played the VR game: Vecna is speaking in this screenshot.]

There's genuine comfort to be found in painful stories -- this type of catharsis is practically the cornerstone of horror as a genre -- so I can't really fault myself or anyone else for wanting it, despite the obnoxious oversaturation of disappointing queer endings in media.

This is the nostalgia show, after all -- and like it or not, for many middle-aged queers in the target audience, nostalgia is shot through with the pain of homophobia and loneliness.

But do you know who else is a hurt queer(-coded) adult who resents happy endings? This cynical fuck:

Henry personifies despair and loneliness and the dark urge to take our pain out on others -- and when Will is in the picture, I would argue that he also represents internalized homophobia.

Will might represent who we were -- but Henry represents who we've let ourselves turn into.

And I don't think many of us want to admit to that, because that would involve questioning why we have so much in common with the literal villain of the show; why we're still so consumed with self-pity after 20+ years that we're obsessing over the fate of some kid.

I'm not suggesting that wanting a less-than-fairytale ending for a fictional gay boy is equivalent to being a child killer lol. It's perfectly valid to want to see your pain acknowledged, and stories which appeal to that desire deserve to exist.

But between Henry's connection to Will and the cycle of abuse themes of the show, it's clear that this particular story simply isn't about wallowing in the bleakness of growing up gay in the 80s, but about self-actualizing in spite of it all.

So I just can't bring myself to want a "relatable" ending for Will.

As much as I struggle to enjoy positive queer rep, I don't want to be so cynical. I'd thrown up so many walls to protect myself as a teenager that I forgot how desperately I wanted to see just one of those painful queer stories end on the same uplifting note that straight stories were always entitled to: with true love overcoming the odds, saving the day, and living happily ever after.

[But I'm A Cheerleader, a surprisingly fun movie about conversion therapy, is proof that stories like this did exist when I was a teen... but finding them in the pre- and early-internet days amidst so much censorship was a tall order.]

What makes Stranger Things different from most queer stories -- and what allowed it to pierce through my defenses and stab me in the gut -- is that it perfectly mimics those bleak, acceptable-to-the-censors stories from my youth -- only this time, the secret uplifting gay plot twist is real.

Not for the sake of shock value or of grabbing some empty woke points at the last second, but because the plan all along was to slap the audience in the face for believing homophobic lies about the existence of queer happiness.

That's some gourmet catharsis, if you ask me.

Just the possibility that my inner child might finally be vindicated has allowed me to truly let myself want the things I want for the first time in 20 years -- and that's the first step towards finally crawling back out into the sunlight.

Happy Pride Month, everyone. 🌈

[princessbrunette]

imagine rafe trying to teach you a little bit of self defense but you just get turned on by him manhandling you and he’s just tsking at you underneath him with your hands pinned above your head lowly whispering “you gotta pay attention kid, there’s bad men out there… gotta know how’t stop em from from thinking they can do whatever they want” and she’d get all blushy and squirming just looking at him all doe eyed like “You can do what ever you want 🥺🥺🩷” He loves how submissive you are !!!!

i love this idea sm but when i started writing it kinda turned into something else ??? kinda dubcon but that’s just how he plays sometimes. reader is clearly wanting it !

ೀ 🍨 ‧ ˚ 🎀 ⊹˚. ♡

rafe was in one of his moods. the odd moods he gets in where he’s suddenly motivated to fix things, handle business, be ‘proactive’ as he puts it. there was no business to handle that day, so he turned his attention to you — deciding now of all times was the time to teach you how to defend yourself.

the idea had sprung to him when he walked into the room and stared you down, coming to the harrowing realisation that you hadn’t even noticed his presence, too engrossed in the book in your grasp. he creeps closer, and you don’t even blink. he edges behind you, and notes the way he could grab you into a headlock if he wanted, or cover your mouth, hell — he could snap your neck. you’d never see it coming.

of course, he didn’t want to ever hurt you — which is why he decided to stage an impromptu lesson. that gets you to where you end up, pinned to the ground beneath him.

“ow, rafe.” you frown wiggling your wrist from his grip until he lets it free with a shake of his head. you weren’t too happy about him stealing you away from your time of relaxation with your book — but you would never give up the opportunity to have your boyfriends hands on you. you thought things would have played out a little more… fun.

“see, you — you did it again. if i put my hand here, what are you gonna do, huh? what’d i tell you?” he raises his eyebrows, prompting a response.

“uhh, bite it?” you giggle, making him sit up on his knees, jaw ticking in frustration.

“you know i’m tryna save your life here, kid. someone comes up to you and grabs you, you’re screwed, ‘cos you don’t know how to protect yourself. i’m not always gonna be around to fight people off okay?”

“why not?” you whine, pressing a socked foot against his chest from where you lay. he wraps a hand gently around your ankle and brings it down, expression displaying his frustration.

“because i am not with you 24 hours a day, alright? m’not playing around here. you gonna listen?” he nudges your thigh with his own and you huff, head moving with a noncommittal nod. “okay.” he brings his body down onto yours, pinning you down with it. he had to be doing this on purpose. “alright, flip me on my back. go.”

you can’t help yourself, you wrap your legs around his waist and bring his crotch flush against yours with a little giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck. he presses his lips together, staring at you blankly from his incredibly close proximity and stays silent until your childish laughs die down. you think he’s going to remove himself, lecture you and walk off for a little while— but he continues to stare, even when you wriggle beneath him, legs split around his body — mound of your cunt pressing up against his bulge.

“you think this is some kinda joke huh?” he asks quietly, and the smile starts to melt off your face. “like — like i’m just doin’ this shit for fun.” he glares, and now your hearts pounding because you only wanted to be close to him!

“no…” you mewl, brows knitted but it’s too late. he pushes himself up on his knees again, looking down on you.

“you know i’m real nice to you. there’s bad men out there that’ll really rough you up. maybe… maybe i should give you a taste of that, huh? show you what i’m protecting you from.”

you go to argue, tell him you’ll listen — but he slides a leg under yours and in one movement flips you so you’re suddenly laying on your front, ass a little raised. he leans over you, collecting your wrists with one hand and pins them down. “nah, go ahead. try and fight me off baby. see if you can.” he speaks eerily calmly and you wriggle, realising you’re totally pinned beneath his weight with no escape. “yeah, that shits scary huh? can’t get out.” he nods and you let out a little cry.

“okay, rafe c’mon!”

“nah, you think this is a game so i’m gonna show you just how fuckin’ real this is a’ight?” he tucks his free hand into your pyjama shorts and begins to yank them down. you hate how your heart feels like it’s in your throat and yet your cunt throbs and your back arches from muscle memory. “better wise up, sweetheart— ‘cos i don’t think you’re getting out of this.” he gives your ass cheek a firm smack, watching the fat of it recoil beneath the touch and you whine.

“teach me! rafe you can teach me, please!” you pout, craning round to look at him. his lip is curled into a malicious smirk, head shaking in disapproval.

“yeah, you know you’re just too late. gonna have to learn your lesson now, alright? remember this shit.”

ೀ 🍨 ‧ ˚ 🎀 ⊹˚. ♡

[stylesispunk]

"The not so invisible string"

not outbreak! Joel Miller x f! Reader

masterlist | next chapter

summary: you and Joel were made right for each other in the wrong time. Now, thirteen years later your paths crossed when both of your daughters get in trouble at school. Would be the right time for you now?

word count: 5k>>

warnings: angst, implications of cheating (emotional). Probably some grammar mistakes because I write things fast.

a/n: New fic alert! Hello, I got this idea and I wanted to write it, so this is going to be a series depending on how this part performs. Reblogs and comments are always appreciated. Happy reading 💌

masterlist

dividers by @/saradika

When you’re young, you’re naïve

When you’re young, you know everything

But when you’re young, they assume you know nothing,

That’s why two people falling in love at the age of seventeen doesn’t seem interesting. People will assume a love like that, at that age is just a phase with a tragic ending. Tears, broken hearts, and the promises of never falling in love again.

But this one was different. You and Joel were different, two souls that had met at the age of five, growing up together as best friends, until one fell and then the other. One shared a kiss, and the best friends turned into lovers. 

Isn’t that typical?

It was. Both of you knew, but still, you didn’t listen. Both of you become one soul, destined to be together since you were two kids playing hide and seek together. 

Joel and you traveled the twisting roads of adolescence hand in hand as the years passed. Your shared love was a tapestry woven from the thread of shared dreams and whispered secrets. 

Everything around you changed as well. From the carefree days of children to the turbulent storms of adolescence, your friendship has survived it all. Some tears fell like soft rain, washing away the doubts that crept into our hearts, and there were times of joy that resonated through the halls of your shared history.

Yet, with every rock on the road, you found the strength to rise again, your hands tightly intertwined. Joel became your confidant, the keeper of your fears, and the little light of hope during the darkest nights.

When you both turned seventeen, the very age at which outsiders claimed to be the year of mistakes and growing, one kiss changed everything. The connection between you both only deepened. And when the world might have seen you as naïve, you understood the profound love of your bond. It wasn’t a youthful infatuation; it was a love story written in the stars long before you were aware of its existence. 

People whispered their doubts, predicting heartbreak and the inevitable end of your love story. Yet, in the quiet moments when it was just Joel and you against the world, you knew that your love was timeless. The promises made weren't born out of youthful exuberance; they were the solemn vows of two souls who had found their way to each other, over and over again, since the age of five.

Not even when you left Austin to go to college, the odds against you weren’t able to separate you. The odds seemed stacked against you, with skeptics murmuring that the challenges of a long-distance relationship would surely spell the end of your story. But you defied those expectations.

Letters and late-night calls became your lifelines, bridging the physical gap between you. Each word written and every shared moment over the phone felt like a testament to the enduring strength of your love. You didn’t let the rust grow between you, neither did he. 

He was there the day you graduated, being the first face, you found across the room smiling back at you with proudness. Through that look and grin, there was an oath behind, not only the survival of your love but to distance emerging even stronger. He being there meant that, after this, you both could build your life together, get married, have children, and grow old together. 

“I can’t wait to marry you” he whispered against your lips that night as you made love. 

“And I can’t wait to be your wife” you whispered back, whimpering under his touch.

But with the past of the months, the fights started. He coming home late from work, and your struggling with finding a job added a layer of stress to your relationship. Frustration crept into our conversations, and what were once gentle whispers of love turned into heated exchanges, grappling with the frustration of job rejections and the sense of inadequacy that came with each disappointment. Joel, burdened by the demands of his career, found solace in the late hours at the office.

Spending time with a colleague you dislike because of their closeness, because he seemed to treat her the way he wasn’t treating you now. 

Conversations about the state of your relationship became unavoidable. One evening, as the weight of your unspoken grievances hung heavy in the air. 

"Joel, we can't keep going on like this. I need more from our relationship, and I can't shake off the feeling that you're finding solace elsewhere."

His response was a defensiveness grunt, speaking about the pressure at work, how he needed to prove himself, and how your job search struggles only added to his burden.

“So is it my fault?” You shouted. 

Joel's expression shifted, caught off guard by the sharpness of my words. The defensiveness waned, replaced by a hint of realization. "No, it's not about fault," he began, his voice softer now, "but the pressure at work has been consuming me. I feel like I'm drowning, and I don't know how to balance everything." He sighed, “And you’re not even able to find a job” he added, the words hitting like a sharp jab amid our emotional battlefield.

He ended up calling you a mistake, and you called him a coward. 

 The room fell silent for a moment as the weight of your words sank.  The frustration that had been simmering boiled over into a heated exchange. "A mistake?" you retorted, your voice edged with hurt and anger. "Is that how you see me? As some kind of burden or failure?"

Joel's expression shifted again, torn between regret and the lingering pressure that had driven him to lash out. "I didn't mean it like that," he began, but his attempt to backtrack only fueled the growing storm.

As the argument escalated, each word became a weapon in our emotional battlefield. Accusations flew, and the once-clear path of our relationship was now obscured by the fog of resentment and hurt. The dreams we had whispered to each other now seemed distant and unattainable, replaced by the harsh reality of you present.

“Maybe we should break up,” you said, motionless, tired of the fights. “And I will leave, and take the job I didn’t want to because I didn’t want to leave you here” 

continued, the weight of the decision evident in my voice. The sacrifice echoed the painful truth that sometimes love, even when genuine, isn't always enough to weather the storms life throws your way.

Joel's eyes reflected a mix of surprise and realization, the gravity of the moment sinking in. The prospect of parting ways, of unraveling the life we had built together, cast a shadow over the room.

“Oh, are you surprised I’m not the failure you thought I was?” you asked, a bitter laugh escaping through the tears that spilled down your cheeks.

The room felt charged with the emotional storm of your shared history, the dreams you had woven now frayed and brittle. The vulnerability of that moment exposed the raw truth that love, no matter how deep, could sometimes prove inadequate in the face of life's relentless challenges.

Love has not always survived. 

Joel's silence spoke volumes, his eyes reflecting the complexity of emotions that swirled within. The air felt heavy with regret, sadness, and the painful realization that a choice needed to be made.

And when the lack of words persisted, and in the heavy silence, you walked towards the bedroom, the weight of the decision settling into every step you took. The room, once a shared bright sanctuary, now witnessed the dismantling of a life we had built together.

In the dim light, you fumbled for your suitcase, hands trembling as you threw clothes inside. Each piece of clothing now felt like a painful reminder of what was slipping away. The vulnerability of that moment, intensified by the tears that blurred your vision, underscored the reality that sometimes love, despite its depth, couldn't shield us from the harshness of life's trials.

The sound of the zipper closing echoed in the room, marking the final choice that had been made. Joel remained in the doorway, a silent observer of the disintegration of a shared reality. His eyes, a mosaic of conflicting emotions, spoke of a recognition that what once was could no longer be sustained.

As you carried the suitcase, its weight mirrored the heaviness in your heart. The room, filled with the echoes of your memories from the past, felt emptier with every step toward the door. The unspoken pain lingered a palpable energy that accompanied you through the threshold of a life I had known so intimately.

The choice had been made, and in that moment, the gravity of our decision settled in—the dreams you had shared now relegated to the shadows of what could have been. The door closed behind you, and at that exact moment, you didn’t know how you were anymore, not when this was the first time you would start navigating life without Joel.

And then, when the months passed by, you were face to face again. He tried to change the ending, but it was late. He was going to be a father of a child that wasn’t yours. 

And weeks later, on a night you were out, drinking all your tears and sadness, you met a guy, and three months after, you found out you were pregnant.

Joel and you were going to become parents, but with different people. 

And it seemed like all people were telling the truth. 

When you’re young you know nothing.

Thirteen years later...

Eyes focused on the road, breathe in, breathe out, thoughts wild around your head. 

You were driving back to Austin, back to your past self, to the five-year-old you, back to the seventeen-year-old you, back to…

No, you thought.

Tara was sitting in the backseat, earphones in her ears probably listening to a song that would take her away from her reality, from moving from her home, leaving behind every single thing she grew up loving.

Just like you, you said to yourself. 

“Hey, sweets are you okay?” you asked, glancing at her through the rearview mirror.

“Can we stop for a burger? I’m hungry” She avoided the question, again

“Your father is waiting for us at our new house, then we will get lunch, okay?”

She nodded, not uttering more words. She nodded, offering no more words. Then, she broke the silence. "I’m mad. I’m mad at you for leaving your life behind for Dad."

Confused, you asked, "What are you talking about?"

“You just had your job that you loved back at home; you had your friends. I had my life too and now we have to move here just because Dad said so?” Tara's frustration spilled out.

“He got a better job, that means—”

“That means nothing,” she interrupted. “Look, Mom, I know he loves me, and that he may love you, but he has always loved himself more than us. I think it's unfair for you to leave all that behind just for him.”

“Tara,” you whispered, struck by her perceptiveness. You thought it was incredible how at thirteen she was so aware of every single detail, and how much he knew you.

“I know if it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t leave that life behind,” Tara spoke, her words cutting through the tension in the car. "I know there’s no man you would have done that for.”

You took a moment to collect your thoughts, the weight of the revelation settling in before you spoke. "There was one man before," you confessed, catching Tara’s attention. "His name was Joel," you said, the words heavy with the weight of memories, almost feeling a lump forming in your throat.

As you mentioned Joel's name, the car seemed to carry an unspoken history. Tara's eyes widened with curiosity and surprise.

“He was my best friend when we were kids,” you began, a nostalgic smile playing on your lips. “We grew up together, faced the challenges of growing older, and eventually, we fell in love.”

“What happened to him?” she asked. 

"We broke up, and just when we tried to get back together, he found out he got another woman pregnant," you explained.

"He cheated," Tara concluded, a hint of judgment in her tone.

"No, he didn’t, but... I couldn’t bear to be with him, so I left."

"And then you met Dad," she deduced.

You nodded, acknowledging the sequence of events that had shaped your life. The car carried the weight of shared revelations, and the road to Austin became a journey not only through physical landscapes but also through the landscapes of your history.

Tara sat in the backseat, absorbing the complexities of your past.

"But," you added, "even though Joel and I didn't end up together, he will always hold a special place in my heart. People come into our lives for a reason, and Joel was a significant chapter in my story."

The air inside the car was a combination of anxiety and reflection as it approached its new home in Austin. Tara sat quietly in the backseat, her thoughts appearing lost in the stories you had told, still absorbing the specifics of your past.

As you approached the curb, your tires crunched on the cobblestone driveway. The foreign exterior of the new house appeared before you like a blank canvas waiting to be painted with the colors of your new existence. Dwight, your husband, stood on the porch, a bright smile on his face as he noticed the car.

Exiting the vehicle, you opened the back door for Tara, and the three of you stood together in the driveway. Dwight approached, a mixture of excitement and curiosity in his eyes.

"Welcome home!" he exclaimed, wrapping both of you in a warm embrace.

Tara offered a half-smile, still processing the weight of the move and the revelations that had unfolded during the journey. Dwight, ever perceptive, sensed the mix of emotions in the air.

"How was the drive?" he inquired, glancing between you and Tara.

"Long," Tara replied tersely, her eyes flickering with a hint of weariness.

Dwight, aware of the challenges the move presented, placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "I know it's not easy, Tara, but I promise you'll find your place here."

The aroma of fresh starts penetrated the air as the three of you entered your new home. Dwight gave Tara a quick tour of the house, pointing out the right closets and stating to her that moving would be a good thing.

Dwight and Tara began to develop their rhythm of connection while unpacking boxes and settling into the unfamiliar home. The new place of residence began to turn from a new area to an area where shared memories would be established as the day progressed.

You couldn't help but think about Joel as you gazed around at the shifting landscape of your life, the echoes of the past fading into the background as you welcomed the present and the promise of a new chapter in your life in Austin.

It had been a week since Tara started school here, and she had begun to settle at the new school, at the unfamiliar hallways, and faces that were yet to become friends. Adjusting to a new environment, especially in the tumultuous teenage years, was never an easy feat. 

That’s what you feared the most. 

One afternoon, as you were going about your routine at the new house, your phone rang. The caller ID displayed the school's number, and a wave of concern washed over you. You answered with a sense of trepidation, already fearing the worst.

"Hello, this is Mrs. Evans from High School. Am I speaking with Tara's mother?"

"Yes, this is her mother. Is everything okay?" you asked, your heart racing.

"I'm calling to inform you that there was an incident at school today involving Tara. There was a fight, and we need you to come in for a meeting to discuss the situation." 

A mix of worry and confusion filled the air as you tried to process the information. A fight? This was entirely out of character for Tara.

"Of course, I'll be there," you replied, a knot forming in your stomach.

As you arrived at the high school, a knot of anxiety tightened in your stomach. The unfamiliar hallways seemed to close in around you as you made your way to the principal's office. Tara and another girl with curly hair stood outside the door,

Behind the curly-haired girl, a man loomed, and for a moment, your heart skipped a beat at the possibility, dismissing the improbable thought as wishful thinking. As you walked ahead, the distance between you and the trio narrowed.

Entering the principal's office, the air seemed charged with tension. Mrs. Evans greeted you, her expression stern but professional. However, your attention was drawn to the man beside you, and when you finally looked, Joel stood there, his mouth agape, his eyes locked onto yours.

Time seemed to hang suspended in that moment as a flood of emotions washed over you���surprise, disbelief, and a surge of memories that had long been tucked away. The collision of your past and present felt surreal, and the room seemed to blur around the edges.

You were 22 again.

Neither of you said anything, instead, you allowed the principal to talk about the situation that had happened. 

Mrs. Evans, proceeded to share the details of the incident with a measured tone, bringing the focus back to Tara and her well-being. As she spoke, you and Joel maintained an uneasy silence, glancing at each other intermittently with expressions that betrayed a mixture of emotions.

"There was an unfortunate incident earlier today," Mrs. Evans began, her gaze shifting between you and Joel. "Tara and another student, Sarah, found themselves in a situation where a group of boys was bothering Tara. Sarah intervened to defend her, and the situation escalated into a physical altercation."

Your concern for Tara heightened, but a glimmer of gratitude surfaced as you heard about Sarah's protective stance. You stole a glance at Joel, whose eyes betrayed a complex mix of emotions—perhaps a reflection of his own memories and regrets.

"Both Tara and Sarah are being appropriately addressed," Mrs. Evans continued, her eyes shifting between the individuals in the room. "We take any form of violence seriously, but we also recognize the need to ensure our students feel safe and supported."

As the principal delved into the steps being taken to address the situation, you couldn't help but feel a sense of unease at the reunion with Joel in such unexpected circumstances. The shared concern for Tara momentarily bridged the gap of years and unresolved emotions, creating an unspoken connection.

The meeting concluded with an agreement on counseling for Tara and a commitment to monitoring the situation closely. As you rose to leave, the weight of the encounter lingered. So, you took Tara, delicately by the arm, and walked away from the ghosts from your past. 

“Hey, Tara wait!” The voice of Sarah called out, getting closer to us. 

Tara stopped in her tracks and turned to face the girl with beautiful curly hair, with a smile on her face.

“What?” Tara asked delicately.

“I want you to know I don’t regret what I did for you” She began, “And I have no idea what is like to be in new a place because I’ve always been here, and I also want you to know that you have a friend here. I will defend you from all those stupid guys making fun of you” 

A grin appeared on your daughter’s face at Sarah's words, and she enveloped the girl in a hug murmuring a quiet “thank you” you had still been able to hear. 

Your heart burst, not only for the happiness of your daughter finding a friend but for the tranquility she would feel from now on. Yet you couldn’t bear to lift your gaze from the girls because you knew once you did it, you would have to look at the same face that made you leave this city.

“Okay, Tara it’s time to go home,” you said, delicately grabbing your daughter’s arm, “and thank you, Sarah, for what you did for her”

“No problem” she said, smiling at you.

Once you both, said goodbye, you and Tara walked toward the car until a voice made you both stop your pace, and your heart beated like a drum.

“Yes?” you turned around, finding the strength to face Joel.

“I think it may be great for us to talk about our daughters” Joel spoke, buying some more seconds of your presence.

“Everything is clear." your voice came in a monotonous tone.

“But not between us” he said, with an undertone.

But instead of words, a heat overcame you, and you felt the skin around your eyes burn, you lifted you hand to your eyes, preventing the tears welled up in the corner to fall. But once you did it, you started crying, not knowing how to react and facing your past in front of you, how facing the man you had loved your whole life after thirteen years without any trace of him.

Joel took a step closer, his expression concerned. "I didn't mean to upset you," he said, his voice softening.

You took a deep breath, attempting to compose yourself. “It’s okay,” you said, taking a step back from his touch “I’m just stressed with all the changes” you lied, and grace a tiny smile towards him “We can talk another day when I’m settled.”

He simply nodded, caressing his chest with the palm of his hand in an attempt to take away the pain and confusion of seeing you again. 

With a daughter, and probably married to another man.

“Drive safe,” he said, with a caring touch in his voice.

You nodded, turning on your heel, walking towards the car without looking back. 

“You know her, don’t you?” Sarah asked his father, after seeing his longing expression as he watched you walking away from him. 

“I did once,” he said, still looking at your car as if you would get out and tell him you wanted to try again. 

And inside the car, the events weren’t different from outside. Once you put your seatbelt, Tara kept looking at you as if you were going to break at any moment. 

“He is that Joel, right?” She asked you carefully, trying to get her answer. 

You nodded. 

Tara nodded, her expression was pure concern "Are you okay, Mom?"

You managed a reassuring smile, even though the tears still lingered in the corners of your eyes. "I'll be fine, sweetheart. It's just unexpected to see him again after so many years." 

You took a glimpse in the rearview mirror as you drove away from the curb, leaving Joel standing there. As your mind lingered on a sudden encounter, the familiar surroundings began to blend as well. Your heart was heavier with the burdens of the days gone by, and the tears you pushed back threatened to spill over, again. 

As you drove home, the stillness between you and Tara was loaded with unspoken feelings. Your mind raced with old memories, and you couldn't shake the overwhelming feeling of weakness that Joel's comeback had caused in you.

What were the odds? You thought.

Meanwhile, Joel stood still, watching the car disappear into the distance. The question asked by Sarah still hanging in the air. "You know her, don't you?" Sarah questioned her father, who appeared to be absorbed in the memories that your presence had triggered.

As he tried to make sense of what was happening, his mind was in a rush of emotions. It felt strange and overwhelming to see you after thirteen years. The agony of the past came forward, and he felt for just a moment like an outsider in his own life, watching the movie of the both of you being played all over again.

Joel paused briefly before breaking the silence. "I've missed you," he said, his eyes scanning your face for signs of reconciliation.

You nodded, attempting to conceal the residual worries that had grown during the three months you had spent away from each other “I've missed us as well. Perhaps we should try again," you reasoned.

However, as the talk progressed, the truth began to appear like a storm on the other side of the sky. Joel's hesitation hinted at something more serious, something he had been holding him back. 

"But first, I need to tell you something," he finally admitted, looking down at the floor. "I got involved with someone else during our time apart."

The look on your face was enough for him to know that the news he was about to deliver was going to change everything between the both of you.

“She is pregnant.” He confessed, almost inaudible. 

The room seemed to shrink as the weight of his words settled in. Shock and disbelief mingled with the pain of what it seemed as a betrayal in your mind, but you knew it wasn’t. You had hoped for a fresh start, but this revelation shattered those hopes.

He had a girl to take care of, a baby he was going to love.

"You're going to be a father?" you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper. The reality of the situation was a heavy blow, and you struggled to comprehend the magnitude of the news.

Joel nodded; his eyes filled with remorse. "I didn't plan for this. It just happened."

“No. I don’t need an explanation of what you did when we weren’t together” Hurt, and resignation welled up inside you. "But we cannot be together. No, when you’re going to have a child with someone else. It’s not fair to any of us.” 

Joel's remorse-filled gaze met yours, and he nodded in acknowledgment of the reality you both faced. The dreams of rekindling what once was seemed to crumble in that moment, replaced by the harsh truth of divergent paths.

"This doesn’t change anything between us," Joel whispered, his voice laden with regret, trying to reach for you.

“It does!” you called out, “It does change everything” You took a deep breath, steeling yourself against the waves of emotion crashing within. "I hope you find the happiness you're looking for, Joel. But it can't be with me."

You stepped closer to him, cupping one side of his face with your hand, tracing his cheek with your thumb, and trying to take a picture of him with your eyes. 

One last picture, the last time you will have him this close to you. 

And you leaned in, sealing this goodbye with a last kiss, savoring the sweet taste of his lips mixed with the salt of his tears streaming down your face. He grabbed your face with his last strength holding you back from slipping from his fingers, but once you pulled away, and looked at him one last time. 

Then, you turned away, leaving the room, and, in a way, leaving a chapter of your life behind. The door closed with a soft click, sealing the end of a love story that had once held a promise, but it ended with Joel losing his princess. 

“Let’s go, baby girl,” he said after a moment, wrapping his arm around Sarah, and walking to the car. 

Tara kept stealing glances at you from the passenger seat, sensing the urgency of the scenario. The worry could be seen in her eyes, and you couldn't help but notice how perceptive she had become.

The car pulled to a stop in front of your house, which had become your new home in a place of spirits of the buried skeletons plotted to ruin your life. Tara unbuckled her seatbelt and turned to face you; her face filled with apprehension. "Mom, if you ever want to talk about it, I'm here."

You smiled, grateful for the depth of understanding and maturing in your daughter's eyes. "Thank you, sweetheart. I appreciate that."

As you both entered the house, the now familiar surroundings did little to ease the whirlwind of emotions within you. The past had a way of resurfacing when you least expected it, and Joel's reappearance had reopened wounds you thought had healed.

Once inside, in the quiet living room, your Dwight welcomed both of you with a smile on his face, “Hey is everything okay with you Tara?”

“Yes, Dad, just a misunderstanding,” he said, as if the matter wasn’t important, passing beside upstairs. 

As you and your husband were left alone, he sensed something wrong with you.

"Hey, love, is everything okay?" he asked, his eyes searching yours for a glimpse of the truth.

You forced a smile, attempting to push away the turmoil that threatened to surface. "Yeah, just a blast from the past today.”

Dwight wrapped his arms around you, a gesture of comfort that, for a moment, allowed you to forget the complexities of the day. He pressed a gentle kiss on your lips, and as the warmth of his touch enveloped you, a pang of guilt swept through the figment of your mind, and you couldn’t help but feeling ashamed of yourself for tasting the lips of a man you had settled with because you couldn’t stay with the love of your life.

And you feel disgusted of wanting for him to be Joel.

And at the same time in a different place in the same city, Joel was dreaming of you again.

[whalesforhands]

what’s yours is mine (3/?)

previous masterlist next

pairing: geto suguru x reader x gojo satoru

You don’t know a lot of things, and you readily admit that. What you do know, is that the friends you’ve made aren’t something you will ever regret. Until your physical body weakens and becomes nothing, you’re more than happy to give your all until you wither away.

What’s yours can be theirs, too. They’re your friends, after-all. (Omegaverse AU)

You don’t cry.

At least, that’s what you like to tell yourself. That you don’t cry, that you’re a big girl. You can reach for the phone yourself, can use the swing-set on your own, can bite your lip and hold your face to stop the tears from spilling over when you scrape your knee. You can handle it.

Because it would trouble Mama if you didn’t, right?

So you never minded playing by yourself, never cared for the fact that it’s hard for you to get along with other kids back in all those other neighbourhoods, never ever felt that you needed to cry.

You have no reason to, after all. You’re happy, satisfied with the way you are, the way that you live.

So— Why?

Why does your face feel wet? Why are there droplets of water on the remainders of your drawing? You don’t remember rain being indoors. Don’t think that Mama would miss out on any leaks when the repairman came over the other day.

So why were you crying as your nose flared out and your eyes turned red? Why do you keep crying even as you furiously tried to wipe them away? Why does the new kid have to get so angry on your behalf? You don’t get it. Why did your only friend have to tear up the drawing you had spent so much time on? What does Satoru have against your neighbour? You really don’t get it. Not at all.

Why? Why why why why why—

You just don’t know many things. You don’t know why the sky looks blue, why the grass is green, don’t know why the moon can’t stay in the sky for as long as you want…

You really don’t know a lot.

But you know that crying doesn’t stop the two kids in front of you from pulling at each other’s hair and punching at each other, know that it won’t stop them from rolling on your floor as they continued to bicker and shout, know it doesn’t heal the fact that your drawing was torn in half and lying pathetically on your living room floor—

“What’s your problem?!”

“It’s none of ya business!”

It hurts. You know it hurts. To have your one and only friend tear apart your hard work, for him to trample on your attempt at being hospitable. And… To have him to look at you with such disdain and hurt when you tried to stop him from vandalizing your show of friendship.

Is it all your fault?

You know that Satoru can be rough, can be hard to get along with. You know that first-hand, experienced it for weeks on end. Though, you never expected him to react with such violent distrust of others, never expected him to get into senseless fights over someone you’re trying to get along with for the sake of good neighbourship.

(If that even was a word, anyway.)

Maybe it was something strange about the new kid— Geto Suguru. Something off, odd that taps at your brain even through your eyes that were starting to blur with tears. It’s not something you can get right off the bat, but hidden under layers that were hard to see through, kept tightly under wraps.

A feeling that resonates too closely, too close to home with your beloved Satoru.

Because they were smiling.

Even as Satoru’s hands pushed, shoved, punched and grabbed at his face, even when Suguru kicked at his chest and pulled at his hair— It’s like they liked being at odds, liked the fact that they could argue and tear into each other despite knowing the repercussions that could follow.

“Y’er ugly! With rotten soba hair!”

“Speak for ya’self, you misshaped snowman!”

Even as the black silks of hair flailed about, even as he feels Satoru pinch at his skin, you can hear the slight laughs in their hoarse voices, can feel the way the air was starting to lift the tension.

You can feel your heart pound, can feel your blood pump through your veins. You don’t want to be left out. Don’t know what’s gotten into you to feel this way as your hands start to shake and tremble.

And when you steeled yourself, wiping the tears off of your cheeks and the drooling leftovers of your snot, your eyes still caught wind of those shiny purple eyes that gleamed with a hint of insanity.

A blur of black and white, the brush of your flailing hair against your nape and the adrenaline causing your heart to go a mile a minute as you feel your feet leave the ground.

You tackled him. Or, one of them, actually. You don’t know which. With the full force of your body, with your eyes that were squeezed shut, with a loud squeal for a battlecry and an exhilarating exhale that made you want to hope you didn’t hit the new mail-order flower pot Mama had gotten as a gift recently.

You feel yourselves rolling about the soft carpet, the brush of the slightly coarse fabric against your skin as you end up slamming face first into your victim’s soft tummy as your ears end up filling with the sound of a rough slam and a pained groan.

But that wasn’t enough to stop you, even if you were fully aware of the fact that you had committed assault. Even as you lift your strangely heavy head and stamp your feet against the ground.

“Stop fighting, dummies!”

And it works, surprisingly. You’ve never used that much force, not ever in your few years of living. You didn’t know you were even capable of this.

(But to be fair, you don’t know a lot of things.)

“I hate it!” And you can hear your voice crack, your mouth dry and your throat tight, can feel a strange guilt and overwhelming tearing at your already fragile heart. Hate what? Hate the fact that they were fighting?

No. You can’t hate that, can you? They were having fun, no? So what did you hate? Did you hate the fact that they got along without yo—

He’s grinning up at you.

“Sorry, (name)-chan.” It’s decisive, the way Suguru looks at you. Like he’s trying to find the best way to go about his next move, trying to fight back the adrenaline that came with the aftermath of a childish fight.

This was really all your fault.

It makes you cry all the more as you feel arms hug around your neck from behind, an angry, pouting Satoru clutching your head close to his chest and actively trying to tug you off of the bruised Suguru, only managing to get you to tumble your weight off his waist as you continue to cry, your tears drooling down your cheeks and onto his sleeves.

“I didn’t give ya permission to call her by her name!” He’s back to being fierce, biting. Barking his words out with a ferocity you’ve never heard before.

“That’s not for you to choose, ya know?” Your neighbour’s speech turns informal, straight to the point. As if he had given up on any airs he had initially put on, as if he was feeling the relief of breathing normally once more.

Maybe you would’ve noticed if you weren’t too busy breaking down.

“Stop cryin’, weirdo.” You feel a sleeve rubbing against your eyes, the soft grey hoodie turning your eyesight dark and gloomy, soaking up your tears as you feel snot starting to trail down your philtrum and onto your lips as you sniffle harder. “We’re fine.”

“Ugh, don’t rub your dirty clothes on her face…” A small whack and the sleeve flops off with no resistance, the fabric loosened from excessive pulling and tugging. You feel an unfamiliar hand press against your hair, lightly stroking in efforts to comfort you.

“Bleghhh! You take it too!” And Satoru’s shoving his sleeve into the new kid’s face.

“Gross!”

Peace is restored. Or, as much as it was when you’re all sat in a circle and trying to figure out what to do now that you all looked a little too worse for wear.

“You don’t have ice packs in your house?” He’s utterly confused as he watches you press a carton of milk against Satoru’s cheek, your head tilting to the side as you blink at him.

“Nope.” Ice packs? Why would you need that? Can’t you just use normal ice? Are you supposed to have something like that? “I can help you get some normal ice if you want—“

“She’s not poor, okay!” It’s your white-haired friend that interrupts you, his arms crossed and an angry pout on his face. It’s threatening and furrowed in all his entirety, chest puffing out to look bigger than he was as he glares at confused purple. “She says so!”

“…I didn’t say anything about that, though?”

“Hnn— I don’t think plasters are enough, (name).”Now he’s even lost the honorifics when calling to you. Suguru’s tapping against his bruised cheek, feet tiptoeing upon the stool in your bathroom as he observes his injuries in the mirror.

“Hey! No one ever taught you manners, new kid?!” And you’re stuck inbetween the both of them again as you stand as the sole barrier between the two. You feel grateful for the fact that you’re all about the same height.

“But you call her that all the time?” Suguru’s smile is all too mischievous, a smug grin on his face and a hand on his hip. He’s starting to get Satoru’s patterns now.

(You can tell.)

“That’s cause I’m me!” He’s huffing, a hand outreached to grip onto your wrist and tugging you closer so that you were physically on ‘his side’.

“Okay,” A curve of those pretty, slitted purple eyes of his upwards. “Satoru.”

“Hey! I didn’t give you permission for that, either!”

Despite all that, you broke out the bandaid collection you had been keeping for emergencies. Okay, to be honest— It wasn’t for emergencies. Chock full of random patterns and funny looking print, it was something you always asked your Mama to get you whenever she needed to make a quick run to the drugstore. Maybe a few of them were a bit too old, but they were still bandaids regardless.

(And least they would be put to their assumed use. You can’t keep everything the same forever, especially when all you do is open your little box to stare at them.)

But it was looking like the bandaids are a no go, either. Was it a you thing to lack so many resources in your own home? Though to be fair, you don’t exactly patch your own injuries up without the help of your Mama.

“Maybe we could go to my house?” He’s still nice to you even when it was your fault that he’s in this situation, even if you were the one that was meant to be the hospitable one.

Though, it’s not a bad idea—

“Nuh uh.” Here comes the stubbornness you learnt to acquaint yourself with. “No way ‘m I going in some weirdo’s house!”

(“But you’re in my house…”)

“But Satoru,” You nudge him slightly as he continues to stick the funny looking bandaids onto the skin of your arm, trying to think of a reasonable excuse to get him patched up by an adult.

You don’t come up with anything. So comes the next best thing; despite the fact it never works more than half the time.

“Please?”

You can see him furrow his brows at you, spiky hair only bristling ever slightly before he sticks another bandaid onto your leg, the usual glimmer in his eyes turning into one of uncertainty before they flash towards an awaiting Suguru with reddening bruises on his cheek.

“Fine!” This doesn’t mean he’s gonna be friendly though.

(“That was unexpectedly easy.”)

So you find yourself picking up the phone, shooing Satoru off the stool and letting him watch as you slowly push it to be just under the wall-mounted phone within your kitchen.

It rings maybe twice after your fingers manage to press the correct buttons, silently mouthing the numbers you memorized just for situations like this as Satoru stares up at you from the ground, sitting cross-legged right next to a curious Suguru.

“Darling? What’s wrong?” Her surroundings are loud. It sounds like there’s too many people talking in the background as you hear the clacks of her shoes.

“Mama.” Your voice is soft as you say her name, a smile unknowingly creeping onto your face when you hear her reply. “Can I go to… Suguru’s house?”

You can see a head of black perk up at that mention of his first name as a pale hand shoves at his shoulder from the corner of your eye.

“The new… Neighbour, right? Geto-san’s kid.” You nod, even with the knowledge of knowing she can’t see you as a shuffle sounds slightly, the rustle of her clothing against skin. “Did you make a new friend?”

Did you? Can you even consider him a friend yet? Do you even have that right? Maybe it was better to say that you did to ease any of her worries. “Mhm. I think Satoru likes him too.”

(Because that would be enough for her approval right?)

“Is that so?” You can hear her take a slight breath out, as if it was something akin to relief. “Then it’s fine. I’ll pick you up from there after my work, okay?”

“Okay. Thank you, Mama!” You balance on your toes when you shove the phone back into place, crawling down from the stool as you feel Satoru’s hand snatch up yours to help you down.

Your Mama is the best-est. Definitely, there’s no arguing about it as you smile a little too much at the prospect of being able to talk to her for just that little while.

“Y’er so goody-goody.” His tone is haughty, his actions not ever matching as he squeezes your palm and his eyes glare at the floor. “It’s weird.”

You don’t see a problem with being good.

“I don’t wanna trouble my Mama.” You don’t want to trouble anyone, really. You know how bad it can feel. “It feels better when she’s not.”

“Hmph.” Ever with that attitude…

So it comes as a surprise when you see his eyes flash with that unfamiliar blue, his small shoulders squaring and feeling him switch to your other side just in time to cut off the route that Suguru’s hand was approaching.

“You can’t hold it.” He’s huffing and glaring, squeezing inbetween the both of you and physically blocking off Suguru’s sight of view, whilst at the same time shoving you behind him.

He’s adamant about this— So it ends with Satoru being stuck in the middle of the three of you as you all take the short walk to the Getos’ next door.

“Your Mama’s gonna be mad.” You say it out of concern for your newly acquired friend, past the head of white between the both of you.

“Yep.” Like he was used to it, sheepishly scratching his cheek as he grins at you. “Are you worried about me, (name)?”

“Mhm. I don’t want you to get in trouble.” It’s genuine. Who even likes pain, anyway?

“You’re so nice, (na—)”

“I hope she spanks ‘im.” It’s said in tandem with Suguru’s sentence, affecting cutting him off as he keeps his head up and his smug attitude even higher.

“I can hear you, ya know?”

“That’s the point, dummy.”

At least they’re getting along better now. The bickering slowly turning into a silence as you all approach the daunting front door. It looked like it was already frowning in disapproval at the three of you, already looking far too scary despite being just that—

A door.

(Even Suguru was starting to squeeze your arm slightly in worry when you began knocking upon the wood. So even he can get scared, huh?)

“Yes! Just a moment, please!” It’s muffled, sounding like it was coming from metres away as you hear the hurried patter of feet, of soft slippers against cypress wood as the door swings open.

“Hi, Geto-san.” You blink up at her in greeting when she finally lets her eyes trail downward upon hearing your voice, an exhale escaping her once she realizes it was just you.

“Oh, hello dear! What brings you— Here?!” Her voice turns hurried, panicked. And in quite the timeframe as well as soon as she spots the various bandaids doing a horrible job at hiding the bruises and reddening marks, the loosened clothing and light scrapes on their knees from roughhousing on your carpet.

(You should ask Mama to invest in a softer one. You’ll help save up.)

You hope you all don’t get into much trouble. Hope. That’s all you can do now as all three of you are frantically ushered inside and pushed into the wide expanse of his very… Full-looking living room.

His house is— Warm. There were boxes stacked everywhere, piled high until some touched the ceiling. You see some of them half-opened, most still fully sealed as you let your eyes wander around.

It smells… Nice in here. You don’t have to try hard to catch a whiff of the orange blossom room freshener being spritzed about, wafting about the room. Though— If you do try… You can catch the subtle scent of cinnamon. It’s barely there when you stick your nose in the air to catch it, before it disappears again.

You swear you’ve smelt it before, though.

“Oiiiii, (nameeeee)!” You see a pale hand wave about in front of you, blinking pairs of blue and purple huddling before you as you dazed off on Suguru’s very, and you mean very, soft couch.

“My mama finished icing our injuries.” He’s waving at you in efforts to get you back once he sees your eyes go back into focus. “She’s gonna scold us after she calls Satoru’s and your mama though.”

Now that’s bad. You physically deflate onto his plush seat. So much for trying to make a good impression like Mama would have wanted you to.

“Don’t sweat it! I barely ever get in trouble, anyway!” Satoru’s now squishing your cheeks in his palms, rubbing his hands into your skin and messing with you to snap you out of your daydreams.

(Lucky him.

“Whattttt? That’s not fair.” Suguru’s the one pouting now as he crosses his arms.

“Huhu!” A triumphant rub of his finger just under his nose. “Can’t get scolded if you’re the great Gojo Satoru!”)

“Okwayyy.” You pat the back of his hands to signal him to let you go as you try to nod despite the fact that he was holding your face.

“Then let’s go! I wanna play in Suguru’s room before Geto-mama gets us!” First name usage already. You don’t even have time to fully process it before he’s bolting up the stairs, too engrossed in his overwhelming want to judge and intrude into spaces he’s never been in.

“What are you thinking about?” It’s Suguru who asks that as you both slowly ascend, making sure you’re safely holding onto the railing as you take it one step at the time.

“I don’t know.” To be honest, you really never get what was your habit of picking up on smells. It wasn’t on purpose. You really didn’t know why you did it.

And that makes him chuckle. Just the slightest bit as he pats your back, hand reaching for your wrist to gently tug you upwards.

“You’ll figure it out.”

It looks like you will be getting a new friend, afterall.

——

You think time is strange, but not as much if you compared it to the weather. From bright, sunny days that always looked like there were too little clouds— To days where the bright orange of the sun had descended from space to spill over onto the leaves of the green trees. You can feel the wind turn chillier, days turning darker—

Autumn is what Mama calls it. As she was in the midst of unpacking your winter clothes that had been stuffed deep inside the closet. She says it’s because those orange and red leaves mean it’s going to be cold, that the trees are preparing for what you learned to be known as winter.

You don’t know if you can consider them ‘pretty’ or ‘cute’. Maybe the best word to describe the autumn you see right now would be… Orange…?

(Time changes the weather and the seasons— But it certainly hasn’t changed your lack of vocabulary, it seems.)

Oh. And it also changes people’s clothes. Time is really powerful, if you think about it.

“Good morning.” He’s smiling, waving at you with a hand and a blushing face bitten from the cold breeze as he steps into your genkan, slightly shivering and his hair completed windswept tussle. “Let’s go play today?” His head tilts to the side, the scarf around his neck shifting with his movement as his smile grows ever sweeter.

Pretty.

“Okay.”

It’s not all of a sudden, really. You’ve gotten used to either of them coming over to your home now. A quick rap at your door for Suguru, a polite ring of your doorbell if it was Kimiko-san, and very incessant drumming against the wood if it was Satoru. And honestly? You don’t mind, not at all. If this is what it’s like to have friends, you think you would want at least 23 more.

(Because that’s the highest you can count up to.)

Your walk together is silent. It’s not uncomfortable by any means, don’t get yourself wrong. If anything, it was a tranquil that was unlike something you have with Satoru, a tangible emotion that makes your heart flutter that tiny bit and your cheeks warm with a little heat when your small fingers brush against each other when walking side by side.

Until they weren’t, that was.

“Satoru’s always holding your hand—“ You can see the slightest blush on his face when he notices your stare at the intertwined fingers, the heat of warmth so similar, yet so different from when you hold your Mama’s. “So I thought I’d try it out since he wasn’t here…”

Right. He was ‘not allowed’ to do this— All due to the ‘Satoru Ban’ as you both dubbed it. It was inclusive of, but not limited to; the smacking of his Suguru’s hands off of your clothes, the banishment of said boy from Satoru’s playground, the prohibiting of Suguru from even looking at you sometimes.

It’s honestly a surprise how he hasn’t stopped being friends with both of you.

Though, today was supposed to be special. It was the day that Suguru was finally allowed to play at the playground for the first time. The day he was finally allowed to view the ‘special playground’ he keeps hearing Satoru brag about whenever he was in earshot, how he has finally ‘earned his right’ to play with the both of you.

(Which you vehemently disliked as you frowned and pouted at your snowy-haired friend, refusing to talk to him and turning your nose up at your beloved friend until he apologized with a blushing face and his eyes cast downwards. To the both of you.

He’s starting to be a little like you, if you think about it. Kimiko-san has been showing an odd amount of gratitude to you too.)

But back to the main point— There’s nothing special about your hand. No matter how often Satoru liked to grab at it for his own. Your gaze flickers down to your free one, palm facing towards you and stretching, wiggling your fingers about, scrutinizing every curve and groove of it.

There’s really nothing special about it. So you take an exhale out in disappointment. Looks like you don’t have some superpowers, after all.

“Do you feel anything?” Honestly, you’re not expecting much. Not anything specific, really… But it would be cool if Suguru told you he can sense the hidden power you’ve been keeping dormant inside your body all this time.

(Cause that’s how powers are discovered. You saw it in an anime last week.)

“Hm…” He squeezes your hand lightly in thought, swinging back and forth in contemplation as he continues to walk with you in tow. You can feel your hand gently being shaken and played with, his fingers tightening around yours as you let him tussle and squeeze and squash his palm against your own.

It’s for the sake of knowing, after all. And to discovering all your hidden potential. Hopefully. Maybe?

You can hear him hum, hear the contemplation in his tone as he closes his eyes for just those few moments. “It feels nice.”

Too nice, even. He kind of gets why Satoru likes grabbing at them so much now when he tightens his grip upon just the feeling of your fingers twitching ever just so slightly.

“…?” It’s a wordless inquisition, one that he gets almost immediately when he lifts his head up to look you in the eye and the shuffling of his scarf around the lower half of his face.

“I like holding your hand.” Wow. That’s more embarrassing to say out loud than he thought. But… It’s nice. To be straightforward like this. It feels raw, genuine. Something he wasn’t used to experiencing.

It feels right.

“Oh.” Your eyes drift off to the side before they slowly trail to the ground as your shoes tap against the concrete— And to your shoes. Velcro is easy to put-on. Mama should buy you more velcro shoes, since your dream of having superpowers to magically tie straps and strings was just crushed.

“So I’m not the chosen one.” How disappointing.

Odd. You are very odd. That’s what Suguru would think, if he hadn’t watched that anime with both you and Satoru last week.

“Maybe your superpower is having nice hands to hold.”

Maybe so.

And time just kept passing. Through autumn with days spent running about in the playground when it wasn’t too cold, playing with the toys in Suguru’s room when it was the weather’s fault you all couldn’t play outside… And lounging around on your futon when there’s nothing to do.

Though, you know those days don’t last forever either. Soon there were the snowy white winter months where you had Satoru calling almost every day at the earliest hours. With the snow growing annoyingly thicker, and the air considerably colder— He wasn’t allowed to be out much at all.

You hear excessive complaining over the phone as you curl up under your blanket, Mama’s cellphone to your ear and your dozing off self struggling to stay awake to the grumpy squeaks. You spend the time that you are out of your futon waving at Suguru through the window and talking over the phone until Mama needed it back.

Because according to him, it wasn’t fair that Suguru can come and go from your house because he lives right next door, it wasn’t fair that he can’t play with the both of you.

Such was the curse of the pure white days, you suppose. You don’t think you like the snow too much.

And of course, you can’t forget the pollen-filled spring that bloomed pretty flowers that had Geto-mama teaching you how to make flower crowns in her garden— Realizing that it makes your Mama’s sneezes act up a whole lot more; especially when she tries to wear them. An entire season that also brought about Satoru’s growing clinginess when he demands that you allow him to come over everyday, crossed arms and stamping feet and an apologetic Kimiko-san at your door as she tries to offer more snacks as compensation.

(You don’t blame her, you can’t. And at the same time… Mama’s eyes always nearly bulge out of her head whenever she spots another fancy package on the kitchen counter.)

And you learn that days go by all too quickly when you’re having fun, so it wasn’t long until summer was back once more.

Time really is weird. It doesn’t take much to know that. You’re still not really sure if you truly like it.

On the plus side, time brings about age. You realize you’re finally growing up when Mama comes up to you, hands behind her back and all excited sweet smiles and upturned eyes with a the telltale scent of honey as you perk up. You’re happy if she’s happy. So you’re smiling when she presents to you—

A randoseru backpack. Sturdy, heavy, space inside to hold things and has two straps— Definitely a backpack.

“Ya been wearin’ that the wholeeeeeee dayyyyyyyyyyy!” He’s drawling it out hard, all furrowed brows and puffed up face. “Aren’t ya tired???” Gojo Satoru is pouting up at you from his position on your floor as you keep staring at your reflection.

You’re unfazed.

“I think she looks nice.” Suguru’s humming as he nods, a hand under his chin and a smile on his face as he watches you hold onto the straps of your backpack and stare— Almost unblinkingly into your mirror. “It suits you.”

It does, doesn’t it? You’re glad he agrees. Glad he likes it just as much as you do as you keep staring into your reflection with sparkly eyes and jitters in your stomach. This was perfect.

“Mama said it was for—“ What was it again? She taught it to you just this morning. “Eluh… Ment-airy?” Sounds about right.

A blink from the both of them. You’ll admit you aren’t the best at remembering recent things.

“Ya mean school?” Satoru’s got you covered, thankfully. He says he’s so smart cause he gets his own personal teach-er. It must be nice to know so many things. “Pfft,” He flubbers his tongue, his arms and legs outstretching to resemble a floppy starfish as he makes more whines. “School’s bad! Learning’s boring! Just stay home and play with us!”

“I like learning, though.” You do. You’re not the best out there, but at least you like it. That’s what matters.

“Mmm… Is it Akutami Elementary?” It’s slow; the way Suguru pronounces the words. Like he’s careful about not slipping on any of them, like he has committed himself to remembering it.

And you feel your heart fluttering at the name; an odd sense of excitement instilled into you at the recognition, vigorously nodding as you swivel to face him. How did he know?

“Yeah. Mama says I’m going there next spring.”

You can barely help the grin on your face, the happiness making you feel light on your feet and your mind all mushy with joy. Though…

“But I wish you both were there too, though.” And you’re back to staring down at your socks, eyes turning wistful and a frown starting to take over. It would be… Lonely, without them. Maybe you’re just too used to being around them all the time, or maybe you’re just being selfish.

You don’t really know. But you do know that going anywhere without them would be—

“But I’m going there too.“ A blink, a tilt of his head to the side. And he’s smiling right back at you when you’re hurriedly clasping his hand into both of your own, all glittery eyes and excitedly squeezing as you feel the bubble you’ve been keeping inside burst.

“Real— Really? You’ll be there too?” You’re leaning in so close, pushing your face into his own until they were mere inches away from each other as your lip practically trembles in all your stored excitement.

(You won’t be alone!)

You’re funny. Could’ve just asked him first to find out, really. But your hands feel nice on his, so he won’t complain.

You both miss a certain snowy-haired friend, pouting off to the side and finally sitting back up, glaring at the tatami mats of your floor before… He recovers all too quickly with a glimmer in his eyes and a smile on his face.

It’s not like he’s letting the two of you go anywhere without him. That’s banned.

“What elementary did you say it was again?”

previous masterlist next

[alexa-fika]

Hi!! I was the 👻 anon :3

Ok so I have another request a whitebeard pirates x child reader again

So the whitebeard pirates arrived at a spooky island which is dark and gloom like Mohawk island (forgor the name)

So they find reader sleeping with a small teddy bear but when they got close the teddy bear is alive and trying to kill them because the teddy (Name Mr stitchy) is protective over reader because Mr stitchy See's them as family and leader

The reader wakes up but instead of stopping Mr stitchy they just watch because they hate pirates and pirates we're the reason why they are stranded in the island

But then whitebeard appears then starts hurting Mr stitchy making reader to beg and cry to stop hurting their family

So in the end whitebeard coax reader to coming with them

Also can you base Mr stitchy off this? This idea has been in my mind lol

Sorry if this was long :p I'll make the next one shorter :D

Stuffy Meetings (Whitebeard pirates x f!child!reader)

A/N HERE WE GO I KNOW I SAID NOTHING WAS COMING BUT IT CAME AND WHEN I SAW IT WAS YOUR BDAY I HURRIED IT UP. HAPPY BIRTHDAY . Ngl I thought this was a flop but it may be a cook?? Also don’t worry about request ever being long : ) I hope you have a nice bday. In one of the scene I kept thinking about this photo so just so we share the vizion 🕴🏼

Here Reader is replaced by Dokucha which means Reader in japanese

Dividers by @/saradika

“Man, this place is gloomy,” Thatch mutters

“Why did we stop here again?” Ace questioned, wincing as he stepped into what looked like a pile of bones

“We were running down on supplies; this was the closest Island on the way,” Izou replies

“What can we possibly fin- is that a kid?” Ace questions, pausing right in front of the sleeping child

“She got a creepy teddy too; look at that thing; it’s all stitched up; look, the head doesn’t even fit the body,” he said, poking at the plushie

Mr.Stichy moves around at the sudden contact, his eyes flying open as he begins to take in what is happening around him and the danger Dokucha could be in; he is quick to lunge at the man, branding twin sickles

“Man, what is that thing? Is it a haint!?” Thach yells, taking out his dual blades and parring against the attacher

“What the hell?!” Ace exclaims, looking at the odd newcomer

“Get the hell away from her,” the bear growls, pushing Thatch back with his own weapons

“The hell you talking about, you overgrown plushy,” Thatch said, stumbling back

Dokucha rubs their eyes, slowly waking up at the chaos unfurling. She watched how the bear evaded Thatch’s attacks and lunged for him once again, not making any movement to stop or call back the bear.

“Who’s this kid?” Ace asks while keeping a close eye on the stuffed bear

“Not important, the bear’s clearly dangerous,” Thatch shouted back and lunged for the bear, attacking again

“That bear is quick.” Ace comments, igniting his flames and jumping into the fray

“You want to go?!”

Mr.Stichy narrows his eyes, glaring at the flame man

“You’re no match for us!” the man declared while firing off blasts of flames at the bear. At the same time, Izou aimed his way to shoot down the bear

“STOP!” Dokucha screams, running in front of the bear just as Ace was about to make contact. In just a second, as Dokucha stood in front of him, arms stretched to protect him, Mr. Stichy stood behind her glaring at Ace, who had managed to stop, as he pointed his weapons at him

“What?” both of them say at the same time, looking at the screaming girl

“What the hells is going on?” Thatch says

“Don’t hurt him!”

“Him?” Ace said, stopping his attack

“This thing?. Do you mean to tell me you’re attached to this?” Thatch said in a mocking voice

“He’s all I have left,” they cry

“Where are your parents? Izou questions, putting his guns away and approaching the child, ignoring the way Me. Stichy kept his sickles pointed their way, his red eye ominously digging into them

“They died. It’s only Stichy and me now.”

“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” Izou sympathizes while still keeping an eye on the bear as Ace and Thatch glance at each other

“We should take her to the Pops.”

“Are you sure? That bear looks really creepy; I wouldn’t trust it.” Thatch says

“She would still be alone if we let her go; I agree with Izou; we should take her,” Ace says

“ She’s not going with the likes of you.” He growls

“She shouldn’t be on her own,” Ace argues while Thatch puts his sword back into its sheath

“It would be cruel not to,” Izou adds

“Like hell, I will let you take her!”

“Listen, I understand we just met; I know you are wary of us, I understand that, and the decision is ultimately yours, but think about her, do you really think she will be able to survive here alone? Even if she does, do you think she will be happy?” Izou questioned

Stichy stills at that, glancing at the trembling child in front of him and slowly lowering his sickles

“How do I know you are not trying to use her?”

“You don’t, you just have to trust us.” Piped in Thatch

He took one last glance at the child and back at them and back to Dokucha

“Do you want to go?” He questions lowly

She looks at the men in front of her and back at the bear and nods her head

“I want to go with you,” she said, grasping his paws

“Alright,” he said, giving jn

“Don’t worry, little one, we’ll take care of you,” Izou reassures while walking forward to pick her up

She wrapped one hand around him

Instinctively not letting go of Stichy’s hand as they walk to the ship

Izou smiled reassuringly at her while walking to the ship as Thatch and Ace walked a little ways ahead

“This kid’s got no one,” Thatch said, shaking his head

“That’s why we’ll take care of her,” Ace replied while heading for the ship

“This is Whitebeard, but we call him Pops,” Ace said pointing at said Captain

She flinched, looking up, up, up until she was finally able to meet his eyes, tightening his grip on Stichy, who gave her hand a squeeze in silent comfort

Whitebeard was quiet for a few seconds before crouching down next to her

“What’s your name?” He asked her

“Dokucha”

“Dokucha?…” he paused before nodding. “A nice name,” he said while smiling

“Hey, Pops, can we keep her?” Ace questioned

“Oh, now, who’s looking to adopt a child?” Thatch joked as he walked up to them

“Shut up; I want a little sister; I know you guys do too. Don’t deny it.”

“I think we should let her stay,” Izou says, joining the conversation

“Why do you want me to stay so much?” she questions, grasping Stichy’s hand tighter

“You’re alone; that’s no way to be. Especially at this early of an age,” Whitebeard said

“Yeah, plus you’ve got no other family, so we’ll take care of you as such,” Ace explained while Thatch remained silent

“Family?” She questioned

“You’ll be my family?” She mumbled tears growing on her eyes, tears that she is quick to wipe away

She glanced at Stichy, who stood next to her

“But I can’t leave without Mr.Stichy.”

“Who said he would be staying behind?” stated Whitebeard

“H-He can stay?”

“I wouldn’t make you leave you’re only family behind,” He said while picking her up.

“Oh god, Pops, you’re gonna spoil her rotten,” Thatch complains as ace, and izou can’t help but laugh.

Okay I think I like it, I just think I rushed some of the areas but other than that I like how it turned out

Taglist:

@imaginarydreams

@amethystviolin

@h0n3y-l3m0n05

[nkjemisin]

Your writing hits like Ursula k. LeGuin and Octavia Butler are nodding somewhere. You take the dynamic nature of human phenomena and ask what happens if we hold them still in time to truly examine them embodied in characters.

Thank you for writing the story of Sieh in the Inheritance Trilogy. It’s hard to explain what the god of childhood means to someone who didn’t really get one. With him, I was not bitter or angry or sad at what I missed. Instead, I had a character who was a lot like me to show me it’s possible to change at any time.

Sieh reminds me of Shori from Fledgling in some ways: a lost child with dangerous and other-worldly powers who wants belonging. Both of them are forced to grow up very quickly and make a future with with their chosen families against huge odds.

They both helped me find my joy again after losing it for a very long time and grow again even when it’s hard and painful.

Thank you for your writing.

Wow, all of this is high praise, and I'm honored! Thanks.

I'm sorry that your own childhood was unpleasant. That's one of the reasons why I made Sieh himself unpleasant, in many ways -- because he's all of childhood. The cute and the disturbing, the well-behaved and the feral, the fat happy kids who get to grow up and the starving abused kids who don't always. I'm glad some of that resonated.

Thank you again.

[will80sbyers]

The thought that they are perfectly written to help each other makes me feral for them because they are complementary without having to try to be

Mike has that type of strong and morally golden character that believes in fighting back for justice and he genuinely thinks that all his friends being some kind of "different" only makes them special and that's something positive that they should be proud of and just by being himself- when he's not trying to be cooler for someone else - he helps Will to feel like he shouldn't hide himself like all the other people around him made him feel he should

Will looks at Mike and takes example from him and he takes courage and the love he feels for him is so beautiful that it feels wrong to think it would be wrong to love him

Will with Mike usually starts to feel like he can be brave and honest about his feelings, and he's not a mistake only because he's born different from what society considers proper.

and then we have Mike that doesn't feel special at all, that doesn't see himself reflected in the mirror as a hero, he doesn't see himself represented as one irl because for him what he does, like, be willing to give his life for his friends and challenge anyone that wants to hurt them just because he wants to protect them doesn't feel like something special or a burden

for Mike that is just in his nature

and so he doesn't understand how that makes him a hero inherently, he runs towards the danger any time his friends and family need him even against all odds... he fights back and he's willing to take any type of consequences for that, he's brave and loyal and loves with all his heart and still he doesn't see himself as a hero

during the years Mike has started feeling like he's not special enough for people to really want to stay in his life long term and so he has to try to be cooler than he is and change what he's like on the surface to be more like what society regards as one of "the cool kids"

and then here comes Will that gets MAD when Mike is not himself, that pictures him as a brave hero and wants Mike exactly as he is, he looks at Mike and sees the best person one could be and takes a mirror and places it right in front of him and says you are perfect exactly as you are too, I love you for who you are and I want you to always know that, I need you to be yourself because you being yourself is what gives me hope that I am not a mistake

you being yourself is what makes us all better because we are inspired by your character and you make us all want to fight injustice with you and follow you anywhere

you are special. and you are actually the one that's most special between all of us because of what you have in your heart and we all need you and most importantly we WANT you and we want to be with you

I want to be with you and stay with you for the rest of my life - you make me want to stay on this earth even against all of the pain and fear, and you make me feel brave and I need you to know how much you are loved and appreciated as you are right now without having to change anything about yourself

Mike & Will are complementary and they need and want each other at the same time and they will find happiness together🩷

[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

ALPHABET BOY- S.G ROGERS

Pairing: Brothers Best Friend! Steve x Innocent! Fem! Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: you despise steve and his constant teasing with you- the younger sister of his best friend bucky barnes. little do you know that teasing is flirting, and it comes in handy when you’re trapped at a costume party with no way home. 

Warnings: SMUT, fingering, daddy kink, petnames, slight breeding kink, praise kink, swearing, size kink (steve is like 6′5), dry humping, slight degradation kink, lots of teasing, alcohol and drugs mentioned 

“i'm not a little kid now, watch me get big now- spell my name on the fridge now with all your alphabet toys.... you won the spelling bee now, but are you smarter than me now? you're the prince of the playground little alphabet boy” - alphabet boy, melanie martinez 

You were sick of him. 

Sick, sick, sick. 

He plagued your brain, consuming you whole like some flesh-eating maggot. The thought of him was enough to send shivers down your back, make your stomach curl in on itself like rotten milk. 

Steve scared you. 

He scared you in a way you didn’t even know was possible, in a way that was rooted deep in your core. The embarrassment you got whenever he was around sent you spiraling. 

You were the shy, timid and innocent little sister to Bucky, though you weren't so little, he and his friends always thought of you that way. 

I’m not a little kid! You’d often whine to him as he teased you, times never changing. Steve was Bucky's best friend, a brother to him if you will. Always lurking around, always popping up in places you'd least expect him. 

He was the character that was always slouched on the couch when you got home, acting as if it were his house, and you were the guest. You might as well be, with the way he teased you. 

Always making your cheeks heat whenever he mocked you, called you names, picked on you for your cutesy, little pink outfits. It made your toes curl in their socks, your hands balling into little fists as if you were fighting the urge to swing at him. 

He’s being mean to me again Bucky! You’d often call from your bedroom as Steve towered over you, leaning against your bedroom door frame- eyeing you up like you were the star dish on the menu. 

Let him! He’d call back, making Steve’s smirk grow even wider. 

It was torture, being around him. Any comments you shot back to him ended up backfiring almost immediately. 

You were smaller, dumber, younger- didn’t you know better? 

No, you wanted to snap back. No, I don’t know any better. Because I’m stubborn and he’s being a tease. 

Steve would build you up like building blocks, just to bring you back down again. Yet you refused to be away from him for too long. Yes the thoughts made you feel sick, tummy starting to ache as you thought of his cool, stern gaze, that cocky smile and biceps as large as your head.

 It made your thighs clamp, palms turn clammy when you thought of the happy trail that lingered down his abs whenever he’d stretch and yawn while him and Bucky were watching the game, knowing you were watching from behind your little hiding spot. 

Damn him. Damn him and his mocking, pretentious ways. Damn him for always winning you back over, with little sweets and treats and the odd compliment, or attention he knew you so desperately craved.

 It was obvious, how drawn to him you were, like a lost puppy. Though you tried to fight it, you were always rewarded with a snarky comment. 

You’re so dumb. So dumb, such a baby. 

You could never win, when it came to Steve. He was the golden child in everyone’s eyes, always doing the right thing, always working so hard and succeeding! You were just trying your best, getting the soft, sad smile along with it. 

They didn’t see how Steve treated you. They didn’t notice the sly looks he gave you, knowing he had beat you at every hand he dealt. 

He was the prince of the playground. You were just a pawn for him, something to direct his mocking, sarcastic ways towards. Though you refused to cry in front of him, knowing that would irk his comments even more.

 I’m just teasing you rabbit. Don’t be so sensitive. Was his form of an apology. And you ate it up every single time, licking the plate and utensils before seconds.

 It was cat and mouse between the two of you, always pulling each other's leg. Or hair, in his case. The sexual attraction you felt towards him was undeniable, nonetheless. You were drawn to him and his charming ways, the facade he put on for others. 

How could no one see him? The real him? 

The Steve who always trailed his hand up your leg to pinch your thigh tightly when you were forced to sit next to him, the Steve who always looked at you as if you were his next meal. 

He was an angel to the world, but his halo was anything but bright. You thought of him now, in your own set of angel wings- costume party in full swing. It was late, the hour growing long and you wanted nothing more than to stumble home. 

Even if that meant taking yourself. 

The alcohol was buzzing in your system, the bottle drowning you way past your limit. You were such a sucker for peer pressure, wanting nothing more than to please others. 

So you drank, and drank, and drank until you were a babbling mess, the world seeming to bend over backwards, flipping each and every way as you adjusted your little wings and took another sip of some fruity cooler. 

It was so saccharine you swore your teeth started to tingle as it swished around your mouth. 

You needed to leave. 

It was too stuffy and hot, bodies all packed together as the wallpaper glistened from the low lights, and the smoke started to cover everything like a shield. Nobody listened to you, your friends long gone as you attempted to beg for an exit, an escape route for you to stumble down. 

Everyone had morphed into another being- you weren't sure who was who anymore, with all the masks and makeup. It was not your scene. Not at all. 

Somehow, after a few loud, floor-shaking songs later you had managed to stumble over to a hallway, slowly guiding yourself past the couples who were dry-humping eachother against the picture frames, kissing with so much teeth and tongues it was like they were having a battle on who would gasp for air first.

The red solo cup had slipped from your nibble fingers, clattering against the hardwood and splashing red up against the walls. 

It looked like blood. 

The cool air hit you like a train on a track as you stepped out into the dark abyss, large forest looming in front of you as the porch light flickered. The shadows of the trees looked like clawed fingers against the grass, the gust of wind causing goosebumps to spread up your arms. 

You needed to get home. 

There was a trail that connected this property to yours, though it was long and windy. The smart thing to do was to call Bucky, explain to him the situation. 

I’m drunk. Like really drunk. And I’m scared and I need someone to hold just for a few minutes while they take me home. It was a mistake and I’m so sorry, I really am. 

But he wouldn't hold you. He probably wouldn’t even pick you up, saying it was your fault for getting in this situation, so you should find a way out of it.

 No, no that was intrusive thoughts talking. You couldn't tell the difference anymore. Everything in your brain was swimming, the world stretching and warping like a fushigi ball. 

Bucky would pick you up. Of course he would. But you knew the consequences that would come with it. Which is exactly why you put another foot forward, pushing yourself off of the old, weathered siding. 

You would be treated like a child, mocked at for being so careless. Well, he could shove that mocking up his ass. You were tired of him and his friends always being so mean, always bullying you because you were seen as careless. 

You didn’t need any company, but it didn’t mean you were opposed to it. A shadow, one even more intimidating than the towering trees appeared, lingering behind you. It was stretched, shoulders wide as you peered down at it. 

“You shouldn't be out here all alone.” the voice murmured, low and deep as you turned. Your eyes met with a strangers, mask covering his face- deep looming pulled eyes staring at you. 

Ghostface. 

You had seen that movie with Steve and Bucky, though you had never been a fan of scary movies. “It’s not safe for little girls like you, you know.” he drawled on.

 It should've scared you, his sudden interest in you. He had appeared out of nowhere, quite literally from nowhere, keening to the likes of you. But it made you feel special, knowing this mystery man was talking to you.

 “I’m not alone, you’re out here.” you giggled, stumbling forward towards his 6’5 frame. You felt a weird desire to be in this mans arms- though there was no doubt about it that it was the booze that rushed to your head. 

“You should be scared angel. Not stumbling towards a stranger, all doe eyed like that.” 

“But you seem nice!” you chirped out, forgetting your original mission to make way back to your home. You liked this man. You liked Ghostface. 

“ Mhm you’re lucky I am. I take pity on little girls like you.” His arm extended, tight black henley sleeves rolled up to his bulging biceps. Mystery mans hand was warm to the touch, the brush of skin against your own sent heat licking down your spine. It was then you noted the tattoo that was all too familiar, the twist and curves of black ink that bent around his wrist like a snake. 

Steve. 

“Steve?” The hand that shrugged off the mask confirmed your suspicions, long blonde hair curling at the nape of his neck, blue eyes sparked with mischief. 

“You really shouldn't be so vulnerable, ya know. What if I actually was a stranger? It’s dangerous.”

 The scolding began. You were too dazed out to fight back, tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth. 

“I’m sorry, I really am. Just- just don’t tell B-bucky!” you hiccupped, praying he would help you. This was the first time you had needed Steve. Had wanted him to stay, and actually care. 

He clucked his tongue. “I won’t. But we need to get you home, yea? Silly girl. Silly, silly girl.”

 “I’m sorry.” was all you could mutter, stumbling as he squeezed your hand as a sign of reassurance, fighting off the chill of the night air.

 “Don’t be stupid. You weren't thinking of going in the woods alone, were you? There really must not be a brain in there after all.” he mocked, taunting you as he guided you onwards, towards the creaking trees, their limbs dangling down like claws that would scratch your skin lean off, leave you bare and vulnerable. 

You took a deep breath, the fresh air heightening your senses as a twig snapped from under his weight, a soft tune leaving his lips as he whistled. You shuddered, leaning into him more, his larger hand in yours squeezing your digits a little tighter.

 “You scared angel?”

 “N-no. Never scared.” you lied, staring straight ahead, though you couldn't see much besides his flashlight beam aimed at the little path in front of you. 

“Not even when I spooked you that one time when you were with that pink bunny stuffie in your bedroom? What were you doing with it anyways?” 

Humping it to the thought of you, you wanted to confess but kept your lips shut. 

“Having a tea party.” you grumbled, to which he laughed. It brought you a sense of comfort in the moment- that laugh. It wasn't mean, or directed. It was just easy, carefree, and light as it bounced off an invisible sound barrier.

 He wasn't laughing at you. He was laughing with you.

 “Cute. You’re so cute bunny. You know that?” 

“No.” you giggled, cheeks heating as hot as the sun, whether it was from the booze or his affections, you didn’t know. It seemed like time was stretched and warped, the path ending as soon as it started when you were with Steve. 

You felt weirdly protected with him near, the warmth of his body drawing you closer, the scent of his cologne making your head spin as he murmured to you. It was hard to comprehend what he was saying, your mind in a different place as you stumbled into your backyard. 

The lights were off, the structure appearing empty and hollow as you stared up at it. “Looks like Bucko wouldn't of came anyways sweetheart.” he sighed, noting his car wasn't in the driveway, the doors appearing locked.

 “Does that mean I’m alone?” you asked, anxiety creeping into your voice. You didn’t think you could be alone tonight. You were too anxious and on edge to deal with the warped shadows, bending and following you like a contortionist. 

And if you puked, who said you’d be able to get off the bathroom tiles? 

“I’m staying with you angel. You’re too stupid to think for yourself right now.” 

You fought your urge to stick your tongue out at him, but you knew he was right. He teased you for having next to no thoughts in your brain all the time, but this time it was actually true.

 “Let’s go.” he tugged at your arm, causing u to stumble after him as he made his way towards the back door. His legs were so much longer than yours, stride extensive and full of authority. Steve knew exactly where to go, digging the key out of the hiding spot and unlocking the door. 

You didn’t even know how he knew where it was. You surely didn’t remember.

 The light flickered on, humming softly as it illuminated the little breakfast nook. “Steve why do you hate me?” you blurted out, hiccuping as you bent down to unbuckle your shoes, kicking them off by the door.

 His face contorted into a look of confusion as he peered down at you. “I don’t hate you bunny. Far from it.” 

You just nodded, taking his word for it. He was stumped by your level of compliance, as you normally would fight or bicker with him whenever he made a claim. But you were quiet, humming a little song as you trudged towards the stairs, hands out in front of you to guide you instead of turning on the rest of the lights.

 “Stev-” you gasped as suddenly your body was lifted from the ground, swung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Your head spun as you stared at the world from a much taller height, body squirming as he moved.

 A hand smacked your thigh that poked from under your little dress, making you yelp. “Stop squirmin girl. You're not walking up these stairs.” he grumbled, making the trudge up the rickety wooden stairs, hand rubbing your thigh as you felt your panties start to dampen. 

His hand was so warm, so nice as it stroked your skin, even when it stung. 

“I’m fully- fully able to walk up.” you slurred and he chuckled.

 “Mhm I don’t think you should think for yourself right now baby bunny.” he teased, and you giggled. Your bedroom door opened with a creak, and he walked you past the pink walls, past the frilly whites and endless stuffies as he plopped you down on your bed. 

You laid back with a sigh, tracing the soft sheets with your fingers, sinking into them as you closed your eyes. Steve felt himself getting harder and harder the longer he gazed at you, so soft and delicate- like a little doll. 

You were so in your element, basking in the comfort of the silk and cotton, just savoring how fuzzy you felt in the moment. 

“Can you help me with my costume Stevie?” you whispered, eyes fluttering open to smile at him. He thought he was dreaming. He needed to be pinched. 

But you needed his help, craved for his touch again as you lay there- almost helpless. You swung your leg up, toes curling against his abdomen in your socks, stretching your arms over your head.

 “You’re such a tease, you know that?” he murmured, tugging at each sock, peeing them away from your skin to reveal your bubblegum pink nail polish. 

“Mhmm so tired though Stevie. I can’t do anything.” 

“Oh I know.” he smirked, hands slowly inching their way up towards your thighs, fingers walking their way across your skin. 

“Just need your help, you gotta take care of me.” you giggled, back arching as he tugged at your dress, pulling off the rest of your costume. Your breasts were bared, shining in the pale moonlight as the air whooshed past his teeth. 

No bra.

 “Fuck. Fuck fuck.” he murmured as you giggled softly, batting your eyelashes at him as if you were a schoolgirl. “What’s the matter Stevie?” you asked, reaching for him, nails softly scraping against his biceps. 

“You’re so fucking adorable angel. Jesus Christ.” 

“Yeah?” you smiled, grabbing his hand, guiding it down towards your lacey underwear that was now soaked, letting his fingers circle your button through the fabric. 

You moaned, back arching against the sheets as he smiled, that wicked grin that drove you wild. You couldn't help yourself. You were on cloud nine, head in the heavens from the way he looked at you, the way he touched you. 

Hands slipped up to grope your breasts, massaging them, squeezing each nipple as your mouth parted into an O shape, moaning his name. His hands slipped under your undergarments, fingers coaxing you open as your legs fell limp- purely under his control. Submissive and willing for him. 

It drove him wild, the sweet, innocent little sister of his best friend- the person he had craved for years was now under him looking like a doll.

 “Gotta open you up first princess. Don’t wanna hurt your sweet, little hole hm?” he whispered, thumb circling your clit, so sensitive under his flesh, aching for him. 

You were just so needy, practically begging him- words slurring as you humped his hand, mindlessly reaching for one of your stuffies to cling to as your body rode him. 

“Mhmm so… daddy..” you gasped out, emitting a low growl from his lips. You moaned into the fur of the animal, to which he quickly ripped away. 

“Don’t hide your sweet little noises for daddy baby, don’t you know better? We’re all alone here, just the two of us. But even if we weren't, wouldn't you want everyone to know how good daddy's fingers feel stuffed in your cunnie?” 

You nodded viciously, gasping for breath as heat licked down your spine, burning bright in your core as he rocked into you deeper. It was taken away in an instant, a startled gasp leaving your lips in disappointment before you saw his hands fumbling with his belt, muttering under his breath. 

“Fuck I’m sorry angel but I can't take this anymore.I need- I need to be inside you I’m-” 

You whimpered as he tugged down his bottoms as quickly as the two of you had entered this tangled affair, barely having a second to process what was happening before he was in you, and he was in you deep. 

Plunging straight to the hilt, hands clawing at his biceps as you moaned, cried his name so sweetly he almost combusted right then and there.

 “I’m so sorry angel I just- been waiting too long, FUCK you’re so goddamn tight n wet..” he murmured, head drooping low as he breathed you in, watched the way your juices coated his cock as he slipped out just slightly, only to plunge in even harder. 

You clung to him so nicely, as if you were just made for him and only him, delicate and dainty. It was so easy to make you drool, so easy to watch you melt deeper into the mattress as he used you as his own personal fleshlight, muscles tensing and flexing as they adjusted you to the exact positions he wanted you in. 

“You’re so good to me Stevie. So, so good, filling me…” you sighed, eyes hazy and glazed over as you peered up at him, admiring the man you hated with a passion, but the one you also craved like a drug. 

He was so careful with you, guiding your tipsy body home, but so rough and eager with you now, as if he was feral.

 “Stevie?” you asked softly, face distorting slightly the longer he looked at you, confusion now smeared across your face like a kids finger painting. “Stevie?” 

You were muffled- trapped underwater. Murky. 

His eyes flew open with a start, meeting yours as he blinked the fuzz away. His hand was so close to your body, just mere inches away from the place he had been touching you in his dream. 

“Mhm?” he asked, noting he had somehow ended shirtless in your bed, the girly bedsheets wrapped around his low midriff, and you fought not to stare down at his happy trail. 

“You were dreaming I think. Mumbling something.” you slurred, head smacking down back onto the pillow as he stared at you, your eyes now closed once more. 

He didn’t fully remember what had happened. He had teased you, felt you up, and helped you home. But now he was in your bed, despite the fact the two of you bickered constantly, and nothing had happened. 

Your little skimpy pj’s were still on. His boxers were on. Though he wished more than anything they were off, that everything was off and he could feel you the way he had ten seconds earlier. 

He watched the steady rise and fall of your chest as you fell back into a drunken slumber, hand slipping over to cup your warm cheek before he could stop himself.