#but at least I now know why I’m so easily drained

[softpastelqueer]

It’s honestly really exhausting to be taught in speech pathology that you should use specific, clear, and concise language when talking to others, but Neurotypicals never seem to understand specific contextual language and act as if you’re using vague terminology 😭😩😭

💖Neurotypicals Learn How To Communicate Better Challenge💖

[ifnotlovepersevering]

Down the Road (Agatha Harkness x Reader)

Summary: your summon to the Witches’ Road unexpectedly reconnects you with the witch that left you behind

Warnings: angsty, anger between R and A, fight scene, injury (A), flashback to past abandonment, R is lowkey into dark magic but in denial, lovers to hurt strangers 😔 whatever will we do

A/N: I used a few different requests in my inbox as inspo. It can also be read as a continuation of Closer. I’m planning on a part two but am open to suggestions on where to take this next! Enjoy 🖤

Tag List: @nyx-aira @crystalline-possession @clxwnnyy @lilibeth-tate @highgaytohell @amethyst-bitch @shinkomiii @agnessharknes @academiagaymess @midnight-lestrange

A summon to the Witches’ Road seemed like exactly what you needed right now. You’d been keeping to yourself these days, staying out of trouble. But it’d been too long since you’d had some excitement and your hands were itching for something new. You were going in blind, but that’s always fun, right?

At least that’s what you’d thought. When the smoke of your white magic disappeared, you were greeted with the sight of your new ragtag coven. You counted four. Where’s the fifth?

“Hello,” you grinned at the youngest, a pale boy with dark hair. “I’m Y/N, I believe someone called?”

“Y/N? As in awesome-moon-powers-Y/N?” The boy exclaimed, grabbing the arm of the tallest one, who seemed equally excited.

You laughed. “I didn’t realize my reputation preceded me so much.”

“Are you kidding?” Now it was the tall one exclaiming. “You’re like, so cool. Incorporating the moon into your power? It makes you the jack of all trades. Healing, light manipulation, water control. I can’t believe you’re here!”

“Moon magic?” The older woman seemed sort of dazed. “I’d heard stories…but have never seen it for myself.”

Before you could respond to the group’s praise, a familiar voice rang out. “What the hell are all of you harping ab-”

You turned around at the same time as footsteps behind you halted in their tracks. You felt your heart drop as you realized why the voice was familiar. It couldn’t be.

Agatha Harkness stood in front of you in all her glory. Gone was the young witch you had known, in her place a woman exuding power and elegance. Both of you eyed each other, surprise and apprehension on your faces.

•••

Your last memory of Agatha was that smirk of hers. You two had started as rivals but a trip that you went on together changed that. You grew closer and animosity turned to friendship, which turned into something much more. So many nights of you sneaking into each other’s rooms, honing your skills, and eventually using your hands to explore each other.

On one of your many visits to the woods for spell practice, the two of you encountered a shapeshifter. You and Agatha fought it off but it forced you to use the full extent of your powers. You were young and had only just started to incorporate the moon into your witchcraft. The fight drained you completely, leaving you weak.

At home, you were checked into the infirmary. News spread quickly of the battle; Agatha, being Evanora’s daughter, caught attention easily. Her power had been a topic of dispute within the coven for some time. You resented the others for how they treated her, especially her own mother. The parts of Agatha that made them turn away were the same you admired undyingly. You loved her.

You had been drifting in and out of consciousness for hours before you finally woke up to see Agatha at your bedside. “They want a formal questioning,” she had told you softly, her hand holding yours. In response to your furrowed brow, Agatha brushed the hair from your forehead. “It’s nothing serious. I’ll be back before you know it.”

You sighed, knowing Evanora took every chance she could to hurt Agatha. “Give them hell anyway.”

“You know I will.” Agatha had smirked, and with a soft kiss, she was gone. Unbeknownst to you, it was the last time you were going to see her.

You woke up the next day, surrounded by the early morning darkness. It was eerily silent; you’d expected Agatha to be back by now. Your strength had returned, and you searched for Agatha everywhere you could think of. No one was around, every room empty.

Eventually you had come to the clearing and saw the husks of the other witches. Their bodies surrounded a post, covered in scorch marks from what you could only assume to be Agatha. You felt yourself freeze as the truth dawned on you. It was more than questions, it was a sentencing. Yet Agatha had obviously survived.

Hot tears had filled in your eyes and a lump formed in your throat before you had collapsed into sobs. She’d survived, of course she had. But she hadn’t come for you. Agatha, the girl you loved without question, whom you had embraced completely. The girl who encouraged you with your magic, the one you’d helped with controlling her own. She had left you.

Over time, the hurt faded but it never quite left. You never looked back, not at her, nor the version of you that broke that day in the clearing. You drew from the pain and let it fuel your ambition. As you travelled and your power grew, you’d heard stories about Agatha. How she’d honed those skills you’d practiced together into something to be both admired and feared. But her betrayal was enough for you to never want to seek her out again.

•••

You blinked, snapping out of your reverie.

“Y/N was the other name on the list? I can’t believe you wanted to leave her behind.” The boy’s voice piped up from behind you.

You scoffed. “Don’t be so surprised.” There was no hiding the snark in your voice, and you saw Agatha’s face drop right before you turned on your heel. “This was a mistake,” you muttered, walking away from the group to recollect yourself.

The rest of the group watched as you left. “What did she mean by that?” Alice hissed at Agatha. Everyone looked at her expectantly.

“Well,” Agatha grinned sheepishly. “We may have some…uh…unfinished business if you will.”

Jenn rolled her eyes. “Whatever, you have to make her stay. We need her to do this.”

Agatha groaned as the others nodded and nudged her towards the area you’d retreated to. But the annoyance was an act. Seeing your name on the list had stopped her in her tracks, bringing back memories she’d tried to bury. And now here you were, and she couldn’t hide from the swirl of emotions within her like she’s used to doing. Her heart still ached for you but it was unlikely you’d want anything to do with her.

She sauntered over to where you were sitting on a log by yourself. Standing close to you, she had a moment to take in your appearance. Somehow you were even more beautiful than she remembered. Time had clearly treated you well, and Agatha found her gaze catching on your features as she took in the sight of the face that haunted her memories.

She cleared her throat. “You can’t leave now that you’re here. The Road. It won’t let you.”

You looked up at her from where you sat. “You think I don’t know that?” You snapped. “I wouldn’t have come if I knew it was you.”

That stung. “Well it’s nice to see you again too, doll.” Agatha sneered.

“Oh save it, Agatha.” You stood up, eye level with the other witch. “I think we both remember who left who. Don’t play dumb now.”

“You act like I made that decision by flipping a coin. You don’t know the half of it.” The nonchalant attitude Agatha had been putting up was slipping away, revealing the raw emotion underneath.

You shook your head and turned your back to her. “Forget it. I’m already going to have to suffer through the rest of this thing anyway. I don’t need some shitty explanation from you.”

But Agatha wasn’t one to take that for an answer. She grabbed your arm, forcing you to turn back and face her. “No,” she hissed. “You don’t get to do what they did. Don’t repaint me as callous because I was never like that with you.”

You clenched your jaw, feeling a lump forming at the back of your throat. You couldn’t help it - the hurt you’d buried for this long was coming back up, and it was as sharp as the day it’d arrived.

“Callous?” You laughed humourlessly. “No, leaving me behind wasn’t callous. It was cruel. You’re cruel.”

You could see Agatha’s cheeks flushed in anger, and her mouth opened with another rebuttal when a shriek rang through the air back where the rest of the coven was standing. Both of you jumped, and Agatha dropped your arm.

“What the hell was that?” You shouted at Agatha over the shrieks, which had grown louder.

“Salem Seven ring a bell?” Agatha snarked, but her eyes were filled with fear.

“What the fuck, Agatha.” You all but yelled as the two of you began running back. Somehow you’d never encountered any of the Seven before but that didn’t mean you wanted to start now. They were definitely pissed at Agatha, but it was unlikely that they were happy with you either, as the only other survivor of their mothers’ massacre.

The shrieks were coming from both the coven and a dark, hooded figure who you assumed was one of the Seven floating above them. “Run!” The boy screamed, and everyone began sprinting down the road.

Suddenly you heard Agatha cry out and a thud. You turned to see Agatha on the ground, the hooded figure hovering over her. You stared incredulously as Agatha put her arms up to shield herself, but made no other move to put up a defence. What is she doing?

The Salem Seven witch lunged towards Agatha and you quickly shot a beam at her, making her fall to the ground. As you ran over, you saw the witch was already stirring, not quite dead yet. You began reciting a spell that’d become second nature for you now, your hands falling into the familiar motions.

Agatha watched in awe as you drew the many surrounding shadows towards the figure on the ground. You made a sharp movement with your hand and suddenly the figure that was beginning to rise from the ground was being surrounded by dark tendrils.

Muffled screams could be heard as the shadows twisted tighter and tighter, until the figure fell limp to the ground. You weren’t done, however. Another practiced movement of your hands and you watched as the shadows engulfed the witch, dragging her downwards into the ground until she disappeared like vapour.

With the threat gone, you rushed to Agatha’s side. You could see a gash on her arm where her sleeve had torn, blood seeping out of the wound. “What were you thinking? Why didn’t you fight back?” Anger mixed with worry as you searched Agatha’s face for answers.

“Careful there, Y/N. Wouldn’t want to look like you care.” When you didn’t indulge her teasing, the other witch sighed. “Why do you think I’m here?” She asked, gesturing around her. She saw the confusion in your face and waved her hand dismissively. “Long story doll, I won’t bore you.”

Typical. Even all those years ago Agatha would opt to keep you in the dark rather than explain herself. “Fine.” You said, helping her stand. “Let’s find somewhere to sit so I can patch you up.”

You turned to see the rest of the group standing nearby, a mixture of awe and apprehension across their faces. The boy seemed the most awestruck. “How did you do that?” He exclaimed. “Where did she go?”

The oldest of the group spoke before you could. “The shadow realm.” She answered, eyeing you warily. “No one should be doing that.”

“Why don’t we um, find a place to sleep? While Y/N takes care of Agatha.” The tall one spoke now, gesturing for the rest of the group to follow her and leave you and Agatha alone. You watched as they hurried away, the short one throwing a worried glance back at you.

“So, shadow work huh?” Agatha spoke lowly as you examined her arm. “Didn’t realize you’d begun dabbling in my side of things.” Her tone was playful but probing.

You turned your head sharply towards her. “I haven’t. It’s not the same thing.”

Agatha chuckled darkly. “Oh isn’t it? Don’t get so high and mighty now Y/N. I’ve heard things. That good girl persona of yours may be working on everyone else, but not me.”

You didn’t answer, instead pulling her arm into the moonlight coming in through the trees. At your silence, Agatha kept going. “‘Oh wow! Moon girl is so amazing and talented! She can do anything!’” She said mockingly. “All admiration when you’re doing what they like. But you saw the look on their faces just now. Everybody switches up when we start talking real power. The kind you and I have.”

Okay yes, you could admit that the shadow stuff is a bit iffy. But it wasn’t anywhere close to as iffy as using the Darkhold, like you’d heard Agatha did. That was different.

“All I’m saying,” Agatha continued, as she watched you weave the light with your hands to heal her open wound. “Is that we’re much bigger than them. Than this. We’re destined for domination, Y/N.”

You shook your head. Years later and it was still all about power with her. Grand plans and limited following-through were classic Agatha. Enough. You stood up, Agatha’s arm now healed. “You’re talking about powers you had, and that I have.” You said coldly, taking satisfaction in the way her jaw clenched at your words. “Maybe focus on getting those back first.”

With that, you turned on your heel and stormed away.

[moonstruckme]

can i request poly!marauders x female reader where she gets burnt out easily and most people don't know this cause she like leaves or hides before they can see. So one day they were hanging out all day and she gets burnt out but they don't know what happened so they get all worried when she all of a sudden just looks so drained and tired and can barely smile or anything. Sorry if this doesn't make sense. This happens to me a lot with new friends and because I get so burnt out I sometimes even need other people to explain for me cause talking is even too much. Thank you so much if you do it!! ♡♡♡♡♡I love your fics so much♡♡♡♡

Thanks for requesting gorgeous, love you :)

cw: social burnout

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 948 words

“I just don’t see why they would change them,” James complains, sipping dissatisfiedly at his butterbeer. 

“You’re such a creature of habit,” Sirius sighs heavily, but you all know his boredom is for show. He only wants to rile James. 

“The old quidditch uniforms were just fine,” James is practically monologuing now, staring into the middle distance with a furrow between his brows. His elbow bumps your arm as he gestures helplessly. “Red and gold—those are the Gryffindor colors, red and gold. So why are the new uniforms bright red and yellow?” 

“Maybe so you’re more visible,” you suggest, and Remus’ lips twist amusedly as he leans across the table to sip at your butterbeer. Neither of you had much appetite after your long day of snacking at the quidditch match, so you’d agreed to split one. You’ll admit, you find the two straws poking out of your mug embarrassingly romantic. 

“We look tacky,” James grumbles, slumping a bit in his seat. You see Remus’ arm reach under the table, and you know he’s straining to rub his boyfriend’s thigh consolingly. “The gold was so much better.” 

“At least you can pull off a yellow like that,” Sirius points out. “Can’t say the same for Callaghan. He looked totally washed out.” 

This would be your time to chip in with a comment about how Sirius’ pallid countenance wouldn’t fare so well in the new colors either, but you find you don’t want to. There’s a persistent pressure at your temples. Once you acknowledge it, the rest is impossible to stop. Exhaustion seeps into you like a poison, all the way down to your bones, and you’re done. You’ve been around people—mostly your boyfriends, who you love very much, but people nonetheless—since you woke up this morning, and had talked and laughed and participated all day long, and now you’re done. You want to be home. 

“True, but even he looked better than you would have, Pads,” James voices the zinger for you, he and Remus trading entertained looks when Sirius starts spluttering about how he looks good in every color, thank you very much. 

“Alright, I can’t have any more of this.” Remus pushes the butterbeer towards you decisively. “All yours, dove.” 

You know you haven’t had anywhere near your fair share, but the idea of reaching over, of going through the effort of bringing the straw to your lips, is too much. “Thanks,” you say to him, “I’m good.” 

Remus’ brow creases. You feel horribly dramatic. 

“I’ll take it,” James says merrily, reaching for the mug before Sirius slaps his hand away. 

“Oi, it’s hers.” Sirius gives him a mean look, nudging the butterbeer back towards you. “You’re like a fucking vulture, Prongs. Darling, are you sure you don’t want what’s left? You know he’ll down it in one gulp.” 

“I’m sure.” You try to give him a smile, but even you can feel what a flimsy attempt it is. “Thanks anyway.” 

Sirius’ expression clouds over with concern, and you look at the table. 

“Hey.” James reaches for your hand, squeezing your fingers lightly between his. “What’s up, lovely?” 

You sigh, leaning your head on his shoulder. “Just tired.”

Sirius makes an incredulous sound, and you know what he wants to say even though he doesn’t. Yeah, I can see that. “Did something happen?” he asks instead. 

You frown, hating that you don’t have a more satisfying answer. “No.”  

“Dove,” Remus tries to get your attention from across the table. “Are you feeling sick?” 

“No. I’m fine.” 

“You don’t seem fine, honey.” James’ voice is soft, but you can hear the unease in it. “Are you sure you’re not sick?” He touches the back of his hand to your forehead, then lets it slip down to your cheek. “Maybe it was the butterbeer. Rem, are you feeling alright?” 

“I feel normal,” Remus says, seeming at a loss. 

“Hey.” There’s a hand on your leg, and you look up to see Sirius leaning towards you, giving you one of his stern looks. “What’s going on with you, huh? Talk to us.” 

“I’m fine, seriously.” You do your best to look it, sitting up from James’ shoulder, though your dull voice belies your words. “I’m just drained.” 

“Drained how?” he presses. 

“Just…done.” You shrug helplessly. “I’m sorry, I think I want to go home. I just need to be by myself for a little bit, is that okay?” 

“Of course,” Remus says, standing and grabbing his coat. “You don’t have to be sorry, dove. It was just a long day, is that it?” 

You nod, relieved. 

He shrugs on his own coat before grabbing yours, helping you into it when you slide out of the booth. “I understand. It’s been a lot of socializing for one day. You should have told us you were feeling tired, I could have gone home with you after the game.” 

“I didn’t know until it just happened,” you say, but you don’t have the energy to really argue. 

Remus doesn’t want to, either. He kisses the top of your head as he zips your coat, taking your hand in his. 

“We’ll get you home and you can hole up as long as you need,” Sirius promises, pulling on his gloves. “You introverts, so weak.” 

“She’s probably drained because of you,” James teases back. He wraps a protective arm around your shoulders, tucking you against his side. 

“That’s not how it works,” you say quietly, but James shushes you, dipping down to kiss the side of your head. 

“I know, angel, but if you say it is, he’ll be buying your butterbeers for the next week. The month, if you play it right.”

[thejujvtsupost]

The Red Queen

So this isn’t entirely smut but it’s definitely suggestive so I’ll still say it’s 18+? Anyway, I love this trope of sweet husband! Sukuna so much. I picture this set in a somewhat modern time where he lives in a large castle/estate and rules over land; but it can definitely be read like it’s the Heian era. It’s also my first Sukuna work!

Notes: F!reader, lovesick sweet husband sukuna, period and blood mention, suggestive/light smut throughout, almost oral sex (f receiving), reader is victim to the ridiculous stigma surrounding periods.

Sukuna is familiar with menstrual cycles, it’s one of the reasons he had more than one concubine until now- when he only had you. His queen.

He didn’t mind blood, but there was too much complaining mess and disinterest. He wasn’t going to fuck someone that wouldn’t worship him.

And you were one of them, at least at first. Starting out as a concubine and carrying out some maid duties as well until you quickly became the master’s favorite.

He tried to rationalize his feelings at the time. Maybe it was the way you squeaked when he was inside you for the first time, or the way you rode him… perhaps, and the more likely reason, was how you treated him. You were worthy of being his queen, and dare he say, he experienced love for the first time.

You didn’t look away like the others when you witnessed him covered in blood (even though blood made you squeamish), instead you ran to him to see if he was alright.

“Master Sukuna! Are you alright, did someone attack you- woah!” Your voice wavered when you tripped on your own kimono. Sukuna caught you easily, though one hand facepalmed at your clumsy display when he did.

Okay, maybe you were a bit oblivious. And clumsy. And hopelessly charming. “I am fine. I intend to bathe shortly.”

“I’ll start the water then- oh, or would you like me to find Uraume?” The pout you sported amused him enough to humor you. His other concubines hadn’t been this concerned about him before. You were strange, but not bad…

You also sympathized with him while he took out his stress on your smaller body.

“I should kill him for his insolence!” Was expressed between sharp thrusts, yet you were too overwhelmed to do more than moan and cum. By then you were the only concubine being called for quite some time, you took the brunt of his anger by yourself, happily. The other concubines were nowhere to be found but you didn’t miss their poor attitudes towards your favoritism.

As you were collecting your clothing afterwards, you went out on a limb that you know could have gotten you killed, but he deserved to be validated: “I’m sorry you had to deal with that, my king. Please tell me if there’s anything I can do to make it easier for you. Good night.”

You were mid bow when he barked out “stay”, is your assumption that he wanted your body again was incorrect. It was the first night you slept in his chambers and you’ve slept beside him ever since. You didn’t question him, you weren’t afraid.

You were happy to stay.

It wasn’t long after that night when he decided you would be his queen.

You were married under cherry blossom trees in the spring.

The plush bed did little to help your suffering. The aching of your womb didn’t stop, and after a particularly painful cramp, the tears were coming.

The arrival to your shared chambers had him concerned, he hadn’t sensed you elsewhere and your energy was drained- yet you weren’t asleep.

(And you didn’t greet him cutely, which he totally wasn’t looking forward to after being away for a week.)

“My love?”

Your pained grumble led him towards you, and as he grew closer he smelled the blood. “Where are you injured? Why isn’t anyone tending to you?” He knelt down to be level with you and brushed the hair from your eyes.

“‘m’not injured, it’s… it’s a girl thing. It’s just really bad this time around.”

“Ah, your menstrual cycle.”

“Sukuna! Don’t just say it out loud! It’s so embarrassing, I bled on the sheets too and Uraume is washing them alone so I don’t crawl into a hole and die. I don’t want anyone to know.”

“Or what? I’ll be smited? It’s just a sign of fertility, that you can carry my heir. Don’t hide, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. You’re always so secretive about it but I know anyway, it’s not a big deal.” He tried to placate you but you burrowed into the blankets further.

“I just feel gross like this, like I’m an ugly mess and it’s so bad this time. I can’t even move without it hurting and I’m frustrated! This is hardly fair.” You winced at another cramp and he tutted at you.

“You tried heat and the usual stuff I’m assuming?” Your pathetic nod was his only response. “Alright lie on your back, I’ll get rid of the cramps.”

His robes were dropped off the edge of the bed and he tossed the blankets back to get to you. “Wait I don’t think I can handle sex right now-”

“Who said anything about fucking you? I’m going to eat you out until you can’t feel anything except my tongue on your cunt. Release soothes cramps.”

“Oh my god, you can’t there’s so much blood! That’s gross-”

A large hand took hold of your face to meet your eyes, “no part of you is gross or ugly or whatever nonsense is in your head. Do not speak of my queen that way, my love. I’ve killed for less and I have no problem spanking your ass raw when you’re no longer menstruating. Understand?”

“Yeth s’kuna” your cheeks were smushed in his firm albeit gentle grip, causing your words to slur. He released you and kissed each cheek, then your lips, lovingly.

“Now, may I continue on? You are free to decline but don’t let nonsense cloud your answer.”

You contemplated, if it would relieve your cramps then… “You can continue, it really hurts though so be gentle.”

Sukuna peeled your clothes from your body and grew level with your hips “As if I’d be anything else, woman.”

Let me know if you guys want more sweet husband!Sukuna, I kinda really like this flavor of him.

Divider credit to @saradika-graphics and @thecutestgrotto

Thinking about making a request? Check my bio to see if they’re open! 💗

[bunnliix]

Misunderstandings and Surprises

This was a very fun fic to write, and was also created/brainstormed with the help of the lovely @potatomountain, who I credit with me writing this with Hongjoong instead of Seonghwa hehe. Plus giving me lots of inspo with many pictures of Hongjoong.

Pairing: Hongjoong x reader Summary: You're fed up with your boyfriend putting work ahead of spending time with you, and confront him about it. wc: 1.9k AU: n/a Genre: Fluff/Angst warnings: yelling, fighting, crying, angst with a happy ending, threats of breaking up

You had been at odds with your boyfriend for almost a week now, after he had continued to cancel your dates and time together in favor of hanging with the rest of Ateez or working in the studio for the past couple weeks. You just wanted an hour with your boyfriend, but you only got him when he woke you up while he climbed in bed beside you. You knew what you were signing up for when dating an idol, but this was just too fucking much.

You decided enough was enough, and paid a visit to the company while you knew the boys had dance practice, so you knew he wouldn’t be in the studio where you couldn’t get in as easily. After saying hello to the front desk receptionist and showing your pass allowing you access, she waved as you walked towards the elevators to head up a couple floors to the dance rooms.

The ride up, though quick, only made you more pissed off and upset that you even had to resort to doing this. Once the doors opened, you were on a mission and staff who saw you coming moved out of your way as you headed straight towards the room that was blasting Ateez’s music. Not caring if you interrupted, you pushed the door open and shouted, “KIM HONGJOONG!”

The man in question abruptly turned around and focused on you, the blood draining from his face momentarily at your tone before all emotions were wiped off his face. “Why are you here, interrupting practice?” He asked you calmly.

“Because I’m done with not being able to see my boyfriend.” You said in response. 

“We’ve seen each other lately, what do you mean?” He asked you, confused and concerned at your words.

“If you’re counting you waking me up while I’m in bed, sure. But I have barely seen hide nor hair of you otherwise Hongjoong. And I can’t do that anymore. So either you figure out a better work-life balance, or we’re done. I need a boyfriend that doesn’t disappear on me for days at a time.” You said, your voice breaking at the end as tears welled up in your eyes, before you couldn’t take it anymore and left the room, heading back the way you came.

“Wait! Come back here!” You could hear Hongjoong yell after you, but you couldn’t face him. Before you could make it to the elevator, your wrist was grabbed.

“Please, can I explain? Don’t walk away from me, from us.” Hongjoong pleaded with you, though you refused to look at him, knowing if you did, you’d break down and give in.

“Hongjoong, I need a boyfriend who isn’t going to disappear and be unreachable, who will make me the priority sometimes, at the very least. This is just the breaking point, I can’t do this anymore if it continues like this, I’m sorry.” You replied, looking away from him.

He turned you around to face him, but you wouldn’t look up at him, keeping your gaze trained on the ground in between the two of you. This frustrated your boyfriend to no end, and you could tell by his clenched fist.

“Look at me, please.” Hongjoong begged you while you shook your head.

“Why should I?” You asked him.

The idol didn’t answer you, instead pulling you into the elevator as it opened and people got off, punching the button for the floor that held his own studio. He pulled you behind him, you lacking any will to do anything but let him do what he wanted, and once you were both in the room, he shut and locked the door, before placing himself in between the door and yourself. You plopped down on the sofa in the room, sensing that you wouldn’t be going anywhere.

“Will you let me explain? And please, can you look at me, just once?” He asked, repeating himself from earlier.

“Why? So I can look in your pretty fucking eyes and give in and let you explain again and again why you couldn’t see me for so long? Why work comes before everything else, including me, your partner? Hongjoong, we’ve been together for three years, why is it that recently you’re so occupied with work? You’ve never been like this, and I can’t see why you’re like this now. You’ve been on the go almost all year, and finally when I think you’re home, you can’t find the fucking time to spend with me?!” You rambled on and on, your voice growing louder and louder until you’re shouting. Hongjoong had tried multiple times to interrupt you, and without realizing it, you had angered your boyfriend with your rambling.

You felt fingers grip your chin tightly, and your head was forcibly turned to look at him, but you still averted your eyes.

“Look at me, darling. Now.” You heard him growl, anger the only emotion in his voice. It’s what made you give in and look at him, your eyes making contact with his own.

“Thank you. Now, if you had only let me explain, you wouldn’t have gotten yourself so worked up.” He said, almost treating you like a child.

“I got worked up because I felt that my boyfriend was ignoring me!” You retorted back.

Hongjoong took a deep breath, pulling away from you as clearly you were too upset right now to have a normal conversation. “How about we both take a couple deep breaths and have a conversation and talk honestly about our feelings?” He proposed to you, and you reluctantly agreed, still feeling the anger simmering underneath your skin.

“Can you explain to me why you’re feeling the way you’re feeling, darling?” Hongjoong asked you, his eyes pleading with you to talk to him.

“I felt like I was being pushed aside in favor of your work or time with the boys. I know it’s not fair or healthy to make you only focus on me, but these last couple of weeks have felt so lonely. I feel like I haven't seen you lately Hongjoong. I only get to have you around me when I’m about to go to bed, and you’re usually gone in the morning. I don’t feel like I have a boyfriend.” You explained, eyes welling up with tears once again.

Hongjoong’s face fell, and you could see tears gathering in his own eyes. You were slightly confused at why he was getting so upset, until he opened his mouth to speak.

“I’m sorry for how my actions have caused you to feel hurt like this, dear. I never meant to make you feel this way, and I’m sorry I have. Can I explain a bit of why I was gone so much?” At your nod, he continued, “I have been occupied with work and hanging out with the members, but it’s also partially been an excuse to keep you from wondering why I’ve been gone so much. In truth, the boys were helping me plan something for you, something that honestly was a long time coming.” He told you, getting up from his chair to move to grab something from one of the desk drawers.

He turned around to face you again, a box in his hand, before talking once again , “The boys were helping me design something for you, as well as plan it all out. I wanted to make it perfect and a surprise, but I think it’s better for me to come clean about it now.” He knelt down on the ground in front of you, looking up at you with love in his eyes, love for you, before opening the box to show you a ring inside. 

“I’ve honestly wanted to marry you after six months of dating you, but I never could find the perfect ring, or the time to plan everything out. I wanted it to be perfect because I needed you to know how special you are to me, how much you matter to me. I love you, you’re my entire world, darling. I know this is horrible timing and honestly I wouldn’t get upset if you told me no, but would you marry me?” Hongjoong asked you, sincerity in his eyes.

You didn’t expect this to be why your boyfriend had been almost a ghost lately. You never even had the thought and you felt so bad now for assuming the worst, for assuming that he was putting work and the group ahead of you. He wanted to make it perfect for you, and now you had gone and made him change his plans. Tears rolled down your cheeks, and Hongjoong panicked, putting down the box in favor of moving to cup your cheeks, wiping away your tears with his thumbs.

“Baby, why are you crying? Talk to me, love,” he asked you, tears once again appearing in his own eyes.

“I thought the worst of you, I thought you weren’t making me a priority in your life but you were planning to propose to me! You wanted to marry me and I was thinking that you weren’t even thinking of me!” You cried out, sobbing as your boyfriend moved to wrap you in his arms, shushing your cries.

“I get where you’re coming from, baby, and I should have communicated with you better. I should have been clearer that I wasn’t putting you behind my work or my friends, and I’m sorry for not communicating with you and reassuring you.” Hongjoong apologized to you, kissing the top of your head.

“I’m sorry,” you replied, as he told you again that you didn’t need to apologize.

“I think we both need to be a bit better at communicating.” He said, waving away any more apologies you tried to make.

“I wanna marry you too!” You blurted out, not having planned on saying that, but it came out anyway. “I know I said I was ready to leave you but knowing everything now, it only makes me love you more. You did all of this, for me. You roped the boys into helping you, and into deceiving me, cause they knew about this and still said that Ateez was just busy!”

“I asked them not to say anything, I wanted to make it a surprise. I’m sorry that it ended up like this.” Hongjoong explained further, explaining his plan and how he wanted to have asked you.

You wiped the last remaining tears from your eyes and tried not to sniffle, but failed, before speaking once again. “If you aren’t mad at me, would you mind asking me one more time?” You asked your boyfriend.

Hongjoong smiled softly at you, before getting down on one knee, his original plan completely out the window. “Will you marry me, and make me the happiest man?” He asked you, looking up at you.

Nodding, you softly said, “Of course I will, if you will take me, my stupid decisions and all.”

“You stupid decisions are what make you, you. I wouldn’t have you any other way, I want you to be yourself and no one else.” Hongjoong told you, as he slid the ring on your finger.

You pulled him up for a hug, before he pulled you down onto the couch, with your head laying on his chest. He leaned down to kiss your forehead, as the two of you laid there.

“I love you, darling. So very much.”

“I love you too, Kim Hongjoong.”

Later that night, a picture was posted to Hongjoong’s instagram of two hands, his own and yours, with matching engagement rings on both. A simple caption accompanied it, “Forever yours.”

Taglist: @bethelighthalazia

[straows]

Thinking about…

Gojo has been gone on missions and such for a while. Only time he comes home is to sleep or get patched up by you so he could spend time with you. But you get tired of his absence and…

Context: Gojo is gone for weeks at a time. You’re lonely. You decide to break up with him and leave.

Warnings: angst, reader is alone a lot, brief mention of Mad Men, break ups, possessive Gojo, he a lil crazy bout you, almost car wreck??, hurt w comfort, good ending.

Wc: 1,557

A/n: it’s not as sad or wild as it seems I think. Also mad men is a dope show, but all the men in the show fucking suck?? Also. How do I make the title all colorful but like gradient like? Those are dope.

Breaking up with Gojo was not easy. You loved him so much, and he was the man you wanted to marry, spend your life with, have kids with and everything. But he was always gone now a days. Always.

For weeks, days, he was gone for three weeks last time. It was all too much. You missed him, and were tired of feeling alone.

It was lonely in his house. Always wearing his clothes because it smelt like him, burying your face in his pillow. It was all you really had.

You knew dating the world’s strongest wouldn’t be easy. But it was starting to feel impossible. You missed him so much, and half the time he didn’t even respond to your messages. Too busy for you.

You missed your job, and having to deal with shitty, annoying strangers, messy coworkers, and getting off late. At least you were busy then. Back in the earlier stages of your relationship, Gojo had begged you to quit your job so you could be with him more. He kept going on and on about how he could easily provide for the two of you, and it wouldn’t leave a dent in his bank account.

At first it was fine, amazing even, not having to work. Or get up early, stay late, deal with shit that made your mind ache. But you didn’t think about if Gojo wasn’t there.

All of the loneliness and angst that was building up in the empty space that was your and your lovers home was beginning to turn to anger. Anger and so many other negative emotions that Gojo promised you wouldn’t be feeling with him.

So after an entire pizza, a season of Mad Men, and a cup of chocolate milk, you decided it was time. It was to leave because you were losing your damn mind, worrying constantly about Gojo, the loneliness, the having legit nothing to fucking do.

So, you began packing your things. You grabbed your clothes, your plushies, your shoes, your make up, face and hair products, even the little shit. You made sure everything that was yours was gone from his house, and packed in your car.

Glancing around, just to be petty, you deleted your Netflix profile. Gojo loved to use yours instead of his own, only god knows why. Meaning all his progress on the unfinished shows were gone.

With a huff, you wrote a note. Simply stating you were tired of being alone and feeling alone in this relationship. Ending it with an i love you, and hope you do well in the future.

And like that, you got in your car and began to drive.

Half an hour later, the front door to the house opens. “Baby I’m home.” Gojo called out, sounding tired and pretty damn drained. “You will not believe how much I fucking missed you.” He sighed, and put down the pizza he’d gotten on the way home for you both on the counter.

“Baby?” Gojo looked around, and noticed how much shit was missing. How much of you was missing. “Babe come out, I’m too tired for this, just wanna hug you.” Followed by silence.

Gojo glared at nothing in particular and huffed. Quickly, he walked into your and his bedroom, and paused. All of your stuff was gone. And there was a note on the bed.

Anger and frustration was replaced by a deep sense of fear and anxiety in the pit of his stomach. Slowly, he picked up the note. And oh, he never knew how much a few words on a sheet of paper could hurt so much.

It wasn’t just mental pain, it was physical pain. Pain that had him grabbing his chest to try and stop it. Swallowing thickly, he quickly looked at his phone, and saw that you still had your location on.

“…fuck this.” Sadness and loss turned to anger and possessiveness. “Yeah fuck this shit.”

He worked too damn hard, and spent too much time dealing with curses, elders, people in general, for the one source of his happiness to be gone.

So, he got in his car, and immediately skidded out of the driveway. No doubt breaking every damn traffic law, speeding to reach your car.

Tears ran freely down your cheeks, cliche sad music played from your stereo, a sonic blast sat in your cup holder as you ate cheese sticks and drove the car with your knee.

You felt pathetic. All these nasty thoughts nipped at your mind. You had no idea Gojo had even came back to the house. You’d expected it’d take him a few more days.

But you were NOT expecting, was a very familiar car racing up to yours and cutting in front of you, only to hit the breaks making you gasp and slam on your breaks.

You had to swerve off the road and into some empty parking lot. Eyes wide, heart racing, you noticed the other car pull in as well. Quickly getting out, you were fuming. “What the fuck is wrong with you?! Are you fucking cr-“

The front door slammed open, revealing none other than your boyfriend, or ex boyfriend rather. He looked pissed. Angrier than you’d ever seen him.

“Gojo-“ you tried to get the words out, but he’d backed you against your car roughly. Pinning you there and glaring down at you, blindfold hanging around his neck.

“Don’t fucking call me that.” He snapped, voice low. “A fucking letter? Are you serious?”

You swallowed thickly, looking up at him with wide eyes. Your heart jumped at the sight of him. Not injured, and safe from his mission but oh so furious. “…why- how did you find me?” You whispered, your voice breaking despite trying to sound more confident.

“You left your location on.” He spoke blankly, his eyes never leaving yours. “Why. Fucking explain it to me like I’m five.” Gojo’s head ducked down a bit, forcing you to keep eye contact with him.

“I-I-“ The words refused to leave. Your brows furrowed as tears began to boil up. Why was it so hard to say it when it was so easy to write it? “Y-you- I- I’m tired of being… alone. You’re always gone, always. And I’m left to worry about you.” However the more you spoke, the more those past angry feelings rose up. “You told me to quit my job for you and I did! Only for you to just leave all the fucking time! You don’t even respond half the time, and when you with me you’re always exhausted or hurt!”

Gojo felt himself pause. Sure, what you were saying was on the letter, but he didn’t process it. All he really noticed was ‘breaking up’ and ‘have a happy life.’ So hearing this from you had him pull back slightly.

He didn’t mean to hurt you, didn’t mean to make you feel alone. Gojo Satoru only thought about you when he was away, and only ever really spoke about you. He loved you, and to hear you felt like this… well… it didn’t change much.

You were still his. Yeah, his chest hurt knowing he’d hurt you. But he was not letting you walk out of his life like that. No fuck that.

“I’m sorry.” His expression softened and his hands moved to cup your cheeks. “I’m so so so sorry. I didn’t realize I was leaving you alone like that. Baby believe me, all I think about is you. Every breath I take is so I can come home to you.” His forehead pressed against yours.

Your breath was shaky as you quieted down, eyes closing as his forehead pressed against yours. God, all that anger and resentment was gone just like that. It made you want to be more angry, but you just couldn’t.

Not when he was talking so sweetly to you, body pressed against yours. You’d missed him so much, and this was the first time in a while that you two really talked. Like really talked.

“Come home. I’ll take off work. The elders can go fuck themselves and send someone else to do their shit.” He murmured, lifting his head and wrapping his arms around your waist. “Don’t leave me, please… I’ll do better, I can’t lose you.”

Your heart melted at his words and you felt yourself swoon. However, before you could even say yea, he’d picked up and thrown you over his shoulder. “Oh my god- Gojo!”

“Ah.” He huffed, and landed a harsh slap to your ass. His hand rubbed over the area he slapped however to soothe the sting. “That is not what you call me. Go on, what do you call me sweet girl?”

You felt your cheeks burn red, eyes a little wide. “Satoru…”

“Good girl.” He praised with a grin.

“Wait- hey! I didn’t say I’d come back damn it!” You squirmed in his grasp, trying to get down. He however had other plans.

“You think you ever had the choice? That’s cute babe.” He smiled, his hand moving from rubbing gently to squeezing. “You are mine, and so is this ass.”

Your relationship was by no means perfect, but he loved you. Of course, he had never planned to let you go, even if you wanted to leave. :)

Guys this was bad. Omfg I got so lost in this- but why not post it??😟…

[euseokz]

@ eunseok — you should still only have eyes for me, not anyone else . . cws : cheating . toxic relationship (jealousy mentions) . semi-public sex . degradation . use of nicknames (whore, slut) . oral (f) . unprotected sex . cheerleader! reader . college! au . wc : 1.8k+ . genre : smut

a/n : i blame my 🐾 anon and ads ( @bbina ) for this . . . a bit different than my usual style i think but i do still really like this tbh !!

BASKETBALL PLAYER! EUNSEOK who, even if you broke up because he wanted to, still feels some sort of twisted sense of possessiveness over you.

it had been a few weeks already, and after your big fight that led to you separating you hadn’t shared anymore than annoyed glances with each other. you obviously couldn’t completely avoid him — you went to college in the same place, shared some classes, and worst of all you were a cheerleader while he was a basketball player, so at least during practice and games you were forced to be in the same space. at first the tension between you two was palpable, but now it had eased down a bit. people knew not to mention the other to either of you, and although no one truly knew why you broke up — the whole problem having been, ironically, eunseok’s jealousy issues — they knew it was bad.

you had moved on though, and you were glad that eunseok didn’t pester you anymore, that you didn’t think of him anymore… you were finally happy — until he decided to come back.

you had been going out with sungchan for a while, you met him shortly after breaking up with eunseok and you two just connected easily and fast, your relationship recent but probably already more sincere than the one you shared with eunseok for all those years. sungchan was nice, caring, loving, and best of all, didn’t flip if you ever even looked at another guy. he was everything eunseok tried but couldn’t be, and that was enough for you, what you needed in that moment if you did jump into a new relationship.

with all of that in mind, and with that thought process circling your brain in a loop, you wondered why you were in that exact second still listening to eunseok’s angry rambling.

“it was fucking distracting, no one was paying attention and our strategy went down the drain”

“so i can’t support my boyfriend now?”

“you’re dating him!? the new guy of all people? i thought you’d be better than that”

“and i thought even your jealousy had an end, but apparently not” you argued back, tired of eunseok’s rambling “i wasn’t distracting everyone, i was distracting you, and you played a shit game because you can’t bear the thought of me being with someone else even now!”

he finally seemed to shut up after that, his expression surprised, taking him a few seconds to mutter out a low “you don’t know what you’re talking about”, that somehow only proving your point even more.

you groaned eunseok’s name, pinching the bridge of your nose with your fingers, annoyed you had even allowed yourself to be in that situation — arguing with your ex-boyfriend in an empty locker room, everybody else outside, ready to leave for the night. “let’s just leave it at this, i’m tired of your bullshit” and with that you started turning around, ready to also leave, before he spoke up again.

“does he fuck you better than i do? is that it?” eunseok asked, his cocky smile suddenly curling his lips upwards as you started to turn around, looking at him with a frown, eyebrows furrowed together, and lips ever so slightly parted in pure shock at his rapid turn of emotions.

“that’d be impossible, only i know your body well enough, only i can fuck as many orgasms out of you as i want”

“shut up eunseok, seriously. you’re crossing the li-”

“i bet he can’t even make you cum, that’s why you’re all pissed off with me”

you sighed, finally turning around to leave definitely before eunseok grabbed your wrist.

“i can make you remember what you’re missing, maybe that will make you finally open your eyes” he continued, a sly smirk still resting on his expression, his eyes glistening with lust as he looked you up and down.

“you’re insane”

“maybe, but you still haven’t left so how different from me can you truly be”

“i’m with sungchan now, move on” you said through your teeth, almost as a threat, finally pushing your wrist out of eunseok’s grip.

“being with someone else has never stopped anyone from finally having a good fuck”

“i’m not a cheater”

“no, you’re only looking somewhere else for what your goody-two-shoes boyfriend can’t give you”

you sighed once more, asking yourself for the nth time why you couldn’t just leave, why you were still there, why eunseok still had such an effect on you.

“just be honest with yourself, he can’t fuck you like i do, no one can”

“i never said that”

“but you also didn’t deny it”

eunseok took a step closer, suddenly all too close to you, his breath fanning against your face. “let me remind you of how good we can be together, angel” he whispered, only for you, eyes locking with yours as you bit your lip in indecision, the old nickname he used on you all throughout your relationship only affecting you even more.

you were sure you had moved on, so why was eunseok’s proposal so tempting? why did you feel so inclined to accept it? why did you kiss him back when his lips pressed against yours? why couldn’t you just leave? all questions you couldn’t answer, allowing him to push you into the nearest shower stall and lock the door behind you two, the space tight but enclosed enough, eunseok’s kisses fervent throughout the whole process.

“are you gonna let me fuck you? uh? gonna act like my little whore again?” he asked breathlessly, eyes focused on yours as he fiddled with the button on your jeans, undoing it and pushing the heavy fabric down, dropping it to your feet.

“we have to be quick” you reminded, just as out of breath, trying to repress your guilt by not doing anything to help eunseok, letting him handle everything, take off your clothes the way he wanted and twist you around whichever way he pleased — as if that made you any less blameworthy.

eunseok kneeled down, face near your crotch, breath fanning over your exposed cunt and making you inhale a deep breath. “i’ve missed her, you know? no one’s like her” he commented, talking about your pussy, completely taking off one of the legs of your pants so he could move you more freely, propping your leg over his shoulder so he could get a better angle. eunseok peeked his tongue out, lapping up your cunt in a quick swipe, feeling how you tasted and humming pleased against your folds, closing his eyes momentarily before looking up at you. “still tastes just as good as i remember”. you moaned softly, forcing yourself to keep your whines in when eunseok started properly flicking the tip of his tongue against your clit, sucking on the sensitive bud attentively, leaving you soaking wet, your hole clenching around nothing.

you had forgotten how good he made you feel, this a mere sample of the things he had done to you while you were still together. as much a you’d like to not have to admit it, he was better than sungchan, and you blamed that knowledge as the sole factor that allowed you to let him keep going, to let him suck and lick at your cunt so messily, dragging an orgasm out of you more easily than anyone ever had, all because he did know what buttons to push to make you come undone for him. that was eunseok’s problem, he knew you too well, he knew that didn’t matter how much you resented him you’d never be able to tell him no — even if you had convinced yourself you could — and things were the same for him, he’d never deny you anything, even after you had been broken up.

“i wanna fuck you properly” eunseok announced, your slick mixed with his saliva glistening on his lips and chin as he came up, leaning in for another kiss, hands cupping your cheeks and keeping you in place as he sucked on your bottom lip, tongue flicking over it and pushing into your mouth, pressing against yours.

and of course, you let him do whatever he wanted, even if you knew it was wrong, allowing yourself to be turned around so you’d face the wall and have your entire front pressed against the cold tile, your arms being held behind your back by eunseok’s hand as he pulled his hard cock out of his pants, his pink tip dripping with pre-cum. he pressed himself against you, wasting no time in pushing his entire length into you, both of you moaning in unison as he started fucking you as roughly and mercilessly as usual, pistoning his hips against yours, stretching you out better than anyone ever could, better than sungchan could. eunseok knew what angles to hit to make you see stars, what sweet spots you had, what felt the best for you. he was harsh, fucking you in a seemingly selfish manner, as if all he seeked was his own pleasure, but in reality he wanted to give you yours most of all, being rough but in a loving way almost.

“wonder if your boyfriend knows what a little slut you can be, letting me fuck you in a stall as if he isn’t probably waiting for you somewhere else”

“‘seok…” you moaned, squirming in his grip but not able to move away, only closing your eyes and immersing yourself more in the pleasure, letting him clasp one hand over your mouth and push your head back, making it easier for him to whisper into your ear his next words.

“you’re still my whore, you’ll always be, don’t you dare forget that”

and as he said that, you came, clenching around eunseok’s cock as a mix of arousal and guilt flooded you. you were still, deep down, his, and if it took him fucking you again for you to realize that, you wondered just what else you had managed to hide from yourself.

“such a good slut, cumming all over my cock… that’s it angel, always so good for me” eunseok said, his words tainted with both filth and praise, before pressing a chaste kiss to the top of your head, his thrusts slowing down until he was completely pulling out, stroking his cock a few times before spilling his seed all over your ass — that apparently still being his favorite place to cum on — while groaning against your neck, resting his forehead against you for a second, both of you catching your breaths.

once you had finally collected yourselves, eunseok helped you get cleaned up and dressed, acting like he did back then, destroying you just so he could help put you back together again. just as you were about to leave, both of you still very clearly flustered but at least looking somewhat collected now, someone walked in, one look up making you stare at sungchan, his appearance frantic as his eyes drifted between both of you before finally stopping on your frame, going to you and holding your hands gently.

“i’ve been looking for you everywhere, did you two fight again?” he asked, voice sweet and worried.

“yeah, something like that” eunseok replied, giving your boyfriend a tap on the shoulder before leaving as if nothing had happened.

[earthtooz]

𝗕𝗔𝗕𝗬 𝗜𝗧'𝗦 𝗖𝗢𝗟𝗗 𝗢𝗨𝗧𝗦𝗜𝗗𝗘 !

in which: nagi doesn't want you to leave, not when it's cold outside.

warnings: fluff! clingy!nagi, based off the song but i tried to make it less creepy and more endearing...??? kissing, teasing each other as one does, gn!reader, 1k+ words

a/n: oh my god this nagi day actually drained the living daylights out of me. scraped this together and it's UNEDITED! take this, this is all that i have and all that i am.

˗ˏˋ XMAS MASTERLIST ´ˎ˗

As the credits of the movie roll down the screen, you finally gaze down at Nagi who’s spread on top of your body, happily napping with his ear over your sternum. A sense of reluctancy tugs at your chest knowing that you’ll have to wake him up and leave but you have somewhere to be tomorrow morning so you prefer to get home now rather than later.

“Hey, Seishiro,” you whisper, rocking him back and forth on the shoulder, hoping that the sensation might stir him from his sleep rather than the weather reporter of the TV Channel you were currently watching. 

Thankfully, it does and you’re greeted with a pair of grey, sleepy irises, with sleep lines still evident on his face from your shirt. “What’s up?” he asks, looking around. “Oh the movie’s ended already?”

“I need to leave.”

That causes him to wake up pretty easily as his eyes widen a little in alarm. “What? No, why?” He whines, a pout forming on his lips.

“I have somewhere to be in the morning and I need to wake up early.”

“Why can’t you stay the night?” 

“It’s further away if I go from yours. It’s harder to get to with public transport and there's no parking.”

“I can drop you off.”

“Sei, no, don’t be ridiculous. It’s earlier than when you normally wake up.”

“I wake up at 12, everything is earlier than when I wake up, but I’ll do it for you.”

You smile sheepishly at him, unable to resist running your hands through his hair gently because of his last statement, but when Nagi closes his eyes once more, you come to realisation that you probably shouldn’t give in so easily.

“No- Nagi, it’s okay,” you insist, trying to sit up with your boyfriend still splayed on top of you, an action that rewards you with a grunt of protest as he sits back on his knees that were on either side of your legs. Even though you were still trapped by him, at least you could now breathe without him weighing down on your lungs. “You don’t need to drop me off, you should rest up and be on your A-Game for practice.”

“I’m always on my A-Game,” he grumbles unhappily, shuffling off you to sit properly on the couch. “You don’t need to worry about me, pretty.”

“You make it hard for me not to,” you retort before standing up, stretching the ache out of your limbs whilst Nagi stares at you from his position, not happy with the idea of letting you leave for the night.

“It’s not me you need to worry about if you leave,” begins Nagi as he stands to his full height, immediately closing the gap to slouch over your back. He gestures to the falling snow outside the window of his apartment and how frost has freezed the corners of his window. “It’s cold outside.”

“Doesn’t matter, won’t bother me too much.”

That only causes him to hold you tighter, pulling you into his chest. “But you’ll catch a cold.” 

“I have enough warm clothes, besides, I can borrow some of yours if you don’t mind.”

The colourless-haired boy groans at your evasion before grabbing your hands successfully and encasing them with his. You didn’t realise how cold your hands were before his warmer ones held them, mixed with the delicious warmth radiating from him on your back, it felt like a heater was draped over you, but you knew all too well what Nagi Seishiro was trying to do. 

“Why can’t you stay just a little longer?” He pleads, rubbing circles near your wrists. “We can watch an episode of that show you really like-”

“No, Nagi,” you say sternly but gently. “We’ll end up watching the whole season and even though I’d love to, tonight is not the night.”

“How about some hot chocolate? Or tea? I went out to buy some packets of your favourite.”

Turning around in his grip, you resist the urge to pinch his cheeks because of how adorable he is. “You’re insistent tonight,” you tell him, placing a kiss on his nose that has him scrunching it, a faint smile making its way onto his expression. “Guess you just like me too much.”

“You don’t like me enough if you don’t want to stay the night,” he grumbles.

“Oh no, you’ve figured me out.” 

“Fine, leave me. See if I care,” Nagi huffs, glaring at you with his arms crossed over his chest.

The image of a 6’3 grown man pouting at you was too entertaining to not giggle at. “Perfect. Well, I’m gonna go home now so see you later, babe.”

“Wait, I didn’t mean it, don’t actually leave. It’s cold outside.”

“I can see that.”

“So why are you still leaving when my apartment is so much warmer and nicer?” Every step you take away from Nagi seems to be fruitless, especially as he uses his longer stride length to round around you, blocking you from the door. “Just stay a little longer, but staying the night would be better.”

You huff, willing your resolve to not crack, especially when he’s looking at you with doe eyes. Trying to manoeuvre around him, your attempts are blocked when the soccer player wraps you up in his embrace, pulling you into his familiar figure once more. You can’t help but laugh when you clumsily stumble into him.

Honestly the idea of Nagi driving you tomorrow morning instead of taking commute was way more ideal but you felt bad and the prospect of bothering your athlete boyfriend from his usual routine made you feel a little guilty. However, as he looks at you with such earnest yearning, it’s progressively getting harder to say no to his demands. 

“Fine,” Nagi surrenders. “If you won’t stay the night can I at least get some proper goodbye kisses? In case you catch pneumonia and I won’t be able to see you for a week.” 

Laughing once more at his silliness, you nod as a way of expressing consent. You could nullify his persistence with kisses at least. Cupping his cheeks, you lean in to press a kiss to his lips, one that has him completely melting against you as one of his hands snake up to the back of your neck. He tries to mould himself completely into you, even when you pull away to signal the end of the kiss, distancing yourself before Nagi can invade you completely.

“Not yet,” he murmurs before drawing you in one more time. 

Sensing where this is going, you lead him to the couch, an action that Nagi immediately understood and guided you to the piece of furniture better than you could have ever. He didn’t even need to see where he was going either, truly, a genius.

Then, a weather report breaks the tranquillity of the apartment.

“It has been advised by the government that locals do not leave their home as blizzards are starting to pick up with conditions remaining this way until morning-”

You can feel Nagi’s shit-eating grin before you see it and when you turn to look him in the eye, you know that you’ve lost, giving in when he lunges himself at you to splay all over your body now.

“Baby it’s cold outside,” he mutters.

“Looks like I’m staying the night.”

“How unfortunate.”

[broadwaycutie16]

Hey, I hope you don't mind me asking, but what is this whole Karma of Lies thing about? I often have some of your posts showing up on my dashboard about how people are not listening to you clarifying things about your story, but I avoided looking into the whole situation myself because I don't want to expose myself to so much (Adrien) salt which I know is at the initial root of all this (or at least, thats how it came across to me)

Would you explain for me what this situation is about? I'm always intrigued by this whole thing whenever I see another post from you, because of how wild reading about it all out for context is, but now curiosity finally got the best of me x3

So basically, KoL starts as your basic salt plot. Marinette’s being bullied by Lila, her friends are extorting her and accusing her of being unfair to Lila, Adrien’s just like “everything’s fine, Marinette” and telling her to just take all the crap from everyone.

Then Hawkmoth’s identity gets out, and Lila decides to cut her losses and get the hell out of there, but not without getting something out of the deal. She gets Adrien to send her money to her, and because Adrien is so trusting, he puts in the info for his family’s emergency bank account right where she can see it, not even thinking that Lila would try to screw him over. Spoiler alert: She does. She drains Adrien’s whole account of fifty million, leaving him without a cent in this catastrophic time in his life, and skips town by telling her mom a sob story. She also tricks the class into giving up their most expensive possessions, and then sells them to other people after she leaves.

So now Lila’s committed a grand felony, and she’s clear to continue her reign of terror anywhere she wants, with her newfound wealth goving her limitless potential on destroying lives. And you know what Marinette does to stop her?

NOTHING.

Marinette refuses to lift a finger to get Lila arrested. The narrative would have you believe that it’s because she’s setting boundaries and taking care of her mental health for a change, but it’s easy to figure out the REAL reason. She gives all these excuses over why she’s unable to do anything about it, using lots of loopholes, completely ignoring the fact that she’s supposed to be a superhero and thus has a moral obligation to stop Lila, if nothing else just to save all the innocent people she’ll destroy in the future.

Meanwhile, Adrien becomes penniless, his father goes on the run, and his aunt refuses to personally take him in because she’s more concerned about the scandal than about her orphaned nephew, basically resigning him to live in Marinette’s old apartment with hardly anything to call his own while Marinette moves into his old room at the mansion after getting a job with Audrey Bourgeois, who has now taken control of Gabriel’s company. And all through this, Marinette and the narrative are basically saying, “you didn’t help me when I needed you to stick for me, so now I’m not gonna help you when you need it”, basically ignoring the fact that what’s happening to Adrien is a hundred times worse than what happened to her.

Even worse, Marinette trashes all her friends’ reputations on live TV, calling them out for mistreating her without stating the reason why they mistreated her, so the public doesn’t know the full story. And Adrien, desperate to get his life back, makes a stupid and arrogant mistake and tries to take down Mayura by himself, but is easily fooled by her to give her opportunity to steak his ring. The villains are defeated, but now everyone in Paris thinks Adrien gave Nathalie the ring on purpose, and accuse him of being a willing accomplice to his father, effectively crushing any little particles of hope he had left for his future.

But what truly makes this fic a dumpster fire of a story, is how the author directs the whole narrative to try and make you believe that everything that happened to Adrien was 100% justfied, that not supporting Marinette and letting some girl bully her and turn her friends against her, a problem that was temporary at worst and that basically was nothing more than some schoolgirl drama, means that he, a fourteen year old boy from an abusive household, deserves to be virtually homeless, bankrupt, disowned by his entire family, and falsely accused if terrorism, and doomed to living the rest of his life out on the streets, without even the slightest conception that maybe it was a little too much.

Oh, and the only punishment Lila gets is some vague warning from Marinette about her future, and apparently, that’s supposed to be enough to stop the girl who knowingly teamed up with a terrorist and was willing to doom the city just to get back at one person for one embarrassing incident in front of one person.

Basically, The Karma of Lies is the worst salt fic of all the salt fics, punishing Adrien for childish stupidity with permanent life damage beyond anything written in salts before, and trying to send the message that it’s okay for Marinette to let it all happen just to get back at him for not being a better friend.

Trust me, do not read it. It is a garbage fire. I regret reading it every day. It’s really messed with my head. Even now, I’d wholly welcome an infinite number of sequel fics punishing Marinette and her “friends” (read: evil minions) for what they did, because if the story says that Adrien deserves his fate for doing nothing, they deserve even worse. This fic is the epitome of everything wrong with the Miraculous Ladybug fandom.

[cursedvibes]

I’m still in shock of that chapter. Gege … why how and why did you think this was a good idea? Also why have one of the last chapters be about some random lore that nobody knew or cared about and be explained by the fandom’s two least favorite characters

I still have some petty hate for Yuuta, which is not helping my feelings of this chapter

I'm still baffled over Gege's time management. The Sukuna fight was already stretched in places were it didn't need to be, using up space with the gauntlet of people throwing themselves at him that could've been used to develop Yuuji, Megumi and Sukuna more, but this is just...so we rushed through Sukuna's end, skipped Hakari's and Uraume's fight and skipped Megumi regaining his body and the entire immediate aftermath of the Shinjuku fight just to spend 2/3 of the next chapter entirely with inconsequential bickering that sounds like Gege is beefing with reddit critics?

Remember the end of Shibuya? The hopelessness, the gravity, people mourned the ones who died, were devastated by the destruction of the city and the many civilians who died and they knew it wasn't even over. Their lives were fundamentally changed and it showed. Here everyone walked this fight off just fine. Megumi tanking 5 Unlimited Voids and having his brain leak out of his eyes merely results in him feeling a bit dizzy now. They do blame themselves at times, lament over what they could've done differently, but it doesn't feel serious, like they really struggle with it. It's just a set-up for a joke. Ui Ui and Kirara carried the corpses and gravely injured bodies of their comrades off the battlefield, being unsure who would survive all this and being powerless to do anything else, but now they make snarky remarks over who was the real MVP...where is this energy coming from? Gojo and Choso are still dead (Kashimo too, but obviously they weren't close), Megumi should be still reeling from his trauma of seeing his sister die and loved ones injured by his hands, and mind you they didn't fight in just some rubble out in the mountains, they destroyed Shinjuku, a district were many of them used to live and were also many other civilians used to live. They destroyed so many people's homes. Sukuna might be gone, but Japan is still fucked because Sukuna has never the real problem. Killing him won't fix up Tokyo again or soothe the international tensions created by the knowledge of sorcerers existing. But all that doesn't seem to matter.

I don't mind the focus on Mei Mei and I think the New Shadow Style school thing is actually very interesting, I love jujutsu politics, we got far too little about it, but this should've been something that was brought up during the Culling Games or shortly before they started preparing for Sukuna's battle. Y'know, then when it actually happened in the timeline. Not 3 chapters before the end, where you establish this massive power house that was never even hinted at and resolve it 2 pages later. Like okay? Why does that matter? Should I be worried? I'm not because I know far too little about this and Mei Mei handled it easily anyway. Should I be relieved? I'm not because I never even know there was a problem to begin with. Yes, we knew you can only teach Simple Domain to specific people, but that could've been resolved way easier than making up this whole issue and it was never treated with such gravity a secret society that drains their students life would deserve.

So this whole chapter was just pointless and a waste of precious space that could've been used for so many more important story threads.

[theladycarpathia]

So @arisque has heard a LOT about my Buffy AU and while I haven't started a full fic yet, @hellcheerweek spooky prompts was the perfect chance for me to explore the universe a little bit.

Day 1 - Vampire

She’d said she was going to spend the night at Tina’s. 

This isn’t technically a lie. 

The music is so loud that Chrissy can’t hear anyone else unless they shout to her, can’t even hear herself think…which is the way she likes it. All she has to do is dance, lost in a sea of people, and get swept away by the beat. 

Tina’s parents had made the grave error of leaving town and not calling in Tina’s aunt to keep an eye on her. The invite had been extended to anyone willing to come out to Loch Nora on Friday night, which apparently is most of the school.

Chrissy hadn’t taken a whole lot of persuading. She’d made the cheerleading team, but even that hadn’t made her mom happy. Sometimes Chrissy thinks Laura would be happier if she could break Chrissy down into parts, lay out each segment on a table, and twist and carve it down to the daughter she really wants. Sometimes Chrissy thinks she seems to be trying anyway. 

“I’m going to get a drink!” she shouts, gesturing to the kitchen. No one really acknowledges her except for Tina who just nods in return. Carol and Tommy disappeared half an hour ago and Chrissy’s pretty certain that they’re continuing the grand tradition of having sex on other peoples’ beds. 

She pushes her way through the crowds of bodies, narrowly avoiding being elbowed in the head, and slips into the kitchen. The usual punch bowl is there, and she’s already figured out to avoid it. But she has the advantage of knowing where Tina’s family keep their spare sodas. 

She ducks out of the back door, grateful for the cool air. Inside her skin had grown hot and slightly tacky, even in her little dress. The garage door is locked, but Chrissy easily finds the key, hidden on top of the door frame. 

It’s still not completely quiet out here but at least she’s alone. The spare fridge hums quietly along the far wall, next to Mr Cline’s tools and hedge trimmer. Chrissy tugs open the door and grabs for a can of lemonade, the can blissfully cool. She’s drained almost half of it the second she’s cracked the tab.

From here she can still hear the music, and she wonders how the cops haven’t been called yet. But the Morrisons on the other side are elderly and might not notice the music so easily. And the local police usually let a party slide, unless they get numerous complaints. 

She should go back in. She should let Jason dance with her, because he’s made it clear that he’s impatient being kept at arm’s length. It was fine to be linked together in middle school, to have a partner for school dances but now it feels serious. She doesn’t want to be like her mom - marrying her high school boyfriend, because it’s the only option, and letting the cage she chose make her more bitter and miserable with every passing year. 

But when she emerges back outside, the September breeze lifting the curls around her shoulders, something catches her eye.

Chrissy stops. She just saw someone move inside the Morrisons’ front room. 

The Morrisons have lived next to Tina for years. Mrs Morrison bakes oatmeal cookies and always encourages Chrissy to have another. Mr Morrison used to let them come over to use his grandson’s trampoline, until they got too old. Chrissy knows that the figure - young, slim, dark-haired - isn’t either one of the Morrisons. 

It might be their son. But she’s met him, and he’s a man in his forties, with graying hair and wire-rimmed glasses. This isn’t him. 

Something uncomfortable churns in her belly. Maybe there’s another reason why the Morrisons haven’t reported the party to the police. 

She takes a look back at the house behind her. It’s filled with people and she should go get anyone of them to accompany her. Jason maybe, or Patrick. Even Tina would come with her, if she went back and asked. 

But she doesn’t go back and ask. She strides down Tina’s drive and hops across the Morrisons lawn. Their drive is empty, Mr Morrison’s prized corvette tucked away in the garage. There’s a Beemer further down the street, something expensive and new, and she wonders if it belongs to someone at the party, who didn’t want to risk their car getting scratched. 

The house is dark when she reaches the front door, which worries her further still. Surely they can’t be asleep with the noise next door? Maybe their hearing is that bad, or Mr Morrison misplaced his hearing aid again. 

But she knocks on the door anyway, pounding loudly to be heard. 

“Mr Morrison?” she calls. She feels slightly sick - she’s either about to disturb an old couple or there’s something seriously wrong here. “Mrs Morrison? It’s Chrissy Cunningham. I’m a friend of Tina’s?”

But there’s no answer. She peers around to look in the front windows and it occurs to her now that all of the curtains are open. She looks up to be sure and every single one is wide open. 

Why would they leave all of their curtains open? Every other house on the street, save Tina’s, has them closed. And every other house has some form of lights on, a lamp, a porch-light, something. 

Unless someone didn’t want to risk being seen under bright lights. Like the person that Chrissy saw inside the house. 

Chrissy takes a shaky step back, her legs suddenly threatening to give way. The feeling in her body is now screaming at her, telling her that every part of this is wrong. She needs to go back to Tina’s house to use the phone. 

But before she can, there’s a sharp pain in her head, like someone has dug their fingers deep into her scalp. She shrieks and stumbles, her ankle giving way beneath her so that she lands on the grass. But none of that matters, because what she sees in front of her eyes isn’t the clouded night sky, or the quiet mausoleum of the Morrisons house. 

And when it ebbs away she’s left panting, lying on her back on the front lawn. And for a second she wonders if she’s going mad, because she saw, crystal clear, two people breaking into the Morrisons’ back door. It was like she’d been there - she heard the lock break, just audible underneath the sound of the wind chimes. She saw one of them move around, quietly turning off lights. She saw both of them slipping upstairs, barely making a sound on the steps. 

Chrissy pushes herself up on one elbow, even though this makes her head scream in agony. It’s almost tempting to lie back down, let her limbs sink into the coolness of the grass, but unless she’s crazy, someone really did break in. 

If she’d had any of the punch, she might be more willing to believe she was seeing things. But she is painfully sober and has no such luxury. 

She stumbles to her feet, wobbling on shaking legs. She doesn’t know how she saw it or why, just that it has a cost. She’s in no shape to help anyone but she has to try. 

“Mr Morrison!” she shouts, and pounds her open palm on the door. She knows she’s not going to get an answer but she doesn’t know what else to do. 

The dark shape that appears in the window next to her doesn’t even really look human.His face is twisted, with hard ridges across his nose and forehead, mouth slightly too wide like it was made to fit extra teeth. His eyes are the worst, gleaming bright yellow, like something from one of her brother’s video games. 

Chrissy freezes - she can’t help it. Perhaps for the first time she understands what it’s like to be prey, fixed on the spot under the gaze of something hungry. She’s made a mistake by catching his attention. 

Then he vanishes from the window and Chrissy jerks, as though she’s been released from a spell. She only has a second before panic sets in - he saw her. He saw her face. Even if she runs back to the party, it’s not like she can go anywhere. No one is in a fit state to drive her home. 

But the door opens and the face she sees there isn’t the one she expects. 

“Get in!” the school librarian hisses at her, holding out a hand urgently. Chrissy doesn’t move because something about this man has always given her the creeps. She avoids the school library as much as possible, preferring the large public one in town. Something about the dark stacks, the unusual leather-bound books he keeps behind the counter, even the dusty old suits he wears, all make her hair stand on end. And now he’s here, in the darkened doorway of her friends’ neighbors, at the same time as someone - something - terrifying.

“Hurry up!” he snaps and Chrissy moves forward, perhaps against her better judgment, into the stillness of the house. 

Or maybe not that still. 

The front room is still occupied by that man but a young woman has now joined him. Chrissy only has a moment to stare before Mr Bauman pulls her back, tucking her behind the banister of the stairs. There are two other figures there too, young and lanky, but they don’t hold her attention as much as the fight in the front room. 

She knows this girl. They go to school together. She’s wearing combat boots, a sturdy jacket, and she ducks and dodges as the man tries to hit her. She’s fast on her feet, avoiding every swipe of his long, jagged nails. He tries to lunge for her, and misses, and she takes the opportunity to lash out. Her arm strikes, deadly and precise, driving a thick stake into the center of his chest. Chrissy stifles a shriek but his face only shows brief surprise before he fades into dust. 

“Good shot,” Mr Bauman comments, as the girl brushes dust off her arm. She only looks vaguely annoyed, as though men turning to pieces of ash flaking gently on the Morrisons’ carpet is an everyday occurrence. “Even with the unexpected…interruptions.”

All too late, Chrissy realizes that he’s looking at her. 

“They’re all too cocky,” the girl complains, nudging at the pile of dust with her toe. “Do we need to clean this up?”

“Is that part of our job now?” one of the boys asks, and when he moves out of the darkness behind the banister, Chrissy gets a better look at his face. She knows him too - it’s Jonathan Byers, from the school paper. “Cleaning up afterwards?”

“No, it is not,” Mr Bauman says, tensely. “We’ll let Hopper know…I’ll leave a message with the usual code. The better question is, why is a cheerleader here?”

“There’s a party next door,” another voice says, the final occupant. Chrissy doesn’t ask why two boys and a grown man were hiding behind the stairs, while a fifteen year old girl fights. They’re all carrying the same weapons, a heavy stake, sharpened to a point, except for the boy in front of her, who has a bat hanging from his fingers. It takes her a second to realize that her eyes aren’t tricking her, but the odd shape of the wood is from dozens of nails being driven into the end. “Tina’s thing.”

As if this night couldn’t get any weirder - Steve Harrington, King Steve, is staring at her like she doesn’t belong here. 

“What just happened?” Chrissy asks and is a little surprised at how faint her voice sounds. Maybe the strange visions took that too. The four all look at each other and in that moment, Chrissy realizes a few things. That none of this is unusual for them, and that despite their various differences, they’re here working together. 

“That,” the girl says, pointing down at the floor. “Was a vampire. We’ve been tracking him for a while. We were pretty sure that someone was working Loch Nora. Too many break ins lately. So I staked him.”

“Robin!” Mr Bauman says, looking put out. And a vague memory pushes itself to the front of Chrissy’s head. The Hawkins High band, in fresh green outfits and white gloves, a sea of faces…or perhaps not. Because the girl staring back at Chrissy, her gaze cool, is one of those people that she’s seen out of the corner of her eye on so many mornings. 

“She just saw it,” Robin protests. “It’s not like we can hide it!”

“A little discretion might be advised,” Mr Bauman continues, looking tired. Chrissy kind of can’t blame him. She’s been involved in this mess for five minutes and she’s already exhausted. “It’ll do us no good if your position as the Slayer is revealed to the world by the school paper!”

“Chrissy’s okay,” Steve offers, thumping his bat against one of the mahogany side tables. “She won’t tell.”

“And we wouldn’t publish that anyway!” Jonathan says indignantly. Chrissy doesn’t stop to ask for any further detail - what is a Slayer anyway? - because she’s busy looking around. The rest of the house is quiet, no creaking of footsteps overhead. 

“Where’s the other one?” she asks and is met by four very startled faces. 

“What other one?” Steve asks, tilting his head.

“The other one,” Chrissy says and wraps her arms around herself. They’re all dressed sensibly, thick material prepared for the warmth and any oncoming attacks but she’s wearing a little black dress that brushes her thighs. “I saw…” she trails off, because she didn’t really see, did she? She never went around the back of the house. 

Mr Bauman is looking at her with a strange expression. “And where exactly,” he inquires carefully. “Did you see that?”

“I don’t know,” Chrissy says weakly. “I was at the party and I noticed it was all dark over here. I knocked on the door and there was no answer.”

“Did you see two people?” Mr Bauman pushes. Chrissy licks her lips. She’s going to sound crazy…but what if she’s not? What if there really are two and there’s another vampire roaming free? There’s a party of kids next door, all too high on music and alcohol to be anything other than easy pickings.

“I saw two people come in the back door,” she says hesitantly. “They turned off all the lights and went upstairs…I can’t explain how I saw it but I swear, I-” Mr Bauman holds up a hand. There’s something oddly delighted about his face and she’s not sure she likes the satisfaction there. 

“How interesting,” he says and moves across to her. “I thought your eyes looked a little bloodshot but I just thought that was from the party…does your head hurt? Eyes feel sensitive? Do you feel weak and disoriented?”

“What the fuck, Murray?” Steve asks, stalking across to where Murray is peering into Chrissy’s eyes. “Can we not dissect her?” But Murray has already taken a step back, looking triumphant. 

“She’s a seer,” he says and Robin guffaws. 

“She can’t be,” she says, looking back at Chrissy in disbelief. “She’s a cheerleader. I thought you said true seers are really rare…”

“Is it so hard to believe in Hawkins?” Mr Bauman asks, tucking his stake into his pocket. “She has all the signs. I don’t believe she went around the back of the house - chances are we would have seen her as we came in that way ourselves. And I doubt she was here much longer than a few minutes or the vampire would have found her sooner. So how did she see two vampires? And she has all the symptoms. It’s not an easy thing, receiving a vision. Excruciatingly painful, I’ve heard…and you definitely saw more than one?”

“There’s two,” Chrissy says, looking around at each skeptical face. She’s worried that they won’t believe her but they also just staked a vampire, so she finds that a touch unfair. “I saw two.” Ha! Like I said!

“I fucking told you,” Steve says, sounding disgruntled. He sweeps his hair back from his face, a motion Chrissy must have seen hundreds of times. Normally he does it carefully, aimed at whatever girl has taken his fancy, but this is brisk, efficient. 

“Well, sorr-ee,” Robin snaps back tensely. “I wasn’t expecting vampires to get a taste for rich people.”

“They’re vampires!” Steve says back incredulously, throwing out his arms. “They’re not picky!”

“Alright, children,” Mr Bauman snaps, effectively cutting off the argument. “That’s enough. We have bigger problems afoot here.”

Something about his tone is unsettling. She’s not sure what he’s doing here, like he’s leading three teenagers into battle. She gathers that Robin is something special, but the rest of the dynamics she hasn’t quite worked out yet. The loner, the misfit, and the jock, all here under the lead of the school librarian. 

“I think she’s right,” Mr Bauman says, gesturing to Chrissy with the end of his stake. “It doesn't make sense otherwise. There would have been noise, some screaming. It wouldn’t be possible unless there were two.”

“Two for what?” Chrissy asks suspiciously and the room goes very quiet. Jonathan will no longer meet her eyes. Even Steve looks uncomfortable, an unhappy twist to his mouth. She takes off up the stairs before any of them can stop her, adrenaline pushing her legs to move faster than they ever have done before. 

The terrible feeling earlier now made sense. 

The Morrisons had gone to bed. They’re lying silently, side by side, Mr Morrison in pinstripes, Mrs Morrison in a flowered nightdress. They’re on their backs, faces still and peaceful like they hadn’t even known that they had died. 

It was only the neat holes pierced in their necks, each one wearing a matching pair, blood beginning to dry and crust on their skin that gave away the truth. 

The only consolation is that the music will ensure no one else hears her scream.

[peaches2217]

My first therapy appointment in several months went really well! I’m returning to the councilor I’ve had for a couple years now. I updated her on my transition journey because the last time I saw her was a couple weeks before I started on T; I told her about coming out to my dad last night, and how disappointing it was.

The ensuing conversation was both productive, and so fucking validating.

My recent depressive episode? Complicated by an event with a former friend, but set into motion, and dragged out for so long, because of the stress of what was to come. My voice has gotten too low to even PRETEND it’s just a holdover from being sick or part of allergies or what have you. I’ve known for the past month that the time to tell my dad was coming. The fear of his reaction and the consequences it could bring since I’m currently in a financially vulnerable place was killing me.

And as we talked, I figured out that the unpredictability is still my only real, big fear: my dad promised me he wouldn’t kick me out, but there’s that lingering fear that he could change his mind, and even if he doesn’t, he could start draining my paychecks — I told him my GAC, insurance copays and all, has been coming exclusively out of my pocket, so I get the sneaking suspicion he’s gonna take advantage of us sharing a bank account and deepen that financial dependency. And above all, I’m afraid of losing our relationship. I’m okay with him not accepting my identity so long as he doesn’t treat me any differently in spite of it. But if he starts pulling away or pushing me away or withholding love as punishment for following down a path he disapproves of, what then?

My counselor told me that, sad as it is, I can’t control how he chooses to react. But I have my mom and brother’s support, my girlfriend’s support, and an online community of friends; if I lose my relationship with him, that’s ultimately his decision and his loss, and no matter what he does, I won’t face it alone.

I had hoped that assuring him I felt God’s peace in my choices and that I’d spent years praying over the situation would at least sorta put him at ease, but all he did was infantilize and illegitimize my entire experience as guided by evil and selfishness. I can’t reason with him or come to a happy medium with him like I did with my mom. The faith he’s praised me for sticking close to he’s now decided is all lies and self-delusion simply because he doesn’t like the conclusions I’ve come to. Nothing I do will satisfy or convince him… so why waste energy trying?

I just have to live with his disappointment, and as much as it hurts, it’s also freeing. I’ve done all I can do. I don’t have to hide anymore. I don’t have to live with the stress of what will happen once he knows, because for better or worse, he knows now. If he doesn’t like it, so be it. I’ve laid my cards down, and how things progress between us is entirely up to him. When I put aside my stress over our relationship, I feel nothing but confidence and happiness and certainty. If he thinks this is a mistake… well, he’s gotta let me make my mistakes. I spent 20+ years not doing anything for fear of what bad might happen, and that left me a suicidal wreck by age 18. I won’t sit by and let ominous warnings and premonitions hold me back any longer. It COULD be a mistake, or it COULD be the best decision I’ve ever made. How will I know if I freeze up in fear?

My counselor noted several times that I look, sound, and act more confident than she’s ever seen from me. Without the pressure of keeping secrets, I’m able to more easily sort between what thoughts are mind and what thoughts my dad, my trauma, or both have planted in my head. I can say with my whole chest that I feel I’m going in the right direction. I can even say “Fuck it, my dad’s approval or disapproval is on him, not me” with greater conviction. I’m acting on things I’ve wanted from the moment we first spoke, and she says the positive change it’s made radiates off of me. She said she’s extremely proud of the progress I’ve made.

I’ll be seeing her again next week, then dropping down to seeing her every other week. In spite of how relatively poorly last night went, I feel empowered. God I’m so glad to be back.

[tenaciousjalapeno]

Testing the Cat Lady, Part 2

2/?

Pairing: LA Buggy the Clown x Reader

Summary: Captain Buggy drags you back to his ship to show you around your new home

Warnings: language

Word Count: 1,600

A/N: Tried to match the energy of the emotionally drained character, so hopefully that shines through

The door that Buggy takes you through leads straight back to his colorful ship, where the crew leisurely sprawls across the main deck. “Listen up, freaks,” he shouts, instantly drawing the attention of his crew. “This little looker and the furball are the newest members of the show. We’re going to show them a warm welcome, got it?” Cabaji and Bear-boy arrive, rolling a barrel of whiskey to their captain’s side. “Why don’t you introduce yourself,” Buggy quietly urges you with a nudge forward. As much as you don’t want to, the emotional blows the man has put you through has wrung any and all fight out of you. At least for today. You nervously stutter out both your and Mango’s names to the crowd. It looks to be about twenty people, give or take. They give a collective welcoming shout in return.

Several pairs of hungry eyes scan your body up and down. Being ogled at is nothing new to you, but something about so many people – pirates, at that – doing it at once sends a shiver down your spine. Luckily, this doesn’t go unnoticed by your new captain. “Touch either of them, and you lose your hands,” he coldly states to the crew. All of their gazes immediately drop. Buggy tells you that he’ll give you a tour after he gets some other work done, then disappears back into the tent.

Everyone seems friendly enough and bombards you with questions throughout the afternoon. The whole situation is a bit overwhelming, but nothing you can’t handle. Mango stays settled in your lap the entire time, which helps ease your tension. Not much, but enough. From listening in on some nearby conversations you learn that Bear-boy is the Mohji that Buggy spoke of earlier. If it weren’t for him, you could very well be sitting here with a cat-sized hole in your heart. A wave of guilt washes over you, and you decide that apologizing to the poor guy is the least you could do to make up for his bandaged arms. “Hey! Mohji, right?” you ask after striding over to him.

He nervously eyes Mango, but smiles warmly at you nonetheless. “Yeah, that’s right.”

“Uh, so Captain Buggy said you’re kind of responsible for keeping Mango safe. I wanted to say thanks, and sorry on behalf of this guy.” Mango crawls his way up your shoulder as you speak and stares at Mohji with distrust.

“Ah, don’t worry about it,” he says, brushing the matter off with a wave of his hand. “I would’ve done the same if I was in his boots. I’m actually glad to have him around! Now Richie finally has another cat to keep him company.”

You perk up at his words. “You’ve got a cat too?” No matter how many cats you’ve seen in your days, you’re always excited to meet a new one.

“Yeah, he’s my best buddy! Come on, I’ll show you.” With that, Mohji leads you back to the tent. Pulling back the curtain to a side room, your heart hits the floor. Holy shit! It wasn’t a cat. It was a lion. A big one. He lays comfortably on a blanket and barely acknowledges your entrance. To your shock, Mohji seems completely at ease around Richie and goes as far as rubbing the massive beast’s exposed belly. Even more to your shock, Mango is also unfazed. He leaps down from your shoulders and confidently struts over to the lion that is, no joke, easily a hundred times his size. After a minute of sniffing each other, Mango curls up against Richie for a nap. That cat of yours has always been brave, but sometimes he leaves you truly gob smacked.

You sigh and shake your head at the little orange cat. Once your heart settles, you pelt Mohji with dozens of questions about his, ehh, strange choice of pet. He seems ecstatic to finally have a new person to show Richie off to. Gods know that it isn’t often that they get a new member to the crew. Engrossed in the conversation, you don’t notice that with each question, he inches closer and closer, until a voice shouts behind you.

“Back off, Mohji. Remember what I said about losing your hands?” Buggy enters the tent, surprising the both of you. His face bares a wide smile, but his voice is edging on hostile. The combination is frightening, but at least he seems to be looking out for you. Kind of. Maybe?

“Y-yes captain! I was j-just introducing these two to Richie,” Mohji stutters out fearfully.

Your captain circles the cowering man. “That better be all it was. You,” he says, turning back and setting his watercolor eyes on you, “Grab the furball. I’m going to show you around.” You nod and hoist Mango into your arms. Buggy leads you back toward the ship and yells behind him to Mohji, “Not everyone who likes cats wants to see your dick!” The statement leaves you flustered. Being able to tell if people were flirting with you or not was a gift that you weren’t exactly graced with. In fact, it’s gotten you into a lot of trouble in the past, but it looks like the captain has saved you this time around. You almost consider thanking him, but you’re still too caught up on the whole “capturing you and forcing you to join his crew” thing to show any gratitude.

He takes you to the lower deck of the ship, pointing out the kitchen, laundry, storage rooms, and other main areas before stopping abruptly at a door. You nearly stumble into him, but he catches you by the shoulder and steadies you. The contact makes you blush, but you dismiss it as a weird fear response. After all, he did threaten to kill your cat just this morning. Though you pegged him as an idiot before, the ordeal really drove home that he wasn’t someone to be trifled with. “This’ll be your room,” Buggy states, opening the door and motioning for you to step in. It’s small, but surprisingly clean and even has its own bathroom. You survey the room from its center, taking a minute to fully soak it in.

“Is there something wrong with it?” Buggy huffs, snapping you back to reality. He leans against the doorframe with his arms crossed and an expectant look in his picturesque eyes. Try as you might not to notice, the position does a great job of framing his biceps. The sight makes your stomach flip. As cruel and intimidating as he is, it’s impossible to deny that he’s, well, nice to look at. Even with the clown nose.

“Oh, no. It’s nice,” you hurriedly say. “I guess I was just expecting a shared quarters or something.”

He looks away and shifts his weight. “Well, there is, but I figured since you’ve got that guy, you might need your own space so he doesn’t bother anyone. That and I don’t trust some of those other shitheads around you.”

With a puzzled look, you try to ask, “What do you-,” before he cuts you off.

“Anyway, we’ll talk about my plans for you in the morning. My room is next door if you need me. Don’t bother me unless it’s important,” he says gruffly before heading to his own room. Rude. That blue-haired clown’s mood swings today are really leaving you in a daze.

Closing the door, you see that two little bowls and a large bag of cat food rest on the floor behind it. Once again, you blush, though you don’t know what to dismiss this one as. You set Mango down and fill his bowl with food, which he eagerly starts crunching on.

Familiarizing yourself with your new home, you take another look over everything. A dresser against the wall reminds you that you’re going to be in need of some new clothes, seeing as everything in your house is probably trashed. Still, you decide to open it up and check out the drawers. To your pleasant surprise, it’s filled with your clothes as well as a few of your other personal belongings. A smile spreads widely across your face and you let out a small fit of giggles. Never in a hundred years did you think you’d be so happy to see your clothes, books, and dinged-up old lute. It clicks that this is probably what he was referring to when he said that he had other work. Maybe he’s not as evil as I thought.

In the room next door, Buggy leans over the counter in his own personal bathroom, washing grease paint from his face. He’s lost in his own thoughts. Uncharacteristically, he actually felt guilty about his show earlier. Countless people had been tortured by his own two hands and malicious methods over the years, but never before did he show an ounce of remorse. In fact, it had become something of a hobby at this point. The screams and tears he’d elicit typically brought him satisfaction, but something about yours stirred a foreign feeling in him. Maybe it was just how small you looked standing there, or maybe it was the desperation in your watery doe eyes. Maybe it was any number of things. Fucked if he knew.

 Through the wall, he can hear your giggles, to which he responds with a low groan. “Damn shidiot,” he mumbles to his reflection.

[feybarn]

Thanks for all the prompts you guys sent. I'm definitely not going to be able to hit them all at once. But I'm going to try to get to at least one or two a day...

Up first with @everfascinated's prompt.

It's Monday and I'm really feeling it lol Can Obi-Wan relax with your fav Jedi/Mando/clone? I'm working for the weekend, someone needs to just sit and read or have a nice day with people they love

Some Obi-Wan & Quinlan.

Obi-Wan glared at his interloper, currently looming over him and holding Obi-Wan’s datapad over his head. “What are you doing?”

“You are going to give me an ulcer,” Quinlan said. “Literally. An ulcer. I can feel it growing right now.” He pressed his free hand against his stomach and let out an exaggerated groan. “I never thought you were capable of such cruelty.”

Obi-Wan wasn’t amused. In the slightest. “I need to finish the report for my latest mission, Quin.”

“You need to take a break before you break down. This may come as a surprise to you, but things like fatigue and stress do affect you the same way they do the rest of us.”

Obi-Wan sighed. “Quin. My datapad. Give it to me.”

Quinlan scoffed, turned off the datapad, and stuck it in his belt. “Not a chance.” 

Obi-Wan had somehow forgotten just how supremely irritating Quinlan could be. How he’d managed to forget that was something of a mystery, because Quinlan was… Quinlan. Apparently the back to back missions he and Anakin had been sent on the last year were getting to him. He didn’t know why he was being ‘specifically requested’ so often, but he’d really prefer it stop happening. “What do you want, Quin?”

“I want you to relax. For an evening. That’s it.”

The thought filled Obi-Wan with longing. As it was… “I can’t.” He had already received a message requesting that he and Anakin prepare for another mission in three days, there was too much to do in the next three days to relax. Mace had been apologetic, but the request for Obi-Wan had come straight from the Senate.

Beyond that, he’d agreed to teach several hand to hand courses for the senior padawans—which was less hand to hand and more how to fight dirty—had several meetings with Senators from former missions, and a meeting with the council.

“You can, actually,” Quinlan said. “Aayla is inviting Anakin to join her and a few other padawans for a night in the holo-room for the night. Star gazing, supposedly, but we both know that’s just code for gossip. That means the two of us are free for the night.”

“I’m not going cantina hopping, Quinlan.”

Quinlan rolled his eyes. “Give me some credit, Obi-Wan. I know when you’re in a cantina hopping mood. I have deigned to suffer this evening, all for your sake, and we’re going to do something you consider relaxing.”

Obi-Wan crossed his arms over his chest, because this was sure to be good. Quinlan didn’t know the first thing about relaxing in a way that didn’t include chaos.

Obi-Wan would be lying if he said he didn’t at times egg Quinlan on, but he simply was too drained to do so.

“In this theoretical situation where I give in, what, exactly, do you plan on us doing?”

Quinlan’s expression shifted into one of exaggerated long-suffering. “We are going to watch the prime-time recording of the Phantasma Opera.” He shuddered. “I borrowed the recording from Windu and stole some tea from Depa and…” He paused for obvious emphasis. “I raided Siri’s kitchen for the little sugary monstrosities that you like. I risked my life for this evening.”

“Siri’s going to kill you,” Obi-Wan said. His mouth watered at the thought of the Alderaanian Delights Siri hoarded. “How about this, you give me those Alderaanian Delights and I get back to work. You can consider your mission accomplished.”

“Nope,” Quinlan said easily. “It’s everything or nothing.”

Obi-Wan was too professional to pout, but it was Quinlan; Quinlan had seen him do worse. He pouted.

Quinlan was unfazed. “So, I’m stealing your datapad and setting up in your quarters. You can choose to join me or you can languish here in the archives.” Quinlan sauntered away.

Obi-Wan groaned and buried his face in his arms on the table.

He was so tired. 

Quinlan was such a pest, really. Obi-Wan didn’t know how he put up with him.

He forced himself out of the chair.

Quinlan was wrong; Obi-Wan didn’t need a break. But… well, Quinlan had clearly gone through a great deal of work—risking Siri’s wrath on top of it all—to give Obi-Wan a break. And he really had wanted to see the Phantasma Opera for quite some time.

He made it to his quarters to find Quinlan sprawled over his couch, Phantasma Opera queued up, tea steeping, and Alderaanian Delights in a box on his chest.

Obi-Wan forced Quinlan to move his legs before he sat down. “I need my datapad back.”

“Tomorrow,” Quinlan said. “I’m teaching your class on fighting dirty, already cleared it with the Masters—who were quite pleased to have an expert Shadow, by the way—so you have time then.”

Obi-Wan stared at his best friend, because tonight had been… appreciated for the intent behind it, but some part of Obi-Wan had been on edge trying to figure out what to do with the time he was losing. This… this was more than he had thought he could ask for. Some of his tension released. 

“Thanks Quinlan,” he said quietly. 

Quinlan smirked at him. “Don’t thank me too soon. I’m going to tell all of the padawans about the time you won a cantina fight because you freaked out the Duros smuggler by threatening to bite him.”

Obi-Wan laughed. “Have I told Aayla the story of the time we almost poisoned Yoda when we brought him the wrong type of frog as a life day present?”

“Not yet,” Quinlan said, a gleeful look entered his eyes. Mostly because the story was more hilarious than embarrassing, Master Yoda had been delighted by their ‘murder attempt’. “But you can tell her tomorrow at dinner.”

Obi-Wan thought about protesting, but with Quinlan taking on Obi-Wan’s classes, his whole day tomorrow was suddenly free; he could spare another evening with Quinlan.

He leaned back against the sofa and relaxed as the Opera started.

His tension faded away. For the first time in ages, Obi-Wan just… relaxed. 

Kark. Quinlan had been right; he was going to be absolutely insufferable.

[abrattylee]

Hey there 🌸

Get to know me a little!

For my new followers, yes, this is the 4th time I’m making this post- I have a super hard time making up my mind (kind of a perfectionist but not really but YES - ok u get the point) … (I hope). SUPER indecisive- wheew 😮‍💨 Please don’t give me a lot of options 🥴

MY MIND IS ABSOLUTE CHAOS U DON’T EVEN KNOW-

So HI you can call me Goose; ask me why and you’ll get a story time. I’m down to share my name etc. if we get to know each other ☺️ Feel free to send me a message or ask me anything, I love getting to know people 💕

I also love memes lol if you haven’t noticed yet. I’m a silly, silly gal and I love jokes and joking around- A-hyuk

I might take a while to respond sometimes, cause yaknow, life happens and I get quite busy at times. It does NOT mean I don’t want to talk to you, I’m just busy with life, or might not have the mental energy to respond. Bro I have 3 part time jobs, I don’t have the mental energy most days 🫠

I’m from Norway🇳🇴🇳🇴🇳🇴

I’m 24 and I have a bachelors degree in sports medicine. I’m a CrossFit coach and personal trainer!

My favorite hobbies include kickboxing, hiking, running, climbing, kayaking, you name it. I love anything that includes moving my body … that also includes tiggles 👀

I’m lee 😌 kinda switchy, not really sure 🤔

I love talking to people, but I’m also super introverted so I get easily drained from socializing. I’m also super shy but once you get to know me I can open up more and be myself <3

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Just a couple ground rules:

I’ve realized I haven’t mentioned any boundaries at all on my blog, so I figured it was about time!

Do not contact me if all you want to do is talk about tickling and rp in my dms straight away. Be a decent human being and get to know me at least a little first.

Don’t be a creep.

If your blog is overly sexual/ all you post is porn or nudity or extreme bondage, I will not follow you back or interact with you.

If you have no age or anything written in your bio or about yourself, I won’t interact further with you.

This is all I could think of right now, might add more to the list later ☀️

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Mise En Place 6

Warnings: noncon, coercion, manipulation. Proceed with caution.

Note:I’ll be honest that these parts are a little more hands on because I’m full on learning cocktail recipes here lol.

Thanks all for reading and I hope you’re excited for this one. All feedback is more than welcome and loved and appreciated. Reblogs are most helpful.

Part of The Club AU

The night finishes with you back in the kitchen. The club is static as the music’s faded out and the bodies have shuffled out into the streets. You line the dripping glasses across the metal rack and drain the last of the dishwater. You dry your hands and toss the cloth in the bin with the rest of the soiled linens.

As you emerge, Thor is at the bar. He has his phone in hand as he yawns into his other. You tiptoe by but he calls your name before you can sneak off to the coat room. You turn back and hide your reticence. As friendly as he is, you can’t wait to be home and in bed. The safest and most cozy haven you have.

“Do you have a way home?” He asks.

“I walk,” you assure him, “thanks.”

“Walk? At this time of night?”

You shrug, “I always have.”

“Is it not scary?”

“I don’t live far,” you assure him.

“Still,” he insists as he tucks away his phone and crosses his arms, “I could drive you.”

“Like I said, it isn’t very far.”

“That doesn’t matter. I heard there was some girl found in the alleyway… I’d hate for that to be you.”

You blink, startled by that thought. You remember the earring and twiddle your fingers nervously. You chew your lip. You’ll just keep your phone at the ready.

“I can make it,” you shift slowly on your heel, “good night.”

You go around to the coat room and grab your bag. You take out your phone and tuck your keys in your pocket so you can find them easily. You come back out and nearly collide with Thor.

“I will walk you out, at least,” he insists.

You purse your lips. You don’t like to argue. You drop your shoulders and nod, “okay.”

He gestures you ahead of him and you cross the barroom to the stairs. You descend with him close behind, almost too close, and as you get to the bottom, he comes parallel, his hand hovering along the small of your back. Behind the bar, you try not to let his little touches bother you, but now, it makes you squirm.

You part from him, scurrying for the door. You stagger back as it opens from the other side and the bouncer comes through, his usual scowl etched on his face like the scar rippled along one side. You move out of his way as he grumbles and stomps by.

Thor chuckles, “moody one. No wonder my brother likes him.”

You don’t say a word and hurry outside. Thor follows and you look down the street before turning back to him, “have a good night.”

His cheek ticks and his brow furrows, “you shouldn’t go alone.”

“I do it every night.”

“You shouldn’t,” he repeats.

You frown. His persistence reminds you of someone else. Of someone you don’t like to remember.

“I’ll be okay.”

“But I worry,” he intones.

You stare at his chest. He is a big man. He must not be afraid of anything. He probably doesn’t have to watch over his shoulder or listen for footsteps. He is the one other people would cower away from.

“Well, you don’t have to,” you say. “Good night.”

You spin and quickly flit away. You don’t know why you don’t accept the offer. You would feel safer yet you like your invisibility. No one knows you or where you live or what you do. They didn’t until the night he noticed you.

As you walk, you get the sense that you’re not alone. You turn your head slightly, trying to see from the corner of your eye. You round the corner but there is only a fleeting shadow that disappears down the previous street.

You light up your phone. It’s later than your usual walk home. For some, it’s early. You head down towards your building and stop by the entrance to the small alley that leads to your door.

You let yourself in and twist the locks into place. Your apartment is dark and you don’t bother turning on a light. You change into a loose tee shirt and roll onto the futon. You lay flat, your head sinking into the pillow as you stare at the outline of the window on the ceiling.

Your eyes close, itchy and dry. You listen to the sounds of the city, distant cars, the subtle breeze flowing along the brick. Then the sudden and shaking shatter of glass. You sit up with a gasp as the heavy shape lands on the floor.

You swipe your phone from beside you on the bed and you shine the light towards the large rock amid the remnants of the window. You shudder and look at the window. They couldn’t scale the building, could they?

You get up and inch towards the window, keeping to the side as you fear another rock. You near and peek out over the ledge quickly. You don’t see anything but the dented garbage cans and shrouded awning. You retract and face the room, watching the rock as if it will move on its own.

You slide down the wall as you stare. Numb and paralysed. Did he find you? After all this time? Who else would do something like this? Who else would want to scare you?