#contemplated on calling this tangled lol

[kunasthiast]

My God (4)

Just when you know your week couldn't get any worse, the universe really decides to bring out the worst in you.

You might as well be near your boiling point and do some dumb decisions... or not?

a/n: sorry that this took a while for me to post – a lot has happened to my life lately lol dfhdshfs no worries, i'll be back to regular updates by next week!

Pairing: Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: banters + angst, Yakuza AU, Fake Marriage Word Count: 4.4k All characters are of age. This story is 18+. Minors don't interact.

1 • 2 • <- previous

The morning sunlight streamed through the cracks in the curtains, casting dancing shadows on the walls of your bedroom. Your phone vibrated on the bedside table, jolting you awake from a very, very restless sleep.

The lingering effects of the past few days — the unexpected announcement and the whirlwind of events — had left you feeling exhausted and unsettled. Why does your life seem to deteriorate each day since that fucking party and announcement?

You rubbed your eyes groggily, still processing the reality of your situation. It’s that hard to move on, okay? As you swung your legs out of your comfy bed, your foot brushed against the plush rug beneath, grounding you for a moment before the chaos of the day.

Reaching for your phone by the bedside table, your heart rate spiked as you opened it — staring so long at the text messages waiting on your screen. It is indeed a lot of emotions already this morning. I’m just hungry… right? I haven’t eaten anything since last night.

Sukuna > good morning, princess ;) > so, where are we secretly gonna get married? > gotta have it on my calendar, u know I’m a busy man

A wave of dread washed over you. The reality of your situation hit you with full force, the weight of the impending ruse pressing down on you, and how the fuck you will deal with this. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you closed your phone and laid back down face-first on your bed to bury your face in your pillow. 

At least this pillow is soft enough, you thought as you continued to pound your head on it to at least try to escape the overwhelming sense of dread you’ve been having these past few days. The cool, soft fabric offered very little comfort, but at least it was something you could control. Or not.

You’re not ready to deal with anything this early in the morning, please. 

After a few minutes of futilely attempting to disappear into your pillow, you pulled yourself together and sat up, swinging your legs over the edge of your bed again. The creak of the bed frame seemed to echo in the silent room.

You opened your phone in hand, your fingers hovering over the screen as you contemplated your reply to the bane of your existence, as you often call him in your mind. 

You > will a civil wedding do? > i’ll have it scheduled around noon   > and please, no more morning texts 

You put your phone down and stand up, stretching your aching muscles. Comfy bed, comfy pillow, but still giving me these aches, you thought. The tightness in your shoulders and back was a reminder of the amount of stress you have. You ran a hand through your hair, feeling the tangled strands pull against your scalp.

“Holy shit,” you muttered as a sudden realization hit you like a ton of bricks. You immediately grabbed your phone, opened your calendar app, and scrolled through it with a sense of dread gnawing at your gut. And there it was — just as you feared. Yes, you did forget something.

There’s a fucking art gala tonight. Sponsored by your father.

Which meant… your father would be there, Sukuna would be there, everyone in the family would be there.

Worst of all? Satoru would be there. You just knew it.

Yeah, you’re skipping this one.

“There’s no way I’m going to the gala tonight,” you mumbled to yourself as you closed your phone and placed it screen down on the bedside table.

You walked towards your ensuite bathroom, and the cold tiles beneath your feet sent a shiver through you. Your disheveled reflection greeted you in the mirror, your hair sticking out in every direction, eyes slightly puffy from the lack of sleep. 

“I can’t deal with that hellhole tonight. Dealing with Sukuna is already enough of a headache,” you whispered to yourself, running a hand through your hair in a futile attempt to tame it. The strands slipped through your fingers like silk, but they stubbornly refused to cooperate. 

Your mind then wandered to whatever chaos you might be missing this evening. Yeah, there’s something that will happen tonight, you thought with a sinking feeling in your stomach. You gave up on your hair and splashed cold water on your face. The icy shock jolted you awake, but it did little to quell the unease bubbling inside you.

—

Sukuna’s footsteps echoed sharply against the marble floors, each step resonating through the silent, opulent corridors of the mansion. The walls, adorned with priceless art and gilded fixtures, only accentuated the coldness that seemed to seep up from the floor, biting through the soles of his expensive shoes. He paid it no mind, his thoughts already far ahead, focused on the confrontation that awaited him.

A faint buzz in his pocket broke the silence and paused his strides. Sukuna pulled out his phone, his eyes narrowing as he read your curt reply. He couldn’t help but chuckle in amusement at your attempt to try and take control of your situation like a kitten trying to catch the laser light but ended up tripping over nothing. 

He pocketed his phone, his smirk fading as he neared the heavy oak doors of your father’s office and knocked. Without waiting for a response, Sukuna pushed the door open. The air was thick with tension, the kind that clung to your skin and made it hard to breathe. But, not to Sukuna. 

Your father, Akira, sat behind his massive desk, the steam rising from a cup of tea curling into the air like tendrils of smoke. The faint aroma of peppermint filled the air, usually calming, and added unease that hung between them.

"Come in, Sukuna,” Akira’s voice was both tired and commanding. Sukuna stepped into the office, his gaze sweeping across the room, taking in every detail — the subtle twitch in Akira’s jaw, the way his fingers tightened around the teacup.

Yeah, he’s still brooding over last night’s drama, Sukuna thought.

"Sukuna," Akira began, his tone laced with disapproval, "I've heard about the incident last night."

Sukuna raised an eyebrow, his expression a perfect mask of indifference. "It was nothing," he replied, his voice calm and almost dismissive. "Just a minor misunderstanding."

Akira’s eyes narrowed to slits, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Minor misunderstandings can have major consequences," he warned. “The fight with the Zenin clan was reckless, and you know it.”

Sukuna shrugged, his posture relaxed, almost bored. "It was necessary," he replied, his tone nonchalant. "They were crossing a line."

Akira slammed his palm onto the desk, the sudden sound echoing through the room. “Just what line are you crossing, Sukuna?” He demanded, his voice a low growl.

“Just because I’ve named you as the next head of this family doesn’t save you from your dumb actions. I can take that back anytime. You’re becoming too reckless, and it’s only a matter of time before your actions come back to bite us all,” he warned. "You can't afford to make any more mistakes."

Sukuna didn’t flinch at the outburst, clearly expecting this reaction from the current family head. He leaned forward, his gaze locking onto Akira’s with an intensity that sent a shiver down the older man’s spine. “I have everything under control,” he said, his voice steady and cold. The calm in his tone was more terrifying than any thread could have been.

Akira sighed, massaging his temples with his fingertips and evident frustration. "You think you have everything under control,” he muttered, more to himself than to Sukuna. “But you're forgetting one thing."

Sukuna tilted his head, waiting, his eyes narrowing slightly and silently waiting for the rebuke.

"Your actions affect more than just yourself," Akira reprimanded, his voice regaining its firmness. "Your choices have consequences for the entire family. I won't stand by and watch you dismantle everything I've built."

Sukuna took a sit down, legs crossed, the chair in front of Akira’s table, a slow smirk spreading across his face. "You're getting emotional," he said with a hint of offense.

Akira’s jaw tightened, his fists clenched at his sides. "I'm being realistic,” he shot back, his voice rising. “You need to start thinking with your head instead of your ego."

Sukuna chuckled a dark, humorless sound. "And you need to stop babying me like I'm some helpless child,” he retorted. “I know what I’m doing. My reckless actions are the reasons you chose me over your daughter. Or have you forgotten that?”

For a moment, the room fell into a tense silence, the words hanging in the air like a loaded gun. Akira stared at Sukuna, his expression a mixture of anger and reluctant acknowledgment. He knew that the young man was right in a sense, but it didn’t make them any easier to swallow. 

After what felt like an eternity, Akira spoke again, his voice calmer but no less tense. "Yes, your past actions played a part in your selection,” he admitted, his gaze never leaving Sukuna’s. “But, that does not give you a free pass to do as you please without regard for this family. We are not invincible, Sukuna, and your recklessness will catch up to you eventually.”

Sukuna’s smirk softened slightly, a rare moment of sincerity flashing in his eyes before it was quickly buried beneath its usual bravado. "I get it," he said, his one more subdued, though still laced with that infuriating confidence.

"Good," Akira nodded, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly and his voice still stern but with a hint of relief. "Because this family can’t afford any more of your antics. Not now.”

Sukuna rolled his eyes, raising his arms in a playful gesture of surrender. “Alright, alright old man,” he drawled, his smirk returning in full force. “I'll try to keep my antics in check."

As their conversation shifted to the upcoming gala tonight, Sukuna’s thoughts began to drift. He listened to Akira’s plans with one ear, already calculating his next move.

By the time he left the office, a sense of satisfaction settled in his chest, and couldn’t help but chuckle in satisfaction. He had defused the situation, at least for now. But he knew that old man would be watching him closely, waiting for him to slip.

It’s a game of patience, Sukuna mused. A game I’ve been playing for years. And I’m so close to winning.

—

“Well, fuck,” you muttered under your breath, staring at your reflection in the vanity mirror. You were bathed in soft, ambient light that did little to calm your nerves.

As much as you hated the idea of attending the art gala tonight, you didn’t have the heart to miss whatever you felt would happen. The feeling is too strong to dismiss, okay?

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart as you adjusted your hair for what felt like the hundredth time. It had been at least 40 minutes since you started getting ready. Usually, you would take less than 30 minutes to get yourself to look presentable, but tonight was different. The clock on your wall ticked away relentlessly, reminding you that you were on the verge of being late.

With a resigned sigh, you puckered up your lips to readjust your dark red lipstick before accepting the inevitable. The deep red dress you had chosen clung to your frame, the fabric shimmering subtly with your movements. It was a beautiful dress, one that made you feel powerful yet vulnerable all at once. I look so good though, you thought.

But, even as you admired the way it complemented your skin, it didn’t ease the knot of anxiety in your twisting in your stomach.

“Just a few more minutes,” you whispered as if convincing yourself could somehow delay the night’s events. Grabbing your clutch, you cast one final glance at the mirror, hoping to see confidence reflected back to you. Instead, all you saw was a woman teetering on the edge of uncertainty. 

The drive to the gala was a blur of Tokyo’s city lights and quiet streets. You could feel the nervous energy bubbling under your skin, but you forced yourself to focus on the road.

When you finally arrived, the gala was already in full swing. The grand hall was filled with people, laughter, and the clinking of glasses. Art pieces adorned the walls, each more elaborate and expensive than the last. Normally, you would have taken the time to appreciate them, but tonight, they were just background noise to the chaos in your mind.

The air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume and the undercurrent of power plays masked by polite smiles. You wove through the crowd, trying to find a quiet corner where you could collect yourself.

But before you could escape, the grand hall plunged into semi-darkness. The sudden shift sent a ripple of unease through the crowd, punctuated by the commanding, firm voice you know all too well. You froze, your pulse quickening as the tension in the room spiked.

“Where have you been?”

You turned sharply, your breath catching in your throat as you faced your father, Akira, whose presence was as imposing as ever. His eyes bore into yours with a mixture of frustration and concern. He didn’t need to raise his voice to command attention; the weight of his words alone was enough to make your heart pound.

“I—” you started, but he cut you off with a curt wave of his hand.

“This is not the time for excuses,” he said, his tone cold and clipped. “Do you realize how important tonight is? You were expected to be here on time, not wandering in whenever you felt like it.”

You clenched your fists at your sides, trying to maintain your composure. The tension between you and your father had always been thick, but tonight it felt suffocating, more suffocating than your last confrontation. “I’m here now, aren’t I?” you replied, your voice strained. “Isn’t that what matters?”

Akira’s expression darkened, his jaw tightening as he spoke. “Your presence is the bare minimum. I expected you to support the family, to be an asset, not a liability. You can’t keep running away from your responsibilities.”

His words struck a nerve, but you refused to back down and remain as composed as ever. “I’m not running away,” you retorted, your voice rising despite your efforts to stay calm. “I’m trying to deal with everything you’ve dumped on me, including this ridiculous charade with Sukuna.”

Akira’s eyes flashed with anger, his voice lowering to a dangerous whisper. “You’re lucky I chose him over you,” he hissed. “Do you think you could handle the pressure of leading this family? You can barely keep your emotions in check.”

The sting of his words was like a dagger to your heart, the familiar ache of inadequacy tightening its grip on you. You clenched your fists, fighting the urge to lash out. 

“I won’t tolerate any more of your outbursts tonight,” Akira continued, his voice dripping with authority. “Do what you’re supposed to do, and stay out of trouble.”

You didn’t respond, knowing that anything you said would only escalate the situation. Instead, you turned and walked away, the weight of your father’s expectations pressing down on you with every step. The air felt heavy, almost stifling, as you made your way through the crowd, trying to clear your head.

But as fate would have it, your search for solitude was cut short by an all-too-familiar voice that made your blood run cold. 

“Ah, there’s my favorite fiancee.” Gojo Satoru’s drawled, his tone oozed with arrogance and mischief, his presence as infuriating as ever. 

You stiffened, fingers tightening around your glass as you slowly turned to face him. Satoru stood before you, exuding his usual air of effortless confidence. His stark white hair contrasted sharply with the tailored black suit he wore, and those piercing blue eyes behind his sleek sunglasses sparkled with the same irritating delight that always set your teeth on edge. 

“Satoru,” you replied, barely able to keep the venom from your voice. The sight of him is enough to make your skin crawl, your eyes narrowing in distaste. You absolutely can’t stand him.

“Don’t look so thrilled to see me,” he teased, leaning in closer than you liked. “You know, we’re supposed to be making this work. Or did you forget about the message I sent you last night?”

You glared at him, refusing to be baited. “Why are you here, Satoru? Shouldn’t you be off charming some other poor soul?”

A chuckle rumbled in his chest, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You do admit you’re a poor soul,” he said in amusement. “But funny you mention that — I was trying to reach you, but it seems someone decided to block my number.”

You crossed your arms, meeting his gaze head-on, “I don’t have to justify myself to you.”

Before Satoru could reply, a low, dangerous voice sliced through the air, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Am I interrupting something?”

Sukuna’s presence is always an overwhelming one — dark, powerful, and very impossible to ignore. He stepped into view, his crimson eyes narrowing slightly as they flicked from you to Satoru. His sudden appearance even made Satoru’s jaw clench in thinly veiled annoyance.

“Sukuna,” Satoru greeted, his tone light, but there was a sharp edge to it. “Just having a little chat with my fiancee.” He emphasized the last word, as if laying claim to you in front of Sukuna. Oh, if only you know, Satoru, you thought.

Sukuna’s gaze lingered on you for a moment as you stared right back at him, and then his eyes shifted back to Gojo. “Doesn’t look like she’s enjoying it,” he remarked, his voice calm but carrying a subtle challenge.

You know the tension is too tense, and you were caught in the middle of it all. Before you could try to break the ice, Sukuna continued with his tone still calm but now laced with unmistakable authority, “Well, if you’re done, I’d like to have a word with the princess here.” 

His gaze bore into Satoru, making it clear that he wasn’t asking for permission. Satoru's smirk faltered slightly, but he didn’t back down, his posture remaining relaxed, though his eyes betrayed the simmering annoyance beneath.

“Princess, huh?” Satoru’s lips curled into a mocking smile as he looked back at you. “Well, I wouldn’t want to keep you from your royal duties.” His tone was laced with sarcasm, but there was a flicker of something darker in his eyes before he finally stepped back.

“Don’t let me keep you, darling,” Satoru said, his voice deceptively sweet, but the undercurrent of hostility was unmistakable. He brushed past you, his shoulder grazing yours as he left, the brief contact sending a jolt of irritation through your body.

As he walked away, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding, your entire body tense from the exchange. Sukuna remained silent beside you, his presence as imposing as ever. You could feel his gaze on you, heavy and unwavering, but you couldn’t bring yourself to meet his eyes just yet.

Finally, after a long moment of silence, Sukuna spoke, his voice low and with a hint of amusement, “A civil wedding, really? How is that discreet enough?”

You finally looked up, meeting his eyes, searching for any sign of mockery. But what you saw was something else — curiosity, maybe, or perhaps a challenge. As he always has.

"It’s the easiest way to make it legal without drawing too much attention," you replied, trying to sound more confident than you felt. "Besides, it’s quick, and we don’t need an audience."

He tilted his head slightly, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “And here I thought you’d want something grander, with all the bells and whistles,” he teased, but there was an edge to his tone as if he was testing you.

You shook your head, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “We’re not doing this for real, Sukuna. It’s a ruse, remember? The less attention we draw, the better.”

He considered your words, his gaze never leaving yours, as if weighing your resolve. “So you think a quick signature and some paperwork will fool everyone?” he asked, his tone soft but laced with skepticism.

“It’s not about fooling everyone,” you countered, your voice firm. “It’s about keeping things under control until we figure out the next step. This marriage is just the beginning, not the endgame.”

Sukuna’s smirk widened, a glint of amusement flashing in his eyes. “You’re serious about this,” he observed, sounding almost impressed. “I didn’t expect you to be so... committed.” 

You held your ground, refusing to back down despite the proximity. “I’m not naive, Sukuna,” you replied, your voice firm. “I know what I’m getting into.”

He watched you for a long moment, his eyes searching yours as if looking for something hidden beneath the surface. Then, with a slow, deliberate nod, he finally relented. “Alright, princess,” he said, his voice low and smooth. “But you might want to ease up on the seriousness. You’re making this sound more like a business transaction than a scheme.”

You rolled your eyes, feeling the tension in your shoulders beginning to dissipate, just slightly. “That’s because it is a business transaction, Sukuna. And I’m pretty sure you’re not one to shy away from deals.”

He chuckled, the sound rich and dark, and it sent a strange thrill through you. “True enough,” he conceded, stepping closer until there was barely any space between you. “But don’t you think it’s time to relax? We’ve done enough plotting for one night.”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms over your chest as you looked up at him. “And how exactly do you propose we do that?”

Sukuna’s smirk widened, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “I have a few ideas,” he said, leaning in slightly. “How about we start with a drink? You look like you could use one.”

You hesitated for a moment, but then nodded, realizing he was right. You could definitely use a drink. “Fine,” you agreed, uncrossing your arms. “But just one.”

Sukuna’s grin was almost predatory as he led you to a secluded corner where a small bar was set up. The bartender looked up as you approached, and Sukuna ordered two drinks without even asking you what you wanted. He seemed to know exactly what you needed—something strong, something that would take the edge off the evening’s events.

When the drinks arrived, Sukuna handed you a glass, and you took it, eyeing the amber liquid inside. You took a cautious sip, the warmth spreading through you almost instantly. It was stronger than you expected, but somehow, it was exactly what you needed.

“To our little charade,” Sukuna said, raising his glass in a mock toast.

You couldn’t help but smirk as you clinked your glass against his. “To whatever the fuck will happen,” you replied, before taking another sip.

The alcohol burned pleasantly as it went down, and you could feel yourself beginning to relax. The tension that had been coiled tight within you all evening was starting to unravel, and you found yourself leaning back against the bar, feeling a little more at ease.

Sukuna watched you closely, his eyes never leaving your face as you drank. “Feeling better?” he asked, his voice low and intimate.

“A little,” you admitted, swirling the liquid in your glass. “But don’t get any ideas. This doesn’t change anything.”

He chuckled again, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. “Of course not, princess. But it doesn’t hurt to enjoy the moment, does it?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re stubborn,” he shot back, his tone playful. “It’s a wonder we haven’t killed each other yet.”

“Give it time,” you muttered, though the edge in your voice had softened.

Sukuna raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “Is that a challenge?”

“Maybe,” you said, finishing off your drink and setting the glass down on the bar. “But let’s see if you can keep up first.”

Sukuna’s eyes gleamed with amusement as he signaled the bartender for another round. “Oh, I intend to.”

The drinks kept coming, and before you knew it, you were both laughing more easily, the sharp edges of your words softened by the alcohol. The tension that had weighed so heavily on you earlier seemed to melt away, replaced by a surprising sense of camaraderie.

“Tell me,” Sukuna said after a while, leaning closer, his voice conspiratorial. “What was the real reason you chose me for this scheme of yours? Was it because I’m the only one who can handle you?”

You snorted, shaking your head. “Please, don’t flatter yourself. You were just the least annoying option.”

“Least annoying?” he repeated, feigning offense. “I’m hurt, princess.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no malice behind it. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic. You know exactly why I chose you—you’re ruthless and cunning, and you don’t get sentimental.”

Sukuna’s gaze intensified, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. “And you think that makes me the perfect partner for this little game of yours?”

You held his gaze, refusing to back down. “It makes you dangerous,” you said quietly. “And that’s exactly what I need. I kind of trust you, too.” It’s the alcohol speaking, is it?

For a moment, the playful banter between you faded, replaced by something heavier, more charged. The air between you crackled with unspoken tension, a challenge hanging in the balance.

Then, with a slow, deliberate smile, Sukuna leaned back, the moment of intensity passing. “Well then, princess,” he said, his tone lightening once more. “Let’s see how dangerous we can really be.”

The night wore on, and the drinks continued to flow, loosening your tongues and blurring the lines between ally and adversary. You found yourself laughing more than you had in a long time, the weight of the world temporarily lifted by the alcohol and Sukuna’s surprising wit.

By the time you realized just how much you’d had to drink, it was too late. The room was spinning slightly, and your movements were less coordinated than they should have been. 

But somehow, it didn’t matter. The knot of anxiety that had been twisting in your stomach all night had finally loosened, replaced by a warm, hazy contentment.

Oh well, might as well enjoy the rest of the night, right?

[writersmacchiato]

Sleep | Billy Batson

A/N: Takes place sometime after the first movie, interesting how superhero movies never discuss the trauma of literally almost dying lol this was requested - hope you enjoy!!

. . .

You're in that delirious state of dozing off; not quite awake, but not fully asleep. Sleep is beckoning you and you'll soon fall into its sweet embrace--

You shoot up, blankets getting tangled around your waist, arms swiping through the air.

"Hey, hey, hey! It's me. Freddy. It's Freddy. Geez, you almost took my eye out."

In the dark of the room you squint as your awareness seeps in. Freddy hovering by the bed with his hands held up.

"What the heck-" you look at Darla's sleeping form on her side of the room, "-the hell are you doing?"

Freddy quietly groans into his hands. "What do you think? It's Billy of course. Now scoot."

You contemplate kicking Freddy out of your room, turning over and tugging the blanket over your head. But then your traitorous brain forms an image of Billy in his room alone and you're getting up with a sigh.

"I hate you." You mumble as Freddy takes the spot on your bed, switching out your pillow for his.

He grins. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

The house is dark and quiet but you've made this small trip enough times that you could do it in your sleep, or sleep-deprieved as you currently were.

Billy is sitting on his bed, eyes blank as he stares at the window. He briefly looks over when you open the door, creeping through.

Immediately he objects, the guilt on his face clear. "Just go back to bed. I'm okay seriously."

"I almost believe that." You shake your head, climbing into the bed with him. "Same dream?"

He hesitates, fumbling with the blanket. "Yeah..."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

"Okay. Come here." You manage to snag some of the blanket, sinking down until you're comfortable enough to open your arms. Billy wraps himself around you, tension leaving his shoulders when you start to comb your fingers through his hair.

"Goodnight Billy."

You look down to see his eyes shut, breathing steady.

This was becoming routine. You didn't mind, even though Freddy complained about how it woke him up you knew he was worried about Billy. You all were.

Billy had been waking up from night terrors, waking up with the feeling of Dr. Sivana's hands on his throat as him, Billy, not Shazam. He had been embarrassed, seeing as no one else seemed to be suffering through the same thing but you always reassured him.

You kind of liked being able to soothe him, being the one to help him sleep through the night. And, it was funny seeing Freddy's annoyed face every night.

Sleep is calling your name once again when the door creaks open, Darla's sweet face popping through. She tiptoes to the bed, accepting the hand you offer to her.

"Is Billy going to be okay?' She whispers, snuggling up to your other side that isn't weighed down by Billy.

You look down at his face, completely relaxed as he starts to snore. It makes you smile.

"Yeah, Darla, I think so. He's Billy."

She mentions going back to bed, but her eyes are drooping shut with every second and she's quickly passed out on your shoulder.

Billy would be okay eventually.

. . .

[Extra]

"Hey, notice how everyone ends up leaving the room once Freddy gets there?" Billy says to you over breakfast.

You laugh. "Yeah, because it's Freddy. He's so weird."

"I'm literally sitting next to you. I can hear what you're saying." Freddy cuts in, rolling his eyes.

You share a look with Billy, an agreement flashing between you. He picks up his plate and grabs yours while you get the cups.

"Didn't realize he was in the room."

"Yup. Gotta go."

"I hate you both!" Freddy calls to your retreating forms.

[nameless-ken]

Silent Confessions, Loud Masks - Billy Hargrove x Reader Series

(Please reblog!!!)

Happy reading! Comment below to be added to taglist.

Word Count: 3.7K

Warnings: lots of angst (what's new lol) & cursing

Introduction | Chapter one | Chapter two | Chapter three | Chapter four | Chapter five

Masterlist

(song for this chapter <3)

Expressing feelings for someone is like navigating a minefield of emotions, each step filled with uncertainty and potential pitfalls. Why isn’t it easier to speak what’s inside our hearts instead of dancing around the truth until it’s too late?

Billy’s confession sent your mind into a tailspin, your heart pounding in your chest like a drumbeat. Yet, when the moment came, your voice failed you, as if some invisible force clamped your mouth shut. 

Now, after a week and a half of silent contemplation, you've come to understand the tangled mess of emotions that kept you mute. Billy has morphed into an essential part of your life, straddling the line between friend and something more. Despite your unspoken desires, you've settled into a comfortable routine. You’re fine with being friends or whatever this situationship is because you’ve come to know a truth to it all. Never give more than you are willing to lose.

“I’m not understanding this chapter at all,” Billy's voice interrupts your thoughts, snapping you back to reality. “You okay?”

You nod, but your mind is elsewhere, lost in a whirlwind of worries. “This one does have some challenging plot points in it, but—”

“Can we stop with the bullshit?” Billy's tone is sharp, cutting through the air like a knife. “I know something’s been eating at you for like a week now.” He leans in, his eyes searching yours with intensity.

You pause, feeling the weight of his gaze, and finally, the floodgates open. “I’ve just been stressed lately,” you admit, meeting his eyes with a mix of relief and trepidation. “Between helping my dad with bills, failing two tests, and college applications looming, it’s been overwhelming.”

“You know you can always tell me what’s going on. If you need help, I’m always here.” He looks around quickly before sliding his hand across the table to grab yours, giving it a squeeze.

“I know and I’m sorry I haven’t been myself lately.” 

“You don’t have to apologize for the hard shit.” Billy reassures you, his smile softening the edges of his words.

But before the moment can linger, Tommy and Carol intrude upon your private bubble. Billy withdraws his hand quickly and you feel a pang of disappointment, a silent plea for him to acknowledge what lies between you.

“Ready?” Tommy speaks up as he stands next to Billy’s chair, Carol’s arms wrapped around him. “This party tonight is going to be so wicked.” 

Billy nods, standing up with a forced smile. “Yeah, let’s go.”

“See you around freak.” Tommy remarks to you and Carol snickers as they start walking off. 

“I’ll call you later.” Billy whispers once the pair is out of earshot. 

“I’m working late again so I won’t be home.” You cross your arms with a clear annoyed look on your face. Billy understands that look and nods. 

“See you tomorrow.” He mutters and leaves. You sigh heavily and gather your books, slinging the bag over your shoulder to head home and get ready for work. 

The exhaustion weighs heavily on you tonight, exacerbated by the bustling atmosphere of the restaurant. The dimly lit space is filled with the chatter of patrons, the clinking of silverware, and the occasional burst of laughter. The air is thick with the scent of sizzling food and brewed coffee, mingling with the faint aroma of cigarette smoke that lingers despite the no-smoking signs.

Amidst the crowd of diners, mostly comprised of older men, you navigate the maze of tables and booths, balancing trays laden with plates and cups. The ambiance is tainted by the persistent advances of these patrons, their leering gazes and suggestive remarks casting a shadow over your evening.

But amidst the chaos, there is Mary, a beacon of familiarity and comfort in the tumult of the restaurant. An older waitress with a kind smile and a knowing gaze, she always has your back. Having known your mother during her time at the restaurant, Mary often remarks on the striking resemblance between you and her.

Tonight, as you confide in Mary about Billy, she offers sage advice while handing you a plate and coffee cup to serve. The worn countertop serves as your refuge, a sanctuary amidst the chaos of the dining area.

“Do you really think he loves me?” You ask Mary as she hands you a plate and coffee cup to serve. 

“All I know from working so long around drunk men is that their sober thoughts really aren’t that much different from their wasted ones, especially when it comes to love,” Mary advises, her words carrying the weight of experience.

You place the plate and cup down for the customer at the countertop with a smile before turning back to Mary. “I'm at a loss for how to approach him. Billy's a complex guy, and I'm worried that if I lay my feelings out, it might push him away.”

“Darling, most men aren't angels after a few drinks.”

“Oh, he's not always like that when he's had a few. Just before that, he was in a heated argument. I couldn't even catch what set it off, but he was clearly riled up about something some guy said, and—”

“Sweetie, I have a feeling that guy's words were aimed at you.”

“What? No, nobody knows about us. I can't see how that could be related,” you respond, puzzled by Mary's interpretation of Billy's behavior.

“Are you sure about that?” Mary points behind you and you turn, finding Billy standing near the countertop with flowers in hand. You can’t help the instant smile that appears. 

“I thought there was a raging party going on tonight?” you tease, a playful glint in your eyes as Billy leans against the counter toward you.

“They’re all the same,” Billy responds with a chuckle, mirroring your stance as he leans closer. “Plus, there’s this girl who I’d rather spend my night with.”

Your heart skips a beat at his words, heat creeping onto your cheeks despite your best efforts to conceal it. The air between you crackles with anticipation, the din of the restaurant fading into the background as you share this intimate moment.

“These are for you,” He extends the droopy flowers. “I saw them on the way here and thought you’d like them.” 

“Oh, I’ve never received flowers before,” You timidly grab the pink and yellow buds, placing them in one of your apron pockets. “Thank you. I don’t get off for another hour, if that’s okay.”

“I can wait.” Billy responds, pulling out a red stool at the counter and settling onto it. He reaches for the book you two have been reading together and flips it open.

You chuckle at the sight of him reading amidst the hustle and bustle of the restaurant. “Now that’s a sight to see.”

Billy grins, looking up from the book as you pour him a cup of coffee. “If you tell anyone, you’re dead,” he jokes, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

You laugh at his playful threat, enjoying the easy banter between you. As you continue your work, the presence of Billy nearby fills you with a sense of comfort and contentment. 

“Go ahead sweetheart. I can close up the rest tonight.” Mary insists, practically pushing you out from behind the counter. 

“Thanks Mary.” You look out the window, seeing Billy resting against his car with a cigarette dangling between his lips. You untie your apron, hanging it on your designated hook. “See you tomorrow.” You wave to Mary and rush toward the door, flowers in hand as you make your way toward Billy. 

“Now that’s a sight.” You hear Billy mumble as you get closer. You glance at your feet as you stop in front of him. “Ready?” He quirks a brow, flicking his cigarette to the ground, stomping it with his boot. You nod and he helps you in the passenger side before getting in on his side. 

Late-night drives hold a special place in your heart, especially when Billy is by your side. The tranquility of the night seems to envelop him, stirring a gentle flutter in your chest.

As you both pull up outside your house, breaking the silence, Billy inquires about your college plans. "Where are you considering applying?" he asks.

"Still figuring it out. I'll likely end up accruing debt, so I'm researching to minimize it," you reply as you head inside, Billy trailing behind with more questions.

Perching on your bed, Billy continues his curiosity. "What about your field of study?"

"I'm drawn to photography, but practicality dictates otherwise for now," you explain, absentmindedly untangling your hair.

Billy compliments your talent. "Your photos are amazing. Anywhere would be lucky to have you."

Turning the tables, you ask about his plans. "And you, Billy?"

He leans back, contemplating. "College doesn't feel right for me. I'll probably go into a trade."

"You underestimate yourself," you reassure him before excusing yourself to change.

As you return, Billy's already made himself comfortable, his boots are already off and jacket slung over your desk chair. You catch him admiring your belongings, his hand lingering over a blanket atop a basket. 

"I could crochet one for you if you're interested," you offer, catching Billy off guard as he startles slightly, withdrawing his hand from the blanket, now standing tall.

"You made that?" His eyebrows arch with curiosity.

"Yeah, my mom taught me how to crochet. She made this one for my birthday before she passed away," you explain, reaching for the blanket she crafted, the one you always sleep with, as you settle onto your bed.

"It seems complicated and time-consuming," Billy remarks, joining you on the bed, leaning against the headboard.

"Not really, it's actually quite therapeutic," you reply.

"If you're ever in need of therapy, count me in for one," he quips, meeting your gaze.

You wonder if he senses the same charged atmosphere between you. His eyes draw you in like a magnet, his trademark smirk driving you wild every time he flashes it your way. His unruly curls framing his face perfectly, though never quite neat, drive you insane.

"Would you like to have dinner together tomorrow?" The question slips out unexpectedly, surprising even yourself, before you can second-guess whether it sounds like a date invitation.

"Sure, where should I meet you?" Billy responds, seemingly oblivious to any hidden implications in your question.

"How about here? I can cook something," you suggest, snuggling under your blanket, attempting to shield yourself from the awkwardness you feel.

"Sounds good to me," Billy agrees, his genuine smile lighting up his face. "You don't mind if I stay over tonight, right?"

"You're always welcome to stay."

With that, Billy slides under the blanket with you, and you don't resist the warmth that spreads through your body as he wraps his arm around your waist, your head finding its place against his chest.

"Goodnight, B," you murmur softly.

"Goodnight, little mouse," he replies, his lips curving into a smile against your head. You used to dislike that nickname, but now you've grown to love it. Just like him.

"Want to catch a movie tonight?" Robin suggests as you stroll together towards lunch.

"I can't, uh, I've got dinner plans," you reply, nudging open the cafeteria door, the cacophony of voices engulfing you.

"With who?" Robin probes as you join the line for food. Just then, Billy and his group pass by, your gaze lingering on him.

"Oh my god, you and Bi—" You quickly cover Robin's mouth, trying to hush her before she finishes his name.

"Shh! Not so loud," you whisper urgently.

"Ew! Have you kissed? No, wait, don't answer that!" Robin's eyes widen with excitement.

"Robin, seriously, it's not a big deal," you insist, leaning against the wall, stealing another glance at Billy. You see the way he plays with his food and the toothpick between his teeth, a habit he explained helps with his nicotine cravings during school. You even made sure to find flavored ones for him. He always keeps them in his jacket pocket. The memory brings a smile to your face.

"Um, it's a huge deal! You're going on a date with one of the most obnoxious guys in this school, whom, might I add, you confessed your love to, and he reciprocated, even though he conveniently seems to have forgotten, but that's beside the point. This is totally a date, and you know it," Robin insists.

"It's not a date," you protest, moving along the lunch line.

"It totally is," Robin persists, following you as you grab your lunch and head to your usual table, surrounded by fellow band members.

Your nerves start to jangle, the food suddenly less appetizing as you anticipate tonight. Your gaze drifts back to Billy, finding his eyes already on you. You offer him a small smile, which he returns. Tommy and Carol notice and start laughing like hyenas, causing you to turn away, cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

Billy's irritation reaches its peak, prompting him to take an unexpected action. The cafeteria's ambient noise diminishes, and the occupants around your table fall into an uneasy silence. Confused, you glance around, only to pivot at the sound of heavy footsteps drawing near.

"Hey, Y/N. Are we still on for tonight?" His unexpected question leaves you dumbfounded, and you can only manage a nod. His sudden boldness astonishes you, quickening your heartbeat as he finally acknowledges you in public, breaking free from his usual concealment.

Leaning casually on the table beside you, he lowers his face to be level with yours, enveloping you both in a bubble of quiet amidst the hushed cafeteria.

"Great. I'll see you later, little mouse." With a wink and his trademark smirk, he ignites gasps from the surrounding girls as he saunters away, indifferent to the attention. You find yourself gazing after him, oblivious to the murmurs circulating the cafeteria.

Robin's tug on your arm snaps you out of your reverie. "Holy shit! It's definitely a date," her excitement mirroring your own astonishment.

You make an effort to tidy up as best you can, even though Billy has been over countless times and never seemed to mind the state of your home.

"Haven't seen this place so clean in a while," your dad remarks as he emerges from his room, already dressed for work.

"Just thought I'd spruce it up," you reply, wiping down the dining table, a piece of furniture seemingly frozen in time since your mom passed away.

"I'll be working late again," your dad mentions, tying his shoes as you turn to face him.

"Have you thought about Thanksgiving? Any word from Y/S/N?" you inquire, trying to maintain a semblance of normalcy despite the underlying sadness that always accompanies conversations with him.

"I'll have to put in longer hours that week. I'll give you some money for food," he responds, and you fight back tears that threaten to spill over, a familiar ache settling in your chest.

"Okay, no worries. Have a good night at work," you manage, turning away to hide the tear that betrays your composure. You wait for his acknowledgment, but only the sound of the front door closing signals his departure.

With a few hours to spare before Billy arrives, you retreat to your room, journal in hand, seeking solace in the pages. 

Your relationship with your dad is a labyrinth of complexities, once filled with warmth and tenderness before your mom's passing stripped it away, leaving behind a void that seems impossible to bridge, especially during your teenage years.

You can't blame him or your absent sister, though the resentment lingers. The idea of leaving after graduation claws at your conscience, knowing it would only deepen your father’s sadness. No matter how many bad memories Hawkins has for you, this will always be home. 

It’s where you were born and raised. It’s where your old house is with a huge driveway where your father taught you and your sister to ride bikes together. It’s where your mom would take you for ice cream after a bad day. It’s where your mom got sick, she spent most of her last days in the hospital. It’s where she’s buried up in East Hawkins, beside your grandparents. It’s where you saw your sister start to rebel and flee, to never return. It’s where you saw your father’s smile disappear completely. It’s where the quietness and loneliness grew inside you for the longest time. 

Until you met Billy. 

Billy has submerged himself so deep into your life now that every feeling is finally starting to rise to the top. 

But it’s not the feeling of panic, it’s more of a relief. Every day or hour you spend with Billy, it feels like you’ve reached the top. He’s breathed a new life into you and you want to breathe that air for the rest of your life.

Closing your journal, you wipe away the tears, feeling a surge of intense emotions. With a few deep breaths, you compose yourself, stowing away your journal before returning to the kitchen. Amidst the flickering candlelight, you begin to cook, finding solace in the simple act to take your mind off of things. 

You steal a glance at the clock on your wall for the third time, each passing minute feeling like a weight in the pit of your stomach.

With each tick, the realization settles in: Billy forgot.

Despite your anticipation for tonight, after his triumphant performance at school, he forgot.

Anger and heartache surge within you, compelling you to extinguish the candles and discard the food, the remnants of your dashed hopes and shattered expectations. You abandon the mess, retreating to your bed instead.

Curling up with your handmade blanket, tears stream down your cheeks as you gaze at the photograph of your mom on the bedside table.

"He didn't mean to, right? He's still good, isn't he?"

The next morning, you dial Robin for a ride to school, fully aware that you'd probably stay home if not for her.

"I'm going to give him a piece of my mind. When I lay eyes on him, he's done for!" Robin declares, slamming her hand on the steering wheel in frustration.

You sit beside her in silence, avoiding dwelling further on Billy's absence. She parks in an empty spot, and you instinctively scan the area for his blue Camaro, finding none. A sigh of relief escapes you as you step out of the car and follow Robin into school.

"I always knew he was still the biggest jerk in Hawkins," Robin continues her tirade about Billy.

"Can we just try to forget about it today?" you interject as you navigate through the bustling main hallway.

"Fine, but I can't guarantee what'll happen when I see his face," Robin replies, her tone still seething with anger.

Though you want to agree with her, you remain silent as you reach your locker. "I'll be right back," Robin says, heading to her own locker.

As you gather your books, you overhear snickers behind you. Turning around, you're confronted by a group of unfamiliar girls giggling and casting glances in your direction.

“No wonder he slept with Heather.” 

"Yeah, like she’d actually ever have a chance with him."

“Do you think she knows he was at the party last night?” 

"Probably not, otherwise she wouldn't dare show her face around here today."

“How humiliating, being stood up by Billy Hargrove and not knowing he slept with Heather instead.” 

The words sting, and you feel a wave of humiliation wash over you. How could he do this to you?

You scan the surroundings, noticing the whispers of your name intertwined with Billy's and Heather's. The tightness in your chest and the shallowness of your breaths propel you outside, desperate to escape the humiliation suffocating you.

As you step into the open air, the familiar roar and screech of Billy's sports car pierce through, reigniting your panic. Frantically, you search for a hiding spot, cursing the town for its lack of concealment amidst the cornfields and vast open spaces.

Before you can flee, Billy rushes toward you, not caring who he bumps into on the way. 

"Y/N! Damn it, I'm so sorry—" he begins, but you instinctively retreat, needing distance.

"Please don't," you interrupt, stepping away from him.

"Y/N, please, I feel terrible about last night. It was the worst and—" Billy attempts to explain, desperation coloring his voice.

“Apparently to everyone else, you had a great time last night.” you retort bitterly.

"What?" Billy's confusion is palpable as he tries to approach you, but you evade him once more.

"I guess you and Heather had a blast while I waited until 11," you accuse, moving to leave.

"Y/N, please, just let me explain," Billy implores, blocking your path and holding your shoulders. Reluctantly, you meet his gaze, fixating on his shirt.

"I got into a huge fight with my dad, got pissed, and went to a party. I only meant to stay for a bit, but I guess I lost track of time," he confesses.

"And ended up with Heather," you interject sharply.

"Y/N, I never meant to hurt you. I don't even remember anything from last night. I'm so sorry," Billy pleads, his anguish evident.

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" you demand, your voice laced with hurt.

"Of course not. I just... I don't know. I'm just so sorry for not being there. I should've come to be with you after the fight with my dad," he admits, regret etched in his features.

"Yeah, you should've," you agree, turning away. Robin stands on the sidewalk, waiting for your signal to intervene.

“Y/N, what can I do? How can I make this better?” Billy pleas, watching you depart, a tear slipping down his cheek.

"Time," you respond, glancing back at him, feeling a pang of sorrow at his tear-streaked face. "I need time."

Your voice wavers as you walk away, leaving Billy standing alone. Robin opens her arms for you, sensing your pain and tears beginning to fall.

"Asshole!" Robin shouts at Billy as she guides you back to her car.

Inside the car, you steal a glance at Billy, witnessing his anguish as he covers his face with his hands.

In that moment, you realize you've never simultaneously hated and loved someone as intensely as you do right now.

Taglist: @msbillyhargrove @uselessbutinteresting @milestellergfs @ghostcastaway @missingbillyhargrove @lotionlamp @billys-pretty-babe @isimpfortoomanypeople @rosey96 @girlwifteef @miheartsedthings @empathyroad @notzoey @iletmytittiestitty-russ @the-ch0sen-on3

[ryusuisloveinterest]

Hello! I came back with another request!

I was wondering if you could please write something, with " I feel safer with you" kind of moment, please?

I would like to request this for Ryusui, kohaku ( girls need more love here) and ukyo, please?

Thank you!

welcome back anon! I think I went for what you’re asking for but if you don’t like it then feel free to let me know! Ngl they’re kinda long lol. I hope you enjoy 💕

I feel safer when I’m with you🩷

Ryusui: New America City Arc

“You’re staying here.” Ryusui demands you. You scowl. “Why?? I can help you sail the ship! I can keep Watch! There’s so many things I can do just let me come with y-“ This is the first time you’ve ever seen Ryusui so serious. Sure he was always focused and determined on something, but he never had such a solemn face. “(Y/n)…” he says as he drags you by the arm, leading you to the Perseus. “Please Ryusui…let me come with you.” “No…” This is when you lost it. “Why Ryusui?! This isn’t fair. We’ve been through everything together and now-“ “I want you to be safe ok?!!” Ryusui would never raise his voice at you. Ryusui’s voice has never trembled before. Ryusui’s eyes have never been filled with tears about to spill over. Ryusui has never desired something more in his whole life. “S-Stanley is going to come after us. He’s not gonna just slap our wrists and move on. No… he’s gonna come at us guns drawn and take every single one of us until he’s satisfied…” His eyes lock onto yours, desperation in them. “I can’t let you be put in that kind of danger. You have to be safe, I have to KNOW you have to be safe…” The water starts to fall out of his eyes. “We don’t have time for this, I have to get you to the Perseus before-“ He was shocked at the sudden soft lips onto his and the small hands that touched his face. He wraps his muscular arms around your waist and pull you closer to his body. As your lips slowly part, you softly smile at him. “Oh Ryusui, I’m never going to be safe unless I’m with you…” He’s stunned, confused on what you mean. “Remember, before the whole petrification, when you were at my place during a thunderstorm. The one that was on the news for weeks?” He nods. “I was doing the laundry, and you were building one of your model ships. I was almost done with the towels when the lights went out. Of course I started panicking, I’ve never not been scared of blackouts.” You chuckle, thinking of the memory. “I just sat on the couch, trembling, when I feel my favorite blanket wrapped around me.” Your mind travels back to that very day. You both remember every little detail from the cologne Ryusui was wearing to the conversations the both of you had to distract you. “As soon as you wrapped me in your arms, I felt a weight being lifted off my chest. I wasn’t afraid anymore, and it’s all because of you.” He reaches his hand out, tangling it in a few strands of your hair. “Please my love, if you want me to be safe then let me come with you…” He pauses, contemplating on what to do. “Fine, but let’s hurry.”

Kohaku: After Perseus is finished

The Perseus was finally done. Everyone celebrated for only a short while since Ryusui began calling names. One after the other, Ryusui calls name after name. “To help with ship maintenance, (y/n)!” You’re shocked at first that the Kingdom of Science wants you on their journey, but you except the offer with a small nod and walk onto the ship. Everyone greets you and welcomes you on board, well tried to. Kohaku snatched you up immediately, basically throwing you in the air because of how excited you are that you’re coming. “Thank goodness you’re here (y/n)! I thought I would have to separate from you!” You can’t help but blush and giggle at her reaction. After everyone boards and Ginro does his swimming to the boat thing you all head out to Treasure Island. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Soon night falls and you and Kohaku are the first on night watch. You both stand hand and hand as you lean on the sides of Perseus. The smell of the ocean sets the romantic mood as the stars provide some light for the both of you. Kohaku rests her head on your shoulder, letting out a small sigh. “I’m really happy you’re here (y/n), really. To be completely honest I thought you would stay behind. You’ve never really be the one to venture out.” You let out a laugh. “Well, you could say I wanted to stay close to a certain someone.” This made Kohaku giggle. “Besides, I was curious. To see more than just the island we live on.” Kohaku smiled softly while holding your hand a little tighter. “But…aren’t you even a little scared? About leaving your home?” You were shocked at her sudden vulnerability. The strong lioness showing her fear and worry. You squeeze her hand back. “Hey, we’ll be fine. Everything is going to be fine. As long as we have each other, there’s nothing to worry about.” She smiles at you, then gives you a small kiss on the cheek. You laugh to yourself. “Plus, I don’t have to worry about being mauled by a bear or something, I have Ishigami Village’s strongest warrior with me, I never have to worry with you around Kohaku!” Kohaku laughs at this, and if you’d look hard enough then you could notice the small blush forming on her face. “Thanks (y/n), I’m glad I can always count on you…” She takes a small step towards you before sharing a delicate kiss.

Ukyo: Stone Wars

You were sitting outside of Tsukasa’s cave, waiting for the meeting between Tsukasa, Hyoga, and Ukyo to end. As you were about done picking the random flowers that found their way through the rock, you see Hyoga angrily stomp pass you. You look in the cave as Tsukasa and Ukyo walk out. “(Y/n).” Tsukasa says as he nods at you, walking to a quiet place to think. Ukyo sighs as he walks over to you, grabbing both your hands and kissing them. “Tough meeting?” You whisper. He nods. “Let’s get you some food then you can tell me all about it yeah?” “I’d love that.” He smiles as you both walk hand and hand to your shared hut.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Night eventually falls as you and Ukyo cuddled close together for warmth. “What’s on your mind Ukyo? You’ve been acting strange ever since your meeting with Tsukasa and Hyoga.” Ukyo barries his face in your neck, breathing softly. “Hyoga was telling Tsukasa that we should only revive the strongest while Tsukasa believes only the young should survive.” He buries his head deeper, taking in your scent. You rub his ear, making his face heat up. “And how do you feel about that? Do you agree with letting a few live and the rest die?” You already knew the answer, but you had to hear it from his mouth. Ukyo holds you tighter when you feel your neck become wet with his tears. “N-no one should die, w-why do we have to d-decide who lives or dies? It’s not right!” You cup his face and wipe his tears. “That’s not all you want to tell me, is it?” He stares up at you, hesitant. He touches your hand and kisses it. “I found a phone.” A phone? In the stone world? How? “On the other side was the Kingdom of science…” Yes, Tsukasa’s current enemy. “Their leader, Senku, said if I could help them, they’ll prevent anymore bloodshed and stop the destruction of the statues…” Hes scared to tell you more, but he holds you tighter. “What else Ukyo?” “I cant, the more you know, the more likely Tsukasa could harm you. I have to keep you safe..!” You grab his face making him look at you. “Listen to me, I’m here with you. No matter what we face we’ll do it together. And as for my safety, I know that I’m safe when I’m with you!” This causes Ukyo’s tears to fall out again. He looks down and takes a breath. “I agreed. I dont want anyone else to die…” You squeeze his hand and kiss his hand. “Then no one else will. We’ll make sure if it. Together…”

[badbatch-badfics]

Padawan (TBB x Male Reader) Part 2

Part 1

Characters: The Bad Batch - Cross hair + Cid.

Relationship: All platonic

POV: Only 2nd (you/yours)

Pronouns: he/him

Species: Unspecified

Content: Smidge of angst and worry, but mainly found family growing into fluff

Warnings: General TBB stuff, a little bit about Order 66. Cringe lol.

Word Count: 2,796

Notes: If anyone has any requests/ideas for this 'series,' please let me know! I'd love to learn more about what ya'll like and incorporate it. (and i'll obviously credit you in the notes for whichever part it goes in)

The Bad Batch was sound asleep, exempt from their designated pilot.  Tech was comfortably cruising through hyper-space, multitasking on a new upgrade for Echo’s arm-scomp and watching the scanners.  A light beep alerted him, signaling that they were approaching Ord Mantell.  He lightly pushed his goggles upwards, before pressing a series of buttons.  The Marauder shook as it dropped from hyperspace, the tremors waking Hunter up from his nap in the co-pilot's seat.  He would usually sleep in his bunk until Tech needed a break, but his bunk was… preoccupied, so to speak.

“We close to Ord Mantell, Tech?” Hunter asked groggily, cracking his neck.  “Approximately 11 minutes and 36 seconds until we enter the atmosphere, and then another 23 minutes until we reach the landing pad.  I would begin waking everyone else up.”  With a sign, Hunter stood up, arms reaching far above his head, ever-so-slightly leaning backwards.  He turned around and started heading towards the bunks, wondering how he should go about waking you up.  He didn’t know how much you would remember, and he certainly didn’t want to find out the hard way.

Of course, there was always the option of letting your body wake up on its own time, and just having someone stick with the ship until then, but there was the risk of general clatter and ruckus occurring and startling you awake anyway, which would be a harsh wake-up call, to say the least.  After a second more of contemplation, he finally settled on leaving you be, and simply shushing Wrecker the moment his eyes opened.  He walked up to his brother, shaking his arm.  Wrecker awoke with a large grunt, like an ancient monster waking from a coma in an echoing mountain, before Hunter aggressively shushed him.  He sharply pointed across the walking strip to your body, an absolute tangled mess of limbs and droll.

Wrecker got the hint, making an ‘oohhh’ sound before slowly sitting up, careful to minimize the amount of creaking.  Hunter walked on, heading towards Echo and Omega, shaking them both awake- Omega more gently.  She yawned and stretched, smiling and greeting Hunter, before quickly grabbing her day-clothes before heading off to the fresher to change.  Hunter went back to the cockpit, where his brothers were already making quiet discussions of what to do with you, the ‘teenager-that-had-essentially-magic-powers-and-was-being-hunted.’  Primarily how they would handle Cid.  She tolerated them because they did jobs for her, and they didn’t really matter to the Empire- except for Omega, it was appearing.  But a Padawan?  That would be a lot of credits, and it would put someone on the Empire’s good side- at least for a little bit.  Cid wasn’t above ratting them out for that kind of profit.  Or, at least, she wasn’t above ratting out the Padawan while keeping them away from the Empire’s eyes for the sake of missions.  “Perhaps we can convince Cid that his use in missions, among other things, would outweigh the reward from the Empire.  Even without using the Force in a physical push-and-pull manner, it can still be used for mind tricks, sensing danger, and much more, depending on his skill set.  We could increase our efficiency and time duration of missions greatly, which would hold a great profit for Cid,” Tech explained, preparing for the Marauder to enter Ord Mantell’s atmosphere.

“That's true, but there’s no way to know what Cid will say- if she agrees, great, but if she doesn’t…” Hunter responded, eyes glancing back at your sleeping form as he trailed off.  If they told her about you, and she decided to tell the Empire, then no one would be safe.

“There’s no way for Cid to be kept in the dark long enough to find a better solution, and we can’t exactly just hide a whole person in the Marauder,” Echo added on, waving his scomp-link around the cockpit for emphasis.

“Of course, this is all assuming that (Y/N) will want to remain with us.  He may know someone, or someplace, that is safe.  Additionally, he may even know Cid.  Echo said that she would occasionally report to the Jedi,” Tech countered, briefly glancing back towards his brothers, away from the planet and control panel.  Echo nodded in confirmation.  “Do we…” Hunter trailed off, sighing, and pinched the bridge of his nose, “do we have any place to go if Cid decides to tell the Empire?  Echo, do you know anyone else who would help?”

“Rex, obviously- but he’s more involved with defeating the Empire than we are, so it’d be an extra risk to the kid.  Maybe Cut and Suu, if we can get a hold of them.  But I don’t think either of us want to put that kind of risk on them- not with Jek and Shaeeah.”  Wrecker made a comment of agreement, briefly looking up from his game of Chopsticks with Omega.  A heavy silence fell over the group, uncertainty thick in the air.

“Entering the atmosphere,” Tech reported, breaking the awkward silence.  The Marauder shook as gravity’s presence took its toll.  It settled back down to a smooth ride within a minute, the greens and browns- mainly browns- of Ord Mantell’s natural landscape coming closer.  “I think Cid will understand, plus, like Tech said, (Y/N) can help us out!” Omega added, not looking up from her hands.

Hunter looked down, contemplating.  Would the reward of Cid accepting the kid outweigh the risk of her turning him in to the Empire?  Tech did have a point, your presence would make things go smoother- but if Cid didn’t care about that point?  What then?  Would they be able to escape the Empire, find a new place to settle down- there was bound to be some planet that was safe- but would they find it before the Empire found them?

They could keep you holed up in the ship for a while, but sooner or later, Cid would find out.  And once she found out, that could damage their… relationship, so to speak.  Assuming she wouldn’t tell the Empire immediately, anyway.  So that wouldn’t work either.  There was no good solution, and everyone knew it.  Finally, Hunter spoke up- “Wrecker, Omega, you two stay with (Y/N) and help him with anything- food, water, applying new bandages.  You get the idea.  Echo, you're with me- we’ll get anything we’d need for a long-term stay on the ship; med kits, food, supplies, whatever.  Tech, make sure the ship has enough fuel, and make any necessary fixes.  Don’t let anyone else know.  After you're done, I’ll tell Cid about… the kid.  We’ll see where it goes from there.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The Marauder drifted down, landing neatly in the center of the dock.  Tech quickly pulled out his data-pad, scanning for any previously unnoticed internal damage.  Luckily, the report came back negative- as he had guessed, there was no new damage.  Satisfied, he checked the Marauder’s current fuel level, so he’d know when to stop filling.  Tech, Echo, and Hunter exited the Marauder, swiftly closing and securely locking the ramp behind them.

The innards of the Marauder were quiet, Omega and Wrecker not really knowing what to do.  They both sat on the bunk opposite you, staring, just in case you’d wake up and need something.  Wrecker had rations and a water canteen to his left, while Omega had fresh bandages and bacta-spray to her right.  “Uhhh…” Wrecker broke the silence, glancing down at Omega, “do we just… wait for him to wake up?  It feels weird, just staring.”

“I don’t know… on Kamino, we would usually wait, but this is nothing like injured clones on Kamino.”  She sighed, wringing her hands together.  “I just…feel so bad.  I mean, our home was destroyed, but at least we have each other.  (Y/N) doesn’t have anyone, and he’s been alone on that ship since the Empire took over.  I can’t imagine what it must have been like…” 

“Well, at least we found him before the Empire did, and any situation we’re in will probably be better than Bracca.  Plus, he’s probably dead to the Empire, so they won’t be after him!”  Wrecker responded, finding the silver lining.  He and Omega looked at eachother, smiling.  It felt good to help people.

On cue, the blankets opposite the pair began shuffling, a long groan sounding out through the metal walls of the Marauder.  You turned over, eyes droopy and your Padawan braid/beads hanging by the corner of your mouth, covered in drool.  Slowly, you put your weight onto a hand and pushed yourself up, leaning against the back wall of the bunk.  Your head lolled back, another sigh escaping.  Everything hurts.  “Good morning!  Er, afternoon!  You slept forever, little Jedi!” Wrecker enthusiastically shouted, causing you to immediately sit up straight, hand shooting down to your waist for the familiar feeling of your lightsaber, only to be met with nothing.  Kriff.

Wrecker immediately sensed your panic, and put his hands up in an attempt of looking unhostile.  “Don’t worry, you're safe!  We’ve had our heads cut into, so we won’t be doing any of that Order 66 stuff!”  All you could do was stare, a comically surprised expression etched across your face.  He had an interesting way of wording things.

Wrecker stood up and handed you the canteen and ration bad.  “Here, rations and water!  They’re not the best, and we can pick up some better food soon, but I bet you're starved!”  And you were.  True, the mantell mix Omega had gifted you was delicious, but after so long of never having a proper meal, you certainly wouldn’t refuse any more food or water.

“Thank you…”  You glanced down after taking the food, quietly chewing on the ration bar, occasionally taking sips from the canteen.  You were never good socially at the Temple, and you certainly weren't any better at the moment.  Omega asked you some more questions; if there was any pain, did you bleed through any bandages, and such.  You responded in short answers, so quiet she was struggling to pick up what was said.  Eventually, she deemed you healthy- or, at least, as healthy as you could be, given the circumstances.  She stayed with you, telling stories about Kamino and the few trips she’s had away from it.  Mainly, though, she talked about her brothers.

After Maker knows how long, the Marauder’s ramp opened, Tech, Echo, and Hunter coming in, one by one.  Tech was lugging fuel, and the other two held general equipment, food, med-kits, and more.  While Tech didn’t pay as much mind to your waking, Echo and Hunter sure did- Echo more so.

After setting down the cargo, he practically spritened to the bunk you were on, crouching down on one knee and using his scomp-link to lift up your jaw, and do other inspections.  “You need a shower- desperately.  And new clothes, these are completely ruined!  Our old room is nothing compared to this!  Even Fives smelled better!  And you need some proper nourishment- I know how I felt after being in that stasis chamber for so long.  And mantell mix is not nourishment, no matter what Wrecker and Omega tell you, got that?”  He finished his spiel, pointing his scomp-link at you.  “Iba’ oskik’la…”

* (“what a mess” in mando’a)

“Yeah, I think he’s got it, Echo,” Hunter chimed in, smiling.  “C’mon, kid.  I need you to meet someone.  She used to work with the Jedi, so I don’t think she’d do anything.  But, just in case, we have everything ready to go.  And if all goes well, ”  You swallowed, a large lump forming in your throat.  You really hoped she wouldn’t do anything bad- you were already enough of a burden.  You and Hunter walked down the ramp, Omega gleefully waving goodbye.

He could hear your heartbeat, your anxiety- but he didn’t know much on how to help, given the circumstances.  Kriff, you didn't know about the chips until they found you, and he couldn’t imagine what that must have felt like.  When Wrecker had been affected and tried to kill everyone, at least they all knew it wasn’t his fault, that he hadn’t betrayed them, and that he would never try to do that when he was in control.  But you had no clue about any of that.  You thought all the clones who were your friends, or even just ones you were polite with for the sake of being a good person, had all wanted to kill you, and all the other Jedi.  You had thought that for months.  Cursing yourself, wondering why, and if there was anything you could have done differently to prevent it.  And now, irony at its best, you had been rescued by clones, coming to remove their chips.

“We’re on Ord Mantell, by the way… don’t know if anyone told you.  Ever been?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.  You shook your head, eyes darting from sign to sign, stall to stall.  “Most planets I’ve been on, except for Coruscant, were just… military occupations, occasionally the natural landscape of Separatists planets.  Never got to travel outside of that,” you said, still taking in all the colorful decor and people of the city.  “I mean, you know what that’s like, obviously- being a clone and all, you went to the same type of planets I did.  I think, at least.”

Hunter nodded his head in confirmation, not really sure where to go from there.  What you said was pretty accurate, but he felt like he shouldn’t talk about the war much.  And in any case, they were approaching Cid’s.

You and Hunter trotted down the steps, the automatic door sliding open.  Cid’s bar was empty, spare for an Ithorian and Weequay who were bickering over who knows what, and obviously, Cid herself.  You placed yourself behind Hunter, something you would do with your Master during the war to avoid any interaction with… anyone.  Slicing droids was easy, making conversation with soldiers was not.

You slowly glanced around the parlor, taking in anything that could be a trap, or could help you escape if this ‘Cid’ decided she didn’t want a padawan on her doorstop.  Hunter called out for Cid, and the distant sound of claws tapping against the cold, hard floor echoed out.  Emerging from the back rooms was a rather short female trandoshan, a cane gripped in her three claws.

Her eyes went back and forth between your semi-hidden figure and Hunter.  “Where’s the rest of ya?  And who’s that kid in the terrible robes?  They stink.”  There was an obvious scowl on her face, her left brown rose in an annoyed and questioning manner.

Hunter took a deep breath, and then- “He’s… a Padawan.”  Cid’s brows rose, and then lowered into a vicious scowl.  “Before you say anything- hear me out.  He was trapped at Bracca, and the scavengers didn’t know- Tech checked the Empire’s wanted, and he’s dead to them.  The Empire won’t come here, and it’s not like anyone on the street will know- he’s just a padawan.  Not a full-on Jedi, not a general.  But, he can still help.  Even without using the Force to push and pull, he can still sense danger and… stuff.”  Hunter wasn’t really sure how the Force worked.  But he knew it was useful.  Before Cid could rebuttal, he continued.  “And imagine how helpful a padawan would be in making sure your deals go right!  Being able to sense a bad deal, or if someone unwelcome is coming.  And some of them can do mind tricks.  He’ll be very useful to you- just let him stay with us.”

Cid looking down, in thought, a scowl etched on her face.  Finally, she sighed.  “Fine!  But if the Empire comes knocking, I’m not keeping his hide a secret.  Too much heat.”  She walked away, already planning what to do with you.

Hunter looked back, smiling.  You tried your best to smile, but you knew full well it looked incredibly awkward and forced.  Not that you weren’t happy, by any means.  You just weren’t prepared, and he knew that.  Hunter placed a hand on your shoulder, attempting to provide comfort.  And it worked.  For the first time in months, despite the constant dread of what was to come, everything seemed to be going right.  You could stay with them, and they could stay with Cid.

“Let’s go get you some proper fitting, and smelling clothes, yeah?  Echo wasn’t wrong when he said it was worse than our old barracks.”  Your smile shifted to a natural one, not forced or awkward.  You certainly didn’t think you’d ever see a clone again; and it certainly wouldn’t be a happy experience, but it seemed like this batch was going to be the best thing to happen in a while.

[skaruresonic]

Lanolin has caused more problems than Sonic. But the comic wants us to see Lanolin as a misunderstood leader and Sonic as a uncaring nutcase who needs to be reigned in.

The comic is literally just "Comic OC equals good. Game character equals bad." on repeat.

Lanolin: iNtEnTiOnAl gEaR cOlLiSiOnS aRe AgAiNsT cLeAn SwEePsTaKeS pOlICy!

She doesn't even care that breaking the rules will result in accidents that will hurt people. She cares that the rules are being broken, period. (coughs) Like an authoritarian.

...second, Amy's board malfunction wasn't intentional? Sonic, Tails, or Amy could have told her that?

Heck, do Lanolin's eyes not work? Not really doing much to disprove my theory that she's less observant than a box of rocks. Probably why Clean Sweep made her the referee lol

meanwhile, Amy: (suffering the worst road rash of her life)

Lanolin: um ackshually you boys didn't snap your fingers and teleport her off the road so I'm gonna have to disqualify you

---

Tangle: Lanolin, the Restoration shuttle is about to crash and kill us all!

Lanolin: FUCK THE CREW, SONIC MUST BE BROUGHT TO JUSTICE

---

Lol yeah Sonic is sooo reckless, look at this loose cannon. A real maverick:

Whisper even notes that Sonic didn't attack anyone directly in his first appearance:

The most he can be accused of is accidentally causing someone to veer off-track and contemplating not rescuing the innocent to preserve his cover (which I kinda hate because why would Sonic even think that, but w/e):

Sonic spends much of his time as the Phantom Rider trying not to cause too much of a fuss. And even when helping someone would blow his cover, he stops to save an innocent from a disaster that wasn't even his fault, no less. It's Lanolin's for calling security and adding weight to the glass.

In another story, the irony of the incident would normally lead her to reflect on her own capacity for harm. But somehow I doubt we're going to get that so much as some variation of Tangle and Whisper reassuring her "it's okay Lanolin, Mimic tricks everyone uwu."

[mera-mann-kehne-laga]

To my adorablest idiot,

//पर ये सब सोचना

दिल को यूँ खोलना

सब कुछ कह कर ही

सब को बताना ज़रूरी है क्या?//

I've always wanted to tell you so so so many things but...........i just.....couldn't. Maybe Because idk how to entangle this tangled mess of thoughts in my head and say them out loud as words that make any sense. Because i feel like it won't ever make sense to you. It has never to anyone before.

//अक्सर तुमसे मिलकर मुझको

घर सा लगता है।

फिर क्यों दिल ही दिल में 

कोई डर सा लगता है।//

Or maybe bcz I'm an insecure coward. And I'm afraid of being perceived. By my own home.  I thought I should let it all out thoda toh bcz it was getting too much to hold in. I know you'll call me stupid. You'll tell me to stop thinking itna. But trust me i want to stop too. I so desperately want to. But i just.......can't.

i sometimes wish you could read my thoughts. So that you'd know how much i love you and how much you and everything you do and say mean to me and how I'm always resisting the urge to kiss you lol. But then i think no. He won't be able to withstand all the darkness in there. He'd get lost. It'd be too much for him. It'll consume him and he'll never be the same. Keep it to yourself please. 

But on the other hand i still so desperately want you to reach to those dark cracks of my mind and heart. And plant the seeds of your love and reassurance. And water them with your firmness. And make them bloom into the most beautiful flowers, being the absolute sunshine you are, sunshine. 

I know. It's all tedious work. But news flash. Loving someone like me is never easy. You ask me if i'm alright atleast 20 times a day, don't you? Or when I'm staring at you and you say What? And what is my answer everytime? Nothing. 

I want to say everything. But everything sounds like a lot doesn't it? And then how'd i explain it to you if you ask kya everything?

Girls like me are not easy to love. We feel everything so very deeply that it consumes us whole at times. We need constant reminding that you love us. Because even the tiniest slightest change in your behaviour would make us think we did something wrong.

i often feel excluded from everything but it's mostly my fault because i distance myself because i think i'm annoying. Then i feel lonely. And soon enough the whole world comes crashing down. And this wave of sadness makes it feel like all friends are annoying, everything is loud, and I'm contemplating why I even exist. This restlessness took so much away from me, sometimes I wish it would have taken my life as well.

I'm jealous of those who can function like a normal human being. They don't have anxiety holding them back from everything, they don't struggle to get out of bed or have to put on an act that everything is fine when its not. They don't struggle to hold friendships and relationships... they don't feel sad for no fucking reason everyday. Those that can manage pdhai and work towards their dreams, the ones who have self esteem and see the beauty in themselves. Those that know what its like to feel safe and secure, not insecure and fearful of it all.

I wonder how do you tell people? How do you tell them that you're exhausted even though you slept for 8 hours? How do you tell them that you need a break from talking and smiling and simply being near them? How do you tell them that you too are human and can make mistakes and can be a failure sometimes? Bc when the heck will this burn out leave me

i'm trying not to make it sound like a plea or an apology, but it should be one right?

//तू होगा ज़रा पागल 

तूने मुझको है चुना।//

Aaj when i said that thing about jumping off that flyover on my way back home or when i told you I'll be going away after 11th ends, tujhe kuch sunai nahi diya hoga but my heart shattered into a thousand little pieces. To see how disheartened and concerned and tensed you were. I then went to the washroom and broke down thoda because the feeling of being an unlovable burden worsened all of a sudden. I was also kinda overwhelmed by how much you cared and the guilt of concerning you itna. Because never in my wildest dreams did I imagine ki someone'd ever love me aise. But then i came back and saw your stupid pyaara face and everything felt good again. I'm sorry. For concerning you like that.

Aur sun. Though I may seem at times somewhat distant from you, through the gray mist of my own thoughts and storms, I am never far. my thoughts always circle around you ok? I love you hehe

Yours,

Nishu.

[sunakore]

#7!

hello this is nonserious and not compliant at all i just wanted an excuse to write lol

demon are called lathuri now yay! finally found a name for them. lathurie is plural for lathuri. icarus is now ivory. i honestly hate -us names for some reason.

wooo getting lore made yaaay i havent made their backstories yet but that will be the NEXT thing i do i promise i swear lmao. this little thingie has nothing to do with whatever im doing BUT their backstories will probably be based off of some things mentioned. i have new lore and i'll post info soon. lotta changes. and two new characters woohoo i'll mention them eventually

-

"I can reveal secrets about your past, if you let me," the lathuri said, linked hands propped beneath their chin. A gleam shone in their eyes, unnerving but holding a thousand strings of wishes and nightmares. Ivory couldn't help but be enthralled in a twisted sort of way.

Marelle hesitated, the hold on her knife slightly slacking. Ze looked to be contemplating on whether they should listen, or wipe out the demon with an easy strike. She looked to the two and tilted her head towards the demon. A silent question—should they hear them out?

Ivory didn't see the harm in it. Not like he had secrets to keep, anyways, and if the lathuri tried to run it wouldn't get far. He just shrugged. Nalani hesitated, before giving a nod. Marelle sighed, and regarded the demon with a wary gaze. "Sure," ze said.

The demon smiled. "Great! Let's see, hmm.." They closed their eyes for a moment, as if searching through a file sealed away in his mind. Ivory almost felt like they were still watching, seeing through their flesh and bone and picking apart every detailed. And then its eyes shot open.

"I gotta say," they began, tapping a finger against Marelle's forehead. She backed up in revulsion. "Abandoning your own blood for a bit of green? That's just selfish, don't you think?" Ze visibly froze. Her expression contorted into something unsettling that Ivory couldn't quite understand.

Nalani looked on with concern, but before he could speak up the demon turned to him. "It's a shame," they cooed saccharinely. "It's like she wanted to leave you. As if she had given herself that sickness just to get a better life that didn't involve you."

Ivory's eyebrows furrowed. What the fuck was it talking about? It must've been true, from the way Nalani's jaw clenched with a harshly tugged anger. But how did the demon even know? Did it look into their minds? He wondered if information spilled into their brain like an overfilled cup, or if images flashed through their mind. Maybe it was something entirely different.

...He almost found it fascinating. Plain rude, too. He knew lathurie didn't have a sliver of empathy to share, but it was already personal to begin with. Ivory's hands balled into fists. From perturbance or annoyance, he didn't know.

The lathuri looked at him. They raised an eyebrow, like they were staring at a language they couldn't decipher. Ivory nervously swallowed from the scrutiny. Eventually they said, "You're a hard one."

He tried to smile. "Thanks. I'm always hard." Marelle shook herself out of her stupor and glared at him.

The lathuri ignored him. They circled around him, a finger tapping their chin in contemplation. It muttered a few things under its breath, but it sounded like a tangle of jumbled words. Ivory didn't think he was that complicated. The smoothness of his brain wasn't exactly a difficult surface to navigate.

"I can't seem to read you." The demon halted and frowned. It looked genuinely perplexed. Jokes on them. "Why is that? Have you casted some spell, locking away any access to your mind?"

"First of all." Ivory lifted a finger to emphasize himself. "I don't have a mind. Nothing but air in here. Second, I guess you just kinda suck. That must be sad. You want my story?" He paused, running through every scenario that could've lead up to this point. This aggravating, stupid point. "I peed on my PS4 because it was overheating once. I called my mom a stupid hoe when I was 10. And I joined the circus to become a knife thrower when I was 12. Do you like my backstory, bitch? I sure hope you do, because it's cool as fuck."

Nalani stared at him, appalled. "...You peed on your..?"

The luthari hummed in interest. Yes! So that meant that Ivory's lore was as great as the others. You can't go wrong in the circus, can you? "Interesting," they muttered. "Very interesting. That...Hm. What made you decide to become a knife thrower?"

Ivory's eyes gleamed. "Do I have a fucking story to tell."

[chans-bad-girl]

Hey I was wondering if you could do a fic with channie about if you have a vagina with hair? cause, you know, it’s such a pain to shave/wax down there and it makes me insecure sometimes thinking boys won’t like it. thank you!

ahh I feel you on the part where it's a pain lol shaving is so annoying (in east asian culture I've actually picked up that they don't shave down there anyway so I think the real Chan or just most Korean celebrities wouldn't really bat an eyelash at it (?) lol)

PS: this kinda made me understand I'm not that good at hurt/comfort 😬 but enjoy

Closer

pairing: soft long distance bf! chris x afab yn

warnings: actually pretty soft ngl, creampie, penetrative sex, clitoral stimulation, a bunch of random touching, nipple play when you really hone in on the details, maybe one pet/nickname and also dirty talk but what is a smut fic without dirty talk?

chris' close friend hyunjin got married eight hours ago. he'd never met you, but as his best friend's plus one, you were treated like family: grand buffet packed with traditional korean dishes, unlimited champagne and wine, and the family-lounge away from all the third-cousins his parents invited for formality's sake.

hyunjin's 7-year-old niece caught the bridal bouquet, all stomaches were filled, and everybody sang their hearts out on the poor karaoke machine. in short: you had fun.

but after 4am, you arrive at the hotel, high-heeled shoes the first thing to come off, and you remove all the layers: hair pins, make up, dress, spanx.

chris takes off your necklace, fingers cold against your neck, and whispers, "haven't really had any one-on-one moments today, hm?"

you know where this is going but there’s a minor problem: you had to rush getting ready for the wedding because your flight was late, so you only shaved what the dress exposes.

you two haven’t seen each other in a month and during that time, between lectures and finals, you couldn’t have bothered less about your pubic hair. one less thing to do in the shower.

but now you regret it. because his leg presses between your hips from behind you, and his kisses have gotten wet.

“sorry, channie, but I haven’t shaved in…a bit. I can help you, and tomorrow I'll shave properly.”

“but I don’t care about that stuff, just want you close.”

"tomorrow, yea?" you sit on the bed and put your necklace on the nightstand.

he follows you like a lost puppy, keeping enough distance.

"I wouldn't judge you. especially not for something as small as that. hair is normal and I'm also not always shaved."

"I know...just wanna look good for you."

"alright selena gomez, can I love my girlfriend now?"

"what if I like it like that? a bit unruly?"

"yea?" you tilt your head and stare at his lips. maybe it really doesn't matter.

"yea. I like you in every single way." he trails a wet path of kisses down your neck, down to your collarbone. "and I also want to take you in every single way so if you won't let me love you I might have to kiss you until you're soaking and begging for me." now he comes closer, gaining confidence from the inquiry of your stare. maybe he should fuck that insecurity out of you.

"what if I want you to?"

"oh?" the smirk on his face only grows bigger when you shift to sit on his lap.

because he's right. you can trust him. you want and love each other and that's the only thing that matters right now.

"let me make you feel good, baby, huh?"

his forehead finds yours, and he swallows your little gasps and sighs that you respond to his touch with.

his hands trail up your thighs, then squeeze your waist. and when you tug at his shirt, he flips you onto your back.

"gosh, all night I couldn't wait. it's been way too long." he whispers in your ear, kisses your neck, tickles your cheeks with his curls.

slowly, he takes your shirt off. it tickles when cold air hits hair around your nipples, but chris is quick to replace that feeling with pleasure by twirling his tongue. and you wrap your legs around him.

it doesn't take long for the both of you to lie bare in front of each other, uncomfort long forgotten as the pulse between your legs allows no other thoughts than those of chris inside of you.

"please." your back archs as you close your eyes.

"please what, baby?" his lips brush against yours as he mumbles.

"please fuck me. now." you grab his girth and pump him a few times before aligning.

"so wet and demanding."

"already losing your mind, chan?"

"sight's too pretty." he winks with a smirk that turns into a drawn out hum when he enters your walls.

he's right. it's really been too long.

the second he starts thrusting, your hands are all over him: pressing on his back, sliding down his chest, massaging between his thighs.

he moves at a slow pace and fills you with only his tip, then with his whole shaft over and over.

and when he speeds up, he starts kissing you.

"you're gorgeous," he hushes against your lips. "don't shave just for me. if you want to, do it for yourself. but I shouldn't be the reason, yea?" his lips leave yours so he can look you in the eye at which a wave of warm tingles travels through your body.

the raised eyebrows and soft smile, his deep brown stare and the slow thrusts that have your bodies sticking in sweat: the man in your arms loves you and it's the best thing you've ever learned.

you don't give him an answer to his little question, but connect your lips instead, circling your hip in his rhythm. because you love him too with the same amount of care.

"besides, I think it's cute." chris trails a finger down your body - between your breasts down to your core - to circle it around your clit.

a moan escapes your lips and he drinks it right up.

but you don't last long with the double stimulation and the realization that you've built up way too much of this desire for the past months.

truth is, only he can make you feel this way.

"chan, I'm gonna cum." and even though he could already tell from your strong grip on his back and the loud moans, he finds it hard to control his own orgasm when you whimper out like that.

"then don't hold back. cum with me, y/n." his low whispers push you over the edge and the violent clenching of your core has you squeezing your eyes in bliss.

as a response to your spasms and whimpers, chris fills you with his cum as his whole shaft pushes into you.

but it isn't enough for him.

he hasn't seen you real fucked out since that one night out in that abandoned beach parking lot where he gave you seven orgasms four months ago, and right now he doesn't care who hears. he just wants to make you feel good. make up for the lost time.

"wanna find out just how good it can get?"

"yes, please."

[leviathans-watching]

hello! if the requests are open, as the obey me brothers (+diavolo if you can) reacted to mc start to get terribly sick (always coughing, high fever, always in bed, doesn't eat etc) kisses from Kisses from Brazil 🇧🇷❤️

sick mc with lucifer, diavolo, and satan

includes: lucifer diavolo, and satan x/& gn!reader (no pronouns mentioned)

wc: 1.8k | rated g | m.list

a/n: sorry this took so long but ty for requesting! i hope you enjoy!! my inbox is open to chat, leave feedback, and request so come say hello!! and kisses from the US <33

warnings: depictions of illness, fevers, and colds, mentions of vomiting, taking medicine, coughing, sneezing, etc. if you're squeamish about sickness/sick fics then this is not for you lol

please reblog <333

lucifer was aware you weren’t feeling too hot, but he figured it’d pass with a little more sleep and promptly turned his mind to other things. he kept an eye on you, of course, but you were insisting everything was fine, and, well, he had work to do.

it isn’t until you don’t come down to dinner that he realizes that that may have been a mistake.

“mc?” he calls knocking on your door. no response. “i’m coming in.”

your room is dark, the curtains drawn, and its warmer than the draftier halls are. stepping forward, he looks around. you’re under a big nest of blankets, but sweat shines on your skin.

hastening forward, lucifer strips off his glove, pressing it to your forehead, you’re burning up.

“mc,” he tries again, “wake up.”

your eyelashes flutter a little but other than that he receives no response. lucifer curses, working on getting you out from the tangle of covers. your clothes are damp from sweat and your skin is a worrying color.

picking you up, lucifer carries you to his room, where it’s cooler. he changes you out of your old clothes, putting one of his shirts on you, then sets you into his bed, smoothing your hair back. you still don’t move, or make any indication that you understand anything that’s going on around you.

he hopes it’s just exhaustion. your fever isn’t nearly bad enough to knock you out, and to be fair, he hasn’t seriously tried to wake you up in any extreme way.

quickly making his way to the kitchen, lucifer speeds through gathering everything he needs. a cold compress of asmo’s from the fridge, one of beel’s sports drinks, and a handful of other provisions is what he ends up with, and he wastes no time getting back to your side to set you up with them. once he’s got the cold compress on your forehead and has put everything else on his bedside table, lucifer grabs a real thermometer from the bathroom, one from the human world he was glad he’d had levi order earlier on in your stay.

like he had thought, you weren’t dangerously warm, and all of your other vitals seemed okay. his theory of exhaustion was seeming more and more reasonable, especially when he considers how hard you’ve been working.

there's nothing he can do now besides monitor you and make sure you’re okay, so lucifer pulls his armchair up closer to the bed and settles in. he thinks maybe he’ll be able to get some reading or work done but quickly realizes it’s hard for him to take his eyes off of you.

he’s never seen you this sick before. sure, you’ve had the occasional stomach bug or cough, but it’s never been bad enough to take you out like this. he hopes the flu is all it is. he doesn’t know what he’d do if your fever gets worse or you don't wake up in the next few hours. call solomon and simeon for sure, but aside from that?

he has no clue.

*

it’s evening when you finally stir, opening your eyes with a small groan. lucifer instantly raises the sports drink to your lips, gently encouraging you to take a few small sips before you speak.

“i feel awful,” you finally say, smacking your lips.

“i’ll bet,” lucifer replies, leaning over to fluff a pillow. “you’ve got a fever and have been asleep for a while.”

“oh.” you sit there for a moment, contemplating. “how’d i get to your room?”

“i carried you.” even though you’re awake and coherent, lucifer still feels off-kilter and worried. “you were sweating to death in your room and the sheets were all gross so i figured this might be better.”

“that explains the shirt, i guess” you say, looking down at your attire. “thanks for doing all of this. i haven’t been feeling great, but i didn’t think it was this bad.”

“of course darling,” lucifer says. “now, are you hungry? you should try to drink and eat some more then go back to sleep.

diavolo steps out into the hall, pulling his robe tight around himself. it was rare for him to wake in th middle of the night and he hopes a drink of water will help him fall back asleep.

planning on just drinking from the bathroom faucet, diavolo’s surprised to see the light in there already on, peeking out from the crack in between the door and the floor. you were spending the night, but what were the odds you were both up at the same time?

after waiting a bit and not hearing the toilet flush or anything, diavolo decided to knock.

“you can come in,” you call, and diavolo thinks your voice sounds kind of weird.

pushing the door open, he’s surprised to see you on the ground, leaning up against the wall of the bathtub.

“are you alright?” he asks, crouching down to get a better look at you. your cheeks are flushed and your eyes are glassy and he’s starting to get seriously concerned.

you wave your hand. “i’ve been better. i think i ate something i shouldn't have,” you explain wryly. “my stomach hasn;t been happy.”

“you mean you’ve thrown up?”

you nod. “yeah, and then i tried to drink some water but that came right back up too.”

“why didn’t you come get me?” diavolo asks, and you laugh.

“and wake you up? no way.”

diavolo frowns. “you should have. i wouldn’t have minded, i promise. you can wake me up for anything, anytime.” you don’t look convinced but he resolves to put the matter aside for the moment, moving onto more pressing matters. “i think i have some stomach medicine, if you want it?”

you nod. “thank you, i’d appreciate that. since there’s nothing left in my stomach, i haven’t thrown up any more, but since i definitely need to drink some more water i think it’ll help.”

diavolo stands. “i’ll be back in a moment,” he promises, hurrying to his room. even though he knows you’re not actively sick, he still feels this sense of urgency, this need to get back to you as soon as possible.

bottle in hand, he finds you in the same position as before, but now your head is tipped up and you look a little more green. you still manage to give him a weak smile, though it’s clearly strained. sweat beads at the edge of your hairline.

“you don’t look too good,” diavolo notes gently.

“wow,” you say. “you really know how to flatter a person.”

diavolo winces. “i didn’t intend-”

“i know,” you say softly. “i was teasing, but i guess it fell flat.”

“ah.” pursing his lips, diavolo waits for you to swallow a pill, taking the bottle back. “let’s get soem water in you and then if you don’t puke, get you back to bed.”

you look sheepish. “actually, the first time i didn’t quite make it to the bathroom, so my room isn’t exactly a viable option. i’ll clean it up though, i swear. i’m really sorry, by the way.”

“silly human,” diavolo says. “don’t even worry about it. this isn’t the first time these walls have seen a sick person. and anyway, barbatos knows a spell to magic it away.”

“if you’re sure…”

diavolo nods, resolute. “i’m sure. now, water.”

you’re able to drink one glass, and then another, and after about fifteen minutes has gone by, diavolo feels confident in getting you out of the bathroom.

“we have more guest rooms, obviously, but my room is always open to you as well,” he offers, and you look at him sharply.

“um, is there one you’d prefer?”

“actually-” and now it’s diavolo’s turn to feel sheepish “-i’d rather be able to keep my eye on you, if you’re comfortable with that. i also keep a wastebasket right by my bed which may come in handy.”

“alright then,” you agree, “thank you. and thank you for taking care of me.”

“of course.” offering you a hand, diavolo helps you up. “next time you get sick, let me know and i’ll be there right away.”

satan raises his eyes from his textbook as you sniffle for the nth time since he’d sat down to his study session with you. you don’t even seem to be aware that you’re doing it, but the noise is grating, and, satan’ll admit, a little concerning.

noticing his stare, you look up from your own work, raising an eyebrow. “what?’ you ask, and you’re voice is a little scratchy.

“are you well?” satan asks without preamble. “i believe you’re coming down with something.”

“no? i’m fine,” you say, but the words are broken with a fit of coughing.

“oh, really?” satan asks, unimpressed. “that didn’t exactly sound ‘fine’ to me.”

you scowl. “it’s probably just a cold. and anyways,” you continue with a little sigh, “i don’t have time to be sick, not with exams right around the corner.”

it’s a noble through, but satan knows that’s not how it works.

“i think we should call it a night,” satan says, bookmarking his page and shutting his book. “you obviously are sick and i can’t concentrate with all of your coughing and sneezing.”

“awww, so you do care.” the words are sarcastic, almost caustic, and the tone takes satan by surprise. the venom seems to take you by surprise as well, as you lean back, rubbing your eyes. “i’m sorry. that wasn’t kind of me. i’m just tired.”

“and sick,” satan adds, and you roll your eyes.

“i’m not that sick,” you argue but another bout of coughs cuts you off. “fine,” you say after a moment, “maybe we should stop for the night.”

the two of you pack up quickly, making your way out of the library within minutes. noticing your shiver, satan wraps his scarf around you, tucking the ends in. you smile then, and he feels a little bit better. upon getting back to the house of lamentation, he instructs you to go to bed then promptly does the same.

*

satan wakses with a start, catching the end of a knock on his door. “come in,” he calls tiredly, sitting up. he’s only a little bit surprised to see you on the other side; no one else had reason to call upon him.

“satan,” you say, and he sits up even straighter. you sound absolutely awful. “i think i’m sick.”

“you think?” satan stands hurriedly, pressing his hand to your cheek. “you’re definitely warm.” underneath his hand you shake and quiver, teeth chattering.

“are you cold?” you ask, and he shakes his head. “drat,” you mutter. “i was hoping it was just freezing in here.”

“let’s sit down.” satan says as you sway a little, pulling you to his bed. “when was the last time you drank some water?”

“i don’t know,” you reply. “probably a while ago. satan,” you say again, “my throat really hurts.” with that, you begin coughing again, much raspier sounding than earlier.

“i’ll bet,” he murmers. “i think i have some of that throat soothing tea. would you like me to make you some?”

“don’t go out of your way.”

satan huffs out a sigh. “it’s only a cup of tea. besides, if we don’t start treating you now, you’re only going to feel that much worse later. let’s go to the kitchen.”

you stand, and he pauses to hand you one of his pullovers. you're not terribly fevered, so it’s fine for you to put on a few more layers.

“thank you,” you say fervently, pulling it over your head. “i feel like my fingers are ice cubes.”

“the tea will help with that too,” he says as he ushers you towards the kitchen. “if you have to cough again please don’t do it on me.”

you smile. “i’ll try. thanks for helping me out.”

“of course,” satan says. “thanks for coming to me so i could help.”

leviathans-watching’s work - please do not copy, repost, or claim as your own

[grapementos]

I LOVE YOUR WORK SO MUCH!!!!Can I ask for a cheater bakugo, kirishima or deku? ( can you do all three? That would be awesome 🥲) and pls make the ending v angsty (on the other persons side lmaooowjwisj) like, y/n dates their best friend or something LOL

This is literally my first time, so I’m sorry if it doesn’t make sense 🥲

meliora

(adj.) latin for “the pursuit of better”

a/n: AHH NONNIE ILYSM TY FOR THIS REQUEST. i’ll have all three characters i promise, but for now take kiri. i hope this angst is up to your standards 🥺 and your request made sense dw mwah xoxo also— AGED UP CHARACTERS.

midoriya’s part. bakugo’s part.

cw: cheating, crying, mentions of alcohol/under influence of alcohol, suggestive if you squint, kissing.

kirishima was indescribable.

you'd never before met a man that was so utterly wonderful in every way. every move he made was perfect in your eyes. he could do no wrong.

and he loved you just as hard. he was willing to shout it from the rooftops the second you had an ounce of doubt. you were never his secret--you were his most prized possession; he loved showing you off and flaunting the fact that he, 'had the best partner in the world.'

every one of your friends put money on the two of you getting married and staying together (even bakugo, surprisingly.) you were counting on that outcome.

still, you had disagreements from time to time, just like every other couple, but you had enough patience and sense between the two of you to be rational. you openly discussed your insecurities with each other, only to be met with open arms and gentle reassurances.

you didn't tend to entertain the idea of soulmates, but what other explanation was there? what other phenomenon could be held responsible for your seemingly destined relationship?

whatever it was, you were in love with your soulmate.

that's what you thought, at least.

that's what you thought until he cheated.

he cheated at a party you didn't even want to attend. but, because you loved him, you did. you attended the party only to find your drunken boyfriend eating some random person's face in one of yaoyorozu's million guest rooms. you remembered it so vividly.

it was a sight that was branded in your brain--you couldn't even blink without seeing them together, kissing with such desperation, such hunger.

"ei?" your voice had quivered, phone dropping to the floor, "what.. what're you.."

you wanted to scream when his dazed eyes met yours, glazed over and burning with a look you'd never seen in them before.

"y/n? that's not.." he stammered, looking back and forth between you and the person, "i'm not.. who's this?" as if finally realizing that was not, in fact, you, he shoved them off, crossing the to move towards you.

"you tell me, kirishima! you're the one with your tongue down their throat!" your eyes stung, every part of you trembling with utter betrayal.

"i.. i thought'was you!" he slurred, eyes pleading as he reached out to grab your arm.

you jerked back as if you'd been burned, "me? kirishima, i look nothing like them!" fat tears rolled down your cheeks as you stepped back, blinking quickly to clear your vision.

"s'tp calling me that.. s'not my name." he frowned, "m'so sorry, so sorry.. let's go home, please. let's just go home." he begged, eyes still unfocused. he was definitely not in any condition to drive.

so you decided to take care of him. one last time.

you drove him back to your shared apartment that night, ignoring the questioning looks you received from everyone.

they knew. they'd seen kirishima go upstairs with that person, and yet they let you see it for yourself. likely because you wouldn't have believed that your perfect boyfriend committed such an unspeakable act.

you helped him into the apartment after a long drive consisting of a stop at a gas station to buy some water and kirishima's loud wails and apologies. the entire ride you only spoke three words to him:

"drink your water."

he clung onto you as you guided him to your bedroom, helping him change into more comfortable clothes.

and then the two of you were seated on the bed. silent. alcohol long worn off.

"y/n, please-"

"i'll be gone by the morning. i'm taking everything in one trip." you couldn't look at him. if you did, you'd see his eyes that made you weak, and your resolve would crumble. you would forgive him, you were sure of it. all it took was a look.

"no!" he nearly shouted, sobs racking his body, "no, y/n, you can't. you can't leave me, it was a mistake, i'm so sorry!" his hands tangled in the duvet, presumably because he was too scared to touch you.

"and why can't i," you cursed the way your voice cracked, "kirishima? tell me, please. tell me right now that there is no reason for me to leave you. tell me that you did nothing wrong. tell me that what i saw tonight wasn't real. please tell me i made a mistake, and that i'm crazy, or- or i need glasses or something."

he was trying to talk over you as your voice kept raising, growing more and more desperate as your resolve cracked.

"tell me i didn't see you kiss them!"

he was silent, for his deed was there. out in the open. and he knew he couldn't tell you any of that. it would be a lie. a cold, hard lie you wanted nothing more than to believe.

"thought so." you muttered bitterly, getting up to start packing your clothes. just as you stood, another tsunami of misery slammed into you. you paused, back facing him.

"i just.. don't understand." you whispered, "i thought we were so happy. were you bored? is that it? we've been together so long that you got tired of the same old thing?"

before he could speak, you spoke again, voice heavy with tears, "and why don't i want you to feel the same hurt i do? i should, right? i should be angry and cursing your name and not want to be anywhere near you. i should have left you there at the party and let someone else take care of you."

"why didn't you?" he mumbled after a beat of silence.

"because i'm truly in love with you." you finally looked over to meet his gaze, "i guess soulmates really don't exist, huh?"

-

true to your word, you were gone by morning. you had everything in your car, leaving a note on the counter for kirishima to read once he woke up.

thankfully, you'd arranged to stay with a friend while you searched for a place to relocate. you expected it to take less than a month if you looked consistently and weren't too picky.

what you didn't expect, however, was a message from the one and only katsuki bakugo.

it was him requesting to meet up with you at a coffee shop you were familiar with, which you reluctantly agreed to. as soon as you sent the text, however, you knew it was a bad idea. he was friends with kirishima and was probably only meeting with you because he asked him to.

it was too late, you decided, so you went to get ready for your mysterious rendezvous.

once time rolled around and you were seated at the table with him, you were shocked to find that he met with you on his own accord.

"i don't do people favors. especially cheaters." he’d explained after you mentioned your concern.

it stung. the reminder.

bakugo must've noticed because he swiftly distracted you.

"stop staring off into space, idiot. i invited you here for a reason."

you found that he wanted to help you. when asked why, he just looked off to the side, as if contemplating.

"i know how you feel. let me help you."

"i thought you don't do people favors, bakugo?"

"listen, do you want my help or not?"

you did. you really did. you felt so alone and tired.

so you agreed. and the rest was history.

BONUS:

you eventually fell out of love with kirishima. he'd always have a special place in your heart, but time managed to heal the wound you thought would be the death of you.

of course, you still had love for him, but when you saw the flash of hurt in his eyes after you exchanged vows with bakugo, you couldn’t bring yourself to feel any regret.

you likes? eh? eh? 👀 seriously tho i hope this was what you wanted 🥺 reblogs appreciated !

are you in pain, @zuroki ? hope so <3

[michael-aftons-nonbinary-lover]

‼️kid!afton!reader‼️

Micheal and Y/N standing in front of their father guilty holding a empty roll of duck tape;

William; oh gosh what did you do this time?

Elizabeth walking out of her room covered head to toe in duck tape; “DADDY LOOK! IM SHINY!”

William: 😃

Shiny Siblings

-(Afton kid!reader and Afton family)-

-(Summary: yeah, this whole thing, and now I wanna write it in detail, lol)-

-(CW: mentions of child d34th, slight injury)-

-(Also, quickly for this, ages and nicknames, lol

Michael-10,"Rockstar"

Reader-9,"Sweet Pea"

Evan/Crying Child-7,"Bug"

Elizabeth-5,"Princess")-

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

"Mikey! Come on! Daddy and Mama will find out either way! Evan is crying and Lizzie is dancing around squealing about being shiny! They're gonna know!"

Your older brother continued to puff and pout, refusing to let you and your younger siblings leave the playroom.

"No! If we can get if off of them, and get Evan to stop being a stupid idiot crybaby, we won't even get in trouble! You'll see!"

You rolled your eyes, sighing in exasperation.

"What about when they go to look for duct tape, huh? What then? It's all gone! It's all on Lizzie and Ev! We're gonna have to throw it away and then they're gonna find it and we're gonna get in even more trouble!"

Michael contemplated this for a moment. The he crossed his arms, held his breath, and stomped his foot, screwing his tiny face into itself until his eyebrows pinched together. He always did that when he knew he couldn't win something, but he didn't wanna admit it. Like when Mama told his sternly to eat his vegetables, or when Daddy told him it was bath time.

Victory was yours. Now all you had to do was tell your parents that you and Michael had roped your younger siblings into letting themselves get covered in duct tape.

"Well, come on then, the quicker we do this, the better."

You grabbed Michael's arm, opening the playroom door and stepping into the hallway. You turned towards Michael.

"Should we tell Dad or Mama?"

"Mama's on a phone call right now, remember? Dad shouldn't be too busy."

"Ok. Who's doing the talking?"

"Maybe we can pout our way out?"

You looked at him, deadpanned.

"Mikey, that doesn't work on Daddy, you know that."

"It could too, if we tried hard enough! It works for Lizzie and Ev!"

"That's because they're cute and tiny, dumb dumb! We're not tiny anymore, and you're not cute!"

You stuck your tongue out at him, lightly skipping towards your father's office.

"HEY! THAT'S NOT FUNNY!"

You ignored him, knocking on the door and waiting for your father.

Michael got to you just as the door opened.

"Hey kiddos, what do you need, Daddy's busy right now."

"Too busy for us?"

Your father chuckled softly.

"No no, never too busy for any of you four. What's up?"

"Well you see, Daddy, all of this is Mikey's fault!"

Michael gasped loudly, shock and a hint of betrayal filled his features.

"Nuh-uh, this is your fault too!"

"But it was your idea! You just made me help you!"

"Hey, hey, Sweet Pea, Rockstar, what happened? What is who's fault?"

You and Michael stepped back quickly, each point to the other while looking towards your father.

Michael pulled out the completely empty roll of duct tape.

"What did you two do with the duct tape?" He chuckled again, gently taking the empty roll into his palms. "It couldn't have been too bad now, huh?"

"DADDY! LOOKIT ME! I SHINY!"

Elizabeth came waddling out of the playroom, duct tape covering her from head to toe. Her orange hair stuck up in some places, creating knots and tangles that your mother would be working to get out for weeks.

Your father's eyes widened, his mouth agape. He looked between the two of you, then back at Elizabeth. She came waddling into his arms, happily waving her tiny hands and kicking her small feet.

You and Michael exchanged a glance. This wasn't supposed to be how you told him, and you didn't think this was gonna go over well.

William drew a deep breath, obviously trying to keep his calm as he gently picked pieces of duct tape off of his you gest child.

"Princess, where's Bug?"

'Bug' is what Lizzie had taken to calling Evan, because she couldn't pronounce 'v's just yet.

"Bug's in the playroom! He's really sad, Daddy! He says the sticky tape hurts him."

She pouted, head resting on your father's shoulder. She didn't like seeing people upset, especially not her siblings.

William put down Elizabeth, setting her between the two of you.

"Stay here, and DON'T go getting into anymore trouble."

He walked quickly to the playroom, looking for your younger brother. Michael smacked the back of your head.

"Ow! Mikey!"

"Told told you this was a bad idea! We should have just helped them get the duct tape off! Now we're in real big trouble!"

"You didn't have to smack me, though!"

"Yeah-huh!"

"Nu-huh!"

Your bickering continued, until eventually, your mother walked into the room.

"What is going on in here?"

She paused, eyes catching on Lizzie playing with some duct tape stuck on her hand.

She gasped, holding her mouth and staring at all three of you. You and Michael looked nervously at each other.

"Mama, we can explain, we just-"

Before you could finish your sentence, she burst into laughter, leaning on the hallway wall for support.

"William! Come see this!"

Your father re-entered the room, carrying Evan, who was no longer covered in duct tape.

"Caroline, I already saw them! Don't encourage them!"

"Oh! Hold on! I gotta take a photo of this! This is going in the family album!"

Your mother ran to get her camera as your father sighed tiredly. She returned a moment later, camera in hand and a big smile on her face.

"Alright, everyone, lean in! Will, you too!"

"Lin, do we really have to? They covered Lizzie and Ev in duct tape, this is something you wanna show to people?"

Your mother raised an eyebrow, hand on her hip, and chin held slightly high.

"William Daniel, my mother has pictures of my siblings and I doing much worse. This is very mild compared to the shit we used to do."

Your father grimaced.

"Language! The kids! And now I'm glad we've never had extended stays with your family."

"We should sometime, the kids would love it!"

Soon enough, your mother's picture was taken, and your siblings were free of their duct tape prisons.

Evan hugged his Fredbear close to him, smiling at the silliness of it all.

"Mama, we should hang the photo up so everyone can see it!"

Lizzie gasped at the idea.

"Yeah, bug is right! Do it! Do it!"

She kept on chanting 'do it', and you, Michael, and Evan soon joined her.

"You remember that, Mike?"

"Oh my god, yes! How could I forget? And then Dad told us not to do it again, but you could tell he wasn't mad? Ugh, that is probably one of the funniest childhood stories we have."

"Yeah."

You sat in your apartment, looking at the very photo that had jogged your memory, and prompted you to call your brother.

"How are you holding up, Mike?"

"I'm doing, ok, I suppose. Still going to therapy, obviously, though causing the death of someone so close to us is probably something I'll never get over."

"It wasn't your fault, Mike. You were a dumbass kid, you didn't know that those springlocks would go off."

He sighed heavily over the phone.

"I know, I know. I'm trying to be nicer to myself. Anyways, are we still on for meeting up with Uncle Henry this Saturday?"

"Yeah, for sure. I'll see you then, Mike. Love ya, duct tape dummy."

He scoffed.

"Right back at 'ya."

(lol, the ending is a little bit sad, sorry about that)

[writefightandflightclub]

I really enjoyed your Nathan fluff 🥺 we love this angry peach fuzz king 👑💖 would you ever write him being comforted after having a nightmare? 💕

First of all, LOL @ “angry peach fuzz king” 🤣🤣🤣

Second of all, here you go! 🧡 I will warn you - I think I forgot the fluff a little bit though. It became more hurt / comfort? More angst than expected? It ends nicely though and comfort is given to Nathan - but only after I’ve subjected him to rattling around in his own head and house for a bit.

Through the looking glass (Nathan Bateman x GN!reader)

Summary: Nathan has nightmares after The Incident. After so long alone, he doesn’t realise how badly he needs a little comfort - and maybe he doesn’t believe that he deserves it.

Author’s note: hopefully this isn’t too similar to All Better. I know they both take place post-stabbing, but I tried to give this a different focus. I know I could have made the nightmares based off of anything given the ask, but this timeline / focus seemed most sensible to explore the character.

Warnings: nightmares following traumatic incident (a stabbing); mentions of blood and injury - not graphic. Self-harm (punching the bag until injury); Body horror if you squint (some gruesome descriptions occurring in-dream, but fairly abstract); swearing; implied alcoholism recovery if you squint; mentions of therapy; Nathan mildly injured in fic; reader offering comfort.

Rating: MATURE for themes mentioned above.

GIF: by @santiagogarcia (this whole gifset is magic- check it out + reblog!)

Nathan wakes up breathless, plastered to the covers by a sheen of sweat - and not in a good way. On instinct, or out of habit by now, or maybe somewhere between the two, his palm slides over his body to the site of the wound.

He is so slick that he half-believes he is soaked with dank, deep blood again, until his fingers trace over nothing more than a half-concave, half-ridged scar. The lack of searing pain is the next point of evidence leading him towards an alternative conclusion. He’s not dying (again).

It’s just another gruesome nightmare.

Although… there is nothing “just” about it.

The nightmares are pretty brutal. Brutal enough for him to wake with ragged breaths and a hammering heart, his sheets dampened and coiled up around him. Enough that it takes effort to sift through the layers of terror and distinguish reality.

With what can only be described as a whimper, Nathan swings his legs over the edge of the bed, bringing himself into a seated position and bracing his head in his hands until his racing heart levels.

In his mind, he’s telling himself to be logical about this. That Ava hasn’t truly arrived to finish the job she started; but logic is not the safe haven it used to be.

She could come back.

She’s still out there, somewhere, and Nathan distinctly got the impression, last time, that she was vehemently not a fan of him.

His hand trembling, Nathan reaches for the glass of water by his bedside, glugging it down so eagerly it spills into his bushy beard.

Since the… accident? Malfunction? Functioning just fine, actually? Failed experiment? Greatest achievement known to man? Attempted murder? (Truth be told, Nathan isn’t quite sure what to call it, so he simply calls it The Incident.)

Since The Incident, Ava has begun to regularly visit him in his sleep.

The visitations are not waning with time. In fact, they are happening more often, not less. They are happening more since you moved into the house.

It’s a bad fucking time to have quit drinking.

You’d been sent by the board. Something about Nathan taking “tortured genius” a slice too literally. Something about him being in isolation too long and needing another human around in the compound.

Well, that’s not technically true, is it? The shit all started when he opted to get social, after all.

Fucking Caleb.

Before that, he was doing just fine.

Nathan doesn’t like it at all - having you here. Being watched. Observed. Having someone monitoring his actions. Waiting for him to either fuck up or prove himself.

Ironic really, considering where he kept Ava. The experiments he ran on her.

She’d probably find it poetic, if she could truly understand such a concept.

At the thought of her, Nathan physically shudders, and reaches for an old vest to haphazardly mop the excess sweat from his skin. Then, he balls up a change of clothes and tracks nude to his wet room, feeling relief as the luke warm water sluices over his skin.

He watches himself in the mirror as he stands there naked. It’s not a vanity thing - at least not any longer. These days, he examines the way his form has changed since it happened. He lost some of his muscle and bulk during recovery, whilst unable to exercise, his arms slightly smaller and his abs softer. His stomach a little more rounded.

There’s also the puckered scar, of course - that permanent reminder of where he was skewered through the chest like a piece of kebab meat.

His gaze travels up over his body, until his eyes settle on his still haunted face. He doesn’t have his glasses on, and somewhere between the blurred vision, misted mirror, clouding steam and sluicing water, his reflected face distorts. It transforms - for the briefest of moments - into her.

Still amped with adrenalin from his harsh awakening, this briefest flash sends a surge of panic zipping through Nathan’s chest, his heartbeat racing so hard he can feel the pounding of blood in his ears.

Fuck, he curses, reaching his arms out to brace himself against the shower wall above him, his body trembling and his head dipping down between the cradle of his broad shoulders as his legs threaten to buckle.

He turns the water cold, until it is practically glacial and thundering on to the back of his neck, subduing this spiking heat.

She really did a fucking number on me, didn’t she?

It’s true though.

Ava is haunting him. When he sleeps - and at other times too.

Nathan didn’t know robots could do that. Didn’t know they could spawn ghosts.

Nathan doesn’t believe in ghosts, of course… but he does believe in trauma and its effect on the brain. He at least concedes that it is natural to continue to feel afraid; but this?

Being dogged by the spectre of her taps into Nathan’s deepest insecurities.

After all, there is nothing a genius fears more than doubting his own mind.

Nothing a God fears more than his own mortality.

And the man? Turns out, there is nothing he fears more now, than dying alone.

With a ragged breath, Nathan towels off and pulls on his grey sweatpants, tugging on his black zip-up hoody over his bare chest. And then, keen not to return to his damp, tangled sheets, he tracks towards the kitchen - mainly for want of any more favourable option.

Of course, he had returned to the compound after The Incident. Something about that many fibre optic cables being a bitch to lay down. Sunk cost fallacy and all that - too much already invested.

But it possibly wasn’t the best choice for his recovery.

Nathan has certainly gotten more used to walking down that hallway since he returned from the hospital, and yet he still finds himself holding his breath until he is free of it. Still finds his pace is just a little faster as he passes through. His gaze deliberately averted from that spot.

Once, you’d found him lying in it.

Lying in that exact spot, his body arranged like a crime scene photo, his eyes closed.

Hey, it’s hardly his least healthy coping mechanism, is it?

What in the fuck are you doing, Nathan?

Re-enacting my death, obviously.

Uh-Kay…. A beat. A devious smile. Shall I get some popcorn?

Absurd as it was, he had laughed. Laughed for the first time since it happened, and, with an extended hand, you had helped him up off the floor.

Still, now that he’s alone, he does not dwell in the corridor, colder and darker as it is without your light in it, and he tries not to think about your face or hers as he pads to the kitchen.

When he arrives though, he bypasses it entirely - heading out on to the decking, the crisp night air soothing his hot skin.

He wants to be outside.

There are too many ghosts in his house now.

He has tried to shake it. Tried to desensitise himself to Ava’s face. Spent longer than strictly necessary poring over footage of her.

He built her. Shouldn’t that take the fear out of things? Not to mention the fact Ava’s face was simply a composite of some manipulable nerd’s wank bank browsing history.

Fucking Caleb.

Still, once Nathan had looked her in the eyes and seen a rage that was all too human, things seemed a hell of a lot different.

Nathan crosses to the punchbag on the deck -lit by creeping dawn- on instinct, or out of habit, or maybe some combination of the two, his unease riling him enough to sock some punches at its midsection. Right at the equivalent site of his corporeal puncture.

He punches so hard that the skin on his knuckle splits, but Nathan doesn’t stop. He throws punch after punch until his hands are scathed and bloodied, and a trail of spit hanging from the corner of his mouth. Until he hugs the bag - the closest thing he has to a warm body to hold - and slides down it, coming limply to his knees, wiping his face on his sleeve.

He stays there, dead eyed and still for some time, the pain in his hands raw and singing. Unpleasant, but better. Better than what he was feeling, and worse all at once.

He considers his tired, cumbersome body, and contemplates remaking the world one more time. Uploading his mind into a machine or some shit, so that he doesn’t have to contend with the fragility and failings of his own existence.

He stays there, until some motion in the interior of the compound causes the light and shadows to dance differently over him, and he looks up to see your figure there, cast in a soft halo of yellowed light.

He tips his head up slightly, opening his mouth as though he might cry out to you for help, but no sound comes out - only a thin, dry croak.

So, instead, Nathan watches you for a moment, moving seamlessly around his kitchen as though it is your own. Maybe it is - more yours than his now.

Observing you like this, through the tall, cinematic windows, it is as though he peers in on another world entirely. Something less resembling a nightmare.

Lighter than that. Something more like a good dream, albeit a good dream that Nathan cannot be part of. One he can only ever watch, from the outside looking in, always fated as he is to be on the other side of the glass.

Truth be told, you haunt him too. You represent everything he could have and yet doesn’t deserve.

You appear in his nightmares and his dreams, in various terrifying and beautiful incarnations. Many variations of which his therapist would have a field day with, he’s sure - or, she would, if he’d ever fucking call her.

When you first arrived here, he was plagued by grotesque visions of you. Grotesque visions of the skin being peeled back from your body. Sometimes, circuitry beneath, and other times, muscle and bone. Sometimes, Ava’s face was buried beneath the chilling slip of your fleshy mask.

Sometimes it is a better dream. Sometimes you save him. Sometimes he saves you.

Sometimes it is a good dream. Ava isn’t there at all. But the good dreams never seem to last for long. 

Sometimes you kill him, and sometimes...

The glass door slides open.

“Reenacting your own death again, are you?” you tease, though not unkindly, interrupting the spiral of Nathan’s incessant thoughts.

A lump forming instantly in his throat, Nathan swallows thickly, and looks up at you helplessly with a thin, joyless smile. He snorts as though it’s funny, but it really isn’t. “Over and fucking over.” 

You nod once, and, without hesitation, you extend your hand towards him. Your gaze cuts through him as you search his face and he feels suddenly see-through, as if he’s about to be hit with some Shyamalan-esque twist. Was he the ghost all along? Did he die here after all?

If so, is this purgatory because Ava is here too, or heaven, because you are?

Christ. So fucking schmaltzy, Bateman.

After hesitating, Nathan takes your hand and you yank him to his feet, drawing him inside, through the looking glass.

The room seems warm on the other side. It feels… safe.

“What happened?” you ask, as you look down at your joined hands, your thumb painting a smear of red across his split knuckles. 

You mean now. What happened now, but Nathan’s mind harks back further than that. In his mind, everything is connected. Every thing threaded to another. This one smear of blood to that weeping flower of red.

The thought -the thoughts, all of them- halt him in place, his feet firmly planting on the ground. Nathan’s hand clenches tightly around yours as though it is a lifeline, as he is cast adrift on this familiar crimson tide, his face growing increasingly angular and stern.

“She...” He swallows, unable to complete that precise thought, his eyes dropping down to his feet.

You turn your body towards Nathan as he croaks, still not letting go.

Your eyes flitting around his face, attempting to search his eyes, you tentatively step closer, sliding your palms slowly over his tense shoulders, feeling them rise with an uneven, stuttered breath as you do so.

He’s so tired. He’s so very, very tired.

And it happens all at once on the exhale.

Suddenly, your arms are tugging him closer, and his face is contorting as a violent smattering of tears beads in his long lashes. You are encasing his body in your embrace and rubbing circles into his back as his buzzed head sags all too willingly toward the junction of your shoulder, your fingers splaying along the smooth flesh at the nape of his neck and pads dancing over the gentle prickle of his hair. You are shushing and soothing and reassuring and squeezing and smoothing and cradling and Nathan can feel it. Can feel his heart race in his chest and…

Finally.

Finally, his heart is not pounding because he is reliving his death.

It is pounding because he feels alive again.

When was the last time he cried, even? The last time someone really hugged him? He doesn’t remember the last time. The serendipitous combination of Nathan willing to be vulnerable, and another being willing to hold space for his pain is an all too rare thing.

There’s a reason -or several - he’s so emotionally constipated, after all.

Fuck. I’m taking a huge emotional shit right now.

Nathan remains in the welcome circumference of your arms longer than is strictly necessary - until the tear trails over the bridge of his nose begin to feel cloying. Until his breaths steady, and until his thoughts and ego creep back in. Until he notices the way his hands are clasped at your waist like claws, fingers sinking into your softness, and he thinks to release you.

Then, he leans away, a weight on his brow making his expression stern.

He waits for you to judge him, another swallow trailing thickly down his throat.

However, your eyes are kind and level, dancing with soft concern. Not with judgement or satisfaction or pity, or with anything he fears.

It is refreshing not to feel so afraid.

Finally.

“She…” Nathan begins again, finally finding courage. All at once his eyebrows shoot up towards his hairline. “She fucking stabbed me.”

You take his words in. You listen.

His “reveal” is simple. Plain and factual. A little indignant. Kinda salty. It’s not overly emotional, or articulate.

But it is enough.

Your eyes narrow, and you nod slowly, trying to understand the true meaning beneath his words.

You even reach up to cup Nathan’s face, his springy beard a cushion beneath your gentle palm as you hold him. “Yeah, genius,” you tease, with a tentative, lopsided smile, dropping your arm all too suddenly, perhaps as you catch yourself. “I got that from context.”

In response, Nathan chucks air from between his teeth, bringing his hand up to comb through his beard - perhaps to obscure his involuntary smile, or perhaps chasing your tender touch, the impression of it left warm on his cheek.

As he brings his hand up, your brows draw together, and you hook his bloodied paw delicately in yours, examining the wound, and leading him gingerly across to the couch as though his whole being might be hurting along with it.

It is.

You order him to stay put while you fetch the first aid kit, and then, in stages, Nathan watches you with fascination as you painstakingly clean and tend to his wounds, without ever being asked to.

He watches you carefully swipe the angry red away from his skin, and, to his overactive mind, it’s all connected. This red is one and the same with the flower of blooming red from The Incident.

Ava hurt him then, and she is hurting him now too.

And you…

“Going to tell the board about this?” Nathan asks, his voice weak and scuffed.

You search his eyes, holding your words back for a moment before answering. Then, you launch them on a big breath. “Fuck the board, Nathan. I told those assholes to stick it.”

Nathan blinks in confusion, shaking his head, his hand flourishing emphatically through the air. “Then… what the fuck are you still doing in my house?”

“Well. I’m… here for you,” you admit, sucking in air through your teeth, your voice shrinking. “If you want that.”

Well, that’s news to him.

Welcome news, perhaps?

You’re not watching him at all, are you? Not observing. Not asking him to evidence his humanity. Not waiting to see whether he fucks up or proves himself.

Instead, you’re seeing him. You’re seeing him and you’re not running.

Nathan had begun to think that maybe he was the nightmare. He’d begun to think he might always be haunted.

Always alone. That he might die that way; again.

And now, here you are.

Nathan thinks about that. He could so easily revert to his old ways, in this moment. Of pride and ego and stubborn independence.

But, perhaps those assholes from the board got a few things right - he’ll admit.

Maybe he had been in isolation too long. Maybe he didn’t need to take “tortured genius” quite so literally.

And so, Nathan almost protests. Almost rejects your presence and your comfort and pushes you away. But the truth is, he’s just so… tired. He’s had so many nightmares, and this time, he’d like to be on the other side of the glass. He’d like to step into that dream.

Nathan takes a deep breath, and releases on the exhale. Releases more than air.

He slowly, ever so slowly, shifts towards you on the couch, angling his body until he can safely dip his head towards your lap, his nose pointed in towards your abdomen and his knees curling around you.

“Th.. this okay?” he asks weakly.

You throw your splayed hands up into the air in surprise as the weight of Nathan settles there, but as he curls his arms around your middle and shuffles closer, you ease into it. You snake your fingers in intricate caresses over his head and neck and shoulders.

“Yeah, Nathan. This is okay,” you soothe gently, voice taut with emotion.

You comfort him.

And finally, Nathan does not need to peel your skin back to know what’s underneath.

He knows you’re not a robot, and that, as your kind touch finds him corporeal, that he is not a ghost.

He closes his eyes. And this time, when he next wakes, he knows that whether the dream is bad or better or good, it doesn’t matter. Because you will be there with him.

He wants you with him.

It’s not at all natural to him, to have you around. For the longest time, he didn’t like it. It didn’t come instinctually, and he has formed no familiar habits.

It isn’t easy - he doesn’t make it easy.

But he wants it to be.

And, in your arms, he can finally dream that it will all work out. What’s more; he can dream he deserves it, too.

[justalildumpling]

⇢9:46 PM

pairing: best friend!changmin x reader  genre: angst word count: 0.45k warnings: cursing, manipulative friendship, fake friend, toxic relationship?? note: lol based on true events😳 (also this low-key sucks im so sorry)

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Though he spoke at a normal volume, Changmin’s voice resonated throughout the empty playground. You came to a halt in front of the swing set, your back facing him, lips wavering as you hesitated to speak.

“Y/N,” Changmin spoke once again, but his tone hardened, burying the desperation in his voice. You slowly spun around to face the boy, his eyebrows furrowed yet his eyes carrying a sense of vulnerability.

“I don’t know what you mean.” You replied coldly.

Changmin scoffed, stuffing his hands into his jacket pocket to fish out his phone. He fiddled with the device for a few seconds, jabbing at the buttons rather aggressively until a familiar voice began to sound.

“… How is he still friends with her? After everything I’ve lied about her? She’s so stupid, I never wanted to be friends with her in the first place…”

You could only sigh, though your breath shuttered in the process as his eyes lingered on yours expecting an answer. “Because you wouldn’t of believed me, Changmin.” You murmured, avoiding his gaze, “I didn’t want to ruin our friendship.”

“Instead, you just let her walk all over you?” Changmin fired back, running his hands through his messy locks.

You could only look away biting your lip, holding back the well of tears that had been building up since you had received his call. The two of you remained silent, the wind faintly blowing in the  background breaking the somewhat solemn atmosphere of the playground.

“Y/N,” Changmin mumbled, his voice soft. “I’m sorry. I really am.”

Your name seemed to resonate so naturally from his lips, no presence of the usual playful antics hidden within his tone.

“Why are you sorry?” You whispered, echoing his quiet sincerity.

Changmin remained silent, his lips wavering as if he was contemplating  what to say in response. Anxiety remained tangled in your chest, unable to predict his next words.

“Because I was so ignorant.” He mumbled, a steady stream of liquid trickling down his cheek,  “if only I wasn’t so blind-“

“Changmin,” You softly called out, breaking the distance between the both of you, “it’s not your fault, she’s a good liar.”

You momentarily paused as Changmin crouched on the sandy concrete, cupping his face. It was painful to see him like this, sniffling on the dimly lit playground, and the only thing you could do was embrace him. You could feel him tightening his grasp, nuzzling his head into your shoulders, wetting your shirt in the process.

“It wasn’t just you who was being manipulated.” You murmured, running your fingers through his hair. “I was too, remember? So don't apologise; you did nothing wrong.”

“Thanks Y/N,” You heard him muffle from your shoulder.

Letting out a little giggle you mumble back, “For what?”

“For being there,” He whispered, “Despite how shitty my girlfriend was.”

“Anything for you, Changmin.”

taglist: @deputyjuyeon​

[mypoisonedvine]

Seeing Red | bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x actress!reader (part 8)

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5) (part 6) (part 7)

series summary: bucky used to brag that he didn’t have a celebrity crush, or really care about famous people at all, which is what made him the perfect person to start working for a celebrity like yourself.  except, of course, it’s just his luck that he’d fall for you.

word count: 3k

warnings: smut (semi-public sex), possessiveness (some sexual, some not), jealousy, some fluff and some angst, also some violence (including a very small amount against the reader, proceed with caution), mentions of infidelity in a previous relationship

a/n: oh y’all thought it was gonna be smooth sailing from here on out? lol

You didn’t want to abandon Bucky to do carpetside interviews, but he refused to get anywhere near a hot mic so you let him go while you walked over to a reporter you recognized; she’d been nice before, probably would be again this time, so you were a little relieved to see her tonight.

She introduced you to the camera and you were slightly spaced out until she turned to you and got your attention again.  “So, you’ve been making a lot of headlines lately for your new relationship— what’s the scoop?  How’s it going?” she asked playfully, pushing the microphone into your face.

“Uh, great,” you breamed, “he’s my date tonight and he seems to have disappeared to…” you turned around to look for him.  “Oh, he’s talking to... is that... Laurence Fishburne?”

“James, is that his name?” she prompted, making you focus your attention back on the interview.

“Um, yeah,” you nodded, the name sounding a bit foreign, “legally, but he goes mostly by his nickname Bucky.”

“Aw, that’s cute,” she smiled.  “He’s, uh…” her eyes widened a bit and you laughed.

“Yeah, he is,” you smirked.  “I assume by that facial expression you mean ‘crazy hot.’”

“I mean, in the politest way possible… yeah,” she giggled.

“Yeah, no, don’t pretend not to notice for my sake, cause, yeah, it’s… apparent.”

“Apparently he was your driver first?” she pressed.

“Yes!” you beamed, and then heard the way it sounded and backpedaled slightly.  “I promise that’s not why I hired him.  I actually didn’t meet him before he was on my team, but, I mean, I wasn’t mad to have some eye candy in the front seat.”

“Eye candy, huh?”

“But he’s so much more than that, that’s the thing,” you explained.  “We became good friends first, because he’s so smart and funny and kind and… I mean, I know he looks tough, and he is, but he’s really very sensitive underneath the slightly intimidating exterior.”

“Hard shell, soft center, sweet— he really does sound like candy!”

“Indeed,” you nodded.  “Gotta run but it was nice to chat!”

You dashed over to Bucky and clung onto his arm.  “Oh, hey, we were just talking about you,” he beamed.

“Loved you in After Midnight,” Mr. Fishburne smiled and even you were totally starstruck.

“Oh, wow, thanks, I loved you in… everything…” you trailed off, internally scolding yourself for the vague and useless compliment.  He was about to respond but was pulled away by some member of his team, giving you and Bucky a quick wave as he began a carpet-side interview.

“That was Laurence Fishburne, wasn’t it.” Bucky mumbled to you in a stunned monotone.  

“Yes, what were you doing talking to him?” you asked, amazed at his bravery to approach such a huge star.

“He came up to me, to congratulate me on… on dating you, I guess…”

“Or he mixed you up with Brad Pitt,” you shrugged.

“Yeah, if Brad Pitt lost all his money, spent a decade in the desert, went loco and buzzed all his hair off,” Bucky rolled his eyes.

“Oh come on, you look great,” you soothed him, straightening his tie.  “Wanna go take some pictures?”

“I’m a little scared,” he admitted with a shy smile.

“It’s easy, just give them that sexy brooding look you do so well.”

Bucky smirked pridefully.  “You think so?”

“Totally.  You’re a natural,” you assured.

You tugged his arm and guided him to the carpet, letting him lead the way (or look like he was leading the way) as you found a clear spot and noticed how the cameras instantly flashed faster and brighter.  Photographers called your name to get your attention, and you waved and smiled and pulled Bucky closer.  The feeling of his arm around your waist was warm and comforting, and you hoped holding you had the same effect for him.

“Where are you looking?” you asked.

“At you,” he answered.

“Bucky,” you giggled, “you’re supposed to look at the cameras!”

“I honestly can’t, it’s blinding,” he frowned.

“Here,” you sighed, pointing out into the darkness just above the sea of flashing lights.  “Look out there.”

“I can’t see anything!”

“I know, but, look as if there was something there to look at, trust me, it helps.”

You adjusted slightly a few times, turning a little to show off the low back of your dress.  You almost gasped when Bucky held your face and kissed you suddenly, but you were happy to melt into it even as you heard the cameras flash even more aggressively, some whoops and hollers coming from the crowd on and off the carpet.

He pulled back and you wanted to chase him for more but you realized it wasn’t the right time.  

“Let’s go inside,” you offered, guiding him the rest of the way down the carpet— mainly because you were afraid you’d end up jumping his bones right here in front of everyone.

He nodded and followed close by, arm resting on your shoulder the whole time, and just as you saw one of your friends and thought you might want to go over and introduce her to Bucky, you saw who she was talking to.

Sam.  

Seeing him always made your heart stop.  At first, it was because you were starstruck by him, in awe of his talent, amazed that you were going to be working with someone you admired so much.  Then it was because you had fallen for him and he had gladly swept you off your feet, bringing you into a whirlwind romance that at the time had felt like the only thing that mattered.  But since the break-up, and now, it was something else.  Fear wasn’t the word, it’s not like you were afraid of him in a literal sense, but there was this anxiety, this tenseness to seeing him.  It always brought back memories— the best and the worst, all at once.  Nights laughing together, sharing secrets, stealing glances and touches and kisses; nights spent alone staring at a phone that never rang.  Limbs tangled together between the sheets, that warm brown skin encompassing and surrounding yours; laying side by side in a bed that isn’t empty but is still plenty cold, seeing the way he angles his phone away from you and wishing you had the strength to just leave because you already knew what he was doing.  The first time you said ‘I love you.’  The first time he said ‘it won’t happen again.’

“You alright?” Bucky asked, tearing you from your thoughts.  You looked away and met Bucky’s gaze, hoping he either hadn’t seen your ex or at least hadn’t recognized him.  

“Yeah, I’m great,” you answered quickly, “let’s go get some drinks maybe?  And then I need to show you off to some people.”

“Show me off?” he scoffed.

“Yeah, why did you think I brought you here, really?” you winked.

“Hey, if we’re showing each other off, does that mean you’ll come to my next high school reunion?”

//

You’d been antsy ever since the two of you had come inside; it was obvious from the way you were clinging so much closer to him, and yet it was clear that your mind was a million miles away.

“Hey, it’s starting to wrap up, wanna head out soon?” you asked, trying to act casual, but he saw the way your eyes were darting up to where Sam Wilson was mingling and he knew it wasn’t about getting home early.  Did you really think he wouldn’t notice that you’d seen him?

“Whatever you wanna do,” he shrugged.

“Okay, could you bring the car around for me then?  And I’ll meet you outside?” you offered.  “I should say hi and bye to a few people.”

“Sure,” he agreed, starting to walk away after giving you a quick kiss on the cheek.

And he really did try to do what he said he was going to, but the further away he walked, the more he glanced back to watch you walk across the room, the harder it was to just let it go.  He knew you were going to talk to him, and before he really even decided to do anything about it he found himself circling back around the room, following you.  

He thought he’d lost you when he turned a corner and you were gone, but then he heard voices from a doorway and cracked it open slightly to see you inside with a few other people, nobody he recognized although one of them he’d definitely seen in something before.

He sighed with relief, about to turn and go get the car like he said he would, but then Sam Wilson just had to magically materialize out of thin air as he stepped up behind you and tapped your shoulder.

“Sam!” you blurted out, spinning to face him with wide eyes.

“Hey,” he greeted, acting all suave and shit, making Bucky’s blood boil.  “You look great.”

“Oh, thanks,” you mumbled, “you too.”

“You’ve been all over the internet lately, making quite the splash,” he recalled with a contemplative nod.  “You and this new boytoy you’ve got.”

“I think the word you’re looking for is boyfriend,” you corrected sternly.  

“Honey,” he scoffed as he rolled his eyes.  Bucky couldn’t decide if it was worse to hear him call you a pet name in earnest or with the derogatory tone that he currently had.  “Everybody knows you go through these guys like potato chips.  Especially when they’re not famous— how many PAs did you hook up with on your last set, huh?”

“I don’t roll like that anymore,” you denied.

“That’s not what Jake Friedman says,” Sam smirked.  It actually took Bucky a moment to remember that that was the guy you’d… entertained in the backseat of your car, or maybe it was more that he had entertained you; you seemed to tense up when Sam mentioned him, as did Bucky.  “I mean, sure, he’s not crew, but he’s not famous the way you are.  The way we are.  And neither is your new guy.  He doesn’t ‘get it’, does he?  He doesn’t get what it’s like.  Has he already started freaking out about all the hate online?”

Bucky regretted that he’d ever said anything about that; if he’d known it would come around to prove Sam Wilson right about something, he wouldn’t have done it.  “No,” you lied.

“Well, he will,” Sam assured you, stepping a little closer to you and letting his fingers languidly brush over your arm.  “I made a mistake before, letting you go.”

“Damn right,” you hissed as you pulled away from him.

“But I realized that, and now I’m wondering why we aren’t giving the people what they want.”

“That’s what I never understood about you,” you frowned.  “It’s always about other people with you.  It’s never about you, and it was never about me.”

“But it is about you,” he explained, “and me: us.  You’re forgetting how good we were together.”

You shook your head.  “I was single for years and you never called.  Now you’re all over me with all these regrets about ending it?  Get a grip, Sam.  This is about you wanting what you can’t have.”

“Can’t have?” he repeated incredulously.  “Baby,” he purred— and Bucky decided it was definitely worse to hear him call you that in earnest.  “You know you’re always gonna be mine.”

As you started to shiver, Sam’s arms slipping around your back and grabbing your waist, Bucky felt like he had lost control of his body.  He was watching himself from far away as he stormed across the room, nearly knocking a few people over on the way, and shoved Sam off of you and onto the ground.

“Bucky!” you yelped.  “Bucky, stop!”

“You’d better watch your hands, Wilson, before they get somewhere they’re not supposed to be,” Bucky growled, ignoring you completely even as you helplessly tugged at his suit.  

“Jesus,” Sam spat, “the fuck is wrong with you?”

“What are you doing?” you asked Bucky, irate and confused as you stared up at him with a furrowed brow.  He grabbed your hand and guided you out of the room and down the hall, barely managing to drag you into a random bathroom before he started tearing at your dress, leaving rough bites and kisses down your neck as you gasped and moaned softly.  

“Mine,” he mumbled against your skin, “all mine.  Did you forget?”

“No,” you sighed, “I could never…”

“That’s not what it looked like,” he sneered, hiking up your long skirt to run his fingers over your skin and expose the delicate, lacy panties you were wearing. 

“Bucky, please,” you sighed, rubbing your hips up against his leg, riding his thigh shamelessly.

“What’s got you so worked up, baby?  Is it me, or him?” he asked darkly.

“You, baby, just you, nobody else— I’m yours,” you assured him feverishly, “I’m all yours, please, I need you.”

“Yeah?” he breathed, fumbling with his belt and fly as he pulled his growing cock from his suit pants.  “You need it that bad?”

“Please,” you sobbed, “fuck me.”

He pulled your underwear aside and quickly shoved into you, groaning at the feeling of your walls stretching to welcome him.  “Fuck, angel, so tight,” he sighed, knowing how much little praises drove you crazy.

“Bucky,” you sighed, “oh my god… harder, please— n-need you deeper…”

His hips moved back only to slam back against yours, making you whimper; he smiled when he felt your leg wrap around his waist and try to hold him inside, but he couldn’t slow down now, not when he needed this so bad.

He sucked on your neck as he kept thrusting into you, your wetness coating his cock so thoroughly that he slid right home every time.  It was clear that he was hitting your g-spot from how you moaned with each thrust, your spongy channel pulsing and tightening in rhythmic patterns.

Overcome with the need to assert his, for lack of a better word, ownership over you, he found himself reaching up to hold your throat— not quite in the way to choke you, just to remind you that he could, if he wanted to.

“Did he ever make you come like this?” he asked with a gravelly whisper, lips right against your ear as he tightened his hand around your neck slightly.

“No,” you shook your head, “nobody has.”

“Nobody’s ever loved you this good but me, is that it?  Nobody else has ever fucked you like this?”

“Just you, Bucky, please don’t stop— I’m so close…”

“Do you think they can hear you out in the hallway?  Say my name when you come, princess, just in case they can— I want them to know who’s making you feel this good.”

“Bucky,” you whined, chanting it over and over with a few ‘yes’s and ‘fuck’s interspersed occasionally.  He thrusted faster and harder as he felt his own orgasm building; he needed to come inside you and claim you again, mark you as his one more time, and the flexing of your walls was only egging him on.

“I know you’re close, baby, just let go,” he whispered against your ear, “come for me, just like that, you’re doing so good— fuck, so good for me…”

You whimpered and clutched at his shoulders, a gush of wetness and a final, strong tightening of your inner muscles signaling that you’d reached your peak.  He couldn’t hold back any longer when he saw (and felt) that, groaning as he began to release thick streams of come into you.

The absolute second your afterglow began to fade, you pushed him off of you and grimaced as you adjusted your panties and dress.  "The fuck is wrong with you?"

"Wh— what?" he stammered, breathless and confused.  "What did I do?  Was I not supposed to come inside?"

You gaped at him in shock.  "Do you really not realize what you did?  Bucky, you assaulted my ex-boyfriend."

"I— he'll be fine," he dismissed, "he was putting his hands on you, what was I supposed to do, just let him do it?"

"You were supposed to let me handle it," you hissed.  "You were supposed to be pulling the car around and not spying on me!"

"Spying?!  I was protecting you."

"You shoved him hard enough to knock him over, Bucky, that's not okay."

"Hold on," he shook his head in disbelief, "so you're mad at me, when we just had sex?!  Why didn't you say something before?"

"Just cause it's hot doesn't mean it's okay," you explained, a little embarrassed.

"Tell me something," he frowned, "what is this—" he motioned to the space between the two of you— "to you?  Cause it kinda seems like I think we're boyfriend and girlfriend, and you think—"

"What?  What do I think?" you challenged.  "Go ahead, tell me."

"You think it's just a sex thing."

"Oh my god," you rolled your eyes.

"Well, what am I supposed to think when you get off on me dealing with your ex, and then tell me it's this big terrible thing?"

A sick idea clawed its way out of the back of Bucky's mind: was Sam right about her?  Was Sam right about us?

You crossed your arms and huffed, but didn't respond.

"Was everything that just happened just a fuckin' kink for you or something?  Cause I meant every goddamn word," he growled.

You sighed, like you weren't taking it seriously— like you weren't taking him seriously.  His fist tightened at his side involuntarily.  He'd never felt so used, so ignored; or, at least, he never expected it from you.  "We'll talk about this later," you dismissed quickly.  "Let's just go back there and put on a happy face, okay?"

"Oh, so you can let another guy feel you up?  Sounds like a fucking blast," he hissed.

"Fuck you," you snarled as you pushed him aside to leave the bathroom.

He didn't remember grabbing you, he didn't remember twisting your arm as he pulled you back.  He didn't remember you crying out, trying to wrench yourself away, clawing at his grip on you.  All he remembered was you looking up at him with watery eyes, expression twisted in fear.

"Bucky, you're hurting me," you whimpered weakly, and only then did he notice his metal hand was holding your wrist.  When he let go, he already saw a mark forming in the shape of his hand as you grabbed your freed wrist to rub the damaged flesh.

"I'm sorry—" he began to whisper, but you were already gone.

[i-need-entertainment]

Haikyuu!! Boys getting stuck places and having to ask you for help

Characters: Akaashi, Washio, Konoha, Kita, Suna, Ushijima, Yahaba, Iwaizumi, Futakuchi, Daishou, Numai and Iizuna

**Today has been pretty bad, but my sister, @foodacoochie gave me this idea and it made me giggle and inspired🥺🥺 thanks dude💙**

Warnings: Drugs in Washio’s but they’re for a surgery and being used responsibly and for pain, just the boys getting stuck and not being able to get out of places/things lol

Akaashi Keiji:

Akaashi had been over at your house, you guys were ‘chilling’ and what not, just wasting the Saturday away.

Your family had recently done some renovations on your house, and one of those renovations was changing all of the door nobs.

Your mom had called you downstairs to come talk to your grandmother on the phone.

You knew that you’d be on the phone for a while, so you told Akaashi to do whatever until you got back. You had been gone for 5 minutes when Akaashi needed to use the bathroom.

Luckily, you had one connected to your room!

He walked in the door, shutting it behind him before he froze at the small ‘click’ he heard.

Whipping around he immediately tried the door nob, only to groan when he realized it was locked.

From the outside.

You see, you had insisted on putting the door nob on yourself, but when you did so, you had managed to put the lock on the wrong side of the door.

And when you showed him what you did, he could distinctly remember you locking the *then open* door.

So as soon as he shut it, it locked.

He sighed as he shook his head. He had also distinctly remembered you telling him it would be at the very least 30 minutes before your grandmother would let you go, so he was going to be here awhile.

He did his business then sat on the edge of the bathtub, sitting and waiting until you came back upstairs.

When you came back up to your bedroom, you were surprised to not see Akaashi sitting on your bed where you had left him. 

You softly called his name before hearing him sigh and a defeated sounding ‘in here’ from your bathroom.

You raised an eyebrow before trying the door nob, slapping a hand over your mouth when you realized you had locked the door.

Unable to hold in your giggles, you unlocked the door, almost snorting at the deadpan look your boyfriend gave you.

Washio Tatsuki: 

**he may seem out of character, but it’s because he just got his wisdom teeth out, and as someone who has recently had that done, I know that for some people their personalities do a 180 switch**

Washio had just had his wisdom teeth removed.

At first his mom was going to take him home, but she had to go into work, so you offered to take care of him and take him home from his surgery.

When they walked Washio out into the waiting room, you hurriedly walked over to him, because as soon as the nurses let him go, he started to go down. Giggling when you struggled to hold him up.

Now, keep in mind, Washio is a big guy. He’s 6′2 with a broad build and lots of muscle, so he’s not exactly light.

Seeing as he had just had a major surgery, he was very doped up on drugs, and seeing Washio drugged up was nothing short of hilarious.

He was very clingy and very giggly, laughing at anything he found remotely amusing. A night and day difference from his usually calm and stoic demeanor. 

After you somehow managed to get him in the car, you began to drive him back to his house.

You got to his house and pulled into the drive way.

Before you could help him out of the car, you had to make sure he had a clear path to the couch where he would be sitting.

You had left the keys in the ignition and the air conditioning on because it was a hot day, and let’s face it, he wasn’t going anywhere.

Walking back out to the car you went to open his door, only for the handle not to budge.

Your brows furrowed as you tried to open it, looking to the inside of the door only to see all of the doors locked.

...uh oh..

You knocked on the glass, gaining the attention of a very drowsy looking Washio who just lazily waved when he saw you.

You, who had no way to actually get to him, started frantically pointing to the unlock button, him looking at you like you had grown 3 heads.

He finally tried the door handle, only to find it didn’t open.

You could faintly make out the words ‘i’m stuck’, when he realized he was ‘stuck in the car’.

You watched as he grew more and more frustrated with the door not opening.

You were pointing to the unlock button, him then pressing every button except for the unlock button.

Thankfully, he pressed the window button, rolling it down so you could reach your hand in and unlock the door, finally being able to help him inside.

Konoha Akinori:

Not everyone knows this about your boyfriend, but he is very competitive.

He just so happens to have a younger sister, who is also very competitive.

On this particular day you had been over at his house, his sister had been in the living room with you guys when a movie about dancing or whatever came on.

Konoha jokingly scoffed when the ballerina did the splits, stating that “I could do that” while you rolled your eyes, but his sister laughed, “Yeah okay boomer.” 

Glaring Konoha turned towards his sister, who simply narrowed her eyes back at him, “What was that?” She stood her ground, you nervously watching from the sidelines.

“Boomer, and I stand by it. You have the flexibility of an 80 year old man.” He narrowed his eyes at her before he laughed, standing up and walking to the middle of the floor.

Without any warning he, albeit slowly, fell into the splits, cringing when he got like 5 inches away, entire body shaking.

“s-see?” His sister was laughing as he stayed there, high pitched sounds of pain escaping him.

He, finding himself unable to stand or move for that matter, continued to suffer, heavily contemplating every decision he had ever made.

“y/N, hELp”

Kita Shinsuke:

Kita was very responsible, so you never had to worry about him getting himself into silly situations he couldn’t get himself out of.

But, everyone has their moments.

You and Kita were spending the day with his grandmother!

You guys had gone through old photo books, and made some desserts, now she wanted to teach you and Kita how to finger knit!

It seemed easy enough, and in no time you had gotten the hang of it and were on your way.

Kita however, was having a little more trouble.

He had gotten how to wrap it around his fingers and how to pull it but...

Somewhere along with way, he messed up.

And he messed up bad.

He didn’t really know how it happened, but before he was aware of it his fingers were caught in a tangled web of yarn, somehow he managed to knot both of his hands together, eye brows furrowed as he looked down to his hands.

You held in your laughter when you saw him, hopelessly caught in strings, as he tried to figure out how to get out of them.

It took 20 minutes and both you and granny to release him from his self-made prison.

He stuck to a different activity after that.

Suna Rintaro:

You had a big project coming up, but your boyfriend did not, and wanted to hang out with you.

You, who also wanted to hang out with him, let him as long as he let you work.

He promised he would cause no such distraction and be like a fly on the wall.

That doesn’t mean you believed him, but it was nice he made an effort.

Anyway, after just under an hour he got bored just scrolling through instagram.

So, he got up from his position on your bed and sauntered over to your vanity where he sat.

You didn’t pay him much mind, he was 16 so it’s not like you had to babysit him.

Er- you shouldn’t have to babysit him.

Fiddling around with the things on your desk, he stumbled across the small dish you kept your rings in.

There was one ring in particular that really stuck out to him.

It had a silver band and a dark blue gem, it was really pretty. He remembered you saying you didn’t wear it often, but he couldn’t remember why so he just shrugged and slipped it on his left middle finger.

He had been holding his hand up, looking at it, cause it really was a pretty ring.

All was fine, all was nice, until he tried to remove the ring. Then, some problems were presented.

The most prevalent of those problems being the ring was stuck, like really stuck.

And the second being he remembered why you didn’t wear the ring a lot, it was a size too small, for you.

So it was much too small for him.

Claiming defeat he called your name, defeatedly holding up his hand, and cringing as you called his name.

Ushijima Wakatoshi:

The team had finished practice and were fooling around in the locker room, making stupid bets and doing stupid things

Underestimating just how competitive (and curious) their captain was, Tendo and Yamagata bet 25 dollars Ushijima couldn’t get into a locker, Kawanishi and Shirabu each bet 35 dollars saying he could, and Reon bet 45 saying he would get stuck.

Being genuinely curious what would happen, and being heavily encouraged by his teammates, Semi found an empty locker, rigging it open before ushering the ace in.

It was quite small, and not a comfortable experience at all, but he was also never one to turn down a challenge.

So after some major manipulation and hitting his head, he got fully into the locker.

Tendo and Yamagata forked over their 25 dollars, imploring Reon to do the same before Reon shook his head.

“Let’s see if he can get out before I pay my money.”

All eyes were back on the ace, whose eye brows were furrowed in...concern.

He was stuck.

Bad.

Not wanting to face the wrath of the demon coach, they called the next best candidate to deal with this kind of situation, Ushijima’s girlfriend, you.

Your jaw dropped when Semi told you that your boyfriend was stuck in a locker because...hOw?!?!

Reon made a lot of money that day~

Yahaba Shigeru:

He had been over at your house and the two of you were taking a nap in your bed.

You had both since woken up, and were now on your phones.

You, still very sleepy, weren’t paying attention and before you or Yahaba could stop it your phone had slipped down the crack between your bed and the wall.

You groaned as you dragged your hand down your face, Yahaba, being the wonderful boyfriend he is, offered to get it for you.

He laid on his side as you used his phone to shine the flashlight down the side of your bed.

He stuck his arm down, but it was just barely too short.

Without realizing it he had slipped to the very small edge of the bed, inevitably slipping off only to be caught between the wall and your bed.

He groaned as he felt like he had been stuck to a wooden plank, unable to move any parts of his body.

You felt terrible, seeing as he had offered to get your phone for you and had proceeded to get himself stuck.

You grabbed his arm and shifted yourself to the opposite side of your bed, and after lots of tugging and sounds of pain from your boyfriend, you were able to roll him back onto the bed.

You rolled your eyes with a smile as he waved your phone in the air, a dorky smile on his lips as he had, despite being put in a very uncomfortable situation, managed to get your phone.

Iwaizumi Hajime:

Hanamaki had bought this bag of ‘tricks’ from the dollar store, for fun and what not.

One of the things that had been in there was a Chinese finger trap.

He brought a few of the things into his bag, hoping to trick at least one of the members.

But most of all he wanted to trick Iwaizumi, if nothing else he thought it would be funny.

So, when the Seijoh 3rd years met for lunch in the club room, and you, Iwiazumi’s girlfriend had of course joined them, he decided then was the perfect time to try.

“Yo, Iwaizumi! C’mere!” Iwaizumi, recognizing the teasing tone in Hanamaki’s voice, was instantly on guard, expecting something crazy to be suggested.

“What?” Hanamaki smiled, pulling the finger trap out of his bag, Iwaizumi looked at it, raising an eyebrow at the wing spiker.

“I heard no one has ever been able to put two fingers in this at the same time without getting trapped.” Iwaizumi rolled his eyes, grabbing the trap from Hanamaki and mindlessly stuck on finger in each end of the trap.

Just a few seconds prior, you had looked over Hanamaki’s shoulder, recognizing the trap, but before you could warn your dear boyfriend, he had already stuck his fingers in the trap, and pulled it, tight.

“Hajime...do you know what that is?” He shook his head, eyebrows furrowing when he tried to pull his fingers out, only to have the trap get tighter. 

“Hajime, it’s a Chinese finger trap!!” Iwaizumi’s eyes widened before he turned his head to glare at Hanamaki, curses ready on his tongue as Hanamaki and Matsukawa just about died of laughter, Kunimi snickering in the background.

It took 4 people and approximately 7 minutes to free him from the trap.

Futakuchi Kenji: **in tribute to my dear sister who locked herself out of her bathroom today🥰**

You and Futakuchi had gone to the beach with your family for the weekend, and the two of you were relaxing on the beach.

The beach had these lounge chairs, the ones that fold?

Well, you and Futakuchi were getting everything set up, he had just finished setting up the umbrella and you had laid out a large towel and set the bags down.

You guys both sat down and enjoyed the warm sun, and relaxed to the sound of the waves crashing on the shore.

About an hour later, Futakuchi decided he wanted a drink, and after asking what you wanted he left on his way.

Unknown to him, these chairs were really tricky.

They were good chairs and really comfortable, but you had to be careful how you sat in them.

After about 10 minutes he returned with the drinks, setting them down on the small cooler.

He went to sit on the lounge chair, expect that he more like flopped onto it, and before he could react the thing had snapped in two, you sitting up after hearing your boyfriend yelp.

You turned your head to see your boyfriend, squished in half by the lounge chair, with no signs of being freed.

After recruiting the help of your dad and a few kind passerby's, you were eventually able to free him of the lounge chair...

but that was after you took a picture and sent it to Aone.

Daishou Suguru:

You and Daishou had been on a date, nothing too fancy, just strolling around the city and what not.

You were just talking about random things when your eye spotted an empty park nearby.

You smirked as you nodded towards it, dragging your boyfriend towards it, you knew he couldn’t resist you if he tried.

You two were just fooling around, him chasing you around and you evading him like you both were 5 and it was ‘boys vs girls’ tag.

You had ran away from him when you spotted the set of toddler swings, y’know, those ones with the leg holes?

Yeah, those ones~

Anyway, you decided not to get in one because ✨danger✨

But your boyfriend took that as a challenge.

Without warning he grabbed the chains and jumped, sliding his legs through the very small holes and sinking into the seat.

You slapped his arm as you laughed, hand on your hip as you judgmentally looked at him.

“You’re gonna get stuck, there’s no way you’re getting out of that by yourself.”

He rolled his eyes, smirk still present on his face as he started to slowly swing back and forth.

You shook your head, shifting your weight to one leg as your arms crossed in front of your chest.

“Okay then, now try to get out.”

He rolled his eyes at your tone, grabbing the chains as he tried to pull himself up.

Only to bring the seat with him.

Your eyes widened as it set in, his smirk disappearing and his own eyes widening when he realized it as well.

He was stuck.

And at that moment, some of the Nekoma boys volleyball team members just happened to be passing by.

Kuroo’s laugh rang throughout the park as you desperately tried to free your boyfriend.

Numai Kazuma:

You and Numai were hanging out at your house, it was Halloween night and you guys were just gonna chill out and watch some movies and eat candy.

But before that, you guys were going to take your younger brother out trick or treating!

Your little brother decided he wanted to be a cowboy, and his outfit came with a pair of plastic handcuffs.

You were helping your little brother get his costume on while Numai messed around with the handcuffs.

He had latched one side onto the table leg, mindlessly scrolling through his phone as he fiddled with the cuffs.

He doesn’t know what came over him, but without thinking he latched the empty side of the handcuffs onto his wrist, tightly onto his wrist.

He didn’t think much of it, until it sunk in.

Had he really just done that??

You were fixing your brother’s costume when you heard your boyfriend call your name.

“Uh, Y/n?” You hummed, continuing to work on his costume.

“Where’s the key to the handcuffs?” 

“Oh, they got thrown away with the package, that’s why I set them..over...there..Kazuma.”

You turned around to see him nervously smiling while his hand was indeed handcuffed to the coffee table.

You blanched as you remembered the trash had already been taken out, so they key was gone.

Glaring at your boyfriend you sighed, shaking your head before you started to laugh, hiding your mouth as you continued to laugh at his misfortune.

Eventually you did help him.

It took 3 tries and 4 different tools, but with the help of your dad you were able to get his wrist free of the handcuffs.

Iizuna Tsukasa:

Iizuna has 2 sisters.

1 older sister, and 1 younger sister (ayyyee middle children let’s go-)

You just so happened to be very good friends with your boyfriends sisters, and you guys often had a lot of fun together~

One of the wats you guys had fun was messing with your boyfriend.

Todays scheme: Dress Tsukasa up as a girl. Simply because you could.

And seeing as he lost a bet to you the other day, he couldn’t refuse it.

Luckily, his older sister had a dress she accidentally ordered in a size too big, it would still be snug on him, but it would do the job.

His older sister did his make up, you worked on his outfit as the youngest fixed his hair, him sitting through the whole ordeal trying not to take away too much trauma from it.

Leaving the room so he could change, you all patiently waited as he got changed into the dress, laughing at the pained noises he made as he slipped on the dress and shoes.

You couldn’t help the laugh that burst out of you as your boyfriend stumbled out of the room, heels way too small and dress uncomfortably tight.

You all snapped the pictures you needed and he sacrificed what was left of his dignity.

Waving off you three, he hobbled back into his room, kicking off the heels and attempting to pull the dress over his head.

I say attempting because as he tried to move his arms to grab it he made a very disturbing realization.

He couldn’t grab the hem of the dress...

he couldn’t even reach behind him.

He was stuck.

And the only ‘help’ he had was his sisters and his girlfriend.