#i don't understand lighting so this is pretty shitty | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

twisted-wonderland-but-gayer · 7 months ago

Text

A Well Deserved Grudge

Summary: You still hate them after their overblot

Notes: GN Yuu. Some based off some stuff from the light novel. Yuu is pretty evil in Jamils. General edginess that comes with angst

Based on this old post abt Yuu with scars

Riddle Rosehearts

A familiar click of heels has you on edge. As they approach you turn around to face him, messing with some of the bandages around your neck from your last encounter. There stood Riddle, his confident stance dropping the second he meets your eyes.

His usual piercing gaze filled with anxiety as the words he so wanted to say— needed to say— died on his tongue. He's such a coward without a rule book. He's even more cowardly under your scrutiny.

"What?” You deadpan at him and Riddle swallows, looking at the bandages on your neck and arms. He then looks at your face, covered in a few scratches from rose bushes.

“... I… am here to… ” His voice shook toward the end and he took a breath to steady himself. “I'm sorry Yuu. I didn't mean to hurt you.”

You merely raised a brow and fully turned to him. Riddle could see the gash along your neck that peeked through some of the bandages. A grim reminder on how his magic failed during his overblot. The expression you had on your face as the collar around your neck continued to tighten and cut into you haunts him.

“You’re apologizing?” A flicker of determination flashes in Riddle's eyes as he nods.

“Yes. I know it's not enough but… I'm sorry.” The dullness of your eyes reminds the dormleader that this was far from enough to smooth things over.

“I do not forgive you.” He should have expected that, yet he winces still. What is he supposed to do in this scenario? What else does he say? There is no rule, no guide to what he has done. Deuce and Ace said that he needs to make things right, but how?

“... I understand. If there's anything I can do to earn your forgiveness, please–”

“I don't think there's anything you could do that makes this okay.” Your voice is dull as you pull at the bandages on your neck. “Shouldn't you be in the headmage's office fighting your expulsion?”

It was true. Crowley was to judge whether or not he was to be expelled for his actions. It scared him. “I… I am but–”

“Then go. We both know you won't be kicked out– Crowley doesn't have a backbone and your bitch of a mother will make sure you stay in. You want to ‘earn’ my forgiveness? Stay the hell away from me.”

Riddle grits his teeth and closes his fist tighter. Emotions of all kinds surge through him. He's confused, he's guilty, he's angry, he's lost.

Most of all, he's scared. Scared of your gaze, scared of how you hold yourself. Your eyes remind him so much of the ones above him he tries to please and they're boring into him with such disapproval.

“I don't want to see you around, get your shitty tantrums in check. Just because you lose your head doesn't mean others have to. Just go.”

By now you've turned away and started walking off. Riddle could only watch, unable to find the strength to move or say anything. It was probably for the better. He needs to go to the Headmage.

Jamil Viper

He hates this feeling. You have forgiven him, though and through, water under the bridge and he hates it. He hates how you shrug it off. He hates that you don't hate him. He hates this guilt.

He mind controlled you. You. A magicless and defenseless human who was already helping him. You who are in a position so similar to his. You who had no way to fight back. He kidnapped you, keeping you in Scarabia for days regardless of your own plans. If it weren't for your dorm ghosts feeding the fire fairies, Crowley would have cut off your food for the week.

Then he tried to kill you, and had the audacity to be angry at you for it. To add even more salt into the wound you were so kind with him afterwards. You didn’t seem to take it seriously. Take him seriously. Your attitude reminds him so much of Kalim which makes this even worse.

He hates your smile. He hates your attitude. He hates the way you have to walk because of your injuries. He hates seeing glimpses of the wounds on your abdomen from him.

Yet another reminder of his failures. How he hates someone that's not entirely to blame. How he hates someone that's overly nice. He avoids your gaze so often he doesn't notice the glints of satisfaction within it.

Vil Schoenheit

He could only stare at the prefect within the mirror. Their gaze so fixated on themselves and their new appearance they paid no mind to the hospital bed they should be laying in. He wants to lecture them to sit, lay back down and to stop sitting up, but he's sure they would break down if he did.

Blackened veins run along your body, your skin reddened and inflamed in random areas. Even with all the magical remedies the doctors have given you, the black tar like substance runs through you still. “Good going Vil. Really fucked that one up huh?”

Vil’s eyes met yours in the mirror, he could see your face steel itself before you turned to him. Your eyes stood out against the inky scrawls of venom coursing through you. They were so cold, so angry.

“... I know this is something I may never be able to amend…” Vil starts, taking a breath. Fuck. Years of acting and hard work are lost on him. It is hard to keep strong when seeing how badly your own childishness, your own selfishness hurt someone this badly.

“I want to apologize. I know this is far from enough. I plan to not only cover any costs that may occur in your recovery, but to also offer my support in any way I can during your recovery.”

Your gaze only hardens. "Bare minimum I guess…” You sniffle a bit as words slur. It was clear you were still inebriated. You weren't going to be the most logical right now, but that's fine. He will say this apology a million times over if it would make it right.

“... If there is anything you need..."

“Go away.” You sniffle again, wiping away tears. “Just leave.” Vil swallows and shuts his eyes for a moment. “I understand.”

As he turns to leave the drugs in your system really start to kick in. “You… You really are a villain.” The words come out crude and harsh, no doubt you are speaking to hurt him. Yet as you turned away he could see your face in the mirror.

Scared. You were scared of him. You were scared and truly believed in what you were saying. And you weren't wrong. He is a villian.

Malleus Draconia

A mighty dragon places his glass heart in the hands of a human without their knowledge, and is enraged when the human breaks it. Except here Malleus broke it himself to protect himself from the possibility of the human hurting him first. Now he holds the shards of what's left and sees them stained not by his blood, but by yours.

A position he put onto you, his only friend. He does not even know if he has the right to call you that anymore. Not after his little stunt. Children of men do not deserve to be locked away in the dark, no matter how beautiful you were in it. They were to be free. Even if it hurt him. You and him could have been free together.

He looks at your expression. It still holds no fear, no anxiety, just as foolishly brave you were when he first met you. Instead it holds disappointment. Such a pathetic emotion that he would smite off anyone else if it wasn't you.

“... You're really selfish, you know that?” You mutter and look away from him, as if not wanting to believe the words coming out of your own mouth. “Were we really friends or was I just some doll to you? Some obsession?”

A sniffle. “I wanted to be your friend…” Malleus hasn't the words to respond. He can only open his mouth then close it. “I know. I'm sorry. You made me so happy I wanted you all to myself. It's not an excuse, but when I thought I would be losing you, it was too much for me. I made… A very rash decision.”

There's silence. More deafening than the silence at his birthday parties growing up. “Is there any possibility you could forgive me?” It was a daring question, one he was afraid to know the answer to.

“... I don't know, Tsuno. I think… I think I need some time to think about it.” You turn away from him and his heart sinks, the pet name does nothing to soothe his nerves.

He remembers all the times he's told you how his kind are born cruel and you would tell him that his actions have shown just how kind he could be. That him learning to be nice and overcoming his nature is more meaningful than anyone who was born that way.

And he ruined that. He may not be able to choose his nature but he can choose his actions. He chose to hurt you.

#not requests #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #malleus draconia #vil shoenheit #malleus draconia x reader #vil shoenheit x reader #jamil viper #jamil viper x reader #riddle rosehearts #riddle rosehearts x reader #angst

2K notes · View notes

nemesyaaa · 3 months ago

Text

ASYLUM AU ! dark!patient!rafe x new!nurse!reader

summary ; everybody warned you about this patient, but you wanted to give him a chance as the new little nurse of the asylum. you just have to feed him nothing more, how can it turn bad ? or maybe your deep hidden secret was that you expected this... ? to be alone for some minutes with him.

warnings : dark content. knife play. violence. smut. sick behavior. mentions of threats. asylum place. mean!rafe. oral (m.receiving.). fear enthousiast. mentions of spit. dubcon. manipulation. agressive behavior. choking. size kink. slight of corruption. rafe being a menace as always.minors DNI. be careful with the warnings. maybe some mistakes too, i'm too dumb.

author's note : i wrote this with a big headache so please, it's maybe a little shitty and i'm sorry. this is strongly inspired by the show " ratched " and not the season of ahs. ngl at first, i wanted to make a mildred!reader but with rafe, it's a bit complicated. anyways !

“i don’t think it’s a good idea to send y/n to deal with rafe. she's still new in the asylum....and rafe? you know how he is, it's not a secret. . he could hurt her. ” said the man who worked with you and obviously who had a crush on you. you didn’t know if it was jealousy or a real sign of affection.

you had arrived at the asylum a week ago, and everyone had been nice to you, the patients and the workers. that's why you were very intrigued by rafe, because you knew he had a difficult connection with all the people here, and only a strict set of people could interact with him. you wanted to know more about him so badly because of the mystery around him. and maybe you were curious about what he looked like after what everyone was saying about this guy.

“shut up, man ! i think it’s a very good idea. ” your colleague said, discreetly giving you a knife, with a smile on her face.

“is he that dangerous? ” you replied, raising an eyebrow.

“you’re so innocent, y/n! ”

“i’m not. it's just that i don't understand the use of this knife. there is enough security i think. ”

nevermind, you were definitely ready. you had waited for this day since you arrived here. it was annoying to see everyone treating you like a baby and making you sit there doing nothing or like an intern giving you the worst chores.

“believe me, you’ll need it. it’s an asylum, everyone’s mad, and you know what? this one guy. " she whispered so close to your ear. "he's the worst of all." and she was gone, leaving you with a nice shiver in your stressed body.

you should hate this place, the nightmares and the problems that haunted these walls. but that's exactly what you came for, ever since you were heard that rafe cameron had been interned in this place, you had done everything to be transferred there he had killed an incalculable number of people, without mercy, without remorse, without regrets and what killed all these people, this sentence. this sadness, made you so curious.

how could a man be so cold and cruel? you needed to know it, see it and feel it.

but you finally saw the light. you had hidden the knife in your lace garter underneath your pretty blue nurse uniform. it was quite short, the skirt going up just below your butt, it was as indecent as it was seductive.

you had to go through several back doors, and deal with security. the guard had given you some advice, and asked you to be careful. you replied politely “can you leave me alone with my patient? i wish it were both of us so as not to rush him. you know he's already in a lot of pain, he's very mad. you don't want to make his situation worse, do you? i ask for the respect of his privacy. ” you had convinced him with your devotion, and kind smile. and you had entered the devil's room without really knowing what you were getting yourself into.

“another new girl? ” a deep, masculine voice had said through the bars of a cell, you could hear the ringing of handcuffs.

“you gotta love scaring them away, rafe cameron. ”

“wrong, sweetheart but nice try. i prefer when they stay. it's more fun when they realize they're stuck with me. ”

“do you realize how sick you are, rafe? ” you allowed yourself to be familiar with him while gathering his meal out of the cart to bring to him.

“you’ll be the one to tell me, y/n. after all, that’s what you’re here for. ” he had no shame, no restraint, and you could feel that he was trying to make you lose control, to upset you, to get on your nerves, and to make you crazy. he was just testing you.

“how do you know my first name? ”

“oh i think your boyfriend likes to say your name a lot when he comes to see me. ”

“i don’t have a boyfriend. ”

you approached to finally discover his face. you expected a monster, a misshapen man, a dark creature but it was none of that. he was a boy with a charming face, a neat hairstyle, and magnificent features. he looked so good physically but you also knew that mental illnesses couldn't be seen on someone's face. but it was as if his own beauty romanticized his perfect madness. reconnecting with reality, you glared away.

“open your mouth. ” you ordered.

with such a sick smile, he replied. “ i really love when my little nurses come to feed me. don't make me waste anything. there's nothing i can't eat here. ” he responded while looking at you, his eyes scanning you, from your breasts compressed in your uniform, to the tiny dress who covered your quivering body.

“i can remove your handcuffs if you promise to behave.”

“ what else, sweetheart? you're the boss, here. ”

“promise me. ”

“you really want to trust me? i wouldn't do that in your place. ” you could tell he was clearly having fun with you. that the more you wasted your time, the more he gained.

“promise me. ”

“ promised. ” he responded gently but there was something so wrong, so bad in his voice.

you had undone him from his handcuffs, and he had grabbed you, holding your body harshly against the bar. you felt pain when your back crushed the cold metal. his hand had circled your neck, completely locking it with his fingers.

“sorry sweetheart, i’m really not good at keeping my promises. and i can't keep my hands to myself with such a beautiful girl in my company, that would be disrespectful, don't you think? don't look at me with those eyes, you wished for it. i can even say that you manifested it because i can't believe you're that stupid or maybe you are. but in this case, let me make you even more senseless. ”

you were short of air and rafe had noticed. you wondered if he was going to kill you, but you remembered that he liked to play. in a false movement, you dropped your knife.

“it’s your lucky day! you won't be the only toy in the party, doll. ”

he had removed his hand from your mouth and while you were trying to catch your breath, he had picked up the knife. he had hooked one of your hands to the bars with the handcuffs. there were tears on your cheeks when the object approached your arm.

“you know you would be even prettier if you let me draw a smile on your face? ”

you shook your head to defend him from doing that. you didn’t want him to hurt you, or feel that sharp thing on you.

“can i give you a new haircut then? wouldn't you like to have shorter hair? don't make those eyes, this knife must be useful to us. your body is betraying you, you should hate it for giving me so many bad ideas. ”

he had cut the buttons of your dress with the knife, revealing your bra with the smooth, shiny surface. “ such a gorgeous thing with pretty parts. he had dragged your uniform to the floor. “you have pretty eyes, too bad they hate me so much. ”

you turned your head when he tried to lick your face, but he didn’t like it. he had violently grabbed your jaw, slamming it against the metal iron, and forcing you to look at him. “i really tried to be nice....ok no, maybe i'm lying, i never tried to be nice to you but i was patient. and now i’m pissed. and guess who's going to have to fix it?”

he licked the side of your cheek, before biting the corner of your mouth, his teeth sunk in your bottom lip. while he sucked his favorite part of your face, he slided his tongue in you, making a rough contact with your throat, his saliva mixed with yours. you moaned against him, freaking out when a bead of blood came out in your widen drippin slit. “ swallow it, sweetheart. 's not gonna kill you. ”. he kissed you intensely, forcing you to swallow the blood and the spit that dropped in your moth, his hand around your hips, pressing his fingers into your skin. he loved to watch the fear in your glossy eyes, watching the fall of your boundaries because of him. you were so nervous, shaking with tense.

“ get on your fucking knees, doll. do something good for me, only once in your fucking useless life.”

surely because of his firm tone and his temperament but above all because of the knife at your throat that threatened you, you had listened to him. you were facing his boner. “i think you’ve already done that. you just have to do it again with me. ” with a speed that had terrified you, he had squeezed your cheeks in his hand, digging them with his fingers. “be careful, sweetheart. i'm not as nice as your boyfriend, dare to put your teeth in, even if it's just a molar, and i can promise you that i would also allow myself to damage you. so, if you want to keep that face intact, you know what you have to do. ”

“ you hurt me!”

“yes, and i love it, doll. the more you complain, the more i will do it.”

suddenly tired of your stupidities, he forced your hands to unzip his pants, and remove his boxers. he was huge. not your usual type. he had opened your mouth which you refused to open with the knife. “try to bite me, and it will be worse. ”

he had pushed his hard cock into your mouth, and without waiting, started making you suck. his large cock occupied your tongue, you breathed hard as he shoved every inch deep, his hand was wrapped around your hair in a brutal grip, tugging fiercely every time you tried to take a break. but the rythm was unbearable, his slippery leaking tip was hitting the back of your throat, and his bulge seemed to grow every time you took him in your mouth. you could feel the drool dripping around his cock, the way your saliva pooled. your lips were swollen and wet, completely abused. his balls sopping wet with your spittle, lazily slapping in a pornographic sound. your mascara was running, your eyes were twinkling.

you could hear him enjoying the show of your downfall because he was the only master of it, his grunts becoming one of the sounds in the room, along with your muffled cries, the smack of his balls in the air, the dull buzzing in your head. everything was happening so fast. “stop. ” he had removed his fat length from your mouth, pressed the tip against your tears before making you suck again. “is my dick better with your flavor, sweetheart? ” you didn’t know if you really hated him. the thing that disgusted you about him, this madness, this attitude, also excited you. you felt strongly giddy.

your panties were immerged, the wetness flowed between your thighs. “ you're supposed to take care of me, but it looks like you need someone to take care of you. ”

you sucked back and forth, your tongue rolled on his big girth. he was painfully hard, and your throat started to hurts. he pushed himself deeper in your mouth, smirking everytime you were about to pass out. when he had finally had enough, he pulled back, taking his penis in his hands, you had chased the trickle of drool between the two of you and sniffling. your cheeks were wet with tears and saliva, everything was mixed in a mess. “ look like your sick patient is feeding you, how do you feel about this, little nurse ? what about your job ? too bad, there are no cameras here, but also pretty lucky for the two of us, nobody can disturb. but soon, the guard security’s gonna check on you because they care a lot about your safety. but i'm curious now, what they will think if they found you without your uniform, but mostly, what will they think about me inside their favorite little nurse ? especially, your sweet boyfriend. it would be so disappointed to see the one he love is not interested because she prefered to be fucked by his ennemy. seems like, you can hurt a lot of people too, sweetheart. ”

you understood why he was locked up differently from the others. he was so manipulative. but also aggressive. he had torn your underwear with the knife. you shivered as you felt the cold metal surface on your skin. you were literally scared, your pulse had accelerated, your breathing too. you weren't a fan of knives but the problem was that the more afraid you were, the more you motivated him to want to hurt you.

“relax” he had said as he placed the knife back against your collarbones, pressing it against your bone. then slided it down your neck, the metal tip lightly stinging your skin. “you know i can’t kill you, doll. i can only torture you. “

that didn't reassure you at all, you preferred that he killed you. as if he had read your mind, he replied. “you should be more scared of what i can do to you than what the knife could. i will hurt you better. ”

he had moved the knife to your stomach, then to your wet pussy. “there’s more than just fear from what i see. and you can't deny it. " he continued, sliding the sharp object at your entrance.

“ please, rafe ! not in…i-i-i-m begging you ! ”

“ you beg ? so sweet. but do you know what ? i don't care, honey. ”

“ you…i'm sure…i mean, you're not that sick ! please…”

“ if you say please once again, i'm pretty sure i can cum between your legs. ”

the tip of his knife had caressed the inside of your sloppy cunt. “don’t worry, i won’t go any further. ” he withdrew the knife, and licked the blade. “i fear, everything is sweet about you, pretty nurse. now, spread those legs for me. ”

“we can't do that, the guard is right next door! he can hear everything and imagine if he comes” you started to panic. with a mocking tone, he replied “for the time, i can handle it but for the noise, it's on you, sweetheart. do you think you can do that ? don't answer, i don't fucking care at all because i will fuck you in any case. ”

“you shouldn't do that, it's really bad, you might regret it! ” you tried to stop him, but the knife hit your throat. “don't try to escape something that's going to happen, it's a waste of time. and i hate it. ” he lost his patience and opened your legs with one hand, she was big and strong enough to control you on her own. he had slightly moistened his cock before going inside of you.

“ one move, one scream or one fucking bite and i will rip your throat, got it ? ”

you nodded, and his thrusts started to get rougher, he pounded you deep in your stupid little cunt, hitting the spot with no mercy. you wanted to shout but the knife was clearly too close to do anything stupid. you bitten your own lips, a drop of blood dripped in your mouth. he smacked your ass a couple of times to the point you felt the bruises and the pain quickly. his teeth were on your shoulder, leaving marks. it was painful, but you don't wanted to be a crybaby. you held back your tears, while he crushed you against the metal.

he stretched you to your limits and you barely held back a cry. he smiled before covering your mouth with your underwear. his body was sweaty, you could see the sweat sheen his body. your body slammed against his, and against the bar. he had pushed your thong between your lips but also his fingers which you sucked with enormous devotion, you licked every inch of his skin, you covered them with drool, you made them completely soaked. he eventually added a lot of his spit. you must have looked like nothing at all. you were even less credible in your role of nurse. he was no more groans as he reached your first orgasm, but more desperate whispers, quick back and forth in your uncontrollably leaked swollen cunt, as his eyes were all over your face. his dick was harder because of seeing you with his fingers and your panties stuffing perfectly your slutty mouth.

he lifted up your leg to watch himself getting buried inside your walls. “ i'm afraid that now you can't deny that this pussy is mine. ” he said, removing your thong from your mouth.

“ i'm not y-yours...rafe ! ”

“ i fear it will be against your will then, sweetheart because your fucking cunt really like me. ”

he grabbed your face, forced you to look at your messy part. “ still deny, fucking slut ? you really want me to pull that knife inside. ”

again, you shook your head.

“say it. you know your words. ”

“this pussy is yours, only yours! ”

he plowed you for a long moment, and you can't even think anymore. you were too dumb, too dizzy. your head spinned, and your body only moved because of him pounding retlessenly. you squirted a lot, you splashed a little on him but it was nothing unlike him. when he came, it had gushed into your pussy, the thick and white loads filled you, while his sweaty and heavy balls emptied inside you.

“ sweetheart, you're really my favorite nurse. don't forget to tell the director how mean i was to you. ”

“ why did you cum in me ? ”

“ for any inconveniences, you can tell the director. she will be glad to know how i fuck all her little nurses. and you're not an exception. ”

“ what if i'm pregnant ? ”

“ you're so naive. pregnant or not, nobody's gonna forgive you for that sin. ”

“ i'm leaving. ”

“ don't forget the knife, you know how to play with it now. ”

“ i hope you will stay here forever.”

“ you can pray for it, sweetheart but i fear god doesn't listen to sinners. ”

i wanted to tysm @dark-fics-4-you and @bunnyrafe for helped me with this one. <333

746 notes · View notes

ryukatters · 1 year ago

Text

9:18 PM — s. geto ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊

content: fluff, friends to lovers, sort of self-ship coded, reader dates (shitty) men

pairing: suguru geto x gn! reader

a/n: got suguru on da brain rn. my first work for him! hello geto nation how we doin?? also i had to fight my autocorrect bc it kept changing geto to ghetto 😔

“Surely, you must lack respect for yourself.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me," your best friend scoffs.

It's not uncommon for you to end up at Suguru's doorstep, teary-eyed and sputtering after another failed attempt at romance. But he's hardly ever this mean.

"What's so great about these guys? Tell me."

"They're...nice."

He sighs out your name in exasperation. He never uses that tone on you, ever. "You're literally miles out of their league. And they can't even afford to pay for both of your meals. How many times have you had to pick up the check for you and your date?”

You open your mouth to retort but wisely keep it shut. Suguru merely raises an eyebrow.

"Exactly. How can someone be ugly and broke? Then still have the audacity to reject you? Pick a struggle."

"Well excuse me, mister 'I don't need dating apps because everyone just comes to me.' Not everyone is as fortunate as you are when it comes to romantic prospects."

You're starting to question why you even came here in the first place. Indignation fills you as you slump down on Geto's couch, utterly defeated.

He sits down next to you, placing a gentle hand on your knee with an even gentler look in his eyes. Your best friend's always been so kind, so thoughtful. That, paired with the fact that he's pretty easy on the eyes makes it easy to understand why he has suitors flocking from left and right.

"Hey," he calls out, giving your knee a light squeeze. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

"'s fine."

"No, it's not. It was insensitive of me.”

You know what else isn't fine? Geto wants to ask. The fact that you don't know what kind of guy you deserve. He wills himself to keep quiet, for both of your sakes.

"Maybe the universe is trying to tell you something. That you have some karmic lessons you need to learn and all that. You say that all the time."

"I don't know. Maybe...maybe love just isn't in the cards for me, Suguru. I mean, what else could all of this mean?"

You sniffle, and Suguru can feel his heart break into a million little pieces. He wants nothing more than to scoop up the shards and present them to you, in hopes that you can somehow press them back together to make it whole again. The same way you always come running back to him, the same way you trust him to mend your own heart time after time with gentle praise and reassurance.

"Maybe every heartbreak is just bringing you closer to 'the one,’" he offers, the hand that was previously on your knee now rubbing comforting circles on your back.

"Do you honestly believe in that shit, Suguru?" He doesn't blame you for being so cynical. He would be too, he thinks.

"I do," he professes without missing a single beat.

"How?" Not why, but how? How could he possibly understand? How would he know if fate's thrown his so-called one and only his way?

"Because I've felt it," he hums.

“You… have?” You’re not sure why you feel so disappointed all of a sudden. Why should you care if your best friend’s in love with someone?

“Why do you feel the need to look so far for love?” He counters.

“I…”

“Why don’t you try looking at what’s right in front of you for a change?”

That’s about as far as Suguru’s willing to lay it out for you— he hopes you can read in between the lines. Call it insurance— a way for him to spare his own feelings in case you decide he’s unworthy of your affection and toss him to the side of the road.

“Suguru, I’m not sure I understand what you’re trying to say…”

Yes, you do. Suguru wants to say. Just think a little harder.

There’s a pregnant pause.

When he realizes that you’re unwilling to take another step forward, he figures he needs to just take the leap. Fuck the insurance. He needs to do as he says and prove to you that the trail of heartbreak behind you is all going to be worth it. Because you have him. Suguru can only hope that his love will be more than enough to heal you from a lifetime's worth of pain.

“Give me a chance,” he whispers, his hands enveloping yours as he brings them up to his lips, pressing a sweet kiss to your knuckles. “Please. I’ll show you how you deserve to be treated, how you deserve to be loved.”

You gasp, unsure how to receive such a confession— especially one from Suguru, nonetheless. The two of you stay frozen for what seems like an eternity. You— afraid, inexperienced with being on the receiving end of anything remotely romantic. Suguru— tense, confession lying heavy in the room. It weighs down his soul with each passing moment he’s not yours.

“Please,” he pleads, feeling the way your hands tremble in his. Or was it the other way around?

Fear begins to gnaw at Suguru’s insides, thoughts of losing you plaguing his mind as he wills himself to stay calm. He wants nothing more than to shrink into himself— until he hears you speak, tone light and teasing.

“Promise you won’t make me pay for our dinner on our first date?”

Suguru allows himself to let out a genuine chuckle, leaning forward to kiss your forehead.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

#suguru at some point probably: alexa play you belong with me (taylor's version)#originally written for g*jo but suguru deserves to be in the spotlight too #kat's writing #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #geto x reader #getou x reader #getou x you #geto x you #suguru x reader #suguru geto x reader #suguru fluff #geto fluff #suguru geto fluff

1K notes · View notes

withleeknow · 6 months ago

Note

Helloooo! I’ve never done a request before so I hope this comes off okay :)

I love the song “flower line” by om shankar, it makes me smile every time. So, I was wondering if you could do a drabble based that.

If not, maybe the prompt: “real smooth, tripping over air”

If you take this request, thank you so much but if not I completely understand 🫶

call it what you want.

pairing: hyunjin x f!reader genre/warnings: strangers to lovers, college au, fluff; some light cursing, very unedited i am half asleep rn lol, italics indicate flashbacks word count: 1.4k note: hi anon! thank you for the request hehehhee. i decided to go with the prompt and also you didn't specify a member so i went with hyunjin, i hope that's okay :) happy reading <33

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

main masterlist / request masterlist / ko-fi

"real smooth, tripping over air."

hyunjin came back to the table and set down two coffees, the content of seungmin's plastic cup spilling over the rim just a little bit when hyunjin pushed the beverage toward him rather aggressively.

"shut up," hyunjin grumbled, covering his face with his hands as he wallowed in his misery. "literally shut the fuck up."

it was burnt into hyunjin's subconscious, the feeling of utter embarrassment when he had quite literally scrambled to stand up after you called out his order number and stumbled as he made his way over to the counter.

this was the fifth time that seungmin had been dragged to the campus cafe where you worked part-time as a barista, just to provide emotional support while hyunjin tried not to chicken out of chatting you up. every time, hyunjin swore today's the day, and every time, he went home with his tail between his legs and a brain that was wiped clean the very second you smiled at him.

seungmin only laughed despite losing a few drops of his coffee to hyunjin's dramatic ass. it was entertaining to see his friend like this, panties all twisted in a bunch over a crush on a cute girl whose number he couldn't even muster up the courage to ask for.

"you're such a pussy," seungmin tutted, shaking his head in disapproving amusement and taking a sip of americano as he looked at hyunjin who seemed like he could have a mental breakdown if even a gust of wind were to breeze past him right now. "it's not like you've never asked for a girl's number before. just do it."

"do you want to broadcast my shame to everyone here? keep your loud ass voice down." hyunjin removed his hands from his face and hunched forward to scold his friend in a half-whisper, even though the cafe was busy that day and it was almost impossible for you to hear him from all the way in the corner and over the lively chatter of the other students filtering in and out of the place. "you don't know what it's like. she might be the prettiest girl i've seen in my entire life. i go stupid every time i look at her."

"to be fair, you go stupid pretty often," seungmin said, which only earned him another murderous glare from across the table. "for real, why am i wasting my time here with you if you're just not gonna do anything? you're not even paying for my coffee. i could be in my room sleeping and saving money right now."

a pathetic whine slipped from hyunjin's lips before he sneaks a glance in your direction, where you were focused on writing down some guy's order by the register. "i don't know what to say!" he groaned, "it's so hard. ughhh."

he remembered the first time he saw you, and it wasn't in this cafe. it was at some lame party that he was forced to attend, where the drinks were shitty and the music was even shittier. he was sipping on cheap beer when he spotted you talking to another girl in the corner of the room, both of whom he'd never seen on campus before. what caught his attention was your easygoing smile and how your mere presence just seemed to pull him in despite the roomful of people separating you. he couldn't look away, and as if you could sense his stare on you, you'd turned your head and met his eyes. you'd sent that same charming smile his way, and hyunjin was enamored for the rest of that evening.

he lost sight of you soon after though, and none of his friends knew who you were. that was that; you were a pretty girl that he saw at a party once, whose name he didn't even know but whose smile he had memorized.

then three weeks later, as though the universe had given him a second chance, he saw you again when he came to the cafe for a quick bite before class. you'd smiled at him the same way you did at the party, and he was tongue tied.

fast forward another month and here he was, with his head in his hands as he agonized for the nth time over what to say to you other than "hi," "one iced americano please," and "thanks."

"just tell her you think she's cute and you'd like her number," seungmin said. "it literally doesn't get more straightforward than that. the worst thing she can say is no."

this was how their last four visits to the cafe went, the conversation always ending with hyunjin neglecting his friend's advice in favor of sneaky glances and a mouth shut tight when he failed to hype himself up enough to utter a few words to you.

"if you don't do it today, you're on your own," seungmin told him when he was only met with silence from hyunjin's end. "i'm not coming back with you again. the coffee isn't even good."

"wait, come on, dude. just... wait. i need to think."

"stop thinking. nothing in that brain of yours is going to help."

"hey!"

"are you gonna do it or not?"

"hold on, i need a plan."

seungmin rolled his eyes before he downed the remaining few sips of his coffee. "you know what? if you don't ask for her number, maybe i'll just do it myself." then he was already coolly standing up and heading in your direction without even looking to see if hyunjin heard him correctly.

"seungmin!" hyunjin called, hurriedly gathering his phone and wallet and scrambling to catch up with his friend in a panic. they both stopped in front of the register, where it was thankfully empty now and no one nearby had to watch hyunjin burn himself to a crisp with embarrassment.

"how can i help you?" you asked, looking at them curiously when hyunjin's eyes flit between you and seungmin in a panic.

"uhm... i.... uh..."

"this is hyunjin." seungmin was the coherent one between the two of them as he clasped a hand on his friend's shoulder with a sly grin. "he thinks you're cute and wants to get your number."

"the end," hyunjin says flatly. "the rest was history. you were there, you know what happened."

"come on, please?" you pout, tugging on his arm as you lean closer to nudge your nose against his cheek. "i've only ever heard it from seungmin and he doesn't tell it like you do."

he glances at you from the side. "what do you want me to tell you? that in that moment i considered running out the door and not stopping until i found the nearest ditch to fall into?"

you laugh, all light and airy and it still makes hyunjin as smitten as he was that afternoon in the cafe. "no, the other part."

"the part where i actually did kinda try to run away and bumped into someone and spilled coffee all over myself? and you had to take me to the backroom to let me borrow someone's shirt?"

this draws another giggle out of you as you recall the moment, when you had been so endeared by him that it was hard to let him go home afterward without your number saved in his phone. "yeah," you say, utter fondness dripping from your voice. "that part."

"that was the most embarrassing day of my life. i made a complete fool of myself."

"you were adorable. it's my core memory of you."

"i'm glad you found my humiliation entertaining."

you roll your eyes half-heartedly before pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek to appease his faux sulk. "we wouldn't be here right now if it weren't for your dramatic overthinking ass that day, would we? unless... you'd rather take it all back."

hyunjin softens in an instance, huffing out a breath as he mumbles bashfully, "i didn't say that..."

"you big baby," you tell him with your lips still ghosting the side of his face. you're so close like this, so tightly pressed up against each other on your couch that you can feel the warmth of his body and the thumps of his heart when you slide your hand over his chest. you give him another peck on the cheek, then you smile against his skin. "happy six-month anniversary."

there's a light blush that rises from his neck until it covers his face in the most beautiful rosy shade. a shy grin, his eyes turning into little crescent moons from the happiness that spreads from his head down to his toes, then hyunjin is smoothly turning over so he could pin you underneath him, where he presses his lips against yours so your smiles could meet.

"happy six months, baby."

#stray kids fic #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #skz fic #skz imagines #skz x reader #skz x you #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin scenarios #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin imagines #hyunjin x you #hwang hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin x you #stray kids #hyunjin #hwang hyunjin

401 notes · View notes

quartz-oc · 10 days ago

Text

》 Cynthia ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ ᡣ𐭩

"Man, that girl is creepy!"

"Yeah and she looks and moves weird too.. Almost like some puppet."

"She's a little too pretty to be a puppet. More like.. Some doll.."

"Do you think she has ball joints like a doll?"

"No idea.."

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Name: Cynthia (Real name: ████████)

Age: 16

Birthday: February 29

Class: 1-A

Club: Sewing and Stitching Club

Height: 174 cm (5'8)

Hobby: Sewing

Homeland: ████

Likes: Pretty things

Dislikes: Things that ruin pretty things

╭┈ • ┈ ୨୧ ┈ • ┈╮

Introduction

Cynthia is an average girl. She loves frills and clothes like an average girl. She loves to dress up and do make up like an average girl. She loves to make friends and hang out like an average girl.

Except she's not.

She doesn't act like an average girl. What is that stiff movement? She doesn't even talk like an average girl. Where is her voice?! I haven't even heard her talk at all! Does she even have a voice? She stares too much. Where is the light in her eyes? She's... well.. a little creepy.

After being sent to NRC from a different world, she's been the talk of the whole school about if she's even a real person.

Did the Headmaster let in a possessed doll? Does she have a condition? Her moves are so robotic. Is she a robot?

Well, the thing is... We don't know! She doesn't say anything! She doesn't even care! Wow!

Personality

Despite her appearance, she tries her best to be kind and generous to the people she wants to be friends with. She's always giving gifts to her hands with things she finds pretty or hand-sewn clothing. Don't ask how she knows their sizes.

She also does not speak so she uses a lot of gestures and hand movements. It is unknown that she has a voice or not.

She doesn't really mind that people spread rumors about her. She kind of uses it to her advantage, making everyone run away if she doesn't like them.

She's very particular about touch. Skin to skin contact absolutely disgusts her and even initiating the touch makes her skin crawl. She only allows touch if she initiates first when she has gloves on.

She treats a lot of her friends or people she likes like delicate glass dolls; like they can break anytime under the slightest of pressure. And I don't mean figuratively. It's literally. Her hugs and small tugs on the sleeve are very gentle and light.

Cynthia also dislikes showing skin so she dresses modestly but fashionably. Because of this, people believe she's hiding her "doll joints" under pretty clothes.

She really adores cute and pretty things. Frilly dresses, cute cat charms, pretty hairstyles, people she likes, small animals, and etc. If anything of those are ruined, she gets scary.

People who ruin pretty things are ugly and should just d̷i̷e̷. That's what she believes. It's honestly such a harsh statement but that's how she thinks. Although, don't worry, she's not that sensitive. Her being that mad only happens to a few people and she understands certain situations.

When she's really mad, she can act very impulsive and her actions get a little creepy at times. Like if you bullied someone she liked, she would follow you home. Oh? You have a stray cat that you take care of when you're on your way to school but you're an actual shitty person? That cat isn't there anymore.

(Don't worry. She gave it to someone who can take care of it. She's not that evil 😭😭 Her goal is to only scare you.)

She doesn't really think of consequences when she's feeling something intense which can lead her into horrible situations.

Small Trivia

• Cynthia hates P.E. because she has to get all sweaty and touch people

• Her favorite color is pink despite herself wearing mainly blue

• Many of the first years had to get used to her staring problem because sometimes she's not seen blinking

• Crowley knows she's from a different world but she won't say which because she literally can't

• She sews Grim so many outfits and he thinks he looks cool in them

• She spoils Grim a lot because he reminds her of something familiar but it's a far memory

• Crewel is impressed by Cynthia's sewing and wishes to teach her more but she always ends up wanting to do her own thing

╰┈ • ┈ ୨୧ ┈ • ┈╯

"I don't even have a voice box! I had to borrow this one.."

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland oc #twisted wonderland ocs #twst #twst oc #twst ocs #twst yuu #cynthia yuu

160 notes · View notes

collaredsoldat · 2 months ago

Text

Winter Soldier Post!HYDRA Headcannons

a/n: I was writing something earlier and it made me want to write this. It's just a random collection of headcannons I have. You bring him home after he escapes HYDRA. You have your hands full. Unedited.

Following the events of the movies, let's pretend you bring Bucky home after CATWS. He's still the soldier. He's still Soldat. And Soldat doesn't speak. In fact he is silent for days. Uttering nothing, not a peep.

Soldat is silent, watchful, wary. He doesn't like being approached too quick. He stays in corners. He stays in small spaces. Being too exposed now makes him feel anxious. He reacts with aggression if he is anxious.

You learn all this.

He also becomes visibly irritated when he feels confused and stressed, which is pretty much constantly.

He needs you to order him around, which sounds harsh but the sudden change of environment and treatment is really confusing for him. He is too fresh from HYDRA to immediately just heal. That's now how it works. This kind of trauma doesn't just go away. This man is so severely mistreated, you aren't even sure where to start.

Simple things like telling him to shower or sleep. Otherwise he stays up for days and refuses to do anything. Free will is such a foreign concept to him.

Re-feeding and giving him nutrients and fluids is a nightmare. Luckily, you had a medic friend who could look at him without the involvement of the government since he was in hiding for now. You got all the supplies you needed, but it was still a hassle. His options were very limited when it came to food. Oatmeal, mashed potatoes, applesauce, things like that. He could barely stomach anything more solid than that.

He sits still for the IVs, but sometimes he doesn't and he puts up a struggle, assuming it is some kind of drug to manipulate him. You just have to stay close and talk to him so he pays more attention to you than what your friend is doing.

He got sick a lot. You had to be careful about that. Too much food made him sick, his body wasn't used to it.

He also was having difficulty remembering you and where he was, the fact that he wasn't undergoing constant brainwashing made all the chemicals go haywire. It made his moods unpredictable. He had aggressive bouts, though he never harmed you badly, he would grab you if you got too close out of instinct and fear.

He often broke down and during these times it was a gamble whether or not he'd let you around him. He felt so pathetic and small and horrible, confused and unsure for the first time in decades. He was used to being mindless besides the orders barked at him. Simple, easy, all he had to do was listen.

But now, things were different. He was no longer being kept in a shitty cell or in an icebox. He wasn't tortured daily, he wasn't taken into rooms where agents were greedy with him. He wasn't hurt. And...it confused him even more.

You notice he sits strange when he does. He doesn't like to sit for long. He says it hurts. He prefers to stand. You don't understand until later, and you do your best to help ease his pain.

He didn't understand why you didn't hurt him. Why you didn't hit him. Sometimes he hit himself when he felt like he deserved it, each time he felt a pit in his stomach when he saw the disapproving look in your eye and listened to the scold that came after. You were gentle...but firm. He could not hurt himself. That made him bad. Disobedient. Disobedient soldiers are punished. It was a cruel cycle that ran in his mind. You had to be the one to stop it.

When he did speak, it was simple Russian phrases. Yes, no, he addressed you as handler, his responses were monotone and recited. He had been trained not to speak. That wasn't what he was supposed to do with his mou-

Enough. The memories are invading again.

You could tell when he zoned out into his episodes, his eyes became glossy and he seemed to become a zombie. You sat him down somewhere quiet and stayed with him. Sometimes he didn't want to be touched, sometimes he let you. But you had to be careful, you never wanted him to be uncomfortable or make things worse.

It was a tender thing. But it was something you were more than happy doing.

After a few weeks he seeks you out more often. He stays close by, he even sits close to you or tries to get your attention. He's still quiet, but he speaks more now. Even in english, which you find a relief. By you you've learned the short Russian phrases he spoke, but it was good he spoke english too.

He starts to hang closer to you, he stays out of his 'hiding spots' in your home and stays around you more often. He sits on the couch beside you, starting to seek you out. It's a positive sign he's growing more comfortable.

He doesn't like being alone for very long. If you have a job, it might be hard for him. You try to get one where you can work from home, otherwise he is very anxious and clingy when you come home from your shift.

The spare bedroom is his, but he often finds himself migrating to your bedroom through the night. He needs your presence, he needs to know he's not alone. The silence is deafening, and knowing your body is beside him is comforting when he sleeps.

Speaking of, he starts off on the floor. It's a little heartbreaking, he sees the bed as a test, an awkward thing he doesn't want to sleep in. So he starts on the floor, then you move the mattress off the bed to the floor, along with some pillows and blankets. That seemed to help condition him to an actual bed before he eventually sleeps in yours with you.

You know recovery and his healing is going to be a long, bumpy road, but you are just happy he sees you as protection and comfort, and his trust is slowly building with you.

Thanks for reading.

Dividers by @/strangergraphics | Images from Pinterest

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #the winter soldier #the winter soldier x reader #winter soldier #winter soldier x reader #james buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #the winter soldier x you #winter soldier x you #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes imagine #captain america the winter soldier #blythewrites⛓

211 notes · View notes

nariism · 1 year ago

Text

come out and haunt me

pair. itoshi sae x ghost!reader

content: fluff, angst/comfort with a happy ending, reader is a ghost, platonic + romantic interactions, strangers to friends (to more?), slight pining

synopsis. sae is 13 years old when he moves to madrid. his temporary apartment is old and cheap, and worst of all it's haunted. but he finds your company better than nothing, even if you do tend to knock all of his belongings over.

wc. 5.7k

You are dead.

As it comes to all mortal humans, you have died. You can't remember when, or how, or why— only that it is your duty to haunt this home, that you are abysmally cold, and that you are dead.

You don't know if you had any last words, what it was like to draw a breath, or how to stop feeling so cold. Cradling yourself somehow makes it worse. But you are dead, so what does it matter if you can't remember?

If you had aspirations and meaning in life, then you suppose you should try to find them in death, too. So you float around empty halls, deliberately bump into things just for the fun of it, and pretend that you aren't dead. It is purposeful enough.

There's a boy who lives with you.

You are dead, and he is alive, yet he seems completely unbothered by your loud, obnoxious presence.

Sae feels more dead than alive.

He is 13 years old when he moves into his temporary home in Madrid. It's old and worn. It is all his parents could afford with Yen in a foreign country.

His new home is despairingly lonely. It makes the heart in his chest sink into the pit of his stomach. He misses Rin. His parents. Japan.

He should be thankful. He doesn't mean to be a brat. But the small apartment is cramped and cold and smells like mildew. He's allergic to something in the walls. His light buzzes horribly when it turns on.

And, well. The place is haunted.

You are a ghost haunting an old, rickety apartment in Madrid.

You've never seen your reflection in the mirror, but you're pretty sure you look scary. There has been others before him— a young couple with a dog; a retired carpenter; a businessman complaining about how shitty work is over the phone. Each and every one of them have left you the same way: screaming, crying, colour drained from their faces and packing their suitcase before you could even say hello.

It's a little lonely, being a ghost. Sometimes you wish you came off a little friendlier. You have no ill intent, you're just bored. Bored and lonely and wishing to know why everyone thinks you're so terrifying.

The boy who lives with you is the first. He's the first to look you dead in the eyes and shrug you off. He's the first to fall asleep knowing your presence is watching. He's the first to leave out a bowl of warm, steaming rice for you even though he seems to know you can't physically eat it.

His company is silent, as is yours. It's better than nothing.

Sae is 13 years and 5 months old when he tells Rin his apartment is haunted.

"A ghost? Seriously?" Rin sounds unimpressed even through the static of the phone call. Take it from the kid who watches horror movies in his spare time. Freak, Sae thinks.

"Seriously. I have a picture."

He can hear his brother pulling his phone away from his ear to look at the image he just sent. The call goes quiet for a moment, and then Rin is scoffing in the microphone again.

"Quit messing with me." The younger Itoshi sighs. "This isn't funny."

Rin is only 11. He lives at home with Mom and Dad. He's not alone right now, in a place where everyone speaks a jumbled language he can't decipher yet.

He doesn't understand that even if Sae isn't being haunted, he shouldn't crush his brother's hopes that someone, or something, is watching over him.

"I'm not," Sae deadpans.

"Yeah, okay, and what does this ghost do, then?" He still sounds skeptical.

"Mostly just knocks over my books and stuff."

From his couch, he watches you bristle in embarrassment and scurry away into the darkness of the hall.

You are some sort of untethered soul, unsure of where your actual body rests. It could be 10 meters from this apartment. It could be in Antarctica, for all you know.

Okay, well, Antarctica is a bit of a reach, but you're certain that your body is somewhere. You wonder what kind of clothes you used to wear; what kind of music you used to listen to; what kind of hairstyle you used to prefer.

You wonder if these things are anything like Sae's.

He's all you have right now. It would be nice if you had some things in common. Maybe you could be friends, if he was ever going to acknowledge you to your face instead of gossiping to his brother.

You watch him quietly from the kitchen table, waiting for your bowl of rice. You must make some kind of face when he instead places a plate of eggs in front of you.

He almost laughs, you think. He hasn't shown any sort of emotion in response to you thus far, so it's hard to tell.

"Coaches told me I have to be stricter about my diet," he says out loud. It's the first words he has ever spoken to you. It's the first words anyone has ever spoken to you.

He eats his bland eggs silently after that remark, eyeing them disdainfully.

You have that in common, at least. You miss your warm bowl of rice.

Sae thinks you are funny.

He's only ever known ghosts to be malicious, benevolent beings. Things stuck in purgatory with no way out, forced to wander the mortal plane and thus turning into baneful monsters. Watching spooky movies with Rin has ingrained this into him— hardwired his brain into giving him goosebumps whenever you're around even though he knows you're harmless.

He has to wonder how anyone could ever find a ghost like you genuinely scary, with your avoidant eyes and that patience while you wait for breakfast.

He doesn't mind doing twice the amount of dishes. Not if it means he doesn't feel alone.

You do silly things, like shoving his belongings over when you want his attention, or sitting on the floor and blowing bone-chillingly cold air into his face when he's taking his midday nap.

He's discovered that your inconsistent corporeal interactions with the world are quite amusing.

"What's your name?" He asks one day over eggs that he's shoving around on his plate.

Silence. Of course.

"Don't have one?"

You shake your head, but really, you don't know. You can't remember.

Sae has never been the talkative type, but for some reason he just can't keep his mouth closed. Being a complete shut-in and not having anyone to talk to outside of his team would do that to him, he guesses. He's thankful that you at least don't seem to have a language barrier when he speaks Japanese.

"Should I name you?"

Your offended expression screams: What am I, a pet?

He just smiles, placing his fork down and observing you carefully. And the name he decides on dances at the tip of his tongue, sounds so sweet coming from his lips.

You can't help but think the name was meant for you, in life or in death.

You like listening to Sae talk.

He has a voice smooth as silk, so charming and boyish. He's young, you think. He told you once that you also looked rather young, and asked you how old you were when you died.

Even if you had an answer for him, it's not like you could have told him.

Sae is famous for his age, you discover one night while watching television with him. You're sitting on the floor and he's on the couch. You cause the TV to frizzle and crack with static but he doesn't shoo you away. Maybe he finds your presence more valuable than the background noise of the screen.

He's in a recording, playing what he calls "football"— light blue uniform, eyes wide with adrenaline, sweat sticking to his forehead and a proud shine in his expression. He isn't smiling by any means (you've also discovered that he rarely does), but you can tell he's happy.

"I'm going to be the greatest striker," he says from the couch. He talks about his dreams a lot, which is apparently what he used to do with Rin, but you don't mind filling in that role temporarily. "I'm going to be the best in the entire world."

You don't know anything about football, but you believe him anyways.

Sae is 14 years old when he gets his first contract payment.

This is his chance, he realizes, to move out of his shitty little apartment and into an actual livable home.

He has to consider if you'll feel lonely, if you even can feel lonely, and if you'll like hanging out with your next housemate, whoever it is that's unlucky enough to have a ghost befall them.

He's getting soft. If it were any other point in his life, Sae would have taken the chance to move out without hesitation. But you've been there for him since day one, kept him enough company — no matter how quiet — for him not to go literally insane.

You're the only thing he has in Madrid that he can come home to right now. You’re the only reason he even comes home at night instead of just sleeping in the locker rooms.

If not him, who else would feed you crappy bland eggs in the morning?

You, football, sleep. You, football, sleep. You, football, sleep. At some point, it became his routine.

"I was thinking of moving out."

Your head tilts to the side. You seem perplexed by his statement.

"Like, leaving. Leaving here."

You blink at him, head tilting the other way. There's a look in your eyes that tells him you understand. There's also a look that tells him it's not your first time being abandoned, left in this terribly lonely, smelly apartment.

"I can never tell what you're thinking," he huffs.

You're still for a moment, just staring at him as if you suddenly can't understand Japanese. But then you get up from the table, walk over to the container of dry rice that's been untouched for so long that it's gathering dust, and knock it over.

"Hey," he scolds sharply, chair screeching as he stands. "I have to clean that, you know?"

You start moving the spilled rice into place. He watches curiously as you sort dry rice into a pile. You don't know any Kanji, he isn't surprised. But you know enough to draw him a universally understood symbol.

When he peers over at the messy counter, he finds himself staring at a giant X. Stay, it means. Don't leave.

That night, when he knows you've retreated into the closet where you seemingly go to sleep, he crumples up the lease for his new place without signing and burns the paper.

It's because he needs to make you eggs tomorrow morning. Only he would know to do that.

"Do ghosts ever have dreams?"

You raise your head from the edge of the bed. You've made it a new habit to protect him in his sleep, from what he can tell. Perching yourself on the floor beside the mattress and resting there, head in your arms, making his sheets cold.

You shake your head. Of course not, he internally smacks himself. What a ridiculous notion.

He rolls himself over onto his side, looking at you from under his duvet. "So when you sleep, you don't see anything?"

Another shake of the head. He isn't sure you're understanding him. There's another pause as he peers at you, and then he sighs, eyes sliding shut.

"Do ghosts ever have dreams?" He asks again, this time emphasizing his words in a different way and hoping you'll answer him the way he wants.

Your eyes shift away for a second, as if pondering. When you look back he's surprised to see that you look... bashful?

You point at him, then at yourself, then shy away again.

You. Me. Friends.

Sae feels silly that it makes his heart ache a little— the sadness carried in your face and a loneliness so powerful he feels it rattling in his own bones.

Well, the two of you have a lot more in common than he thought. How long had you been alone? Was that really all you ever dreamed of? Having a friend?

Suddenly, his doubts about his own dreams feel immeasurably small.

He reaches out to pat your head. His hand goes through you.

Sae is 15 years old when he packs up his belongings for a flight to Japan.

"I'll be back," he promises with a small smile. You believe him. He doesn't lie to you.

You wait patiently at the door for him for two weeks, three days, and sixteen hours. When he comes home, he finds you sitting on the floor like you always do with your head in your knees and a sleepy expression on your face.

He seems colder. More withdrawn, for some reason.

"Miss me?" Sae asks, but he's not even looking at you. He makes his way over to the kitchen and dumps a cup of rice into the cooker, suitcase abandoned at the door unpacked.

You trail behind him curiously, watching him in confusion as he washes it in the sink. He pauses, finally glancing at you before reaching over and dumping a second cup of rice in.

"I stress eat. Don't tell my coach."

The words don't make much sense to you, but you nod anyways.

For the first time in months, he places a bowl of warm rice in front of you. You do as he does, say thanks for the food in your head even though you can't eat, and observe him. You both sit quietly in the dim light of the apartment, moonlight beaming through your single rickety window.

He only gets four bites in before he puts his head in his hands and sobs.

You've never seen someone cry so hard before. Usually, they only do it when they first catch a glimpse of you and flee in terror. You've never known it to be such a painful sound— like a bird singing for the sky but never finding it.

Sae sits there for a long time just crying to himself, not caring that your presence is still watching. It's not like you'd ever judge him or have the voice to speak this secret, anyways.

"Fuck—" he hiccups, wiping up his face. "—Sorry."

You look at him funny. He has no reason to apologize. He's just a kid. A 15 year old kid who needs to stress eat in the solitude of his lonely apartment right now. It makes your chest squeeze; an unfamiliar, horrible feeling that's completely new to you. You wonder if this is what all the anime he watches calls a heart.

By the time he finishes crying, his rice is cold. And when he looks up, his eyes widen. Your lips are trembling and you look like you want to shout at him, but you can't. You are dead. You're a ghost. You can't yell some sense into him, even if you tried.

In the pale moonlight shining into the room, he can see tears illuminated on your cheeks.

Sae is 16 years old when he meets his first partner.

"They're nice," he reassures you as he slicks his bangs up with gel. You shake your head in disapproval and he rolls his eyes. You always liked his bangs down, thinks he looks better that way. "Well, I can't stay single forever."

You scowl at him and swivel on your heel to stubbornly deny his claims. He just laughs.

"You're seriously jealous?"

You shoot him a glare.

"If you really don't like them, you could always scare them away. You are a ghost, aren't you?" He reaches up to pat your head as he always does. And as always, his hand phases through you.

He turns around to fix his hair again, leaning into the mirror to see himself closer.

You're not sure if you even have human features. You can't see them in a reflection, anyways. Even if you did, you're sure they're pretty scary.

You glance at Sae in the reflection. He looks as good as ever, no longer a scrawny little 13 year old kid who eats rice for breakfast every morning. You wonder if his partner is pretty like he is.

He must notice the chill in the air grow ten times colder— a telling sign that your mood is dropping. He turns around to see what has happened, only to find you sulking.

"What?"

You pout, gesturing to the mirror. He looks to the vanity, then to you, and he shakes his head with an exasperated smile.

"I was wondering when you'd ask," he says as if this was a conversation he's been waiting for. And then he talks. Talks more than you've heard in a long time— since he came home from Japan, probably.

He's gotten meaner over the years. He was always a rude little kid, but being pushed around in football must have given him thicker skin and a sharper tongue. You've never known him to be a saint of a human, someone who speaks so eloquently in their descriptions. But here he is now, defying your every expectation like he always does.

He tells you what colour your hair is. Compares the shape of your head to a fruit you can't recall an image of. Gives you a detailed explanation of all your flaws and marks and why he thinks they're so perfect because it proves that you were indeed alive and human at some point.

"You're beautiful," he concludes casually, as if he's not turning the entire world on its head right now.

Silence fills the room as he waits for your response. You don't do anything but gawk at him, and he chuckles.

He doesn't show up to his date that night.

"Your hair got longer," Sae points out one day while he's scrolling through his phone.

Your eyes flutter open from where your head rests on the coffee table. You hadn't even noticed. Can ghosts grow?

"You know, I used to think you'd stay the same forever, but you've been growing up with me. It's cute."

Have you? Is it cute? Are you seriously so tethered to him that you've been unconsciously changing to match him?

Sae puts his phone down at your confusion. "Should I give you a birthday if you're going to grow up?"

You don't know what a birthday is. When he tries to explain it, you're even more perplexed. Ghosts don't have birthdays. They have... deathdays.

He puts a cake in front of you anyways and lets you blow out the candles.

Sae is 17 years old when he gets the eviction notice.

Four years. Four long, hard, unbelievably painful years later, and he's finally being kicked out of his house.

13 year old Sae would have celebrated. All he feels now is despair.

He doesn't tell you. He can't. How can he explain that he won't wake up every morning at 6am sharp to make you eggs? That you won't have someone around who will tell you every little thing that's changed about you from the last day? That you won't be able to doodle him little incomprehensible blobs with dry rice anymore?

He shouldn't care so much. You're not chained to this Earth. You might just disappear once he leaves, inperceptable to anyone else. The thought makes him so sick that he throws up that night. He tells you he ate some bad food.

Sae doesn't want you to feel sad or lonely, but it's not like he can just become a squatter in this place. His dream is to play football, not be thrown into jail.

You wake up one morning, and he's gone.

There isn't a note. There isn't an explanation anywhere to be found. There isn't even a trace of evidence that Itoshi Sae ever lived here.

Well, except for the plate of eggs and bowl of rice sitting on the stove.

You thought you would have been used to being alone by now. For some time, you were used to it. But that was many years ago.

You're not sure how long you've been haunting this apartment in Madrid, nor do you know how much time passes after Sae leaves. The world seems to come to a halt, actually. Without him, what fun is being a ghost?

Now you're just a lost soul like all the others. There isn't anything special about you. You're just the ghost that used to haunt Itoshi Sae and wake him up from his naps.

For the first time in years, you only know one thing. A singular fact that keeps you bound to this world: it's your duty to haunt this home. There is nothing else.

No one moves in after Sae leaves. No one new comes to be haunted. No one dares to set foot into this apartment. You remember that there were moments when life flickered inside of you, if even for just a fraction of your infinite time. The reason for that has abandoned you without explanation.

There's a knock on the door one day. You can't open it, and the person outside doesn't bother sticking around to see you phasing through the door to look around.

There's a birthday cake on the floor with candles that say '19' sticking out of it.

Only one human in the entire world would have deemed today to be your 19th birthday. He's nowhere to be seen.

He moves back to Japan on his 21st birthday. Sae is having trouble remembering what you look like, despite seeing you in his dreams every night.

It's a terrible realization. So terrible that it makes him sob into his pillow at night when no one in the world is awake to hear his anguish.

Japan is lonelier than Madrid. He never thought it would happen, and he blames you entirely.

He doesn't have anyone waiting for him when he opens the door to his luxury penthouse apartment. He only washes one plate in the morning. He wakes up from his midday naps undisturbed and rested.

Sae misses you deeply. And he can't help but wonder if you feel the same.

(You don't know what the yearning ache inside of you is. You don't know what to call it.

You miss him, too. You just can't put a name to the feeling.)

He doesn't stop seeing you in wisps; little blurs in his peripheral that make his head turn fast as lightning. Wherever he looks, you're gone.

It's not fair that you're a ghost who both literally and figuratively haunts him. He'd like to move on in life and forget about those 4 miserable years he spent living in that damned apartment.

He can't. Sae is incapable of moving on from that place. The irony of it is that you actually can't move on from that place, for some reason.

He would give anything to have you haunting him again. It doesn't matter where in the world the two of you are, if you were together everything would be okay. He's impossibly lonely without you.

You start to think that you're the selfish one.

The idea of leaving this terrible apartment in Madrid scares you to your very core— whatever soul is resting in your incorporeal body. It's not fair to place the blame entirely on Sae. Not when you're too wimpy to leave this place and find him.

Death is lonely without him.

One step forward, one day at a time. It's the advice Sae used to mutter to himself while getting ready in the morning.

One step forward, one day at a time. One step forward, one day at a time. And day by day, you're slowly inching closer to the door.

Sae talks to Rin and all he can think about is your confused smiles and head tilts. He talks to his parents and all he can imagine is how cold the room would be if it were you. He talks to his fucking therapist and thinks that all of her shitty advice can't compare to your quiet understanding— that your tears of solidarity are the only thing that could make him feel better.

It's fucked up, really, that he can't move on. His body is in Japan going through the motions: playing football, being famous, being interviewed and going home to nothing. His heart is in Madrid. You took it with you and refuse to let go.

You're the closest thing to love he's ever felt, perhaps— his only friend in Spain. His only reason not to leave. A ghost from his childhood that protected him in his sleep and ate bland eggs for breakfast across the table from him every morning. A ghost that would sit on the floor and wait for him to come home every day. A ghost that kept him company when he had no one else.

He loves you. He doesn't. He needs you. He doesn't. He misses you. He doesn't. Whatever. What does it matter now?

"So playing football has always been your dream?"

Sae stares blankly at the interviewer. He's reminded of a distant conversation: he is laying in bed looking at a ghost with a lump in his throat, and then he makes his first and only friend in Spain.

"Yes."

"And now that you're back in Japan, will you be playing for the national team?"

"I have no interest in playing on such a weak team." In other words, he has no reason to stay in Japan.

"So where will you go?"

Anywhere but here, he wants to say. In reality, he doesn't know where to go anymore if not to his old apartment in Spain. He just knows that he wants to come home to your sleepy face.

(That night, he makes two bowls of rice. He cries like he's 15 years old again and just ruined his relationship with his brother.)

You've never been outside before.

You've heard about it, almost entirely from Sae but also from little snippets of anime he liked to watch. It's brighter than you imagined it to be, and warmer. You're not sure you've ever felt so warm before— it's hard to when you are a walking freezer.

There isn't anyone to tell you where to go. No one pays you any mind. You wonder if you even exist anymore outside of the small confines of that old apartment.

Something tells you that you do.

You don't know where to start looking. He could be all the way across the globe for all you know, though he did used to talk about his home country.

You have no map. You have no sense of direction. You have no one to ask for help.

All you have is the soul caged within your ghostly body tugging in one direction, and wispy feet dragging your body along in response.

Sae is 23 years old when he finally signs the contract to play for Japan, after months of being pestered by Rin about it.

His relationship with his brother is complicated. On one hand, he feels as though Rin will never truly forgive him for what he did when he was 15. On the other, he looks so ecstatic to be playing football together again that Sae wonders if their discourse was imaginary.

Japan is just a smidge less lonely with Rin in his life.

He wants to tell you all about it. That everything worked out and it's fine now. That you can stop weeping for him and to wipe up the tears that fall into nothing.

He counts the distance between you. Fourteen thousand kilometres separate him from telling you how he's living his new dream: playing football with his little brother again.

Fourteen thousand kilometers, ten years of needing you, and a reminder set on his phone to buy you a birthday cake again this year.

His heart aches.

Japan is loud and busy and everyone is always in a hurry to get places.

You have to wonder if Sae really grew up in a city like this, and how he turned out so calm and unmovable. The street names are all in Kanji you can't read, but your soul tells you that you're going the right way, anyways.

There's a crowd gathering when your feet finally come to a halt. Lights flash and there are fancy looking people with microphones clamouring toward the center.

It's only a fraction of a second that your eyes meet, and then someone shoves him into the back of the car and they drive off.

He must be famous here, too.

Sae is 24 years old tossing and turning in his bed, wondering if you were just a figment of his imagination or if you were truly standing there under a streetlamp watching him.

It wouldn't be the first time he dreamed you into existence; on some occasions you feel so real that he nearly reaches out to attempt to pat your head, like he always used to do when he was younger.

He goes back to that spot a couple hours later. The crowd is long gone and it's the dead of night— no one would be around to witness Itoshi Sae looking psychotic.

He doesn't find you in that spot. Instead, you're two blocks down and crouched in front of the window of a 24 hour shop. There's an ad for sparklers, and though you can't read the poster itself, the picture makes you stare with wide eyes.

He crouches down beside you as if 7 years of distance never existed between you.

"Do you want one?" He asks. You look at him in a strange way and his knees grow weak beneath him. You nod.

He comes out five minutes later with a few packs in his hand, walking away from you down the street to the park. You follow him quietly as if 7 years of distance never existed between you.

Sae holds one out, flicks the lighter in his pocket open and ignites the first sparkler. You watch it in fascination, ghostly form illuminated in warm orange and yellow light.

He smiles at you as if 7 years of distance never existed between you.

When the sparkler dies out, he lights another. And another. And another, until he's gone through all the packets he could afford with the Yen in his wallet right now.

As if 7 years of distance never existed between you, he reaches out to pat your head. His hand falls through you.

You think Sae's new apartment is pretentious, but it's clean and open and doesn't smell like mildew.

It's hard to imagine what kind of purpose you had before him— all your memories are flooded with his hands and eyes and bangs and small smiles reserved for you. You think that the only reason you were ever materialized into the mortal plane was to haunt him, and only him. Itoshi Sae's permanent looming presence.

He doesn't seem to mind. In fact, you've noticed he's been smiling more lately since you started waiting for him to come home by the door.

Sae is 25 years old when you fall asleep beside him in his bed.

You don't care that he's a kicker or a blanket hog in his sleep. It's not like either of those would affect you. He watches your sleeping face carefully, waiting to see if he would ever wake up from this blissful dream and be alone again.

But every time he wakes up, there you are.

You've grown since he left you in Madrid— you don't look like some lost little kid anymore, at least. He wonders if your souls are truly so intertwined that you would change alongside him, regardless of the distance.

Your eyes flutter open and his breath catches in his throat. You blink at him slowly in the pale moonlight, brows furrowed.

You point at him. Then yourself.

You. Me.

He nods in understanding.

When he drops a plate of protein pancakes in front of you for breakfast, you look confused.

"Oh, sorry. Do you want rice?"

You shake your head. You don't care what's for breakfast, as long as you're sitting across from him while he eats it.

"I'm going to be the world's best midfielder," he tells you one day. You're on the floor and he's on the couch, and it's like time had never even passed.

You don't know what that means, but it's his dream so it must be important. The most important thing in the world.

What you don't know is that it's not his entire dream. World's best midfielder doesn't mean a thing if he can't come home to tell you all about it.

You are dead.

You're a ghost haunting Itoshi Sae— one that followed him from Madrid all the way to Japan. You don't remember how, or when, or why you died. You can't remember what your face looks like either, no matter how much Sae tries to describe it to you.

You are dead. You're a ghost knocking over Sae's belongings to get his attention when you want it. You're the ghost curled up in bed with him even though he has to wear two layers to stay warm because of it. You're the ghost watching him rotate through different breakfasts that he says could never compare to a good old warm bowl of rice.

You are a ghost, and Itoshi Sae gave you a name. A birthday. A purpose greater than being a loud nuisance.

You are a ghost who likes to watch him light sparklers on his balcony. Who feels the things described only in the books he reads to you. Who learned to love somewhere along the way.

You are dead, and somehow alive at the same time.

(One day, Sae will be brave. One day, he will tell you he loves you. One day, he will thank you for waiting for him at the door when he comes home.)

548 notes · View notes

abstractnaturaldisaster · 7 months ago

Text

is it over now? (was it over then?)

part three

part four: say the one thing i've been wanting

Steve had been dreading actually talking about this with Robin. He hadn't wanted to put her in a position to feel like she had to come out or stop using him as a plus one to industry parties to fuel rumors. Even as he and Eddie pretty publicly dated Robin's agent and most tabloids still thought Robin and Steve were a couple some even going as far as insinuating Eddie was Steve's side piece or their third.

"Steve, you're kind of scaring me, what's going on?"

"Birdie, I'm only telling you this because I can't not anymore but I want you to know nothing is your fault and I literally don't need you to do anything. I just need to be able to talk to my best friend and in order to do that I kind of have to get through this uncomfortable part," Steve answered.

"Anything, Steve. Whatever you need," Robin said.

"Okay, so Eddie and I kind of broke up because Eddie assumed I was cheating on him with Nance when she came to visit earlier this year. He got really upset and kind of blocked me from any way of contacting him so there was no way to clear anything up after he left but he definitely assumed I was cheating on him and he wrote that fucking song and I just need to talk to you without leaving out this really huge massive reason why Eddie left and why I still feel like total shit," Steve rushed to cover the main points.

"Steve, hun," Nance comforted. She probably guessed something else was going on but had been understanding enough not to press Steve for more.

"Steve, I'm so sorry. This is all my fault," Robin started catastrophizing.

"Can you please stop saying my name. It's kind of freaking me out," Steve joked, "Robs, it's totally not your fault at all. It was a shitty situation I could have handled better and so could Eddie but there's really nothing to do about it know because I can't explain it to him and he clearly doesn't want me to so we are moving on, all right?" Steve attempted to keep the energy light.

"If that's what you want, sure babe," Robin said.

"I just want to stop going down Tik Tok rabbit holes of Eddie's stupid song without being able to complain to you about how fucking tired I am of not being able to do anything," Steve said, "and also I want so much ice cream and a really stupid TV marathon with my best girls and maybe roast Eddie's new song a little bit."

Nancy had already pulled up doordash and they were soon on their way to eating a smorgasbord of snacks and ice cream while watching reality TV and eventually dissolving into a karaoke session initially overdramatically singing along to Eddie's new single and ending with some old school Taylor (her version of course). Steve was feeling better than he had in a long time and started getting out of the fog he'd been in since Eddie had left.

Eventually, Steve started answering his agent's emails again and submitting tape for different roles. He'd gotten a part in a small indie film in Italy and Steve was pretty ready to take it. It was an interesting part, it was literally away from everyone he knew, the director was kind of weird and didn't let his cast use socials while filming and encouraged only phone calls and old school letters to really get into the period mindset. It was honestly kind of a perfect next project and it helped that the script was actually kind of great.

"As long as you aren't going because you're running away, Steve. You know I don't want you to leave and you shouldn't feel like you have to," Robin said as he was starting to pack his bags.

"I really like the project. It's a good script and I get to get out of my own head for a while. Kind of perfect honestly. The shoot is pretty short its only like four weeks so I won't be gone that long and you and Nancy can keep holing up in my apartment without me getting in the way!" Steve answered.

"You're never in the way, dingus," Robin nudged him and then brought him into a hug, "we'll just miss you kiddo."

"I'll miss you too, Bobbie. Now let me go so I can pack." Steve pulled away with a bigger smile than he'd had in weeks.

part five

@lololol-1234 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @zombiethingy (if you wanna be tagged in future parts feel free to comment! happy to add people)

#steve x eddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie fic #steddie #don't worry robin will fix it #angst #angst with a happy ending #rockstar eddie #actor steve #was it over then ficlet

174 notes · View notes

nightlyrequiem · 15 days ago

Note

A request of with Valeria and fem reader inspired by the song let me love you by Mario. Where basically Valeria is interested in the reader but reader is in a shitty relationship and Valeria basically convinces them to leave their partner for her and then treats the reader miles better and like they're royalty

I think I really cooked here. I got to write a little bit of angst and some wholesomeness

Listened to this song and I think I have to add it to my playlist. I'm certainly always going to associate it with Valeria forever now

I'm not going to lie, I put off writing this because I wasn't sure how to even start it but once I did start it came so easily. Fun request to write. I had a good time writing it and I hope you have a good time reading it.

Tags/Warnings: WLW, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, Romance, Mentions of Cheating

Let Me Love You

Valeria has had her eyes on you for a while. Pretty much since she first met you, she's been pining. A dog at your feet, tail thumping against the ground. Softness isn't in her nature. Valeria is vicious, and mean, and violent, but never with you. An intricate, priceless glass sculpture. Made to be handled with the upmost care. Shined and dusted every day. Instead, you're pushed aside on a crowded shelf and left to deteriorate. Accidently dropped and cracked but never repaired. Pieces of you broken off and haphazardly swept into a trash bag.

You're sobbing in her arms. So hard that you're gasping for breath, shoulders tense and jerking with each wretched cry. He cheated on you again. She pushes your face into the crook of her neck. Hoping her scent makes you forget the smell of the cheap perfume you smelled on his shirt.

"It's like you enjoy being hurt." Valeria whispers into your hair. Hand trailing between your shoulder blades. "I don't understand why you stay." When I'm right here.

"We've been together for years." You reply shakily. Voice cracking devastatingly. Valeria gently lowers herself onto the bed. You held in her lap. Valeria has her arms around you like a cocoon. Keeping you safe while you metamorphize. A delicate little moth.

It frustrates Valeria to no end. If you were her girl, you'd never know this kind of pain. You'd never be conditioned into feeling anxious when she's late to coming home. Your glow would never be dampened with her.

"Stop doing this to yourself." She says. Pressing a kiss to your temple. "Stop going back to that little boy, he doesn't deserve you." Not like I do.

"I can't." You weep. She can feel your brows furrowing against her neck, the quiver of your lips. Your warm breath hitting her skin in puffs. "I can't do it, Val."

"You can." She insists firmly. "... Leave him. You are a star in the vast night sky, corazón. He's nothing but light pollution hiding your beauty." Valeria pulls you tighter against her, heart pounding with finality. "Please, just be with me instead." Valeria Garza doesn't beg but she'd take a knee for you.

You go still and Valeria suddenly fears that she said the wrong thing. Pushed too far. She pulls back and gently takes ahold of your face, wiping away the crystal tears running streams over your warm cheeks. Glossy eyes brimming with misery stare back at her.

"Let me love you." She says softly. "I'll treat you so much better than him."

She can see her longing reflected in your tears. She watches your throat move as you swallow. Valeria leans closer, brushing her nose against yours. Your lips brush and when you don't pull away, she presses her lips to yours. Drinking in your taste with reverence. Your fingers grip her hair, pulling her impossibly closer. Your salty tears breaching the seams of your lips.

She kisses you like she'll never get the chance to again. Sand slipping through her fingers. You pull away and let out a shuddering breath.

"It hurts so much." You say, pained. Pressing your face into her shoulder. "Make it stop. Please, Valeria, make it stop. Make me feel better. Make me better."

Valeria grasps your chin to make you look at her. "You're not going back to him." She says resolutely. Valeria's hands drift down to your shoulders. "Stay with me."

"I'm scared."

"Stay with me."

"Okay." You close your eyes. "I'll stay."

You stay the night. Layers of clothing peeled from your bodies. Laying skin to skin under the covers with your hands locked together. You fell asleep hours ago but Valeria fights the tiredness dragging at her eyelids. She's savoring this moment with you. She watches your eyelids flutter as you dream. Is it her face or his that you're seeing? All you've known is hurt but Valeria will change that.

"Shit!" You curse. Face scrunched in despair. "I burnt them!" The cookies you were making together are hard and stuck to the pan. Blackened with heat. Valeria snorts.

"I told you not to leave them in there for that long."

"I wanted to make sure the dough was fully cooked." You reply defensively. Taking off your oven mitts and setting them down on the marble counter. "Salmonella is no joke, Valeria."

"No, but those cookies might be."

You swat at her, and she catches your hand, bringing it to her lips and pressing a chaste kiss to it. It's been months since you last sobbed in her arms, pleading for her to make it better. You haven't cried since. Valeria's gone above and beyond for you. Giving all of herself to you.

There have been some downs, naturally. So used to being on the defense and being suspicious, you'd get set off if she forgot to tell you she'd be late coming home. Valeria held you with endless reassurances. Never forgetting to tell you again. You've become so sure of yourself now. Evidence of you all over her home. Projects, clothes, art, interests. You are heard, you are seen, and you take up space. The cocoon cracked open, and you crawled out with your velvety wings quivering. Breathing in your new beginning.

#valeria garza #cod mw2 #valeria garza x reader #modern warefare ii #valeria garza x fem!reader #valeria garza cod #valeria garza x you

77 notes · View notes

steveshairychest · 2 years ago

Text

"Don't fall in love with me." Steve laughed in a self-deprecating way. His eyes were unfocused and glassy as he stared out at the darkness of lovers lake, his hands fiddled with the nearly empty beer he'd been sipping for the past hour.

Eddie furrowed his brow, mind a little slow from the alcohol as he leaned in closer to the other boy and said, "What if I already have?" They were sitting on the roof of Steve's car, their thighs pressed close and shoulders bumping as they simply just existed together. "It's a little hard for me not to do something I've already done."

Steve exhaled shakily and tipped his head up to the stars. His hands now gripped the glass bottle tightly. "You'll only get hurt. I have a reputation for being a pretty shitty boyfriend." He said it so softly, so weakly, that Eddie had to lean further into his space to hear.

Eddie scoffed once the words registered in his alcohol riddled mind. "That's bullshit." He didn't see Steve flinch. "I think I'd like to decide for myself whether or not you're a shit boyfriend." They've never explicitly talked about their feelings for one another, but it's been implied multiple times. For example, Eddie didn't think they made out as friends in the car before climbing out onto the hood.

He was thankful for the added confidence from the alcohol because he didn't think he'd have the bravery to be this straightforward about how he felt without it.

"Steve, go out with me. Be my boyfriend."

Steve blinked, looked him up and down, and laughed. "You're drunk. You don't want that."

Eddie shoved him lightly. "Fuck you. You don't know what I want. What I want is to call you my boyfriend. Hell, I'll even double that and propose to you right now! That's how serious I am!" He was so fucking scared. He didn't know how far this little game between them went. Was he crossing a line? He'd thought he'd read the signals right but the shock on Steve's face was telling him that maybe he didn't. Maybe he needed to start walking home right now.

"You're serious?" Steve whispered. "You actually want to date me?" Eddie wanted to strangle everyone that had made Steve hate and doubt his own self worth this much. He looked so vulnerable in that moment. His eyes were so wide, so bright under the stars, and his lips were parted ever so slightly in shock as he tried to find any sort of indication that Eddie was lying. He wasn't. He's never wanted anything more than this.

"I'm serious. I think I've wanted to date you since like 8th grade." They both laughed at that. Eddie couldn’t take his eyes off Steve's smile, it was a shy thing that he tried to hide with a sip from his beer.

When the laughter died down, Eddie twirled a piece of hair in front of his face and, without looking at Steve, said, "You can say no. I promise not to cry."

"You're a pretty crier, I wouldn't mind too much." He said it so nonchalantly, his eyes crinkled in a smile as he glanced over at a scared shitless Eddie. "Can I give you my answer tomorrow? I...need time to think when my head isn't all fuzzy with booze."

Eddie swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded. "Of course. I understand." They sat in a comfortable silence for the rest of the night, both of them caught up in their own heads as they watched the lake lap at the shore.

Eddie hoped the sun stayed away for a little longer. He wasn't ready for the morning light to wash away this moment, he wasn't ready for Steve's answer.

But he knew that no matter what Steve decided, he'd love Steve regardless.

Steve Harrington was so hard not to love.

#THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE LIKE A LITTLE BED TIME DRABBLE AND IT GOT A LITTLE CARRIED AWAY #ANYWAYS GOOD NIGHT ENJOY #JUST BOYS WORKING OUT THEIR FEELINGS #steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #st4 vol2 #steveddie #stranger things s4

2K notes · View notes

spjohnv-blog · 2 months ago

Text

If you're familiar with the South Park Archives, pretty much the only SP fansite still online - there's over eighteen years of history there, pages and renders for tons of characters and locations, thousands of screenshots, a pretty dedicated staff, transcripts of every episode, and so much more. When I made my start writing shitty fanfics, it was a super useful resource, and that was a small chunk of what it is today.

FANDOM has today unveiled a new Offensive Terms Policy which continues a trend in the last few years been suggested in events like Community Connect, where it has previously been suggested wikis avoid references to canonical sex. The avoidance of slurs is something I would be super supportive of generally -- we don't need to see that kind of stuff on Wookiepedia or like, a wiki for Bluey. It'll keep people from vandalizing children's wikis with adult content for kicks. I am generally in favor of content filtering, especially for family-friendly-oriented content.

...but, this is going to cause a lot of problems for the South Park Archives, a show with a major character who frequently uses slurs and is firmly anti-censorship. You don't need to be an editor to think about that. If you're a fan, you know what kind of show we're talking about.

This is a show with episodes called "The Biggest Douche in the Universe", "Major Boobage", "Reverse Cowgirl" and "Titties and Dragons". There are songs like "Fuck the Police" and "Jacking it in San Diego". There is a character called 'Retarded Fish'. The names of these songs and episodes, bear in mind, are legally registered copyrights, not our choices -- how do you change that? Move an article to Episode 1601? What about "Fuck the Police", which isn't even a South Park original song?

You can clean up a synopsis, and formalize language on a character page, I've done both of those things when I was an editor, but you can't undo all of this. How do you?

That's not even getting into the transcripts pages, which are intended to be 100% accurate to the actual dialogue, continuing the tradition from the good ol' South Park Scriptorium...

Within the day of the policy change, FANDOM has already started to make changes to remove slurs from the transcript pages that are unable to be modified as it is directly related to global policy. I don't know that the staff were communicated with about this personally either, but I'm not in the know like I used to be.

No doubt some of this move is prompted by advertisers - FANDOM previously cited advertiser feedback as a motivation for inserting all sorts of videos on top of wiki pages (similar to their later push to include AI-generated content) and understandably many advertisers may not want their brand name mere inches from a discussion of cartoon eight-year-olds using slurs. I mean, shoot, I wouldn't if I were in charge of a major company, and I get someone needs to keep the lights on, but...

I don't know man, it's a shitty position to be in. It's a well-intended policy that I'd support in almost any other context but literally this narrow exception, and I definitely hate the thought of looking like I'd be defending use of offensive terms, but like, how do you cover "everything" about South Park, an explicitly adult show that is so firmly anti-censorship, that builds entire episodes around these kinds of jokes, or even analyze it from a critical perspective, in such a family-friendly, sanitized way, without betraying its spirit and creative intent?

You can imagine how many staff members there are probably scratching their heads or bashing them into lamp posts, trying to figure out what to do or how to move forward after this. They could apply for an exception, but would it even be granted? What would the alternative be? Are restrictions like this worth it or do they render the whole thing moot? How much responsibility lies with FANDOM? Are advertisers forcing the whole internet down this road? There are so many questions in the air on this. I certainly don't have answers.

#south park #south park wiki #wikis #fandom #wikia

58 notes · View notes

liedownquisition · 29 days ago

Text

Jason Todd's timeline and "Age"

So, there's a lot of discussion of Jason Todd's age esp as relative to other sidekick vigilantes, particularly Tim and Mia. I believe the exact words are usually something about a "grown ass man beating up/trying to kill teenagers."

DISCLAIMER: This particular post is specifically regarding the "grown ass man vs teenagers" statement, I have posts regarding the "tried to kill them" portion and other stuff like "seriously Jason Todd is like being shot by a marshmallow gun compared to what goes on directly before and after him in these incidents, also you don't bitch about the right stuff, also a lot of you prop up characters who are Objectively Worse, and no that's not hate on your fave it's just me calling out hypocrisy". It just takes time to find digital copies of the panels I'm using. NOTE I AM NOT JUSTIFYING HIS ACTIONS. I'm just saying y'all blow it out of proportion for petty character hate. Like, shit, they're superheroes. Jason's soooo fuckin' tame. He's not even framed as a big deal to the teens it's only the adults that think it's that much of a problem.

Courtesy readmore post cut:

Now, to start off, we all know Jason died at 15 & a few months off from 16 (if you want me to dig up panels, sure, but I figured at this point that wasn't in question). Tim at this point is somewhere between 12-13, and we have this panel in Lonely Place of Dying which takes place a few months later:

So that's a ballpark of 2-3 years between Jason and Tim.

But Tim's age is really fucky and they keep de-aging him tbh. We can extrapolate that his confrontation with Jason was between the ages of 16-17 bcs it's after the arc where he has his incredibly shitty 16th birthday in Robin Vol2 #116 and before Red Robin where he's stated to be 17. This would put Jason between 18-19 at the time. (If you really want me to find panel sources for Tim's birthday and his age in RR then, sure, but I don't think they're necessary. I used it more as a guidepost for Jason's age, since we have a clear idea of what the age gap is.)

At least, on paper.

Mia for her part I've had a hard time finding like, on panel mentions of her age and if anyone can direct me to it being explicitly stated I'd love that. I'm rereading old comics but it's a LOT of comics to hunt down & dig through. To my understanding she was fifteen when Ollie first met her, and there's at Minimum of about a year and a half between that to her meeting Red Hood, more likely at least two? because there's at least few months between that and her joining the Titans, the Doctor Light stuff, then One Year Later, and then returned to Star some 3 months after Ollie came back to run for mayor? And then Jason not too long after. So, two years feels safe. Puts her at 17-ish, Jason at 19-20

Once again, I specify: on paper.

People would happily point out at this point that the upward stretch of a 4 year age gap is a "huge gap in maturity." And yeah, under normal circumstances, I'd agree.

But, and this is going to get contradictory bcs I found Two different timelines (BOTH written by Winick, lmao), and depending on how you read it it could be up to three different possibilities. Let's Start with Batman Annual #25: Daedalus & Icarus.

Timestamp before Jason's resurrection, which is pretty well known at this point:

Next, him waking up from a coma afterwards, when he escapes the hospital:

Now the above could be interpreted as either 1 year after he died if we're assuming that it's using the same "start" point to count as the resurrection (unlikely), or one year after he came back (more likely).

Next, the timestamp right before a guy recognizes him and sells him out:

And, finally, the timestamp before being put in the Pit:

That is, count it up, between 3-3 1/2 years where Jason was dead, in a coma, or otherwise not particularly... cognizant of the world around him. His ass is NOT developing emotionally, socially, or mentally like this, which pretty handily bridges the gaps there. Taken at face value, Jason's maturity level is going to be, unironically, younger than Tim's in the wake of these setbacks.

Now, if we go to Lost Days issue 1, it doesn't specify how long he was dead, nor how long he was in a coma, so we'll just carry those two over, what we DO have is this from just after Talia brought him home:

This puts him as being on the streets for five months, so we're at just shy of two years so far. And then we have this:

Which is right before Talia puts him in the Pit.

So, in summary: 6 months dead, 1 year coma, 5 months on the street, and something like 1-1 1/2 years with the League which...

Actually puts us on almost the exact same timeframe either way. 3 to 3 1/2 years. It just changes whether Jason was on the streets or with the League for longer.

And is utterly incomprehensible because comic timelines are a freaking nightmare.

If we're being generous, then that would put Jason at a minimum of 19, maybe toeing the line of 20 for UTRH, again, on paper, because like hell are you convincing me he did less than a year's worth of training abroad throughout Lost Days. Yeah maybe they trained him in fighting while he was catatonic, muscle memory and all that. But the other teachers that we KNOW of? The bombs, guns, probably something to get him up to date on handling all that tech we see him using, Egon, potentially arguably All-Caste if you want to draw from n52...

but you'd have to knock at least a year and a half off of his internal/personal development from death & coma, at minimum. Maybe you could argue he was somewhat developing while in his "the lights are on, but nobody's home" phase, you can't say it's at the same level as a normal person might when going about their day to day life, and it's difficult to measure. But he's not hitting the kind of milestones that he should be for his age. I wouldn't put him at anything less than two years behind. So if we use our upper estimates on Jason, and lower estimates on both the developmental setbacks and Tim/Mia's ages that gives us:

Jason toeing 20, mentally 18, fighting Tim at 16. 2 year gap, kind of stretching the physical age gap if we assume Tim had just barely turned 13 when he showed up to be Robin. - OR LESS

Jason maybe 21, mentally 19, fighting Mia at 17, two year age gap again. Honestly, still not that big of a difference - OR LESS

And, to be frank, that's not even counting the mental development issues that come from the intense physical trauma from dying - and I swear to fuck don't give me the "He's not the only one who died he's not special" speech.

HOW MANY OF THE OTHERS YOU'RE USING AS A GOTCHA LOST, *GESTURING AGGRESSIVELY ABOVE*, LITERALLY MULTIPLE YEARS OF THEIR LIFE.

Not counting adults, of course. Barry lost years, Hal lost years, Ollie I think also lost a couple years? but A) they came back still adults, bodies pretty much the same. B) While Jason's body didn't go through a magic growth spurt in canon, it did still grow esp while with the League.

I'll eventually get around to Titan's Tower & GA#72 (tbh, there are other people who've already done Titan's Tower and it'd probably be better than what I do, so I'm more going to focus on the latter, but there IS a specific part of the former that drives me nuts that I don't see brought up a lot), and maybe if we're feeling spicy all my issues with UTRH starting with how Winick is just as guilty of retroactively writing Jason as being inherently a bad penny since his Robin days as any of the other "modern" writers. Like, bud, Severe enough Head Trauma is legitimately enough to change someone's personality, not to mention trauma. It wouldn't hurt your narrative for that eerie difference, the Shade of What Once Was if you're really going for RH being Like that.

Final addition: I swear to god if you use my post to start up some kind of petty-ass ship war or flame other characters I will immediately turn off reblogs and replies I am Not Dealing With That Shit, please and thank you.

Anyways, @glitter-stained, your interest made me decide to actually put the work in now to pull it up rather than passively gather stuff to dump whenever discourse pushes me over the edge so, here ya are. Looks like you did have it closer on the mark than I did.

#dc #Jason Todd #I guess #because frankly I'm sick of this. Learn to use content filters and grow up.#Typically I try to practice what I preach and I'm very liberal with filters and blocking ppl. But Sometimes Temptation Seizes Me #Note that I'm trying to be rather Watsonian with my technicalities but I've got the Doylist angles in my head too.#Stop using a character as a gotcha to shame people you're not endearing anyone #Mia is a genuinely really good character and trying to sell her as a better alternative while bashing the characters ppl do like #does not fucking work you idiots.#Have you never worked in sales? it's Sooooo easy to spin #“Hey do you like this character for x & y & z? I have another GREAT character you'd love and has the benefit of ALSO being Q.”#positive reinforcement is always a more effective recruitment tactic than haterism #I'm already regretting this #I decided not to tag the other two bcs at this point I expect any tagged post to get messy and adding them is just inviting it to be worse

34 notes · View notes

thefrogsennaneverfound · 9 months ago

Note

I ask this question from a curiosity standpoint, and don’t mean to seem rude or anything, but why don’t you like Daniel Ricciardo? Am I missing something?

He’s far less offensive than a lot of the other drivers. He has a tendency to awkwardly laugh rather than say “that’s a shitty joke. Not okay”, which is frustrating, but not even in the same universe as something like Lance Stroll physically assaulting his trainer.

Like all F1 drivers, he wants to be WDC and talks a big talk, but he’s still nowhere near as obnoxious as a lot of the other drivers, who all think and say the same.

Maybe my understanding isn’t correct? As far as I know, his only really shit time as a driver was with McLaren in 2022, and words like “scapegoating” and “sabotage” get thrown around a lot. In 2021, he gave McLaren its only win in over a decade, and it wasn’t team orders based, and he hauled Renault back up into the podium as well, for their first time in almost a decade. I don’t think he should have left Red Bull, and I don’t think he’s necessarily an Alonso or Verstappen level talent, but he also made those Red Bulls and Renaults that he drove look a lot better than they were.

It's not just about what a driver's like on the track; it's his attitudes off the track too and Ricciardo has really bad form. As for dragging the Renault into the points, and the Red Bull when it was underperforming - that's his job and the cars weren't that bad. If he'd swapped with one of the back markers at the time, they'd likely have performed just the same. Plus, if he made the Red Bull look better than it was, why wasn't he the one winning championships in it? Why did Vettel get all that action when all Ricciardo got was a handful of race wins?

Anyway, here's (just some of) why I firmly believe that Daniel Ricciardo is every bit as obnoxious as the most obnoxious drivers on the grid. If you don't read right to the end, and I wouldn't blame you, please at least take in the part I've highlighted in red; it pretty much sums up the type of character he is and why I - along with many others - really do feel that he's most definitely obnoxious.

“I don’t watch the news and feel better about my day so I choose not to watch it.” Just one direct quote regarding his complete and shameless ignorance about the extreme humans rights abuses prevelent in some of the countries F1 travels to. What it amounts to is that the “drama and negativity” (his own words) of news reports on out-dated and abusive attitudes to women and LGBTQ people is a buzz kill so he’d rather not know about it, thanks all the same.

His attitude to the sexist objectification of the (now thankfully defunct) Grid Girls: "It's kind of like part of the attraction of the sport, fast cars and fast girls,". In his opinion, because it’s a male dominated sport it’s “a cool thing” so “let’s keep them”. If that's not obnoxious, I don't know what is.

On “Your Mom’s House” (a lowest common denominator podcast aimed at pathetic little boys who think they’re men) he laughed along with deeply sexist, misogynistic ‘jokes’ about women. There are plenty of drivers who would, at the very least, have kept their reactions neutral, making it clear they didn’t think it funny, but not Ricciardo; he was more than content to chuckle away at their vile comments about women.

Tricking Yuki Tsunoda into trusting him to come closer on a boat so he could throw him overboard, because it’s funny to force someone to face a very real phobia of sharks by throwing them into a body of water that’s widely known to contain them. I don’t care what Tsunoda’s reaction was to it (it's common for the victim of bullying to make light of their ordeal) or that Ricciardo threw himself into the water too; it’s still an appalling way to treat someone when they’ve been brave enough to be in such close proximity to one of their greatest fears. It’s the behaviour of a bully and Ricciardo is the worst kind of that particular species – a charming bully. The reason he gets away with so much of his crappy behaviour is because so many people are taken in by a cheeky smile, a twinkle in the eyes, and the friendly disclaimer that it’s just a bit of fun; they’re just trying to lighten the mood and make people laugh. It’s always at someone else’s expense though.

Given he was in a highly competitive Red Bull for all those years, he won precious few races, and left because he wasn’t getting the attention he thought was his right. I know athletes have to have an enormous amount of self-belief but to have looked at a racer like Verstappen and sincerely felt that he was his equal? That’s delusional. But is that really how he felt? Or did he – like so many who can’t face real competition when they know someone else is going to come out on top – jump ship because being a big fish in a small pond is preferable to being outperformed and therefore second best? I don’t know which it is but if he really, genuinely, sincerely thought he was on the same level as, first, Verstappen and then Norris, surely he’s just not very bright?

Monza 2021 absolutely was a team orders win for Ricciardo. Have you listened to Norris’s radio? He was faster; he wanted to pass; he asked if he could pass; he was told to maintain position. Either the team were concerned that the two might take each other out (although I am absolutely certain that Norris could have made that move with ease so was it more a case of Ricciardo taking Norris out if he tried to overtake?) or Ricciardo’s ego was so fragile by that point (Norris had been wiping the floor with him) that they decided he needed the win to boost his confidence and get a few more much needed points for McLaren. Either way, Norris was robbed of his maiden victory because he’s a team player who obeyed team orders rather than saying “screw this; I can win and I’m damn well gonna win”. I respect him for playing the team game but I hate the fact that Ricciardo got an undeserved win at his considerable expense (that’s not hyperbole; a driver’s first F1 win really is huge).

You're probably sorry you asked now.

#anti-Daniel Ricciardo #Yuki Tsunoda #Max Verstappen #Lando Norris #McLaren Racing #Renault racing #Red Bull Racing #just my opinion #Formula One

130 notes · View notes