#i can’t believe im here again. goddamn it

[lycazart]

Mad as a hatter, thin as a dime 🥀

[onlyswan]

summary: in which jungkook is one of your greatest fears and you’re his achilles’ heel.

idol!jungkook x reader, est. relationship / fluff, angst / word count: 4.1k

content/warnings: i love you i want us both to eat well T_T sigh. oc has abandonment issues pls protect at all costs + oc is worried bc jk is working so hard :( + a worm (???) cameo. ily protective and hopeless romantic iw!jk <3 the ending 🥲💔 this drabble literally goes 📈📉

> in which masterlist!

note: *insert my melody mugshot scene* me if planting puzzle pieces in my drabbles + making oc cry (IM SORRY) were a crime. this was sm fun writing <3 i cried and laughed they’re so precious </3

—

“jungkook, baby?”

your silky voice fills the quiet apartment as you pad across the floor. you’re carrying your heeled mary janes by its straps, leaving you only in your white socks.

“babe?”

you frown as the seconds pass and you receive no response from your lover. there’s no music playing, no rustling somewhere in the kitchen or the living room. the lights are dim like they usually are, but the vivid colors are absent.

him? asleep at 9pm? jeon jungkook? it can’t be, but you’d be delighted to finally see him resting early if it was real.

and so, spurred by that tiny glimmer of hope, you carefully crack the bedroom door open, as if you’re fifteen again and you just came back from sneaking out of the house.

but you’re grown now; you live in a building with complete strangers for neighbors. you just got home from work, and you’re no longer used to sleeping alone because you share the bed with another person.

you find it empty. devoid of any creases, sign of life. as neat as a hotel room’s make believe that no one lived there until two hours prior.

the disappointment weighs down on your shoulders, causing them to drop.

he didn’t tell you he was going somewhere else after practice, you think to yourself as your lips permanently shape into a pout. what happened to going out with you for dinner?

agreeing, your empty stomach grumbles angrily.

maybe he got caught up at work. maybe he’s on his way home. maybe he’s on his way to the restaurant and he’s about to text you to come over. maybe he forgot about your plans and he’s having dinner with somebody else.

whatever the reason is, you’re too lazy and tired to whip up something edible on your own. with or without him, you’re going out and you’re stuffing your mouth full with rice and meat. after all, autumn is here, your dear old friend.

in search for a coat that will accompany you in your late-night stroll, you enter the walk-in closet and flip on the lightswitch.

you can count them with just your fingers— the amount of times you’ve felt this type of fear. absent eyes, melting spine, chills running to the top of your head down to your fingertips, mind racing with an overload of thoughts (it appears as a blank page, the same way that white is the presence of all colors of visible light). this fear… you associate it with impulsive mistakes, fire, police and ambulance sirens, and… empty closets.

jungkook’s side of the closet is empty.

clothes. shoes. bucket hats. beanies. belts. everything. gone.

but the floor is scattered with random pieces of clothing that look like they accidentally fell while someone was in a rush to pack them all in a bag. so in a rush that they didn’t even bother to pick them up.

your weak knees almost give way, but you force yourself to stumble backwards until your back hits the doorframe— you refuse to let yourself look like you’ve been carelessly discarded too.

not again. not again. not this goddamn vicious curse you thought you’ve already broken out of. not. again.

you blink away the tears threatening to spill as you scramble to open the zipper of your bag, but they spill anyway when your shoes clatter to the floor. you flinch at the thunderous sound, clutching your phone tightly against your chest. you keep your eyes closed throughout the defeaning silence that comes after.

the empty space mocks you. it knows your intricate design was not meant to live in an empty home.

you guess nothing much has changed. you’re still afraid of jungkook and his power to take away the sun, just as he did before, and you deeply despise being afraid. you don’t like it when the walls are closing in on you, poisoning your mind into believing that you’re small when the heart inside your chest burns with a fire brighter than that of the damn sun.

anyone would be foolish to leave you; it’s only jungkook who could have you mourning the death of the garden you’ve given the past five years of your life to.

—

jungkook returns to the apartment half an hour later. despite the long, grueling hours of dance practice he nearly didn’t survive, the excitement vibrating through his body is manifested through the lightness of his movements. he’s finally seeing his lover for the first time today… awake.

when he brought his natural body warmth along with him to the bathroom this morning, you sunk yourself further into mattress, beneath the thick blankets and against the soft pillows. by the time he had to give you your obligatory goodbye kiss before he leaves for work (or else you’d sulk about it for the rest of the week), half of your face has been hidden from sight. he was only able to press a loving kiss on your forehead, and then your eyelids that were fluttering as you dreamt.

night time comes and he is still deprived of the sight of your beautiful face? he somberly wonders as he finds you slumped over the dining table; he swears that there is a dark rain cloud hovering above you. your arms are thrown over the hardwood as they serve as a makeshift pillow for your vessel— his little firefly curiously bleak.

“baby? are you sick?” he asks, voice dripping with concern as he tenderly rubs your back.

the legs of the chair screeches against the tiled floor, neglectedly pushed behind.

“kook?” you manage to choke out, frantically sitting up once your muddled brain registered the familiarity of his touch on your bare skin.

his heart drops to his stomach as your tear-stained face comes into view. this isn’t how he envisioned your greeting; it usually came in the form of a bright light not harsh as the sunlight, a softness that begs to be held.

“are you crying?!”

your reply only comes out as a pitiful whimper. he stumbles a step backwards when you unceremoniously jump into his embrace, wrapping your arms over his shoulders. he gets a whiff of your sweet perfume, and then it becomes the air that he breathes, but he doesn’t have much time to revel in it.

“baby!”

he squeezes your waist taut against his body, affectionately nosing at your cheek before giving you a kiss. “did something happen? tell me- tell me.”

“jungkook,” your voice cracks as you utter his name, sounding almost like a plea, and then an endless string of heartbreaking sobs comes out muffled against his shirt. “where have you been?”

this sends him into a state of panic. seeing you in pain— it’s his biggest weakness. after all, you are his achilles’ heel.

“why? why, why, why?” you’re weak and pliant as he pulls your arms down, collapsing against his chest when he envelopes you in his embrace. he cradles your head in his palm, soothing you with gentle pats and shushes. “shh, shhh- it’s okay, i’m here now. everything’s okay, you hear me?”

his efforts prove to be fruitless, because you only seem to cry harder as he slowly rocks your bodies back and forth.

you shake your head, hands attempting to hold on to the back of his shirt to regain sensation in your limbs, but they miserably fail and fall on the sides of his hips.

“talk to me… please, mhmm?“ he hums quietly, pressing his soft lips to your temple. “tell me what’s wrong and your boyfriend will take care of it.”

from your sniffles to your hiccups, you remain unable to form any coherent response, and it leads his imagination to construct the worst possible scenarios. he feels his stomach turn with uneasiness, jaw clenching as he carefully pulls away to meet you eye-to-eye.

“did someone touch you? hurt you?” he spits out with urgency, and the unparalleled care he displays puts you in a daze, simply dumbfounded as he strokes your face. “huh, baby? just tell me and i’ll take care of the rest.”

now that you’re being reminded that jungkook could quite literally kill a person with his bare hands if they ever inflict harm on you, the fog is clearing up and you feel so incredibly… stupid.

but that’s more the reason why it’s difficult not to be sensitive when it comes to him; his absence proves to be lethal.

“shit, you’re scaring me.” he breathes out shakily as he taps your cheek lightly to bring you back to him, the distant look in your eyes triggering the emergency alarms in his head.

he unconsciously licks his lips and he tastes your tears; he doesn’t want anybody else to ever come this close.

“okay, okay- let’s put that aside for now. what do you need? should we go to bed and rest instead?”

“i thought you left,” you whisper as you hang your head in shame.

he blinks at you in confusion. “to where? my flight isn’t until next week, baby.”

fantastic! now you sound like the most dramatic, clingiest bitch to ever grace the planet. you bury your face in your hands to hide the battle zone between your heart and mind, but your boyfriend seizes your wrists because he can’t bear another second of it.

“is-is that why you’re upset…?” he asks with not a trace of malice or ridicule. he is only filled with guilt as it dawns on him then— how you’ve only gotten used to always having him around four years into your relationship, when he was taking a break from work.

the changes in his life are also changes in yours, but they still affect you in many different ways.

“then just come with me. i’ll make it work. maybe we can extend for a bit, spend an entire day by ourselves- there’s a lot of museu-”

“i thought you left,” you repeat yourself, exposed and vulnerable, vision swallowed by the darkness because you can’t make yourself look at him. “your clothes… they’re gone, and i was calling but you… you weren’t answering my calls so i thought…”

“my clothes?” he exclaims, eyes going wide as he realizes that they’ve accidentally slipped from his mind. “ahh, i thought about cleaning the closet while waiting for you so i moved everything to the other room!”

you open your mouth to speak, but much to your chagrin, no words come out. you purse your lips as your chin wobbles— the new wave of tears in your eyes mimic shiny crystals.

“____!”

and at the stern mention of your name, you know that you’re about to receive a (loving) scolding from your boyfriend. your lips curve into a frown before a sob inevitably escapes past them.

“why would you think that? why would i leave you? that doesn’t make sense at all, does it…?”

you shake your head, hugging him so tight, possibly tighter than you’ve ever done before. between your bodies, his heart is being unbearably wrung.

“i’m sorry, baby. seeing you cry like this breaks my heart…” he closes his eyes with a heavy sigh, resting his cheek on the side of your head. “but why would that be the first thing you think of…? i must be doing something wrong, right? have i been too busy with work? am i neglecting you?”

you’re breathless, a little dizzy— bloodshot eyes meeting his that are now gleaming with sadness. “no, it’s not like that! i just panicked, i couldn’t think straight.”

“are you sure?”

he looks at you skeptically, scanning your face.

“baby-” his voice breaks, then he pauses with his gaze still trained on you. “okay, i’m sorry. i… should’ve thought about what cleaning the closet would look like.”

“i was just being stupid.” you give him a small smile, rubbing your eyes to chase away the burning sensation. “sorry for scaring you.”

“stop, you’ll hurt yourself.” he tuts, pushing your wrists aside to cup your face in his hands, much gentler in comparison to your own self. his thumbs draw shapes on your soft skin, and then out of the blue, he curiously squeezes one of the space buns on top of your head. “wow, this is so pretty?”

“huh…? oh, thanks.” you mumble, still feeling out of it.

“this, too.” the white silk ribbon wrapped prettily around your neck, he means, which he hooks a finger on to tug lightly. it matches the lace straps on your shoulders that falls across the underbust of your dress, tied together to form a ribbon in the middle of it. that makes two, so clasically you.

and while it may be partly true that he’s trying to lighten the atmosphere, he just can’t defy the urge to express his admiration for you, even in a situation like this. he’s perpetually love-drunk.

“thank you.” you nod, shyly looking away to sniffle. “but you’re the reason why my makeup is ruined… need to wash it off before we go.”

“you’re beautiful either way, baby.”

“i know.” you scoff. “would you date me for five years if i wasn’t?”

he releases a throaty chuckle, capturing your lips in his with a smile of endearment that he fails to subdue.

“you’re so fucking cute. i love you-” he says with merely an inch of distance between you.

he grunts in melodramatic anguish, overcome by the insensity of his affections overflowing past the brim of his very being, leaning so close that the edge of the table digs into your lower back, surely to leave a temporary mark.

and he carries on to kiss you so many times that you lose count; you can only melt as you collect them in that bottomless pocket located somewhere in your soul, where all the love you’ve received across lifetimes is recorded to prove i was once here.

“i love you, i love you, i love you, i love you, i love you. i’m never leaving. you’re stuck with me and bam forever.”

if the time comes that the two of you break up, who would bam come home to? jungkook stubbornly refuses to have that conversation.

however, you still can’t let go of something, and you pout as you shove him lightly. unsurprisingly, his strong build doesn’t budge at all.

“but why didn’t you answer my calls?” at last, you gain enough energy to complain, but your face grows hot as the urge to cry returns. “i mean, what else was i supposed to think?!”

jungkook is struck by yet another lightning.

may the heavens have mercy, he’s been making you angry more than usual lately.

“shit, i forgot. i turned off my phone.” he mutters under his breath, feeling extremely regretful that he was not reachable when you needed him most to be. “i wanted to focus only on you tonight. what do they call it again…? leaving work at work?”

he winces guiltily.

“i’m sorry. maybe it wasn’t a smart idea.”

“no, i like that.” you almost interrupt him from talking because of how fast you are to brush off his apology.

he makes a mental note of it— the way you’re gripping at his shirt in small fists. you’re tense and overwhelmed; you need him to stay close.

“leave work at work. focus on me, and let me be your rest.”

unbeknownst to you, jungkook bites back his tears then. after all this time, he still gets mesmerized by the tenderness that naturally governs your every word and action; he thinks that he needs you more than you need him.

—

“just eat, baby. i’ll cook the meat for us.” jungkook coos at you as he cuts more meat into bite-sized pieces using a pair of kitchen shears.

“okay, then i’ll make sure that you eat.” you grin excitedly, dragging your chair closer to his.

you set down the tongs, grabbing your chopsticks to pick up a cooked piece of pork belly from the grill. you don’t forget to blow on it, mindful of burning his tongue.

of course, you don’t want to hurt him, but it would be especially painful for him as a singer.

“ahhh-” still busy with cooking, jungkook opens wide at your cue, catching the meat in between his teeth.

“rice,” he demands as he chews.

you scoop up rice from your bowl, and he devours it happily as he continues to flip the strips of pork belly lined up across the grill.

“mmhmm, it’s so delicious!” he dramatically says out loud. his eyebrows are knitted together and his legs are bouncing under the table, tell-tale signs of him enjoying the food.

witnessing this kind of reaction, any chef would be happy to slave away in the kitchen to serve him a meal. you recognize it in the smile of the owner after jungkook ordered more side dishes, and the way he dashed through the door to reduce the waiting time.

“yah, feed yourself, too!” jungkook chides you after you feed him meat three times in a row, but with an open palm that catches the juice that drips from the kimchi, you still tap your chopsticks against his lips. he spares it a glance before catching it using his tongue.

“i am!” you then rush to wrap a piece of pork belly in lettuce, dipping it into ssamjang before stuffing it into your mouth.

“good job, baby.” he grins in satisfaction, rubbing your back as praise. this makes you preen. “make sure to eat lots, got it?”

but then you’re back to spoiling him rotten, this time with an egg roll. so far, he has only touched his own chopsticks twice.

“i just told you to eat first!”

you glare at him, pouting. “but you worked so hard practicing today and you haven’t even eaten properly yet.”

he is too busy with work, and it’s not news that you’ve been worried sick about his health. it’s difficult to watch him work himself to the bone, but no one truly has the power to stop jungkook from doing what he wants, sometimes not even himself. and you find it impossible to fault him for it when you know that everything he does is done out of love. from the vigorous vocal and dance lessons, and to the deep cleaning of the apartment because his baby has been developing an allergy to dust.

“you need to make it up to your body. here, please?”

he loves being loved, jungkook thinks to himself as he eats the egg roll whole.

—

you were already prepared to go home after dinner, but your night owl for a boyfriend insisted on going on a walk at the park because he wanted to, and you quote, ‘see you awake for a little while longer,’ or whatever the hell he meant by that.

with his tattooed arm protectively swung over your shoulder, you’re engulfed in a wave of nostalgia. for the first two years of your relationship, before you started living together, you only met with each other at night, save for the very rare day-offs that he got. the only places that are still open after midnight are nightclubs, fastfood chains, convenience stores… and well, parks.

and he would always hold you close like this to make you feel safe, and the rest of you melts away while the side of your ribcage that he is pressed against remains to shelter your heart. on the contrary, you also remember how your bodies used to be so tense. you wanted to sacrifice more sleep and to walk to the other side of the park, of the street, to that other convenience store five blocks away because this one didn’t have the flavor of ice cream you wanted, anything… just… anything so you could be with each other ten minutes more.

and it was cold. it was always cold.

“what do you mean ‘it exploded’?”

“it seriously exploded! it was on fire! that’s why i went out to buy a new extension cord!”

“jungkook, it’s because you plug in too many things at once!” you cry out in frustration, your steps becoming heavy stomps. “i told you to stop doing that!”

“what do you mean? if it has six slots, doesn’t that mean six devices is the maximum?” he continues to stubbornly defend himself, and you can only hang your head in defeat. “otherwise, it’s a scam!”

“it is a scam! see…? they made you buy a ne-”

your sentence is cut short as your tongue gets paralyzed.

a dark and striped, long figure approaching ahead, slithering its across the grass.

your mind immediately registers it as the animal you fear most.

oh, no. no, no, no, no, no.

“jungkook,” you utter his name with a tremble.

the same fear you experienced only two hours ago holds you hostage once more, add all the hair in your body standing up and you’re as frightened as a cat.

“what’s wrong? yah! what are you doing?! baby, ba- fuck!” he sputters out as you forcefully pull him back along with you, displaying a type of strength and agility he doesn’t normally see.

the two of you continue to stumble backwards as you struggle to maintain balance, and somehow jungkook manages to switch your positions so that you’re the one who lands on top him instead of the other way around when you eventually end up as a heap on the soft earth.

he begins to feel his throat closing up at the sight of pure, genuine fear in your eyes.

“jungkook, snake- it’s small bu-”

you interrupt your own sentence with a high-pitched squeal, garnering looks from strangers moving and unmoving. in the blink of an eye, your boyfriend has swept you off your feet as if you’re light as a feather, driven by the instinct to protect the love of his life.

you cover your mouth in shock, your other arm coming up around his neck to keep yourself from falling.

you think you may have fallen for jungkook all over again.

“are you spiderman?”

he was too busy searching for the subject of your fear under dim lights, and so he looks at you in bewilderment to ask, “what was that?”

you shake your head with your wide eyes shining with faux innocence. you squeak. “nothing.”

he releases a sigh, followed by a chuckle of obvious relief and amusement as he squeezes your body closer to plant a kiss on your forehead. “aigoo, my ____! why are you so scared today? what am i going to do with you…? it’s just a worm.”

“are you sure? i swear i saw it raise its head!“

“i’m sure,” he lulls you. “i think worms can do that, too?”

your face twists in an expression of mixed bewilderment and distrust.

“that i’m not sure about, but it’s really just a worm! would i still be standing here if it wasn’t?” he clicks his tongue sharply. “we need to get your eyes rechecked.”

you roll your eyes with a huff. you’ve have had enough of his teasing before it even starts.

“uh?! i’m serious over here!”

this is new— you mean bickering with jungkook in a public place isn’t, but being carried by him like a bride while it happens definitely is.

“fine, i’ll go this weekend. happy?” you fake an obedient smile. “you can put me down now.”

he blinks, and then he adjusts the way he’s holding you to ensure that your dress won’t show what’s for his eyes only— for a split second, you were flying.

“i’ll go with you,”

“okay. now put me down.“ you tap his shoulder repeatedly to prompt him to heed your words. “babe, this is embarrassing!”

“nope,” he ignores your protest with nonchalance as he resumes to walk the path you’re on, evidently enjoying the attention he’s stealing and the way you’re curling yourself smaller to hide.

“oh my god! weren’t you just complaining about your body hurting?!”

“you were scared of me leaving,” he smiles, glancing down at you. “so now i’m gluing you to myself.”

that made you quiet for a while. inside your tote, the container of kimchi, wrapped in a plastic bag, rattles with his every stride. you noticed that jungkook loved it so much, so you ordered it to go when he went to the bathroom before you were to leave the restaurant.

“you know, we used to just hold hands,” you mumble with a childish pout. “like normal people?”

“this is very normal,” he argues.

the scenery becomes more familiar as he takes the long way home.

“some would even say romantic.”

a wave of nostalgia hits, and you visibly shiver.

you don’t know if he would remember, but he has said the same exact words once before.

you scrunch your nose, supposedly to give him a look of disgust, but a giddy smile betrays you. you are five years younger again, and the night ends with the moon bidding you an adieu.

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

[darlingdaisyfarm]

👁️⃤ evil!Ford x reader

author note: okay im sorry for post spamming but this idea been sitting in my mind for too long and I had to write smth about it, would be glad to read your opinion on that Ford x reader dynamic!^^

so this is a bit of an au situation where evil!Ford is working with Bill now. in this version, reader is Ford’s former ex partner, someone who used to be close enough to him to know his work better than anyone else, including the equation Bill wanted from Ford in canon. Although here Ford doesn’t know the equation anymore, but you do

You’re trapped.

The chair beneath you creaks when you try to move, your wrists aching from the coldness of the handcuffs that keep your hands pinned behind your back. Your breathing is shallow from fighting, your throat feels dry from screaming, but you keep your head high. Defiance in your eyes, even as Stanford’s gaze burns holes through you.

He sits across from you with his legs spread wide and his elbows resting on his thighs, watching you. You squint, noticing a little glow of that infernal symbol on his wrist. Bill’s mark, his new goddamn religion. 

“You’re only making this harder for yourself, darling.”

You don’t answer, you won’t give him the satisfaction.

Ford leans back in his chair, tilting his head as his eyes drag slowly over you. “Still playing the martyr, i see,” he drawls, unable to hold sarcastic laugh. “you always did have a flair for the dramatic.”

“Fuck you,” you spit.

“Oh, but, sweetheart,” he says, standing now. “you don’t get it, do you? you can’t win this.”

“You think you’re protecting them,” Stanford continues. “Stanley, the twins. You think they’ll thank you for this? For your stubbornness?”

“You won’t touch them.” you answer through clenched teeth. 

Ford crosses the room in a few strides, towering over you now and it feels like his shadow is swallowing you whole. His hand comes up to grip your chin, forcing your face upward to look at him and you don’t recognise him, instead of your Ford, it’s a shadow of a man who’s sold his soul, body and mind, to something far worse than the nightmares you’re used to. Ford digs his fingers into your skin.

“Just tell me the equation, that’s all i want. you give me what i need, and this—” his eyes flick down to the cuffs, to the bruises blooming on your wrists, “—this ends.”

“Go to hell.”

His grip only tightens, and his jaw clenches. For a moment, you think he might snap, might lose that careful control he prides himself on. But to your surprise, he lets out a low, bitter laugh, releasing your chin and pacing a step away.

“Always so stubborn, it’s admirable, in a way. Stupid as fuck, but admirable. But we both know i can make you talk.”

Before you can react, his hand is in your hair, yanking your head back sharply. You gasp, your neck arching painfully as his face appears damn close you feel his breath against your lips. God, this is not how you imagined kissing Ford. Not after he joined Bill Cipher.

“What’s with that fear in your pretty eyes? I won’t bite, not unless you ask.” 

“Fuck. . . you,” you say again, but the words sound weaker this time and you hate the fact that even after Ford Pines isn’t the man you remember, you still feel attached to him.

Noticing your hesitation, Stanford’s lips curl into a smirk, and then he’s kissing you, if you can even call it that. Ford is forceful, rough, demanding, his kiss is nothing gentle, his other hand grips your jaw to keep you in place he takes what he wants, biting your lips, his tongue sweeping into your mouth and he groans when you make a pathetic muffled sound.

When he pulls back, your lips are swollen and you swear you can taste the metal, your skin burns from how hard he squeezed it.

“I can do this all night,” Ford trails his long fingers down the side of your neck, brushing the pulse that races beneath your skin. “You’ll give in eventually. . . they always do.”

“I hate you.” but you don’t believe your own words.

That truly makes Ford laugh, the way you say it so dead serious, with that cute glare when you both know it’s not like that. 

“Hate me?” he repeats in mockery, as if the very idea is absurd. His fingers tighten in your hair, pulling your head back to force your eyes to meet his. “Is that what you tell yourself to sleep at night, sweetheart?”

You glare up at him, biting down on the words that threaten to spill from your mouth.

“Funny. That’s not what my muse showed me. Not in your little head, darling.” he talks, savouring every word, enjoying your reaction as you already have panic written all over your face. “let me tell you, in there, you’re begging for it, desperate for me to fuck you.”

Your heart slams against your ribs and the air seems to vanish from your lungs. 

“All those filthy little thoughts you try so hard to hide. I had no idea my ex-lab partner was such a slut?”

You feel mad and humiliated at same time, your face burns, but you clench your jaw, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response.

“Oh, don’t give me that look, sweetheart, we both know exactly where it’s gonna get you.”

[addisonnie]

Baptize in Your Thighs

summary: Ellie doesn’t go to church. But when she does, it’s for the preacher’s daughter.

warnings: swearing, SMUT, fingering, oral, daddy kink (SORRY,) lowkey mean!ellie, dom/sub, religious mentions, talks of god, slight mentions of homophobia but hardly, let me know if I missed anything ALSO not proofread per usual sorry can’t be bothered!

an: surprise you dirty little dogs. im also a dirty little dog because what the FUCK is this. what did i just do? anyways time to do my homework now! enjoy you filthy little sluts

—————

Ellie doesn’t particularly believe in God. She doesn’t read the Bible, she doesn’t pray, and she certainly doesn’t go to church.

Yet, here she is.

The stained glass windows cast a rainbow haze over her skin, the freckles dotting her face twinkle under the glow. People slowly begin to fill in the pews surrounding her and she plays with the mini Bible placed in the wooden pocket of the seat in front of her. She looks out of place, feels out of place. People like her are usually struck by lightning the second they walk through those goddamn wooden doors— probably not the best time to use the Lord’s name in vain.

She’s gay, she’s grumpy, she’s occasionally mean. So, why is she here?

You. The preacher’s sweeter-than-a-peach daughter. Your smile is contagious, your laugh is precious, and Jesus Christ—again, not the best time— you have got to be one of the most alluring girls Ellie has ever seen. A floral dress hugs your waist beautifully and stops right above the middle of your supple thighs, tan pantyhose run up your legs and Ellie coughs into her hand when she accidentally makes eye contact with you.

You smile, of course you do. It’s nothing more than a formality your family forced upon you to keep raking in more church-goers—because who wants to attend a church run by an asshole family. Ellie smiles back before looking at her hands splayed across her thighs. She notices the click-clack of your kitten heels as you approach her pew, refusing to look up, she plays with the rip in her jeans.

“Is someone sitting here? With you.” Your saccharine voice floats through Ellie’s ears and wraps around her eardrum like a vice.

“No, go ahead.” She nods toward the open space next to her and you smile before sitting down and sliding closer to her. Your small hands smooth over your dress before you turn to face her, “I haven’t seen you here before. Are you a new member?”

Ellie has to hold back an eye roll—‘member?’ What is this? A cult?

“Just decided to finally come today. I usually don’t like getting up early on my days off.” You laugh and smile brightly at her, “I’m the same way. My daddy has to practically kick my door down to get me awake Sunday mornings.”

You’ve got a sweet little southern accent and Ellie feels herself growing aroused at the innocent aura weaved in every word you speak. She wonders if you’ve ever been aroused like this before.

Ellie notices you’re about to speak again before your father walks up onto the stage and begins his sermon. Immediately, your attention is brought to him and she sighs at the loss. The pastor is droning on about sinners and that those who are lost in the darkness should look for the light, Christ.

She doesn’t care. Ellie is much more focused on the fact that your dress has ridden much farther up your thighs due to the fact that you’ve crossed your legs. Her eyes trail up and down your pantyhose-covered legs and she shivers, drawing your attention back to her.

“Are you alright?”

Ellie’s eyes dart to your face, “just feeling overwhelmed, is all.”

You nod before pursing your lips and squinting, Ellie panics for a moment, thinking you’ve seen straight through her.

“Come with me.” You stand up in the pew and reach your hand out for Ellie to grab, quickly dragging her through the row and to the front doors of the church.

Your mother stands there, hands on her hips.

“Now, just where do you think you’re going? Your father is not going to be pleased that you’re skipping his sermon.” A whine escapes your lips and you tug on Ellie’s hand.

“Mama, this is Ellie. She’s feeling a little overwhelmed. I think the Holy Ghost is reaching out to her! I’m gonna take her to the house and let her have one of our spare bibles. You’re the one always saying we should help those that are lost!”

Your mother curtly nods at you before turning to face Ellie, “well, Miss. Ellie. You’re in good hands! I hope my daughter helps you work through your feelings. It’ll only lead to a healthier relationship with Christ.”

Ellie smiles and thanks her, in her head she’s rolling her eyes and telling your mom to fuck off. If anything, you’re the one in good hands. Ellie wants nothing more than to coax another whine from your plump, glossy lips.

Your hand is grasped in Ellie’s while you drag her across the dirt-filled church parking lot and into an old Victorian style home about a yard away from the side of the church. A couple cats sunbathe on the front porch and you happily greet them as you drag Ellie up the stairs and into your house.

It smells really nice. It’s creepy as fuck, though. The only thing she can really focus on are the abundance of crosses littering the walls. Who needs that many crosses? Do you beat intruders with them? Do they keep the demons away? Ellie shudders when she realizes that she’s probably the very thing they want casted out of her house.

“We can head up to my room, I’ve got a couple bibles there. You can have one, if you’d like!” There’s that sweet little voice again.

You pull her up the stairs and quickly lead her to your room. It’s exactly what Ellie expected. Pink toile wallpaper, a precious white bed frame, and a fluffy white comforter topped with way too many decorative pillows. A Bible lay open atop your bed, colorful markings and annotations scatter across the pages.

“Sorry! S’a bit of a mess, I don’t usually have people in my room. Mama and daddy don’t like it.”

Your mom and dad won’t like what Ellie is thinking about doing, either.

The two of you sit criss-cross on the bed and your nimble fingers quickly reach out to grasp at your Bible, “so, today my daddy’s sermon was meant to be about temptation. We can start there.”

How ironic. Temptation.

“How do you keep from giving into it? Temptation, that is?” Ellie leans in to be closer to your body, you look at her with wide eyes.

“I just—I usually just pray.”

Ellie smirks, “yeah? Does that make it go away?”

You push a stray strand of hair behind your ear and frown slightly, confused.

“Make what go away?”

God, you look so innocent like this. Big doe eyes staring up into Ellie’s, your legs crossed out in front of you. It’s sinful.

“Those butterflies you get in your tummy. The ones that make you feel funny.” She’s trying to dance around the topic of general horniness rather than just straight up asking if you touch yourself. Speaking to you about this is difficult, you’re a butterfly on a stray flower, and if Ellie jumps in too quickly, she’ll startle you and run you off.

“I—I don’t know what you mean.” You’re wiggling under her intense stare and a soft blush begins to bloom over the apples of your cheeks.

“Sweetheart, I think you do. Tell me what you do when you get that feeling.” Ellie leans in much closer to you, her minty breath fans over your face and she doesn’t miss the part when you clench your soft thighs together.

“Hebrews 13:4.” Ellie scoffs and swats at your knee, “that’s not what I’m asking you.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and huff out a breath, “Ellie. I’m trying to help you here. You wanna know what I do? I read the Bible and pray that God will rid me of those sinful feelings.”

And then Ellie is leaning closer, both her hands resting on your thighs, “are you going to pray right now? Ask God to get rid of that wet feeling in your panties? Ask him to smite me where I stand, hm?”

A bright red blush spans across your cheeks and you can’t bear to look at Ellie. She tuts, “look at me, angel.”

It’s ironic that she’s calling you angel when you feel like the complete opposite. The feeling of your cotton panties sliding against your sticky folds is enough to make you feel like the spawn of Satan himself. And to feel this way about a woman? You don’t even want to think about the repercussions of that.

“I touch myself. At night—after they’re asleep.” Ellie grins and squeezes your flesh between her fingers, “you’re a bad girl. What else do you do?”

A whine escapes your lips while you shove at Ellie’s calloused hands, “I can’t.”

Her face drops and she moves a hand up to squeeze your jaw in between her fingers, “you can. Tell me—better yet, why don’t you show me, angel?”

A gasp slides out of your mouth and your eyebrows shoot to your hairline, “I—what! No! Ellie, I can’t do that. I won’t.”

Her unoccupied hand slowly trails toward the hem of your dress, “I thought you were supposed to be a good girl? Sweet little pastor’s daughter can’t follow simple instructions?”

You whimper, “M’a good girl.”

“Then act like one.”

Her hand releases your jaw and she smirks when she watches you inch backward on your bed until you’re resting against the headboard. Your legs are crossed in front of you and Ellie gives you a moment to uncross them before she grabs your ankles to spread your legs.

“Go on, then.”

Your fingers slowly raise the hem of your dress until it pools around your tummy and Ellie sucks in a breath when she sees your flowery pink panties underneath your pantyhose. One hand travels underneath the elastic of your underwear and a soft whimper leaves your parted lips when the pad of your fingertip ghosts over your clit.

Ellie can’t see your pussy through your undergarments but she can clearly make out the little wet spot growing between your legs. She watches while your finger swirls in a circular motion under your panties and feels her own growing damper when you let out a soft moan.

“More, sweet girl. I know you can.” Ellie is leaning back on her hands while she watches your hand speed up, you choke out a pathetic whine while looking at her, “can’t, Ellie!”

A deep frown settles across Ellie’s face after your outward denial, “fucking pathetic. Do I have to do it for you? Hm? Is that what you want?”

Your hand slides out from under your panties and you shimmy down on the bed and spread your legs to be bent on either side of her body.

“Does your daddy know how much of a filthy little slut you are?” She’s crawling up the bed until she’s sitting on her knees in front of you, one arm on either side of your head. You whimper and jut your hips out toward her.

A simple phrase passes through her lips, one that has you sucking in a breath and squeezing your eyes shut, “beg.”

“Please.” It’s a pathetic attempt at begging, but you were raised to always be polite, at least you said please.

She leans forward on her hands and quickly moves one of her legs forward to shove straight into your core, grinding roughly onto your puffy clit.

You let out a soft moan and clutch onto her bicep, “I said fucking beg. I wanna hear you pray for me like the good little church girl you are.”

She surges forward and immediately presses her lips onto yours in a messy kiss. Her lips are soft yet chapped, a clear juxtaposition to the supple, cherry-flavored skin of your pouty lips. Ellie doesn’t even give you a chance to deny her tongue before she’s prying your mouth open with her lips, immediately sliding the wet muscle into your awaiting mouth. The harshness of her jeans continually ruts into your clit and she doesn’t plan on giving you any more until she hears that prayer fall from your lips. Fingers are digging into her biceps and she has half a mind to complain when you finally pull back, “please touch me. Please, please. I’ll be a good girl—fuck. Please.”

Hearing the naughty word slip from your sweet lips has Ellie chuckling, “atta girl.”

She immediately sits back on her knees before running her hands up and down your spread thighs, the wet spot on your panties only growing more prominent. Her fingers reach your core and you whimper for the thousandth time, she bunches the material of your pantyhose and rips the fabric apart at the seam, leaving an open hole directly to your underwear.

“Ellie!” She grunts and gives you a sour look before attaching her lips to yours again. Sloppy, wet sounds fill your ears while Ellie kisses you, spit is trailing down your chin and onto the valley of your breasts as Ellie fumbles with the soft material of your panties.

Sliding them to the side, she runs the pad of her pointer finger along your cunt, eliciting a gasp from you. Her finger dances over your folds and circles around your clit a few times before she trails back down to your hole, slowly pressing a finger inside.

“Oh—fuck! Ellie, please.”

She moves to kiss down the column of your throat while she slowly pulls her finger out, pushing it back in again.

“Better than your tiny fingers, hm, baby?” You nod and move a hand down to tug at her wrist, “more.”

Ellie moves her head away from your neck and scowls, “where have your manners gone?”

Tears are beginning to fill your doe eyes and for a minute Ellie feels bad for having such an attitude with you, but not bad enough to stop.

“Please. I want more of you.” That’s enough for her it seems, she slides her second finger in knuckle deep moans at the feeling of you digging your nails into her toned arms.

Her fingers quickly move in and out of your pussy, scissoring and twisting inside of you. You’re moaning, but quietly; Ellie doesn’t like that.

“Let me fucking hear you, sweet girl. Don’t be shy.” She speeds up the movement of her fingers and soon slides in a third finger, twisting her wrist around to hit you at a different angle. Her other arm moves to lift your leg onto her shoulder and the new angle has you releasing a borderline pornographic moan. It’s loud, and for a second you’re worried the church across the driveway heard it.

Her thumb repositions to quickly swipe over and circle at your clit. Your toes curl over Ellie’s shoulder and she listens to you squeak and cry out from under her. Teeth sink into your calf resting upon her shoulder and another loud moan slides from your parted lips when you feel Ellie harshly bite down on the skin and slide her tongue across the indention.

She feels you clenching religiously around her fingers and watches in awe as your wetness seeps into the palm of her hand and puddles on your pristine comforter.

“Close, baby?”

You whine in response and Ellie quickly halts her motions and slides her fingers out, “too bad.”

Your soft eyes full with tears and you slam your head backwards onto the pillow behind you, “fuck! Just—please, Ellie! Please please please—“

A harsh slap onto your pussy sends your hips jolting upward and your head flying forward. You whimper from the pain “m’sorry.”

“Rule number one. You only cum when I say you can. Got it, slut?” She delivers another harsh slap onto your clit and you arch your back in an attempt to be closer to her, “yes.”

She tuts, “yes, what?”

A confused look crosses your sweet face and you whine, shuffling your hips downward in hopes of some form of contact, “yes, Ellie?”

Another slap to your cunt, “ah—fuck! Yes! Yes, daddy!”

She smirks before lifting your other leg to rest on her shoulder, moving down on the bed until her face is settled in between your thighs.

“What are you doing?” You sound genuinely confused, which only confuses Ellie. Certainly you know what head is, right?

“M’gonna eat this pretty little pussy, baby. You want that?” She can practically hear you gulp. Your head nods and both of your hands slide to rest on top of her head.

Ellie leans in to pull your panties further to the side, pressing a chaste kiss right onto your clit, “oh my—“ you cut yourself off before you can say His name.

She smirks, “say it.”

And then she’s licking a long stripe up the expanse of your cunt, only stopping to suckle at your clit. Her tongue darts around in several circles before she finally fully takes your clit into her mouth and sucks harshly, “oh my God!”

She smirks into your pussy before moving her hand back up to slide knuckle-deep into your cunt again. Her long fingers piston in and out of your slick core while she hums and sucks on your clit. Fingers are digging into her scalp and yanking at her hair, your heels are digging into her back, and ear-shattering moans are diving out of your mouth.

Ellie does believe in God, because this, this is heaven.

She feels you constricting so hard around her fingers that it’s starting to get difficult to continually fuck in and out of you, her bicep is burning from the amount of effort she’s putting into getting you there.

“Daddy—fuck, please. M’so close. Please please please.” You’re babbling at this point, and Ellie is pretty sure you’ve literally never came before because she didn’t even edge you for that long and you’ve already got tears streaming down your round cheeks and onto your neck.

She moans onto your clit before slightly pulling away, “good girl, you can come.”

That’s all it takes, the vibration of Ellie’s words send shockwaves through your clit and immediately you’re seeing stars, clenching down onto Ellie’s fingers like a vice. She fucks you through it, she doesn’t stop, either.

Her mouth continues to suck on your clit long after you’ve come, and her fingers are still buried to the hilt inside of you.

“Oh! Please—please, can’t do more.”

Her teeth graze over your puffy clit, “yes you fucking can, roll over.”

She pulls away just long enough for you to roll over onto your tummy, “face down. Gonna have you on your knees praying for me to stop.”

Your face is mashed into the pillows and Ellie uses her knee to shove your legs further apart, her large hands immediately move to spread your pussy apart and she licks a long stripe from your clit to your tighter hole.

“Fucking shit! Fuck fuck fuck!” The filthy words pass through your lips like nothing, and Ellie almost laughs at the idea of the sweetest girl in the world having such a foul mouth. She moves back down to stuff her tongue into your pussy, sliding the wet muscle in and out, licking and sucking on your folds like a woman starved.

You’re babbling and sobbing into your pillowcase, begging for literally anything. Ellie keeps her mouth connected to your pussy, but moves both of her hands to grip the globes of your ass and quickly spreads them. One hand stays planted on your ass, the other trails upward until her thumb rests over your tight hole, pressing in slightly before circling around it. She uses her previous spit as lube before slowly sliding her thumb into your ass, leaving it there while she licks on your cunt.

A sob erupts from your lips and immediately you’re rocking back and forth on her face, “good fucking girl. Use me, baby.”

Her thumb slides farther into your ass and before you know it, she’s sliding her other hand to meet it. She presses in her second thumb and you squeal, clenching around her fingers.

With one last lick to your clit, your orgasm hits like a truck. Your juices leak down Ellie’s chin and spurt out onto her cheeks, effectively covering her face with you. It’s deliciously sweet and Ellie happily laps up everything that drips from your pussy lips, slurping and gurgling like a feral animal.

She pulls away from your cunt and turns her face to the side, rubbing your juices onto her clothed shoulder. Her thumbs stay planted in your ass and she lightly pulls her thumbs apart, spreading you open.

“Fuck—fuck. No more. No!”

Ellie chuckles and decides to remove her fingers. She watches your knees buckle and you drop fully onto your bed, shaking and whimpering, “oh my God. Oh my God.”

You keep repeating it. Over and over.

“It’s actually Ellie. But, I told you I’d have you praying for me instead.”

You grunt into the pillow case and Ellie laughs, moving to rub her hand soothingly up and down the expanse of your back. She presses a kiss between your shoulder blades and helps you slide your shredded pantyhose down your legs along with your underwear.

Your dress is still bunched up around your chest and Ellie rugs the fabric down to cover your ass after pressing a kiss to the plump skin.

Just as she slides your dress fully back down, a knock sounds at your bedroom door, “honey? It’s dad. The sermon is over and I’m heading back to the church for the potluck. Are you coming?”

Ellie squeezes the flesh of your thighs in warning, “no, daddy. I’m staying here, don’t feel—ah, don’t feel good.”

Her fingers drift over your puffy lips while she listens to you answer your father outside the door, “okay, honey.”

His footsteps clank down the stairs and Ellie waits to hear the front door slam before she whispers in your ear, “I don’t think I’m done with my sermon yet.”

[idanceuntilidie]

I have no idea- I was thinking about this yesterday and today in the end I wrote it

chaos chaos enjoy and Im gonna go shower and mir mir don’t commit crimes when Im gone

Tw: slightly suggestive themes, yandere behaviour

Yandere classmate x male reader

Requests are open.

You know where to find me And I know where to look

They boy hummed, his fingers gently playing with your hair. It felt like the finest silk; just like he imagined. A small smile appears on his face,

You were so blissfully unaware, sleeping like a baby and missing out on lectures again.

He twirled the lock of your hair before cutting it off. His smile widened, admiring it, another part of you that he can add to his collection. 

He never thought that he could find a boy attractive, but here you were, blissfully unaware of him watching your every step.

You stole his heart, ripped it out of his chest. Still beating, for you.

He laid his head next to yours, and closed his eyes. Your scent enveloping his senses as he slowly drifted to sleep. 

The bell rang.

You sit up, mind still half awake, you stretch. 

Your eyes widen as you realize the class is already empty. You quickly stand up, swaying a bit due to not being fully awake. Wiping off the droll, you pack your things, you hear a soft click and when you look up you see one of the most popular boys standing in front of you, phone in hand and smiling. His pale blue eyes sparkled with mischief.

“Hi hun! Look how cute you look in this photo!”

He chirped, waving the phone in front of you.

He fucking took a photo of you.

„Celeste delete it!” You desperately lunged at him to get his phone, you failed. He stumbled back and thanks to stupid luck he dodged your attack.

Celeste giggled like a child, correcting his sweater.

“Celeste I beg you! Fucking delete the photo” you begged, eyes glossing over.

“Only if you give me a biiiig kiss” he clapped his hands.

Your face twisted into a grimace, you tried to see if the two of his friends came with him to record this. You couldn’t really see them, but it didn’t mean that they couldn’t be here.

“.. Go fuck yourself.”

You grabbed your bag and rushed out of the classroom.

Celeste huffed as he watched you run out of the classroom.

He sat on the nearby desk, unlocking his phone.

Celeste scrolled through the new photos of you. His pale face dusting with pink, a shy smile formed on his lips. Too easy. He added the photos to his wide collection.

Scrolling through the photos, his smile widens. Some of them are blurry but Celeste doesn’t mind, every photo he takes of you is perfect in every aspect.

He sighs, he wanted that kiss. He bought the cherry flavored chapstick for nothing.

You walked through the halls and checked your bag. Few things were missing from your bag, you must have forgotten them somewhere.

You lost too much of your stuff already, you can’t believe you started being so forgetful.

At least Celeste didn’t follow you.

Finally you found a safe corner and sat down. 

Running your hand through your hair you notice some of it is shorter than the rest.

You curse under your breath. Goddamn it, you feel like you are in elementary school all over again.

“Y/N?”

“Marceline oh my God thank Gods you are here I-“

„Listen, we can’t be friends anymore.” she interrupts you.

You look at her in disbelief. She didn’t even look at you, she played with her fingers. Her back hair covered her face and you couldn’t make out the expression.

Your mouth opened, to say something, anything but nothing came out. You felt hurt, betrayed. Marceline didn’t budge for a bit, you could feel her stare on you. Unfocused, hot and burning.

You felt dizzy, this was too much.

Marceline, seeing you had nothing to say, muttered a small apology and walked away.

You didn’t even have the energy to go and run after her.

You felt tears build up. You sniffed and hid your face in your arms.

Celeste grabbed Marceline's hand, she looked at him with pure hatred.

“He is crying because of you”

“Hm, no, he is crying because of you, because you wanted to save your ass” he says, giving him a painfully obvious fake smile.

Marceline felt her blood boil. She roughly pulled her hand away and before storming off he heard her yell insults at him.

Celeste smiled and waved at her, he pulled out his phone and stopped the recording. He will edit it later, it could be useful.

He slowly walked to you, you were crying eh? Man, he needs to take some photos! And God, if he could find your used tissues. Celeste felt his face get hot at the mere thought.

When he finally reached you, he thanked whatever was out there. That you didn’t notice him.

You were such a mess, sitting on the floor sobbing. It was all thanks to him, he smiled widely. His breath had gotten heavy, he rubbed his thighs together and took out his phone. Time for a few new photos.

[mrzombielover]

- slow ride ch2

feat. sinner!adam x fem!hotel worker!reader

previous chapter || series masterlist || next chapter (wip)

warnings: NSFW, more substance use in this one, a bit of angst?, readers emotional issues

a/n: i feel like my writing sucks esp in this chapter cause im sorta rusty and sick so i cant even tell if this makes sense but oh well😭😭😭 anyway pls send me hazbin reqs!!!!! having the worst brainrot lately esp for this horrible man!!!

wc: 2.9k

“I'm not breaking up inside / I'm much to proud to moan / Baby, please come home”

Oh my god. What did I just do? Why did I do this?

You turn your head to look at Adam where he’s lying on the other side of the bed, and find his expression closely mirrors your own. Pure disbelief is written on his features, and you grimace, turning to look back at the ceiling.

After a moment, you sit up, grabbing your box of cigarettes and a lighter off your bedside table. Once lit, you swing your feet off the bed to reach for shirt and now ripped panties, standing up when you’re partially dressed. You hear Adam sit up behind you.

“Soo, that was… uhhh…” He trails off, mouth hanging open as he thinks of what to say.

“Let’s… not speak about this again,” You say carefully as you turn back to face him.

“Yeah. yeah, i’m good with that,” He says quickly, finding his robes off the floor. You’re surprised he doesn’t say anything about the smoke.

You cross the room to get your pants off the floor, pulling them up as Adam grabs his jacket. You pull up your fly, and look up to see Adam’s staring at you with an expression you can’t read. His eyes flicker to your lips, and he starts to lean closer.

“Kiss me and i’ll cut your fuckin’ tongue out,” you say as you turn your head away.

“Oookay then. I’ll, uh, see ya,” For once, he has no snarky comment or crude joke to make as he straightens up and leaves your room.

After that, you told yourself never again. It happened once, it’s out of your system, it’s done. A one time thing.

But then it happens a second time.

“It’s a disgusting habit! All your clothes, your whole room fuckin’ reeks!”

“Are you tryin’ to get me to loose my temper here? ‘Cause i’m about to shove you out that fucking window!”

“And look how angry you get, you fucking fiend, it’s been like 2 hours!”

“Why don’t you mind your goddamn business?”

You raise an arm to hit him, but he catches your elbow, twisting you around so your back is to him and he can hold you in place. You struggle to break from his grip, when suddenly-

“Oh my god,” You deadpan, but your voice doesn’t come out as disgusted as you expected at the feeling of something hard poking into your lower back.

“Okay, this is not my fault-“ Adam says quickly.

“You- fucking perv!” You spit, but your words hold no weight when he flips you again and lifts you up, placing you on the counter and you make no effort to struggle. You spread your legs so he can slot between them as items pushed out of the way cascade off the counter, falling to the floor with loud crashes.

You then told yourself that would be the last time. But not even you fully believed yourself. And once it happened a third, fourth, and fifth time, you just accepted this is something that happens now. You’re not proud of it- some of you hates yourself, but another part of you finds a a sick, primal pleasure in it. It’s the only guaranteed way for you to get him to shut up, if only for a few minutes. The fight for dominance- fuuck you’re messed up, huh?

Thinking of the humiliation you’d feel if any of the others found out- oh god, how could you look Alastor in the eyes again- you change absolutely nothing about your behavior around Adam. On the surface, nothing has changed at all. You two still bicker and argue all the time, if anything, worse than ever. Yet the other members can feel something’s up, that something changed. Adam’s insults feel more hollow. He always said shit just to rile you up, but there was usually an undertone of truth to his words. Not anymore- it’s all stupid shit that everybody can tell he doesn’t care about. Nobody says anything about it, though, until-

“What the fuck are you smilin’ for?” Angel’s voice makes Adam jump as he enters, sitting down on the couch beside him.

“What-? I wasn’t smiling,” Adam quickly denies. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh my god- are you’re gettin’ laid?” Angel grins, sitting up. The look on Adam’s face tells him everything, and he can’t help but laugh. “Oh, you so are! No wonder you’ve been in such a good mood lately,”

“Uh, duh i’m getting laid, I’m Adam, I’m the origin-“

“Yeah, yeah, original dick. But that’s not what I mean and you know it.” Angel grins widely, and Adam can feel his face heating up. Oh god- why is he blushing? Since when does he care? He pushes the thought from his head.

“…You don’t know her,” Adam decides to say, crossing his arms and turning back to face the TV, hoping Angel will just leave it at that.

“Try me,” Angel leans closer, looking intently at Adam’s expression. When Adam says nothing, Angel laughs again.

“Oh my god I so know her,”

Adam grits his teeth but says nothing as Angel laughs.

“Okay, fine, don’t tell me who you’re havin’ weird secret kinky sex with,” Angel shrugs, turning to face the TV. “I’ll find out eventually,”

That makes Adam sweat.

You can’t help but laugh, nearly spitting whisky everywhere while Husk chuckles to himself. Sure, it’s a bit trite, ranting to the bartender about your shitty day while he pours you a stiff drink, but Husk could always make you laugh about it, and call you out on your bullshit if needed. He was real, and you liked that about him. Plus, it beat drinking alone when none of your other friends wanted to party on a Wednesday.

“-and not a crazy bitch like I’m a crazy bitch, crazy like she lit her mom’s hair on fir-“

“Husk holy shit!”

Both of you look in the direction of Angel Dust’s voice as he runs from the hallway towards you both. He leans over the bar, eager to share whatever news he had.

“Adam’s fucking somebody- somebody here!”

You choke on your whisky, spitting it back into the glass. Angel and Husk both look at you with a raised brow.

“My bad,” is all you say. you can’t think of anything else that would play it off, so you just quietly wipe off your face while Angel recounts his encounter with Adam. You feel an eye twitch- you could strangle that prick for being so conspicuous.

“You’re quiet, Y/N,” Angel says in a teasing tone.

“I just could not care less if I tried,” You say back, firmly but with a shrug, and you hope it suffices as an acceptable explanation, and that you come off as your usual apathetic self. You finish your whisky, and luckily, Angel doesn’t give you any more shit. Slightly unsettled by that interaction, you avoid Adam for the next few days.

Late one evening, everybody’s gone up to their rooms and the hotel is quiet. You’ve already eaten, smoked, brushed your teeth and put on pajamas, but there’s nothing good on TV and you’re bored and high and just want a task to keep busy. So you wander aimlessly into the kitchen and find yourself doing the dishes that Charlie was too stressed out to do earlier.

As you scrub brown charred bits off a pan, you find your stupid weed-addled brain wandering to Adam. You haven’t fought with him in a while, mostly because you’d run away before he had the chance to start, but still. It feels weird, being so calm lately. No wonder you’re bored. It’s the way things used to be at the hotel, before he arrived. You guess you hadn’t realized how used to his presence you’ve gotten. Gross. You cringe at the thought.

Luckily, your phone starts to vibrate on the counter, giving you a distraction. You pick up and hold it between your ear and shoulder without looking at the caller ID.

“Yo, where are you right now?”

Of course.

“Adam? What the fuck, when did you get a phone?” You snort. When you realize you’re smiling you clear your throat and force your face to relax.

“Whatever. Can you come upstairs?”

You pause. He sounds slightly odd.

“What, like, to your room?” You raise an eyebrow. “Why?”

“ohmyfuckinggod- can you not be difficult for fucking once and just do what I ask?” Then, as an afterthought, he adds “Please?”

Damn, okay. You don’t say anything for a moment, thinking maybe you’re just smacked and he’s being normal.

“Suuuure… Just uh, gimme a minute,” You say carefully, putting the dishes down. Then, he hangs up on you. What a dick.

Unbeknownst to you, while you’ve been thinking about him, he’s been thinking about you way more.

You’ve been avoiding him- obviously. Not unexpected, but it pissed him off to no end. He’s fucking Adam! Who are you to ignore him? Aren’t you supposed to be keeping an eye on him, anyway?

By now, the others have started to accept him- including them in their plans, drinking with him, no longer leaving a room when he enters- so he doesn’t really need a chaperone anymore. Despite this, it still feels wrong. Even in a room with every other patron of the hotel, he’d started to notice when you weren’t there.

He didn’t even notice he was starting to miss you at first. It wasn’t until he and Charlie were seated at the bar, and he drank more than he probably should have, that he mentioned you were avoiding him.

“What’dya, miss her?” Husk asked.

“Awww, Adam!” He still remembers the look on her and Husker’s faces. “You are starting to change! That’s so sweet of you!”

And then because she was drunk she kept rambling about it for like 30 minutes, but he doesn’t remember the rest of what she said, just the utter humiliation he felt. He shut up for the rest of the night to avoid spilling his guts any more, but Husk- the annoying fucker- still gives him knowing looks every now and then.

And after Nifty had washed his sheets, and he’d noticed that his pillows lost the scent of cigarettes, perfume, and shampoo you’d left behind, he knew he was royally fucked.

The worst of all, though, is that he feels helpless to feeling these emotions- and even worse, he doesn’t want to stop feeling them. Before he’d even noticed it, he was thinking about you all the time, and he was fine with it. The embarrassment was killing him, even though, supposedly, nobody knew.

On this particular night, he’d probably had just a tad too much beer with his dinner, because when he’d returned to his room and flopped on his bed, there was a little bug in the back of his brain that kept whining about how empty it felt. He tossed and turned for a bit, just wanting to sleep it off, but he eventually gave up, reaching for his phone.

“Adam?” Before you’re finished knocking, Adam jumps up to get the door, pulling you inside quickly. You make a noise of surprise as he scoops you up immediately, not saying anything as he carries you to his bed.

“Damn, needy, huh?” You laugh. This time, it’s him telling you to shut up as he tosses you onto the bed and crawls over you.

You sit up slightly to help him get your shirt off, and then his lips are on your neck, trailing down to your chest as he unclips your bra.

“Haven’t seen you in a while,” He says with a casual shrug as his hands run up your torso to grope at your tits.

“mm,” You hum, arching your back into his touch. “missed this?” You smile sarcastically. Missed you, he thinks.

“Sure missed these,” He pushes the thought away and grins back, squeezing your chest for emphasis. He pulls back briefly to rid himself of his own shirt, then bends back down to press more kisses to your flesh. He looks up, staring at your expression as he takes one of your nipples in his mouth, reveling in the whimper he’s rewarded with.

“fuckin’ perfect tits…” He mumbles into your chest before nipping at your skin. You let your eyes shut as his free hand slides down, under the band of your shorts and his finger brushes the hot skin beneath, skimming over your lips. Adam thumbs at your clit through your panties, relishing in the whine he rips from your throat.

Impatiently, you shift your hips up to slide off your shorts and panties, then reach to tug at his belt loops to signal he should do the same. When he looks up and sees the desperate look on your face, he decides not to keep you waiting, and pulls back to rip off his pants and boxers.

You guess avoiding him these past few days has affected you, too, because you’re surprisingly desperate. You sit up, wrapping your fingers around his cock, smearing his arousal across his length, and whatever he had been planning to say dies and comes out a needy garble of nonsense that makes you snicker.

To your surprise, he has no quip as he crawls over you and pushes himself between your legs. He bites back a gasp when you rub the head of his cock between your folds, a groan following a moment after as he begins pushing into you.

Your thighs are trembling by the time he’s fully inside of you, and you wrap your legs around his waist weakly while you adjust to the stretch.

He sits up fully, and from this view, you look stunning. The way you're laid back on his pillow, tears pricking in your eyes, he thinks you look more angelic than anything he ever saw in heaven.

“fuuuck,” He groans, letting his head fall onto the bed as he starts to move his hips.

“Adam!” The way you whine his name is truly sinful, and he feels his dick twitch in response.

“holyfuck, ‘s so big,” The slight burn makes you regret your impatience now, and his face makes you regret stroking his ego. You make a point to ignore his self satisfied laugh, focusing instead on how his cock stretched you open, making you to tighten and release around him. You turn your head, looking at his wicked fucked-out smile that grew wider and wider as his movements got deeper.

You can’t speak, you just moan helplessly as your hands search for anything to grab onto to steady yourself. You throw your hands around his neck and bury them in his now dark wings, in the way you always did. You gripped the feathers tightly and let out a moan and oh, god, he’s not going to last long, he thinks, with you gripping the sensitive feathers like that. He groans again, then his lips find your shoulder, where he leaves messy, open-mouthed kisses trailing towards your neck.

“so fuckin’ sexy, so, so good for me,” you barley even register that he’s speaking, with your entire focus being on the way he moved in and out of you.

“you’re- so beautiful,” he says between grunts. your eyes widen.

“wha-ahh-“ before you can question that, a particularly hard thrust makes the words die in your throat, and you’re clawing to his biceps again.

A warmth of pride erupts in your chest at the way his breathing has turned labored and his grip on you tightens. An arm snakes around your waist, the other under your head, pulling you impossibly tighter against him as he continues to desperately pound into you. The proud smirk you wore is wiped off your face when you feel one hand releases you and his hand trails down, eventually pressing a thumb your clit, rubbing small circles that make you moan and twitch beneath him.

You can’t even warn him before your whole body erupts. You spill over, you lose sense of where and who you are, all the while, Adam pounds into you, strokes you inside and out. You vaguely hear a sudden crash and him mumbling, thanking god that you came before him because seconds later, he’s spilling his own cum inside you with a broken wanton groan.

Adam stills for a moment, panting as he holds you close. When he rolls off you, he keeps one arm around you, pulling you against his chest. Huh. That’s new.

Neither of you say anything. That was… different, than you’re used to with him. You furrow your brows as you think, and find yourself confused. The cogs in your head turning something terrible in your mind, questioning his intentions.

Once you’ve caught your breath, you sit up, pushing away his arm as you go to find your clothes. He frowns, watching you pick your shirt up from the ground and pull it over your head. You looked guarded, like a cornered doe, like you were just waiting for the chance to sprint away.

Adam grabs his own boxers from the floor and pulls them on, quickly crossing the room to where you were. He looks down at you, and feels an odd, tightening in his chest, something he’s felt a lot since falling to hell.

He leans against the door, putting on a cocky smile.

“Soo… this was like a booty call, huh?”

“…Yeah, whatever. See ya,”

[writermask-0807]

bakugo katsuki x reader

A/N: omg this took way too long 😭😭 but-

for my loyal follower, nunezs-stuff!! sorry for the delay, and I hope that I've done your request justice. Also, once again, I might not have all of your oc's personality quirks, but i did try. Thank you for requesting, Hope you enjoy!

Warnings:

wayyy too long for some hcs, ooc bakugo, lowkey aggressive bakugo (he should be a warning himself lol), swearing (cus it's bakugo, duh), I wrote kianna using ‘you’ since it wasn’t specified. kianna's eating disorder is also included, and im not sure if i depicted it correctly, but i tried my best!! hope not to offend anyone, haha uhh that's pretty much it, ig. Oh, and this one is for bakugo only, sorry, but I'm currently working on the others- they'll be out in a while. Lmk if I missed anything else!!

bakugo katsuki, who meets you at the entrance exams, and, initially, regards your existence with indifference, since he’s already fuming, hands sparking with flames - all he’s thinking about is the sheer audacity of that bastard deku to even think about coming here, and how he’s gonna pummel him into the ground!!

*ehem*

so he’s honestly taken aback by your display of strength in the exams; he hadn’t paid much attention to you, yeah, but you sure didn’t look strong from how much he knew

either way, he’s intrigued - and almost immediately regards you as a new rival, and he expresses it in the only way he knows how to

“oi ya damn nerd! you must think highly of yourself, flexing your quirk like that!”

cue you turning to him with blank eyes

you shake his hand off your shoulder, looking unimpressed, even - bored

and almost immediately you piss him off with that - that expression of yours

there’s just something about it - something about that eerie emptiness in your eyes that sets him off, but bakugo’s determined and he isn’t going to let you off the hook so easily

so the both of you form a weird kind of rivalry/friendship into the first year of u.a that he definitely won’t admit is kind of nice

because with you, even with your blunt words and sharp eyes, you stick around when so many others have left him behind

and he can’t entirely blame them, selfish as he is

and it’s hard at first, because he’s more prone to blasting you with his quirk than ever having a *cough* normal *cough* conversation with you, but you’re just as stubborn as him, if not more

and you don’t take his shit either - returning his sneers and snide remarks with leers and barbs of your own

and you’re annoying, sure, always so goddamn blunt and straightforward, constantly on his heels like some kind of damn insect he can’t get rid of, but your company is nice from time to time (though he’ll never tell that straight to your face in a thousand years)

and bakugo just doesn’t get it at first

he knows he’s not the ideal friend (are you even… ‘friends’?); he’ll say shit that hits right where it hurts, does stupid shit that he doesn’t actually really mean

but you stick around and he learns to tolerate you and despite your arguments that are really just banter at this point, you look out for him and so does he, and… that’s kind of it, he supposes

and he doesn’t know how it has evolved to this - but he quickly learns to read between your insults and find the grudging compliment, he learns to see the embarrassed red in the tips of your ears when your face remains blank

he begrudgingly learns your likes and dislikes (though not on his own will), and so whenever he visits a store, he finds his eyes catching over the things you’d like, and for some godforsaken reason, ends up buying them for you

shoves it in your arms with a furious flush on his face and some lame excuse that you probably don’t believe but have the good graces not to point out

he learns that you can cook, and that it’s surprisingly good (again, he’ll never, ever admit it)

which is in anomaly in itself, and when he finds out, demands that you cook for him, claiming that he needs to taste how ‘bad’ his rival’s cooking is

you respond to this with a fond eye roll, and inform him that it’s definitely better than his, which riles him up, but then you end up cooking for him anyway

and, on a more intimate occasion, he learns that you can’t quite stomach the food you so meticulously make, and it pisses him off

of course, he knows it’s a disorder and that it can’t tackled by his sheer brashness alone

so he takes a more ‘subtler’ approach, if you can even call it that lol

ends up doing a ton of research; he starts with the little things, a slice of fruit here, a piece of fruit there- bakugo makes sure to periodically feed you small amounts of food because he takes notice that you can never really finish big meals

piles more food on your plate when he thinks you’re not looking

threatens you with smoking hands and an angry scowl (but he’s not angry, not really) to “eat more, damnit!” claiming that “you’ll be a scrawny little bastard forever so eat before i make you!”

(but thankfully, you don’t mind half as much as you’re amused)

comes ‘round to your room with tubs of your favorite foods that he claims he ‘accidentally’ made too much of (it’s a literal feast, btw)

watches you intently to make sure you’re actually eating, and when you tell him, quite bluntly, that he looks like a creep with a weird fetish of watching ppl eat, he tells you to “fuck off!” in no less indignant terms

continues to watch you like a hawk anyway lmao

(he catches you smiling, makes a whole fuss about it, and the both of you end up brawling it out, food promptly forgotten)

and so in the midst of this grudging rivalry-that’s-actually-really-friendship, it takes bakugo a painfully, painfully long time to realize

he likes you

no, no, no- he actually, really really really likes you

and it hits him like a ton of bricks after kamino

he’d came back as haunted and withdrawn as a ghost, and he’d pushed everyone away, all angry sneers and bared teeth and growling voice

but you’d stayed

you didn’t flinch away from his fury and his hurt and his screaming anguish - you’d welcomed it with open arms, quite literally

you’d forced his thrashing body into a tight hug, clamped your arms around until he’d stopped protesting and just collapsed onto you, sobbing his heart out, a crying, shaking mess

you were uncharacteristically gentle, soothing his cries with a hand carding through his damp hair and lips pressed his temple, his forehead, his cheeks, his fluttering eyelids

and it’s there, slumped boneless in your arms, voice hoarse from screaming himself raw and eyes red and puffy, too tired for his pride to protest, that bakugo - finally, after a stupidly long time - realizes

oh shit. i’m in love.

and he’s pretty sure you know, too

and so there’s no confessions, no fireworks or the sudden coming of spring to mark the start of something wonderful (but it is wonderful); it just sort of… happens

and so nothing changes- not really

you still argue over every little thing, and he still brings food ‘round to your room and you still spend time together doing study sessions;

except nowadays whenever you reach out to tug

at his hair out of eventual annoyance whenever you fight, a stupid lovesick blush rushes to his cheeks, no matter how hard he tries to snuff it out

and you accept his dishes with a faint smile that definitely doesn’t make him swoon

and the study sessions have turned to study dates that he really just spends admiring every flutter of your lashes and the light to your eyes whenever you get an equation right; wondering at the soft round of your cheeks that crinkle with your smiling dimples (that rarely stay long enough for him to catch), and the sweet curve of your mouth that lifts, just barely, into a gentle smile

and so with you and bakugo, it’s a learning kind of love; the kind that teaches you the ups and downs of life, the kind that hurts in the best sort of way

because it’s with you that bakugo learns how to trust and be trusted

(because what else was it when he showed him all your scars and your bruises, what else was it when you bared yourself inside out for him, the good and the bad, the flaws and perfection, and he for you?)

and it’s with you that bakugo learns to love and be loved, the soft gentle kind he’d thought to be so weak before, but - well

it’s not so bad after all. is it now?

[nevaroonie]

Where Is He

TW - Survivors Guilt, Inversion mentions, Character Death

WC - 1021

A/N - I'm getting better at writing in the first person!

I stepped out to get Xavier a drink. Just a soda.. That’s all he wanted not one of those cheap stomach ache-inducing ones they sell at the concession stands. He didn’t want one of those. He wanted one from the 7/11 across the street. I was gone for longer than 5 minutes. And when I came back that ward was up. I was gone for 5 fucking minutes. 

Xavier was trapped on the other side. And I couldn’t get to him. I was begging anyone with the power of the situation and all I was getting was shut down after shut down. No one wanted to tell me anything. Maybe after 10 minutes of me hassling Jett he caved. Shades. Fucking shades. Creatures that crawl their way from death escaped. 

Into one of the biggest empowered events front down. My legs nearly gave out. How did this happen? Who would do this? Why would they do this? I had so many thoughts happening at once. But the only thing I cared about was Xavier. I know I should have been concerned about the others but I couldn’t be. My Boyfriend was on the other side of that ward. 

With those CREATURES! And I know how shades work. People have to die before anyone can do anything to them. And knowing how they work. I still hoped Xavier lived. Do you know how many people would have to die? Too fucking many, for me to be wishing one person survived. I don’t know what happened on the other side of the ward. 

And I may never know. Because I was at a goddamn 7/11 getting a fucking soda. Well, Xavier and the others were fighting for their lives. I was trying to figure out what type of soda my boyfriend wanted. It doesn’t even take me long to grab something as simple as that. But that night it did. Sleeping without him at my side has been a nightmare. 

And the nights I get to sleep, I’m haunted by his voice asking why I wasn’t there. Im haunted by the fact I’ll never hold him again. I’ll never hear him call me Snowangel again. I can’t even face his parents. I haven’t seen them since the funeral. There wasn’t a body to recover. No one got to say goodbye. Not even his teammates. 

I haven’t set foot in DAMN since the inversion. There are more people im not ready to face. There was a whole student body that was affected by the inversion. An entire student body missing friends and family. And I can’t go back knowing I made it out alive by pure chance. While their family and friends didn’t. 

There are times when I wonder. If I was there maybe I could have given my life. So that Xavier could be here. Perhaps had i said no. or just made some excuse so I could watch him get the award that he deserved. But I didn’t.. He used his puppy dog eyes. And I crumbled like a cookie in his hands.  

When that ward went down. Whenever it went down. I ran in there, I didn’t care who was in my way. I was going to find him. Pushing the thought that I wouldn’t out of my mind. But I couldn’t find him. The pack of wolves who were managing security didn’t remember Xavier coming down. To the makeshift hideout they had. 

Though most of them weren’t able to talk. They all had pretty bad injuries. When I ran into Huxley I wanted to know where was he. But he was holding someone else who had a bad scar going across his chest. But the thing was.. I had searched up and down, everywhere, and hadn’t found Xavier. And my worst thoughts were becoming true. 

I waited. I let the department search just in case. I was just looking for any reason to believe he was still alive. But he wasn’t. My Xavier was gone. Taken away but whatever let those shades lose. He went out like a hero, doing what he did best. Helping others. After the department declared the place safe. 

I went over to the place where all the injured were going. I was trying to keep my hopes up. But when I saw the look on Huxley’s face when he saw me. I knew.. I knew Xavier was gone. I don’t I can ever forget that moment. He just kept saying he was sorry. And I was just numb. He was gone. The truth was finally starting to set in. 

And the realization hit both of us. Xavier was dead. DAMN no longer had a team captain. Huxley no longer had a bestfriend. And I no longer had a partner. And i didn’t even know i was crying. Huxley was just hugging me. We would miss him. His family would miss him. Everyone he helped would miss him. 

He was the light of my life, the light in a lot of people's lives. So hearing he was gone just hurt.. But when things calmed down. I got to meet the person he saved. An incubus named Gavin. I asked Huxley to tell me. And he also helped make a meeting with him.  I’ll admit I was upset with Gavin. For a while.. But meeting him and actively talking to him

Helped me realize, that Xavier knew he was gonna die one way or another. He had to make a choice. And a daemon could do much more. I just wish his death wasn’t the required part. But we can’t change things.

And one of these days I’ll step back onto the doors of DAMN. maybe one day my dreams won’t be plagued with his voice. One day.. But today is not that day. 

I will always miss you, Xavier.. And I plan to avoid 7/11 as well as sodas now. They send me back to that night. And those memories hurt too much to relive. But I have someone to talk to now. And maybe with their help things will get better. 

[renenene]

Author’s notes at the end :) first fanfic!! Yippee!!

I’m Sorry for You

4.2k words

The title is a song lyric from “ILYIS pt 2” by Mel Bryant & the Mercy Makers

Things I’d put if I ever posted to ao3 !!

Tags:

Many POC and LGBTQ+ headcanons among other things, quirk shenanigans, angst but not too bad ig, POV switching, Bakugo Katsuki swears a lot, Class 2-A, Sero speaks Spanish (yell at me if it’s wrong I’ll probably have my friend translating), Bakugo Katsuki likes to learn languages to fuck with Deku, Bakugo Katsuki natural talent frfr, PTSD for all, post war arc except I stopped watching after s5 and know everything mostly by fandom and friends ranting at me but I’m reading the manga currently, everybody lives/nobody dies, except AFO, we’re getting creative with the Bakugo nicknames, Bakugo in therapy, dekusquad are the real menaces, hero internships, the new class 1-A maybe, smoking weed/weed mentions, panic attacks, dissociation, let Deku stop being an innocent baby, let Deku be a teenager, let Katsuki be a dork, I believe in class 2-A having lives and real trauma responses ☝️

Characters:

Class 2-A, Katsuki Bakugo, Izuku Midoriya, Mina Ashido, Eijiro Kirishima, Sero Hanta, Shouto Todoroki, Himiko Toga, Cammie, original OCs probably as background characters idk

Relationships:

Midoriya Izuku/Bakugo Katsuki, past Midoriya Izuku/Ochako Uraraka, background Mina Ashido/Cammie subplot, Ochako Uraraka/Himiko Toga subplot, minor Mirko/Shigaraki, minor Sero Hanta/Todoroki Shouto subplot, Platonic Ochako Uraraka/Katsuki Bakugo, minor Kyoka Jiro/Yaoyorozu Momo subplot

Blurb ig??

Katsuki Bakugo has cheated death nearly three times at this point. Sludge incident, Kamino incident, the goddamn war. He doesn’t gamble with his life or anything. Villains just seem to love him. If it were up to Katsuki, his life would never be played with.

That's gonna change real quick, though. You’d be crazy to think he’ll accept that after so much goddamn struggle in so little time, it’s Izuku’s ass that’s the only thing pumping his heart. Katsuki is cool with Izuku. He even trusts him. Still, if Katsuki can’t control anything, he needs to at least be able to control his own self.

Yeah, Katsuki’ll cheat death again. Fourth time’s the charm.

Chapter 1 ——————————————

4:48 AM, Friday / Katsuki Bakugo

The sun isn’t up yet, thank God. There’ll be no first year, dumbfuck extras to ogle me on my morning run. I can enjoy my quiet peace — even if the weather is getting a bit too cold for my liking.

Already, I’ve got a tracksuit on in seconds and I’m making record time. If I can get my hair down without problems, then I might be able to sneak some time at the gym. All that’s left is to fix my hair.

My drawer comes open with a roll. My hair clips are usually at the forefront. Usually. I put them at the front every night. I damn sure know where I put my shit.

.

..

…

Where the fuck are my clips?

8:21 AM / Izuku Midoriya

The days were long. The days were hard. And this day in particular was filled with— BOOM! There’s that same crackling noise everyone is all too familiar with by now. You’d think things would change after a year.

But no.

This is worse than usual.

Much, much worse.

Whoops and cheers arise, shouting “Go! Go! Catch ‘im!” A chopping hand makes its best attempt at distracting the instigating crowd, but only succeeds for half a second before the eyes are glued back onto the affair like a brand new fridge magnet.

“Encouraging violent behavior is not heroic cond— Bakugo-San!” Our beloved but prickly class president yelps as an almost impressively minute AP shot goes whizzing over his perfectly styled head. “No quirks in the classroom!”

“It ain’t a classroom until hygenically-challenged-Sensei gets here!” Kacchan sneers his usual sneer as he readies his hand to flick. “Until that infestation of a man wiggles his way in this room, this place is my battlefield. And just like the war— I ain’t losin’!”

“Badmouthing our sensei after he—“

“Take a joke, glasses,” Kaminari leans into the stickler’s side, purring. “Kacchan respects Aizawa-Sensei probably the most out of all of— FUCK!!”

“Language!”

Kacchan’s hand sizzles just the slightest bit from recoil from the shot that narrowly missed Kaminari’s ear. “That’s for making me sound all soft.”

“Kacchan, he was defending y—“

“You better pray there’s someone to defend your ass.” The blond swivels around with the quickness of a top-of-his-class war veteran, which he is, but no one would say to his face lest his head get somehow even bigger.

I gulp. This commotion has been going on all morning. Everyone knows Kacchan isn’t really going to hurt anyone but… he looks like he’s fighting urges.

Sero sits up ever so slowly. His eyes are bloodshot like he’s done a pretty amount of weed before classes, and he probably has. For God’s sake, it’s barely eight in the morning. UA is definitely a stressful place to be, but soon-to-be heroes shouldn’t be doing drugs.

Another small AP shot sounds, and I glow the slightest bit green to dodge it, landing star-shaped like a startled cat in the upper right corner of the back of the mangled classroom. The place looks like a tornado tore through it with the way the desks are all skewed. Some were moved so my classmates could watch the entertainment, chewing on snide comments and muffled giggles as toppings to Yaomomo’s popcorn. It’s like a tiny gladiator fight is going on, and the lion has eaten my sword.

A gladiator fight that Kacchan still won’t win. It’s only because he’s not able to go one hundred percent with this whack a mole stuff ‘cause he’ll mess up the room. However, fucking around is the only way he’ll ever find out how to land a hit on me.

“What did he even do?” Sero drawls, pointing his exasperation at a snarling Kacchan, palms popping with learned restraint. And oh, that restraint is going through a popping pop quiz of a test right now.

He has no clips in his hair. As of late, he had his hair clipped down over his eye like some 2000s emo, minus the scene extensions.

“I don’t have to tell a shitty extra jack shit,” he growls out, a menacing smile turning menacing scowl. It was an expected reaction, really. He always bristles when people get all in his business. And yet, class 2-A is nothing if not always in all his business, if you couldn’t tell by even the most outwardly innocent and responsible eyes being on the commotion as well.

Sero stalks closer with a yawn, a few paces behind him. He's not a step in front, still, out of habit I suppose. Kacchan has eased up a lot with the war. War seems to mature people, everyone here, really. But during his moments of irrational rage, his little aspects of tyranny bubble up like a bad reaction. The reaction he gives Sero, a fast side eye, seems like that sort of steaming an almost boiling pot of water will do before it erupts, leaking water into the ready and waiting flame beneath it.

“You don’t have to tell me ‘jack shit’, sure.” Sero shrugs, most likely unaware that his life is in jeopardy because of the weed in his system. An angry Kacchan is a prickly Kacchan. As much as Sero needs to diffuse the situation for his poor, poor beauty sleep before class, he also shouldn’t want to be put to rest for good. I personally want all my friends graduating without any tombstones for us to plant. “But,” Sero continues, drawling again just so Kacchan can at least focus his annoyance away from me and towards Sero, “we always figure out what dumbass—“

“Language,” Iida peeps out, a low volume I didn’t know his voice was capable of reaching.

“—what stupid thing you fight Midoriya for. Eventually, anyway. So just speed the process already.”

A slow hand turns to aim, palm up and popping, right at his temple.

“‘You tryna call me a dumbass?”

“Lang—“

From the corner of my eye, I catch a mesmerized Uraraka pat Iida for him to lean back. A calm, or at least calm looking Kacchan, is the worst Kacchan of them all.

Over the years there were grumpy Kacchan’s, raging Kacchan’s, stressed Kacchan’s, exhausted Kacchan’s, Kacchan’s in denial— when was he not?— and right now, a calm, almost crazed Kacchan. Of all the Kacchan’s our class seemed to learn how to wiggle our way into the graces of tolerance he had stowed beyond a seemingly less and less penetrable fortress as the days blended, calm Kacchan’s grace looked to lie in another plane of existence.

For, this is a Kacchan that smiled. Easy and small and uncanny. He may make many threats, but it’s been years since he’s looked so genuinely murderous.

“What I’m tryna do is keep you from getting detention for the third time this month. You’re on a weekly basis at this point.”

It’s almost a relief to see Kacchan stop smiling, but that threatening hand moves not one inch down.

“Who told you to care? Hah? Is your name glasses now? Or ponytail? Nah, you’re tape face. So stay in your lane and quit worryin’, jackass.” The two others in question bristle at their mention, but otherwise make no other reaction. Sero’s reaction, however, is to raise a brow.

“So they’re allowed to worry?”

“No, you— what!?— They’re not allowed to worry,” he grits out. “It’s what they do, and it’s what you don’t.”

This is when Mina pipes up, chief instigator of the onlookers. “Mido-Chan—“ she points frantically to the door— “is gone!”

Her impish grin almost grows past her cheeks at the same time that Kacchan’s explosions pop dangerously close to Sero’s face.

Luckily, that’s when Aizawa-Sensei literally rolls in and suddenly the desks are put together by the time he’s upright. Noticeably still in that horrendous banana yellow caterpillar sack, but upright nonetheless.

“Will someone tell me why Midoriya-San was full cowling down the hall?” He drones, already too done to even fathom the possible answers.

A hand shoots up, and it’s no surprise that it’s Iida’s.

“Bakugo-San and Midoriya were having a bit of a scuffle—“

“Again?” He interrupts, just annoyed at the common occurrence at this point.

“Yes, sensei.”

“That’s the third time this month.” Kacchan sucks his teeth at the remark. “Earphone Jack, Creati.” The bloodshot, dried eyes of the insomniac glance between the two in question. “You both work well together. Find the problem child before the bell rings. If you can do that, I’ll give an extra 5 credits to your participation grade for today. However, lost time won’t be made up. Rendezvous with your friends. Heroes don’t have time to ‘make up’ their missions.”

Yaomomo is the first to raise her hand, face scrunched in objection. “Sensei—“

“Unfortunately for whatever you have to say, heroes are not able to decline calls to action if they’re able, either. Imagine a mother’s child dying because you dawdled.”

Him and finding the oddest times to give some strangely amazing advice. He’s not wrong, but he’s definitely twisting the system so he doesn’t have to go searching himself. The man is on a prosthetic leg though.

It’s not until thirty minutes later the three of us return, heaving a stick, leaf, and splinter ladled me by my shoulders.

“S-sorry, sensei.” I bow my head, nervously smiling. By the quiver of my lip, any other person might’ve thought I was about to laugh. But this is class 2-A. They know I’m on the verge of tears with anxiety.

Aizawa-Sensei does nothing but pinch his nose bridge and groan. “Just sit.”

And this class begins, Bakugo sending the occasional calculated glance at Midoriya.

12:13 PM / Katsuki Bakugo

“Dude! You freaked! I mean— more than usual! Like— this was going crazy! It was entertaining as hell—“

“You almost got your ear exploded off,” Sero interrupts the honey haired boy with a small snicker.

“You did too! And well, yeah, that wasn’t entertaining.” He deflates at the memory but perks right up when he gets back to storytelling. Y’know, as if they were not literally there.

Kaminari blabbers on and on, throwing in the odd joke or two about how Izuku slipped away like the fucking Pink Panther with the way he tip toed. Like I was one of those red light laser systems, poised to go off at any moment if you only breathed in the wrong way.

Of course I fucking would. That asshole knows what he’s got comin’, going through my shit. He shouldn’t be so damn surprised I was ready to leave him in tatters. I would disintegrate him with my eyes if I could. The ones that were currently downcast and staring into nothing.

Kirishima leans forward a little from his side of the lunch table, across from me, to tap the space in my view. It’s one quick tap. He knows it’ll get my attention ‘cause I hate it when people do it. It’s as if they’re treating me like a dog, tapping in front of me. Makes me wanna bite their finger off and show them a real bitch. Still, the tap is light enough that the others continue to be too deep in gossip land to notice whatever we’re about to say.

“You good?”

My airhead expression falls right back into a scowl.

“I’m as good as someone with detention can be.” I’d punch his highlighter head if I didn’t like him so much. Tolerated him more than others, at least.

“How long’s it this time?”

“An hour after school. ‘Said I gotta watch Eri ‘cause he knows I hate it.”

“What else?”

I narrow my eyes, leaning closer to Kirishima. “What’s it to you?” The fucker doesn’t pry, thank God. Why’s he doing it now?

“I’m worried.” He shrugs as if it’s normal. “You keep getting in detention.”

My narrowed eyes go to slits by the time I'm finished blinking. “Yeah, well, it’s my business if I do. Not any of yours.”

He only folds his arms and leans back, scoffing. “It’s plenty my business, dear ol’ Kats—“

“Quit calling me that, Jaws,” I grit out. He knows I hate that dumbass nickname. For one—it’s way too cutesy for my liking. ‘Kats’. I don’t have fucking paws. I am not a cat. And if I were, I’d scratch your face and vomit on you before you can say “Kah”.

Nonetheless, he continues. “You’re my friend. I don’t surround myself with people who aren’t manly, and people who aren’t manly go to detention.”

“‘You callin’ me a loser?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“People who aren’t manly are losers to you, stoplight. I ask again: ‘You callin’ me a loser?”

“The point is stop going to detention.” I roll my eyes. Okay, so he’s calling me a loser. Maybe going to detention isn’t very cool.

“And I don’t mean skipping, just in case you get ideas— even though I know you wouldn’t,” he says, for no reason, might I add. I wouldn’t skip classes unless there was a literal life threatening situation.

“Now, here’s your cookie.” He stuffs a spicy, sweet wafer in my mouth, watching with content as I shift from getting ready to blow his head off to being pacified by the combo of flavors.

Todoroki whisks by at that convenient moment, holding a book open. He looks so similar to Izuku, furiously taking notes once he sees even the slightest noteworthy thing. He’s even got his tongue stuck out to the side as Izuku usually does. Speaking of, what the hell noteworthy thing am I doing right now? “That cookie looks good.” And there goes my answer.

“The recipe’s homemade!” Kirishima chimes.

“Ooh, Kiri, can I have one?” Sero’s practically eating one with his eyes. “Just one nibble or something?”

Mina’s next in line to whine. “Yeah, c’mon, don’t hog!”

“Okay, okay!”

The mention of food has officially brought the other oafs into our conversation. He passes a cookie around to everyone, halting at Kaminari, who seriously cannot take spicy shit at all.

“Why can’t you ever make something normal?”

I lick the crumbs off my fingers, noticing Kirishima grin hard enough for his big cheeks to hurt. Yeah, the cookies are good. Whatever.

“Why can’t you grow some balls, dunceface?”

The others snicker, all except Todoroki.

“But doesn’t Kaminari already have—“

“Nevermind!” Mina pipes up before he can ruin a good joke.

I snag another wafer-cookie whatever the fuck and look up at Mr. Pill. “What’re you doing here anyway?”

“I’m taking notes on that cookie. You mentioned there was a recipe, Kirishima.”

He nods.

Todoroki blinks once. Twice. “Can I have it?”

“You bake!?” Sero bursts, lips pulled in a wide smile. He’s too enamored to realize he’d completely overshadowed Ei and the fact that he was supposed to answer.

“I didn’t know Todo-Chan baked!” Pinky’s hands smack on the table to prop herself up in all her excitement. “You and Sato-Chan should totally bake together sometime. It’d be a flavor party!”

“I thought you’d like bland stuff.” Kaminari is surprisingly less energy filled than the others, instead just curious.

“Baking’s super manly, man!” Kirishima shouts.

Todoroki just shrugs at all their enthusiasm.

“My friends like sweets, so I learned.”

“Well, this ain’t sweet.” I take a large chomp from another cookie. “‘S spishee,” I growl through the mush in my mouth.

“My friends like spice as well.”

That makes all of us raise our brows. Todoroki’s friends like spice? As in— Iida, who’s a stickler for just a chip as opposed to something with “nutritional value”? Midoriya who’s eyes water after “too much” ketchup? Uraraka who… to be honest, she can handle her spice, but can’t take a taki. She’s probably at “spicy” Doritos level.

Sero hooks an arm around Todoroki’s shoulders and grins, small and sly. “Ah, I get it. We’re your friends.” The oh’s on Mina and Kaminari’s face are almost immediate.

“I never said I was peppermint’s friend.” I grumble. The dumbasses continue with their cooing and I continue emptying Kirishima’s container.

“You wanna make cookies for us, Todo?” Mina purrs, cozying up to the boy’s other side. Her eyes bat all coaxing-like.

“No,” he glances down at her, and it takes her a second to realize he’s not being smart with her. Just being as socially inept as he usually is. “You guys are my friends, but they’re not for you.”

“Oh.” Sero and Mina glance between each other, but Kirishima’s the first to ask the big question.

“Who’re you makin’ ‘em for?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Can’t tell?” Dunceface and Elbows ask in unison.

“I can’t tell.”

“Sometimes I just wanna mangle your stupid, inexpressive mug— the shitheads wanna know why, you dumbass,” I grumble.

The dumbass in question blinks, and nods. “I can’t tell.” We all collectively groan. “I can’t.” And the boy shrugs.

“You can’t tell us why you want a spicy cookie recipe and you can’t tell us why you can’t tell us you…” Kaminari freezes, brows pinched. “What was I saying again, Kiri? I-I was definitely saying something— I know it made sense.”

“Mhm.” The redhead snickers at his best friend—but I’m really the best friend ‘cause I’m the best in everything—and replies in kind. “He can’t tell us why he wants the cookie recipe, or why he can’t tell us why he can’t tell us he needs the recipe.”

Kaminari’s eyes are wide as he hugs his own sides, so Sero offers him a pat on the back as consolation. I guess I'd pat him too, if I only I hadn’t turned my hearing aids down. Yeah, hearing aids. Setting off explosions only a few feet from your ears since the age of four does that to you.

“You’re correct, Kirishima. Now, the recipe? Please.”

He nods with the widest smile. “I can text it to you before the day ends. Probably before training with All Might.”

“Anytime before Saturday is a good time.”

Saturday? I perk up. I’m allowed to be fucking nosy. “What’s happenin’ Saturday?”

“Uh…” Uh? Since when was Todoroki capable of saying uh? “I wanna buy the products as soon as possible. For my friend.”

I freeze, eyes narrowing at my Tupperware. It was then that we’d all had the same thought, but Mina was the first to voice it. “Frien—“ Sero’s tape shoots to cover her mouth at a practiced speed. “Mm!! Mm, hm!?” She squeals, and he shakes his head with an eerily serious grimace.

“If you’ll text me the recipe, then I don’t have a reason to be here anymore.” Todoroki bows at a right angle. “Please excuse my interr—“ is that a blush on his goddamn ears?

Kirishima’s the one who covers Kaminari’s mouth when he almost makes the mistake of commenting on it.

Half n’ half stalks away, cradling that book of secrets. Just when he’s out of earshot— “America has a problem.” I lean in, narrowing my eyes at each of my tolerable twits.

Mina, Sero, Kirishima, and Kaminari are sat back down and huddled in, already ready to conspire.

“No shit he does. Look at the way he walked off. Like that book was treasure!” Sero whisper-shouts, throwing his hands around.

“I didn’t even know Todo-Chan was capable of blushing!”

Kirishima shushes Mina for being a bit too loud, then ducks right back into our little circle. “Bakugo and Sero are right though. He was totally suspicious. I mean, yeah, we’re all Uber closer now after the…”

“You know,” Kaminari murmurs.

“Yeah, that.” Kirishima takes a shuddering breath at the memories. Bloody and grave. “Anywho, yeah, we’re close. But no one just walks up with a notebook for a reason as small as spicy cookies. I didn’t even tell anybody I made them.” He folds his arms and scoffs. “It’s like the guy knew or something. He couldn’t have had a notebook ready that damn fast.”

“He couldn’t have. But a freckled fuck I know keeps at least one paper and pen on deck at all times.” I pointedly glance behind myself, and their eyes follow that glance. The… “dekusquad”—God, do I hate that that’s what we’re calling them now—don’t look suspicious though. “Shitty de—zuku is in on it,” I interrupt myself midway through the nickname Izuku has told me multiple times he doesn’t mind.

“And did you see the way he seemed almost more interested when you said they were spicy? Who here even likes spicy cookies over regular cookies!?” Kaminari sounds like he’s straining to keep his voice under a hearing level.

Of course that’s the part Kaminari zeroes in on. It is a detail to point out, but not that big. Sero shrugs.

“They were good, but not better than a regular cookie, Ei. No offense.” Mina smiles up at him.

“Whatever, I made them only to satisfy Kats’ hell-hot buds anyway.”

“Which they are.” He blinks a few times, eyes ripped to my deadpan. “Satisfied.”

“Thanks?”

“Ain’t nothing’ to thank. They were good.”

“Kats—“

“Simple as that.”

RING!!

“Shit, the bell!” Kaminari’s packing his unfinished lunch at lightning speed.

“I’ll feel so bad if I have to see that hollow shell of a man looking any more depressing if we’re late to his training,” Sero grumbles as he grabs his belongings with his tape.

“Well don’t remind me!” Mina wails.

Kirishima’s laughing under his breath as he pulls his bag on. “I don’t think All Might will get depressed if you guys are a little late. It’s not manly, yeah, but it’s not world ending.”

The others can scramble to class all they want. I’ve got a plan for the green team. They wanna send spies on me? Jokes on them, I’ve been watched all my goddamn life.

“Whatchu want?” Kirishima squints at me, only teasing. I fold my arms and lean my hip into the edge of the table.

“Shut up and I’ll tell you. You, me, after school.”

“Session?”

What the hell? “No— Fuck, no. Not fuckin’ weed, Ei.”

He only shrugs. “It could’ve been weed. It sounded like weed. It should’ve been weed.”

Why the hell would I want weed?

“No. No, it shouldn’t have. Nevermind—I mean, we need to talk. I got somethin’, and I need ya’ to go along with it.”

“‘You have a plan?”

“Yeah.”

The asshole looks at me. Scrutinizing as if it’s impossible for the top of our fucking class to come up with a plan so fast. I can imagine everywhere he’s looking. The knick in my brow from the war, the worry line just barely coming to shape on my forehead. Basically, every part of me that’s only formed ‘cause of that damn war. I’d rather drop dead than let him think I’m weak.

“Why were you chasing Midoriya—“

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Kats—“

“I told you to knock that—“

“Why not? To the name and… this morning. I thought it was just ‘cause Mina and the others were around that you wouldn’t tell.”

He knows he’s prying, and yet he’s testing me anyway. Regardless of Mina’s big gossipy mouth, I wouldn’t tell a soul. It’s not their business.

“I told you I’m not talking about it, and the extras weren’t the reason why. Plus, that name is fucking ugly by the way.”

“We made it for you though.” He grins.

“‘Don’t mean it don’t suck.” I nudge my head towards the exit, where the bulk of our year is off to. “C’mon, before my perfect no lateness record blows up.”

Kirishima kicks into a jog but raises his brow at me anyway. “But we’re still not done talking. You still haven’t told me—“

“Okay, Johnny Bravo, if I gotta tell you—“

“Who the fuck is Johnny Bravo?”

“—that one buff guy? Y’know, that one show about the guy who’s all macho and has gigantic man tits— nevermind, stop interrupting!” I can feel sparks starting in my palms and he’s not making it any better. “As I was saying, I ain’t tellin’ you nothin’! It’s me and shitnerd’s business. Not yours, not Soyface’s, and not anybody else’s. Got it?”

He mimics catching a ball, dropping it ever so slowly on the floor, and pouting up at me. I swear I’ll kill him one day.

“One day they’ll be sending your ass back to Fatgum. ‘Cause I’ll beat you so bad your quirk will be unusable.”

“Kats, your plays on words are getting too many steps—“

“‘Wasn’t even a play on words, but I’ll give you a more pea-brained threat: I’ll eat you.”

“Hell yeah! Love who you love. I mean, don’t love me though.”

I sigh. My friends are so… stupid.

Most of our class is already huddled around the symbol of peace by the time we arrive. All Might still insists on showing up in his buff form until he starts choking blood, even though no one needs or wants him to. Though, it’s not like anyone wants to crush his spirit by saying anything about it.

“I am here, my students!” the man bellows, as if we don’t have eyes.

Kaminari hails him, before Iida jabs his sharp as hell elbow in the blond's side.

Our training begins.

——————————————————

A/N TIME !!!

Hope anyone who read this enjoyed :) This A/N is long ash tho, can y’all tell I’m a yapper

Anywho, finally posting the fanfic I’ve been working on 😭 literally only 2 chapters and the beginning of a 3rd in because I have such a bad habit of forgetting things I started, remembering, forgetting, not liking, and repeating the cycle. I got really inspired reading The Way You Used to Do planning this out though. Read it last year and my friends haven’t heard silence since.

If I don’t think this is ass by the time I finish I might post to ao3 as well (probably in like 10 yrs LOL idk how fanfic writers can consistently write chapters and finish with 200k words in like 4 months) this is basically my form of beta-ing when my bsf isn’t available lol

Also, I’ve kinda just been writing in a google doc without a title because it was originally an “x reader” but then the plot I planned got too interesting 🤷🏾‍♀️ I think “I’m Sorry for You” fits the narrative I’ve built though. If anyone wants to know why, id be happy to explain ^^ Anywho, I always think those existential “the stars r ur eyes” or whatever titles were so pretty and I wanted to have something like that but my brain always blanks out when I have to think of a title. Womp womp.

If anyone is interested, I also have a doc for planning, with character headcanons and analyses. I have a visceral hatred for OOC works and while most will say that it is so, they can just be so far from source material that I’ll die reading it. In addition, I made a little playlist to help me brainstorm plot and think about bakudeku dynamics.

[csprslvt]

you and i, and her pt. 8

Chapter seven

Summary: Reader and Abby talk. Feeling very conflicted about what side to take so the burn is still slow, Ellie is falling deeper in love with the idea of who reader is. And reader hates herself for it. Lots of thinking ensues.

Warnings:The D slur, homophobia, angst, self hate, manipulative/lying behavior,unhealthy coping skills,mentions of dissociation,sexual jokes implied,love triangle,betrayal,angsty thoughts,written on an iphone bc my laptop died and I can’t find the charger so probably badly written,Ellie is down so bad someone tell her to stand up‼️‼️‼️

You probably shouldn't have told Abby about Ellie, if you were a better friend you might have kept her secret. But at the same time it was so conflicting. Abby’s sweet words had made you fold immediately.

“So wait, you've been hanging around someone plotting to kill me?”

“Abby I came with her to find you first, to tell you.”

“So what exactly am I supposed to do with that information? Not go home and let everyone back at the WLF base die?”

“I don't know but I don't want you there it's not safe”

Abby scoffed

“I can take her.”

“I don't want you to hurt her either.”

A myriad of emotions crossed Abby's face.

“So you're on her side too? Youre with someone who is trying to kill me?”

“No Abby I'm not.”

“Then why are you protecting her?”

“Are you- are you fucking jealous?”

“Why are you protecting her?”

“Fuck Abby you have no right to accuse me of anything right now, nor have the right to be possessive over me considering you were just having sex with Owen, and would’ve continued doing so had I not showed up.”

“Its the principal of what your doing that is fucking with my head right now y/n.”

“Fucking with your head? You know what actually blows my mind, the fact that you were so willing to jump into bed with someone without even looking for me. The fact that I'm supposed to be the love of your life and you didn't look for me. That is so fucked up. So yea I am fucking protecting her because she is my friend and shes been good to me and Im a goddamn human who doesnt want either of you to be in pain.”

Abby watched you intently, soaking in your words.

“I said I was sorry about Owen.”

“Yes you did, but have I even forgiven you? I have no idea. Both of you frustrate me so fucking much.”

“Owen and I?”

“No, you and Ellie. I love you Abby, I have never loved anyone else but sometimes loving you hurts me. And I'm confused because I initially came out here to jump back into your arms and run away with you but now I don't know If that's what I want considering someone else’s hands were on you and you let it be that way. What happened to us?”

“If we had never separated this wouldn't have happened”

“Well I'm sorry I got kidnapped. That was totally in my control” You seethed.

“y/n I am sorry.I can't tell you how badly I need you back in my life again. Things haven't been the same. I'm not the same, the entire WLF base can see it… come home. I need you”

“I just need some time to figure out what the fuck I want to do”

Abby stood up

“Well I'm not waiting for all my friends to die. I'm going home.”

“Abby please I can't let her kill you.”

“Have more faith in me.”

“It's hard to believe anything when it comes to you anymore”

Abby made a pained expression, that was a little painful to hear but it was fair.

You looked outside, and the light was coming in. Ellie would be awake soon.

“I've gotta go before she sees that I'm gone.”

Standing up you stepped close to Abby, hugging her. Her arms wrapped around you, lifting you off her feet, your face borrowed in her neck.

“Just, don't die okay?” Though now all you did with Abby was argue, she was still someone you cared deeply for.

“I won't ,stay safe y/n '' Abby mumbled into your shoulder.

The love was still so strong. It just felt strained.

That night or rather that morning when you had gotten back to Ellie, you’d snuggled up against her side again. And like second nature she pulled you into her, brushing her lips against your forehead and if she had been a little closer, it would have seemed like a kiss.

This was wrong, it was all so so wrong. But being close to Ellie felt good. It felt uncomplicated, simple, safe.

Ellie, once again woke up first. Her heart slowed to a gentle rhythm when she discovered you fast asleep in her arms.

“Beautiful”

Beautiful, she thought when she looked at you. Memorizing every pathway of your skin, looking softly at you as if she could never look away. It was a different admiration she had ever felt. Not with Riley, not with Cat, not with Dina. You were so you. Each of her past lovers had a thing about them that she was drawn to but you, she couldn't put a finger on it. All she knew is that she craved more. More days waking up with you in her arms, more of your laughs, smiles, more hidden glances she snuck when you were busy brushing shimmer or staring off into the treeline, mindlessly rubbing the gold locket that fell gracefully onto your pretty collarbones.

She wondered what was in that locket of yours, a past lover? A sibling or family member? Perhaps a pet? She highly doubted that possibility. You werent really an animal person unless it was shimmer.

Eventually you stirred awake.

“G’mornin Els” you drawled, a voice as smooth and soft as honey. It was music to her ears. She loved how vulnerable you sounded, fresh in the morning, only visible to her.

“Morning y/n” The look she was giving you was a little too overwhelming to be making eye contact with so you lowered your gaze.

“Sorry I'm all up in your space again. I couldn't-”

“No, I like it”

You blinked.

Ellie once again made it awkward.

“Dude you gotta stop flirting with me”

you spoke trying to break up the tension. (Was it uncomfortable or sexual tension? That you'll never tell)

Ellie’s face changed into that of a tomato.

“ I wasn't!”

You sat up next to her stretching her eyes immediately went to the bare skin that showed as your shirt rode up. She couldn't help it.

Before you could catch her eye though, she looked away, deciding that suddenly the sky was very interesting, looking intently at it.

“Sure, you definitely were!” You giggled.

Finally the pair of you were back on the road.

Once again, you were chest to back, wrapped around her waist and to Ellie, nothing ever felt so right.

She was so happy you followed her on her journey. You were so kind, so selfless for supporting her like this. She hoped that once this was all over she would be happy again. Happy with you. Her best friend. When she and Dina had broken up she never thought she would meet someone as amazing as you but you stumbling into those words was such a little miracle.

Ellie was perfectly content with the feeling of you holding onto her, she savored every touch. Never had she once had a platonic relationship with another girl that felt so deep and powerful. It flooded her heart with warmth. She only hoped that you reciprocated her feelings.

“Y/n?”

“Hm?”

“Thanks”

“For what?”

“For coming all this way for me. You have no idea how much it means to me.”

You paused, guilt crawling into your soul. laying thoughts of self hatred inside of you, like an infection.

Like a parasite.

If only she knew you had came here to betray her.

“Of course Ellie.”

“I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”

“Oh god Ellie stop. I’m a horrible person” you’d heard yourself think. But you didn’t say that. She would never allow you to think that. Ellie was a good person.

“Of course Ellie.”

Lying, lying, lying. You were a bad person, cruel, selfish. Saying sweet words to disguise the truth. Maybe you did deserve to be with someone like Abby. Maybe you deserved to be forgotten about.Not looked for, abandoned. Ellie didn’t deserve that. She was a perfect friend. Maybe you should just leave tonight and stay with Abby, like a coward unable to tell Ellie what was actually going on. Why you were really there; to save your ex-girlfriend, whose locket you still wore close to your heart. Were you even broken up? Were you available? Could you entertain Ellie’s obvious advances? No, it’s probably a bad idea. But you already sucked as a person, you might as well just go all the way into complete douche-baggary.

“Ellie when this is all over we need to have a girls night.”

“Girls night?”

“Yea like we eat a bunch of shit food, say horrible things about people we don’t like and do face masks!”

Ellie turned and smiled at you.

“I’d really like that”

The journey went on, and you came across infected, yet to see raiders or hunters. Ellie was stealthy. She taught you how to come up behind them and how to sneak amongst the masses. They never seemed to really really go for her, they were so busy chasing you. That was a little weird, how they acted like she was one of them. Maybe she really was that smooth. But you doubted it. It was Ellie Williams. She wasn’t smooth about anything. Especially not when it mattered. At least not other than murdering infected.

She seemed to enjoy this position she placed herself in, she liked teaching you things, sharing information, seeing you watch her, having your eyes on her. She wanted more of it. Every drop of attention you gave her she ate it up.It probably wasn’t normal to want someone so badly. Especially her best friend but she didn’t care. Not as long as you looked at her.

Call her desperate or depraved or whatever but she couldn’t get enough. If only you knew how deep her admiration ran, maybe you would be scared away but she doubted it. You were just as crazy as she was, after all if you weren’t you wouldn’t have been such good friends. Clicking so fast as if you were always meant to meet.

You, on the other hand, felt more sick than ever. Good thing you were such an experienced liar otherwise Ellie would’ve caught on.

It was a feeling of pure disgust by your own actions. By telling Abby about Ellie you were basically associating with the person Ellie hated the most, and rightfully so. But they were both frustrating. Abby killing Joel as revenge and Ellie killing Abby as a result. It was a big, unhealthy cycle that likely wouldn’t offer Ellie any happiness. After all she couldn’t bring anyone back to life by sacrificing another.She wouldn’t heal from this.

What would you do, when the time comes to choose between them? Abby was really pissing you off but that didn’t mean the love you had would just go away. She has seen every bad part of you and loved you regardless. You were sure Ellie would feel nothing but hate when/if she found out you met up with Abby, nevermind loved Abby.

So you came to the conclusion to utilize a common coping skill in your every day life. You would dissociate, disconnect from the stress and allow yourself to be loved by Ellie. Enjoy the moments with her before she would ultimately leave you. Or until you ultimately left her. The thought left a sick feeling inside of your abdomen. She would never forgive you. So you might as well take advantage of right now before everything went to compete and utter shit.

Notes: feedback is greatly appreciated! Pls lmk if the story should be team Abby or team Ellie. thanks for reading xoxoxo!

[m0ther-of-p3arl]

every dead-end street

(robert aeor high au p12)

masterpost

*bonks this on you in a rush cuz imma be outta town the next 5 days or so*

He hears the door swing shut behind him, and turns to find Owen, pulling on his coat and jumping down the steps. Scott follows, the aching familiarity of the situation tainted by the gap that’s somehow grown acres between them, stifling the cool breeze that tosses Owen’s hair this way and that.

or, owen and scott reunion!!! also im not sure but this is possibly the longest chapter yet so :3

(5913 words)

Scott wakes in a cocoon of yellow feathers. 

His face is pressed to someone’s chest, his arms wrapped around their middle and his hands pressed into their hair, legs intertwined with theirs, so familiar his heart aches.

Jimmy.

His eyes flash open as he realizes it’s him, the events of last night coming back to his mind in full, blazing technicolor. Lips and hands and warm, warm skin against his frozen exterior. Whispers and promises and episodes of goddamn High School Musical: The Musical: The Series.

He doesn’t want to move from his entangled position, it’s warm here, it’s safe. He doesn’t want to give it up, he’s so sure it was just a lapse of judgment on Jimmy’s part, but maybe if he stays still for a little while longer he can keep living in the fantasy. He clutches Jim tighter, nestling his face into the avian’s chest, breathing in the citrusy scent that he carries everywhere.

A pair of hands cup his chin and soft lips kiss his forehead. “Morning, Scott,” Jimmy’s familiar voice whispers, quiet and low, against his brow. Scott makes a muffled noise of protest, squeezing his eyes shut again, vaguely muttering something about how it’s too early and can they please just stay laying down for a bit longer.

Scott honestly can’t believe that he and Jimmy are, like, an item. It wasn’t a dream. It wasn’t a mistake. Somehow, by some miracle, Jimmy likes him. Jimmy kissed him last night, something he never thought would happen from anyone, much less the boy he was so sure he’d ruined things with such a long time ago.

 Scott thinks he might have a boyfriend. And as much as he wants to stay wrapped up in Jimmy’s wings forever, his anxiety will never let him settle down into the comfort if he doesn’t get a few things straight.

“Jimmy,” Scott says, pulling himself up and immediately regretting it, because now he’s vulnerable and exposed to the world, upright under the blankets in his favorite blue nightgown.

“That is my name, yes,” Jimmy says sarcastically, yawning as he sits up as well, his wings floofing out behind him, somehow wrapping around Scott yet again.

“So are we dating now?” Scott’s hands irrationally shake as he asks this, it’s such a stupid question given the circumstances-

“I mean. We literally spent last night making out? So I would hope so, yes?” Jimmy answers, affectionate confusion leaking into his voice.

“I was just- you know- making sure,” Scott rolls his eyes, trying to presume his comfortable icy exterior, and from the look on Jimmy’s face, failing miserably.

“Mhm. Sure.” The avian pats Scott condescendingly on the shoulder, his face the worst facsimile of seriousness Scott has ever seen.

“I hate you,” Scott grumbles, pulling his face into a mock pout and crossing his arms with a huff, which just causes Jimmy to snicker even more.

“Love you too,” Jim smiles, what Scott thinks to be a genuine tone hidden underneath the snark . “So what’s the plan for today?”

Scott looks off into the distance, out Jimmy’s window at the rows of trees crossing through suburbia, his hands wrapped around each other so tightly he can see the knuckles turning even paler than his natural skin tone. “I… actually, I have something I need to do before anything else, but after that I’m free for whatever.” He can hear his voice shaking, and he’s sure it’s even more obvious to Jimmy, who plops back down and rests a hand on his back- which does calm him, though admittedly not much.

“Want me to come along?” Jim asks, his tone soft and unforceful.

Scott shakes his head. “Not this time.”

Jimmy nods. “I get it.” And the thing is, Scott can tell that he does.

--

It’s a long walk up the familiar neighborhood streets, all the turns imprinted permanently in Scott’s memory from years and years of walking the same routes around this stupid city. His feet scuff along the pavement, the sun shining down from a cloudless blue sky. The leaves are just starting to turn for autumn, tinges of yellow and orange peeking around the corners of imposing maple trees, the wind combing through branches to create a cacophony of rustling sound.

It’s been a while since Scott’s been in this part of town, and there’s a good reason why. It’s honestly terrifying, being so close to where it all happened, and Scott doesn’t even notice he’s shaking until he wraps his arms around himself for comfort. A part of him, and not an insignificant part either, wishes Jimmy was here to make things easier- and most of the time, that’s exactly what the avian does. But right now, with what he’s about to do, he knows that having Jimmy there would absolutely ruin any chances of reconciliation.

He’s been so lost in his thoughts that he walks right past his destination, before doing a double take and turning on his heel, walking back and standing right in front of a tan-colored, two-story house. It’s been so fucking long since he’s walked up these steps, knocked on the paint-peeling door, a familiar orange tiefling grin peeking out at him from behind him. It’s been so fucking long since he’s seen Owen at all, and he misses him more than he’d care to admit. He stands there, rooted still to the sidewalk, swallowing nervously, for what feels like hours, the seconds dragging by with every beat of his heart.

It’s not too late. He could turn back, head home and spend a quiet, uneventful day with Jimmy, forget this ever happened.

For a second, he almost considers it.

But he knows he can never live with himself if he gives up, he’ll curse himself for the rest of his life if he lets himself walk back home. So instead, he steps up the decaying wooden stairs, the porch leaning heavily beneath his weight as he trods across it and raps his knuckles loudly against the door. Paint peels off beneath his touch, joining the first fallen leaves in the wind and tumbling across the street. Scott turns idly to watch it blow away, his neutral face hopefully not betraying his rabbiting heart.

And the door creaks open behind him.

His head snaps back quickly, meeting a familiar pair of eyes as they peer through the crack of the door at him.

“...Scott?” Owen asks, confusion lacing his voice, and, Scott hopes, a little happiness too.

“Hi.” Scott tries for a smile, but it doesn’t quite land, and he’s certainly not about to force one if it won’t come. “Would you care to join me on a walk?”

“Sure,” Owen mutters, glancing behind him into the house. “Let me grab my coat, I’ll be right with you.”

Scott nods, taking long strides over to the side of the porch and leaning up against the railing, as he’s done so many times before. This whole house, this whole street, gives him deja vu, the memories almost tangible around every corner. But with the nostalgia comes a deep, crunching anxiety; he can barely contain his fear that he’ll see Father walking down the road, snakes hissing forebodingly and that familiar sneer that’s somehow even colder than Scott’s skin. In fact, he can just make out the roof of his old home, the Major Mansion, from here, and even the simple sight gives him shivers down his spine.

He hears the door swing shut behind him, and turns to find Owen, pulling on his coat and jumping down the steps. Scott follows, the aching familiarity of the situation tainted by the gap that’s somehow grown acres between them, stifling the cool breeze that tosses Owen’s hair this way and that.

They walk in silence for a little, neither daring to speak, following the well-tread routes they’ve known since they were young, before they’d met; when the orange tiefling had just been a question living right down the road from Scott.

“So. Uh. How’s it been?” Scott asks, trying to keep his voice light and utterly failing, breaking quietly before he’s finished the sentence.

“How do you think?” Owen answers, for once not a trace of mirth on his face, his eyes full of annoyance and sadness and hope and loss, pointed stubbornly down at the pavement.

“I mean, you’ve kind of been ignoring me lately, so I wouldn’t really know,” Scott says, tone breezy enough to hide the anger simmering underneath. And that, that subtle, ignorable undertone, is enough to set it all ablaze.

“I’ve been ignoring you? Are you fucking kidding me?” Owen stares shocked, eyes wide and offended and more than a little bit angry.

“What else would you call” (Scott gestures to the space between them) “all this?”

“Pray tell, what would you consider ‘all this’?” Owen mocks his hand motions, making them seem wild and erratic, a judging, aloof expression blanketing his usually-smiling features.

“You know what I mean, Owen. You know me well enough to know what I’m talking about. The distance! The way we can’t even talk anymore, you ignore me all the time, don’t you know how hard my past many months have been?!” Scott seethes, dimly aware of the rims of his shades frosting over in the corners of his vision.

“What about me?” Owen grabs his shoulders and spins him around until their eyes have met, brown glaring into piercing cyan. “Have you asked even once, since you met Jimmy, how I’ve been doing? My parents are getting divorced, Scott, and I can’t even talk to my best friend about it.”

Scott’s struck momentarily speechless, because oh god, he didn't expect Owen to have a valid response, but quickly recovers, spitting, “You didn’t even try!”

“I did, though,” Owen sighs, kicking at the pavement. “I attempted to contact you about it on many separate occasions. But no, we always had to talk about you, you, you. Scott, you never even left me any room to get a word in edgewise!” He yells the last sentence, and Scott can see hints of tears in his eyes. Again, he’s slightly taken aback, he can remember maybe one time when he’s seen Owen cry, in all the years of them being best friends.

Maybe he doesn’t know the tiefling as well as he thought.

“I- How was I supposed to know, Owen? My dad kicked me out of the house and I had to move in with my crush. I had a lot on my plate, okay?” Scott fumbles, trying to find the right words, his confidence crumbling down rapidly.

“Apparently not enough to listen to your best friend’s problems in addition to talking about yours. I had my own shit going on, Scott, still do- and you couldn’t even be bothered to listen to it. And here you go again, talking about you. Like, I get it, okay? You’ve been through a lot and I’m sorry. Genuinely.” Owen pauses, turning around to face Scott. “But that doesn’t give you an excuse to neglect your duties as a friend. For a little bit, sure. But it’s been seven months.”

“Well, you didn’t-” Scott pauses midway through his sentence, breathing in deeply. “You know what, this is a stupid argument. Can we just forget about this? It doesn’t matter.”

“Yeah, Scott, actually, it does matter,” Owen hisses, broken and full of rage, his voice echoing across the neighborhood streets, earning him some nasty looks from passersby. “I love you, Scott, so much. You’re my best friend and I miss you. But I’m also your best friend, so sit down, take a second to think, and then tell me that you’ve been in the right here.”

“But-”

“Nope. Sit down by this tree and think.” Owen points authoritatively to the roots of an old oak sprouting out of the tree lawn, his mouth pursed, not giving room for an argument.

Fuming, Scott flops down, staring angrily through Owen’s knees. He’s not in the wrong. He’s had such a fucking tough time, nothing could possibly compare, his life has been tossed into the ocean and swallowed by a shark that was then gutted from the inside, its intestines held high for all to see. 

But that doesn’t diminish Owen’s suffering. 

Scott’s past few months have been hell, they have to be so much worse than whatever the heck’s going on with Owen. Like, Scott’s sure it’s been hard for him, but it can’t possibly have been as bad as Scott being kicked out of his house by his abusive father.

But that doesn’t mean Owen hasn’t had a hard time lately as well. 

Scott has been in such a dark place, such a terrible headspace, such a just generally horrific time in his life, Owen’s not allowed to pretend like everything’s been all diddly dandy for him when it’s been the polar fucking opposite.

But Owen is his best friend and Scott’s supposed to be there for him. 

Owen’s supposed to be there for Scott too, though! Scott and Owen are supposed to be a package deal, they’re supposed to stick by each other, Owen’s supposed to support Scott unconditionally. Isn’t that what friendship is? And yet, lately he hasn’t even been answering Scott’s texts.

Did Scott have time to respond to texts when he was being kicked out of his house? 

It’s different, though, it can’t have been as bad as that-

That doesn’t mean whatever Owen’s been through wasn’t still hard for him. 

Scott’s pain-

Pain is not a contest. 

It was worse-

Both of their different experiences are allowed to coexist. 

Owen’s been such a bad friend lately.

So has Scott.

…so has Scott.

Scott stands, his hands shaking.

“You done sulking? Are you ready to talk like an adult now, or-”

Before Owen finishes his sentence, Scott steps forward and wraps him in a strong, tight hug, the tiefling stiffening at first but then relaxing into Scott’s embrace, his arms reaching up to hug him back, his fists gripping the loose fabric of Scott’s dress.

“I’m sorry,” Scott whispers, the words scratching in his throat, something he hasn’t been saying enough recently. “I’ve not been the best friend lately, huh?”

“Neither have I, to be honest with you.” Owen laughs a silly little half-laugh, still clutching tightly against Scott’s back, and it feels so good, so right, to have his best friend pressed against him, the smell of his hair the same pinecone scent it’s always been, since the day they met.

“I thought you were convinced you were so ‘in the right’ here,” Scott teases, pulling away from Owen and poking him lightly in the chest, a clear sign of surrender that they both know well, unspoken but always mutually recognized- Scott can tell Owen sees it too, as he immediately relaxes.

“To be honest, I knew the only way I was going to get you to realize what was going on was if I acted like you were the only one who’d done anything wrong. Everyone just always has to go the extra mile for you, Scott S-smajor.” Owen’s trying to stay chipper, but Scott can hear the cracks in his voice, the raw emotion leaking through after months of holding it back.

And sure enough, just moments after finishing his words, Owen’s lower lip begins to quiver and he breaks down, sinking to the sidewalk and pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes, shaking his head with all the unspoken words, all the hardships he’s endured these past months. 

And this time, his best friend is right there beside him.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Scott asks, sitting as well, and resting a hand lightly atop Owen’s shaking shoulder.

The tiefling nods, rattling sobs escaping from his throat. “Argh, Scott, I d-didn't mean to melt down on you, I’m s-sorry.” The way he says it breaks Scott’s heart, like Owen somehow thinks he’s done something wrong by letting all his emotions free-flow for a bit.

“Don’t be. You’re fine, I could not care less. Trust me, I’ve been there. So what’s the scoop? Also, mate, when was the last time you cried?”

That gets a laugh out of Owen, albeit a half-hearted, shaky one. “I don’t actually remember?”

“Do you want to go somewhere else?” Scott asks, rubbing a hand over the nape of his neck. “We’re kind of blocking up the sidewalk.”

“Sure,” Owen mutters, pulling himself to his feet and rubbing aggressively at his eyes and breathing deeply to steady himself.

“So, what’s going on? Tell me everything, and I mean everything: I want the full rundown, all the details, the whole story.” This time, Scott means it.

And so Owen talks as they walk, ending up climbing the giant pine in his backyard and sitting amongst its branches like they have for as long as they’ve been friends. Owen explains how his parents have been arguing for a long time, really big, yelling arguments, and finally, after leaving the house in a huff and living in a motel for a week, Owen’s mom had finally called home- only to announce that she was ordering a divorce.

“That’s a shitty move,” Scott interjects, wrinkling his nose.

“Yeah, it kind of was,” Owen agrees, sighing and leaning against the trunk of the tree, his tears having stopped for now, though his eyes are still red-rimmed and his nose still sniffy.

He continues on to explain how after that, it’s been weeks of alternating close contact or no contact with his mom, and his sisters, all nine of them, are absolutely emotionally lost. His other mother is struggling to bring home enough money to feed them all, and his mom is just draining all the money from the family bank account.

“It’s been really hard on all of us,” Owen mutters, wiping at his eyes aggressively. “Like, I love Mom and all, but she’s being a real bitch right now- she could have tried to stick it out with Mother, if only for me and my sisters. And that’s not something I say lightly.”

“Yeah, you really don’t like to swear,” Scott comments, stretching and cracking his neck.

“Yeah, no,” Owen laughs lightly, a cautious sound as if he’s afraid to show his genuine emotions, and Scott feels his teeth clench in sadness.

Owen goes on, finishing with the fact that his sisters are going to have to live with their grandparents for a while, and as of now, Owen doesn’t really have much of anywhere to go. His dad’s tried to explain that sending him to boarding school might be the best bet, but Owen’s having none of it.

“I didn’t want to leave you,” he admits, looking down and coughing gently, his feet kicking in wide arcs that stir up the twenty feet of empty air below them on the branches.

“So you can’t stay with your dad right now? Like, there’s not enough money?” Scott asks to clarify, leaning back against the tree, eyebrows furrowed, concerned, in Owen’s direction.

Owen shakes his head, lips drawn tight and eyes looking anywhere but Scott’s. “There’s really nothing to be done for it. I pretend I have a say in the situation, but deep down, I know that there’s really not another possibility at this point.”

“You could come live with me and Jimmy,” Scott spits out before he can catch himself, eyes going wide as he realizes what he’s said. “I mean, you don’t have too, obviously, but I’m sure John and Laura would have you, they took me in, and I know you and Jimmy don’t really get along and you blame him for a lot of things, but maybe give it a chance? Genuinely, Owen, I really, really don’t want you to leave.”

“I don’t want to leave either,” the tiefling mumbles, a thickness to his voice that Scott rarely gets the privilege to hear. “But I’ve genuinely been such a jerk to Jimmy, Scott, like, he did nothing wrong. And I’m- I would love to live with you, and I mean this truly, but I don’t think Jimmy would have me. And if it’s you, him, and Beks now, I don’t know if there’s enough money or space for me.”

“Well, let’s just go check then,” Scott says, a smile growing across his face as he begins to descend from the tree.

“Wha- Scott, we can’t just go up to his house! And aren’t you and him all awkward and stuff? Like, after the whole kissing thing that you wouldn’t shut up about all those months ago?” Owen asks, scrambling to follow.

“No, uh, actually turns out he does like me. But that’s not important- plus, you forget, it’s also my house.” Scott drops down, his feet landing firmly on the hard-packed soil as Owen lands a little less nimbly besides him, taking a few stuttering steps forward before regaining his composure and grabbing Scott’s shoulders, staring him in the eyes.

“What. You’re dating. You and that little scrunkly bird man. Scott, you have a boyfriend?!” Owen yells the last sentence so loud that Scott flinches in an involuntary response, certain that all the neighbors are now listening in.

“Shut up,” Scott mutters, stepping out of Owen’s backyard and onto the sidewalk, turning back the way he’d come, back towards home.

“No. No I will not, when did this happen?” And there it goes again, a perfectly normal conversation turned to Scott’s business. He curses himself inwardly.

“Last night. Can we talk about something else instead? Because you just went off on a huge tangent about me talking about myself too much, so, you know, hypocritical much?”

“Scott, I didn’t mean you can never talk about yourself ever. Plus, we’ve just gone over my problems for like an hour, so I think you’re pretty much clear to rant to me about your boyfriend and how that all happened on the walk over to Jimmy’s… which I’m not quite sure about because we’re really not friends at all, why would he have me even if his parents are able to take me in…” Owen mutters the last sentence under his breath, still very obviously uncomfortable with the whole situation.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Scott soothes. Though, he’s not sure in the slightest, to be honest, but Owen is his best friend and if he needs help, Scott wants to be the one to offer it.

But going back to the tiefling’s earlier comment on the way to his house, Scott tells Owen everything. Every little last detail, every grievance and the high points and the lows. The only thing he leaves out is the weird memory-sharing thing, because he and Jimmy haven’t even really talked about that yet, and they probably should before anything else.

He also doesn’t tell Owen that he’s apparently the reason Jimmy hasn’t-

The reason Jimmy’s not-

He shivers involuntarily, because even imagining Jimmy dead is just- it’s too much, a world where he doesn’t have Jimmy isn’t even something he’d like to theorize about right now. But it’s also none of Owen’s business, it was something told to Scott in confidence, and he’s definitely going to have to bring it up with Jimmy later because he wants to do everything and anything in his power to prevent something like that from happening.

He doesn’t know how he can live with himself if Jimmy confesses to Scott about his suicidal (Scott can’t even-) and Scott does nothing about it.

And then before he knows it, here they are, standing in front of Jimmy’s house. Owen shoots him one last worried glance, and Scott shakes his head, smiling gently. He grabs the tiefling’s wrist, pulling him up the stairs and through the door, until there they are, standing on the foyer.

“Jimmy!” Scott calls, cupping his hand around his mouth.

“I’m in the kitchen,” the avian yells back, and Scott nods encouragingly towards Owen, beckoning for him to follow as he heads into the kitchen. Owen does, albeit quite hesitantly.

“So. Uh. I brought a friend over,” Scott says, entering the kitchen and leaning up against the counters as he always does, Owen’s head peeking nervously around the corner.

“Oh!” Jimmy sounds quite surprised, and honestly, why shouldn’t he be? “Hey, Owen, how’s it going?”

“Um, not- not the best, honestly,” Owen mutters, rubbing his hand on the back of his head. “Welp! Thanks, Scott, for bringing me here, but I really should get going-”

As Owen turns to leave, Scott shoots out a hand to grab his shoulder, shaking his head admonishingly. Jimmy seems completely out of his depth, just standing there in an apron, absolutely covered in flour- Scott snickers silently at the bright smudge of white across Jimmy’s cheek, the powder dusting everywhere from the tips of his hair to the softest cadmium feathers of his wings.

“Owen,” Scott starts, glaring pointedly at the tiefling now stood awkwardly beside him, “has something to say.”

Glancing to his right, Owen bites his lip, breathing in deeply before he speaks. “So. Hi, Jimmy- um. Shoot, I’m no good at this- give me a second?” he laughs clumsily, fumbling for words that aren’t there. Scott rests a gentle hand on his shoulder, silent support that seems to help, as Owen closes his eyes for a couple seconds, before opening them as well as his mouth and beginning to speak.

“Look, before I do anything, I just want to say I’m sorry.” His voice is strong, so much stronger than it was just a couple seconds ago, and Scott is honestly kind of shocked at the sudden switch. “I’ve been a jerk to you since the day we met. You did nothing to provoke my dislike and you didn’t deserve it. You’re a genuinely lovely person, and if I’m honest, I was jealous of you.

“I saw how close you and Scott were getting, how much he very obviously liked you- he still does. And I’m his best friend, I was used to getting the majority of his attention. And if I’m honest, I was worried that he’d hurt you. Scott hasn’t always had it easy, in fact, it’s been much harder than him for most. I was there to witness a lot of that and I won’t speak for him, but I’ll just say that there have been days where even I couldn’t cheer him up.” Jimmy’s listening intently, Scott can tell, his ear feathers are pricked up and his wings relaxed as he leans forward on his hands to hear, nodding along to all the important parts.

“And you did. On the days where I failed, you made him happy. And I was angry and confused and jealous and just… I was worried, I guess, for my best friend. You were such a beacon to him, we could all see it, me and Shelby and even Joel, who’s pretty much the least emotionally intelligent person on the planet. I think we all knew if you hurt Scott, it would be such a genuine blow to him. And I didn’t want that to happen. But I was also really annoyed that I couldn’t be the beacon that you were, I was angry that he was moving away from me.”

Scott’s eyebrows crease, because everything Owen is saying is completely and utterly true. In other circumstances, he would be furious at being spoken about like this right in front of him, but what Owen’s saying is such a complete and utter reading of him that he can’t muster up the anger.

“All he would talk about was you. And I was fed up. So I hated you and I was a huge jerk, and you didn’t deserve any of that. So, I’m sorry. I just need to get that out of the way before Scott reveals his big fancy plan or whatever he wants to call it. Just to clarify, what he’s about to say was completely his idea, I had no say in any of this, he just dumped it on me- and also sorry Scott for talking about you like you’re not there when you’re right next to me. And also possibly spilling all your secrets to Jim.” Owen bumps Scott’s shoulder with his own, and the gorgon shakes his head, rolling his eyes affectionately.

“But, yeah, I’m sorry,” Owen mutters, his tone back to serious, tail flicking gently behind him. “I sucked and I was really rude to you. I hope you can accept my apology.”

Jimmy presses his hand to his face. “You were really rude to me.”

Owen cringes, rubbing his thumb and forefinger together forcefully.

“And…” Jimmy trails off, sighing deeply and staring off into space. Owen and Scott share a quick glance, and Scott has to admit, he has no idea what Jimmy’s about to say.

“And because I’m a nice guy, and you’re Scott’s best friend, I’ll give you a second chance. What do you say? Friends?” The avian extends his hand and Scott can barely believe it, this is what he’s wanted for so long, they’re finally getting along.

“Friends,” Owen agrees, stepping forward to bridge the gap, firmly shaking Jimmy’s hand before the avian pulls him into a seemingly unexpected hug, as Owen’s eyes go wide before he somewhat awkwardly hugs back. 

“So… what now?” Owen whispers, now back standing by Scott’s side.

“Now I get to talk,” Scott answers, moving forward and leaning against his arms pressed against the island.

“Jimmy, would John and Laura be open to taking another person in? Not for long, just for a little bit. We could set up a tent in the backyard or something, Owen just needs a place to stay for a while. There’s some shit going on with his parents and the alternative is him being sent to boarding school. And I know it’s a lot to ask and it was completely my idea, Owen had nothing to do with this scheme of mine at all, he was actually very against it.”

“And for good reason,” Owen interjects, “It’s way too early to ask you anything like that.”

“Anything like what?”

John’s voice intersects into the conversation as he enters the kitchen, Beks and Laura in his trail, heavy-looking grocery bags hanging from all their arms. John plops down his bags on the counter, crossing his arms and looking over at Owen. “Well, who’s this, then?”

“That’s Owen,” Scott reassures, resting a hand on the tiefling’s shoulder. “He’s my best friend- you know about him, he’s friends with Shelby and Joel and all of us.”

“So what do I owe the pleasure, Owen?” Laura’s reedy voice is much calmer than John’s, and Owen’s shoulders visibly relax.

“Oh, um, I was just-”

“I want him to live here,” Scott interrupts, eyes shining with hope. “Just for a short amount of time, but otherwise he leaves for boarding school, and I don’t want that, he’s my best friend.”

Laura sighs and rubs her hands against her temples, leaning back against the wall and exchanging a meaningful glance with John. “Scott, honey, we’re already taking care of three of you, I just- we’re stretched thin enough already, you know? And where would he stay, we have no room?”

“He could stay in the backyard, in a tent, and we could all get jobs to pitch in around the house!” Scott’s not going to let this go, he can’t let Owen leave, not after they’ve just fixed things, he can’t-

“To be honest with you, and this is going to sound really selfish,” Beks starts, “I really don’t need to share my house with another weird boy I don’t even know.” Jimmy flinches slightly, almost imperceptibly, at her statement.

“That’s kind of uncalled for, Beks,” Jimmy mutters before Scott can say anything, his wings drawn protectively around him. “That’s- I dunno, that feels kind of like a terrible thing for you to say?”

“Yes, Beky, that’s out of line. We’re going to have to talk about that later,” John cuts in, his beefy dad arms folded across his chest. “But regardless, Scott, I’m so sorry-”

“No.” Scott’s voice is tiny, shaking and trembling like the leaves he’s seen today, blowing away in the wind, with no power of their own.

“-but Owen cannot stay.”

“No!” Scott runs after John as he makes his way upstairs, brushing the unwanted tears aggressively out of his eyes. “John, you don’t understand, if he doesn’t stay here he has to leave, and he can’t leave, he’s my best friend, he’s one of the only people who understands me and we just fixed things between us, please, you let me stay, why not Owen?”

John sighs, rubbing his temples. “Scott, you need to understand. If we take Owen in, and as much as I wish we could, we’ll have four teenagers to take care of. Do you know how much even one of you hooligans eat? Even with Bek, we were struggling. Then she found Jimmy, alone on the street, and it wasn’t like we could turn him down.”

Scott’s given up trying to stop the tears because he is sobbing now, he doesn’t want to lose his friend he can’t they don’t understand no one understands Owen is the only reason why he hasn’t cut himself off completely Owen is the person he cares about the most on the entire planet and they don’t get it, if he doesn’t stay here in this house with Scott he leaves. Owen has to leave.

“Then you showed up. We were hesitant, I’m not going to lie, but Laura convinced me that we should take you in. Both you and Jimmy were in very vulnerable spots when you came into our lives, both of you would still be homeless if not for us. But in addition to paying for food for all of you, you forget that we also have to pay for your school tuition. And we just can’t do that for another kid. I’m sorry, Scott.” This time when John ascends the stairs, his bedroom door slamming shut behind him, Scott doesn’t follow.

Instead, he runs out the door, his head throbbing and wishes pounding this way and that inside his mind. He doesn’t listen when Owen calls him back, pretends to not hear as Jimmy yells after him, asking where he’s going. He doesn’t know, he doesn’t care.

Scott just runs.

And he’s not surprised when he looks up, all out of breath, and finds himself right back in front of the Major family mansion. Right back to where it all fucking began.

Somehow, Scott’s not surprised at all as he closes his eyes, breathing deeply, and begins to walk down the cobbled path, through the all-too-perfect garden, glaring straight at the white marble building looming before him the whole time.

And not a bone in his body holds him back as he climbs the wide colonnade steps to his old home, rapping once, twice, three times on the “M”-emblazoned door, his knuckles almost vibrating from contact with the stone.

Scott’s not surprised that he came back here.

He is, however, very surprised that his mother, his siren, cult-leader mother, is the one who swings it open.

And it comes as even more of a shock when she wraps him in a strong, warm hug and ushers him inside.

[loafofryebread]

also part of it could be that he just sees hms as better than him. whole is selfish and weak. but they aren’t. they persist in the worst of times. he can’t handle it but they can

like he just wants to bring them back bc he’d rather they live than him. he wants them to replace his personality, he wants to dig out every single part of himself, because they deserve to live and he doesn’t, they’re Good and he’s Bad, just a selfish lowly being

| could you please take it? just one more time? | he begs in the same tone they do. tmr is him ignoring their pleas and also making ones of his own. soul doesn’t know why he continues on, why he answers {yes} every goddamn time, but he does. does he love whole? surely you wouldn’t do this for someone you don’t love, right? but that isn’t right. does he hate whole? the one who keeps putting him through all this torment? that isn’t right either.

in the middle of cacophony, soul kneels. it doesn’t take long for him to notice how unforgiving the floor is on his knees. but he kneels nonetheless. it feels right. {what would you do, if you were in my spot?} he knows the real Whole would have no answers for him. but he likes to imagine a Whole that would. he likes to imagine a Whole that would be the savior instead of the person begging to be saved.

or maybe he asks {whole, are you here?} the arguments get to him. everyday heart and mind seem more and more inhuman to him, more fake, more horrible, more detestable. they hollow out. or maybe soul’s the one hollowing out, he doesn’t know. he just wants to be human, to be real, to be Whole. he knows how human and lowly whole is and that’s the thing he revels in. heart and mind and soul don’t have the privilege to be human. they are false copies. empty. they can be boiled down into a single trait. soul just wishes he were real. that he were Whole. so he asks, pleads, {whole, are you here? with me somewhere?}

at the end of concord, whole sits tall. it’s proper piano playing posture, after all. and he can get this one song right, if nothing else. this will be his last refrain, his last task before he can give up and let hms take control. this, at least, can be perfect. he doesn’t ask any questions. there are no pleas given to you. even so, you can read in between the lines. and surely hms know him well enough at this point to know how pathetic he is.

whole can’t bring himself to deviate. if he could, he wouldn’t be repeating this song. so he just sings, in lyrics made long before his memory.

IM SO SORRY I DIDNT RESPOND I WANTED TO TRY AND HAVE SOME ACTUALLY COMPREHNSIBLE THOUGHTS FROGIBE ME

It's so horrible and i love it. Whole sees hms as something purer then him. Less disgustingly human. He believe they're stronger then him, that they are better in his place. It is an addiction. He can't stop, he won't stop. Because at least if he falls apart like this hms are there to pick up the pieces.

Soul in turn reveres Whole like a god. Whole is real, he is human, he is everything Soul wants to be. No matter how flawed. Heart, Mind and himself are just hollow vessels, a shell of what they could be, a distorted reflection that vaguely resembles something. He doesn't WANT to have to take control, to do it all again. But he will because to him Whole is a god and who is he to deny the whims of a god, especially one he loves so?

Also your writing??? HELLO??? who gave you the right to do that to me???/pos

[children-of-epiales]

“ The goddamn idiot is going to get himself killed-” Roze persists, a bloodied finger pointing toward the small clearing in the woods far below, “-we need to get him out of the village!” 

“ That’s not gonna happen-” Renata speaks up, having stood at the edge of the cliff the entire time, arms tightly folded, “-not anymore, the old woman called for the Witchers, remember?” 

A growl catches the womens’ attention, the both of them glowering back at the man who knows he shouldn’t have made such a loud noise. “ Utter those words again, and I’ll deliver you to the Witchers as bait while I retrieve him.” Horangi’s voice isn’t human anymore. 

Renata raises an unimpressed brow. “ Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Horangi,” The witch murmurs, and the others can tell she was anticipating this conversation. “ What is it about the puppy that makes you want to save him anyway?”

“ I will take any opportunity to keep my kin alive,” The hooded man avows. “ I understand the Witchers are the biggest issue here-I wouldn’t have requested Roze’s aid. And you, Niedola-” The nickname slips out from between his lips like freshly spilled blood, “-you are here to deal with the old woman.” 

Renata’s supposed to feel honored by the divulgence. She remembers how Laswell’s name has only ever been whispered among other witches, the stories she hears of feats the middle-aged witch has accomplished, and understands she is to be more feared than respected. At least by witches like the Pole herself. 

“ It won’t be much longer before the full moon…” Roze reminds the two. “ What’re we doing? Who do we worry about first?”

The witch turns her head to the she-wolf, takes in her sickly yellow eyes and notices the lack of sleep she’s been suffering. 

“ You two lay low,” Renata decides. “ I want to go to the village myself, see exactly how bad the situation is. When I return, I’ll let you know.” 

“ How long will you be gone?” The other brunette asks, gratefully on board with the plan. 

“ Give me a week or so, no longer.” Renata reaches over her shoulders and pulls her dark hood over her head. “ Who knows-perhaps I’ll find a way to deal with the Witchers.” 

She hears the skeptical huff Horangi lets out and turns to face him, the first time she’s even looked at him since the trio met at the cliff. Unlike werewolves, witches still have their self-control; that might be the biggest reason why he despises them so much, she believes. That, or perhaps because they have others that will hide them when they flee from danger, that there’s a sort of loyalty among witches that werewolves will never experience. 

Renata’s red lips curl into a warm smile. “ You asked for my help, Horangi,” She reminds him. “ And I’m going to help you.”

( @sprout-fics Hello! Im sorry I know you're on hiatus but I was very inspired by your Rotes Madchen work, so I kinda wrote a lil drabble thing! Its not what it could be but I wanted to post it anyway!)

[nihilistbabydolll]

At some point the advice “it will get better! Just hang on a little longer!” starts to feel patronizing.

TW!! (Mentions of slewerslidal attempts and ideations)

It’s as if I’m expected to believe in some sort of magical fairy, that will sweep in and save the day, in coming of age movie fashion.

My heart was broken for the first time at 4 years old by my father. I thought about killing myself for the first time at 9 years old. I tried to kill myself for the first time at 11. And from there on I was stuck in a morbid, fucked up, groundhogs day. It never got easier, those feelings and attempts never stopped. If anything life just got harder and harder, and every time I thought it couldn’t get worse, I would descend father and farther down. Rock bottom seemed to get sharper somehow, cutting into my chest and ribs. I can’t recall any point in my life where I felt genuinely happy, and especially not for longer than a day or two. I’ve basically only felt pain, disappointment and let down in my life. It’s never my turn, it never has been and probably never will be. Every year has some sort of devastating catastrophic event, that leaves me to believe my life is being played out by a malicious 12 year old one-manning the sims. Except, they won’t take out the goddamn ladder.

So here I am now. 24. Uncharacteristically bitter, (especially for my age). Trying to figure out what I’m supposed to do next. Well how am I supposed to figure that out when my life hangs in the balance? When I can’t decide if I even want to be alive. Somehow bills and jobs don’t seem overtly important when you’re hanging off a cliff. And that’s where my life has been spent for the last two decades, on a literal cliffhanger. Will she finally kill herself? Will she get better? Who knows! Tune in next year to see if “Gods plan” is to torture her further, or if she’ll finally get the balls to finish the job.

And when you try to explain to someone the devastatingly mortal and morbid thoughts that race through your mind all hours of the day, you get met with “it’ll get better.” Well guess what it might not and what then, what if it doesn’t?

What THE FUCK am I supposed to do with that.

And I can’t blame them, what are they supposed to say? Reach out for help? As if the hundreds of times every borderline has done that, we were actually met with any sort of actual mental health care or, I don’t know, empathy perhaps? And that’s assuming they’ll even see you, seeing as most mental health professionals hate us and refuse to treat us, despite most of us simply being traumatized and in pain. DBT therapy? You mean the victim blaming, human dog training, designed to discount a borderlines trauma and gaslight themselves into “behaving” properly-as to not disturb the peace. Woof woof, I’m good on that thanks. Well how about inpatient? The place where they shoot you up with sedatives, or stand over you and scream at you for crying, until they think you aren’t a danger to yourself anymore and throw you back in the world with no real plan or actual help. I’m good on that too…I like to poop on my own thanks.

If there’s anything I’ve found, it’s that there is no one answer, no real treatment, other than staying alive for something. For me, I guess that something is fear. I’m scared of what comes next, but sometimes I’m left to wonder if it’s possible for it to be worse than here. But than again, it can always get worse. Maybe it’s guilt? I’ve found it easy to ease my guilt about leaving when I think of how much my life lacks any substantial love or affection, aside from my mum (bless her poor heart) she’s all I’ve got, all I’ve ever had. And that’s too much to put on one person. IM too much to put on one person.

So that is why I feel like I’m already a ghost, I’m already dead, because honestly, I might as well be. And I don’t think it’s fair to guilt people like me into staying somewhere we aren’t wanted. But then again some other part of me deep inside, thinks I do deserve to live, and maybe just maybe, it’ll get better. That part of me doesn’t want to be so doleful and bitter. But I’m afraid that part of me is nieve and I’ll out grow it eventually. I’m afraid of what will happen when I finally do.

[otphotline]

Brett hand x Reader (chapter 1)

Word count: 623

Other chapters:

Warnings: cursing

Fuck. Ok. You had just been employed at a job you didn’t think existed because it would be absolutely goddamn insane if it did. But nonetheless you were here, at cognito inc in charge of childhood positive subliminal messaging. Who even made such a thing? Honestly you didn’t care. You were going to get paid well and have honestly a long lasting career. This was perfect, I mean who gets to go to a secret facility and dote about how every hoax is real and have every little thing that you believed of as a child walking in front of your eyes.

Today was an easy start, introduce yourself to your team and then go about your day and get comfortable in your office. But due to the unmeasurable amount of curiosity in your veins you decided why not take your cup of coffee and explore the premises a little bit. So that is just what you did. You made your way out of your department and through the halls, peering in windows of rooms that just seemed way too surreal to not be tripping ballsack. But hey this was your new reality and you were living for it. Granted there were still normal things like gossip and vending machines. Honestly evened each other out, and you were happy about that. It was like edging for your sanity and you were here for it.

As you walked around you felt a short rumble in the pit of your stomach. That's right. You skipped breakfast because all you wanted to do was get to work this morning. So you figured you would go to the vending machine that you passed a minute ago. You rummaged through your pockets for change and got yourself a slim jim, honestly- not the worst thing for you. You waited for a moment before you realized that the snack was not falling. You’re fucking kidding right? You sighed and tapped on the glass of the thing to try and get it loose before you gave up, turning around.

That was until you saw a young man take attention to the frustration. He basically skipped over to you “Hey there! I’m Brett- I can’t help but notice you struggling. Want me to maybe help ya out- this thing has a little bit of a trick to it”

You would nod and motion towards the machine “I’m [y/n], Go ahead. I can’t seem to figure it out” you gave a little chuckle and crossed your arms. Brett would smile and do some cockamamie little combination of hits and nudges before the stick would finally fall into the compartment below. “You made that up on the spot didn’t you” you cocked a brow as he handed it to you, to which he nodded “Sure did”

“I see- well it’s nice meeting you. I am the new director of the childhood subliminal department” his eyes went bright and so did his smile “Oh nice! Super nice! Well I am the best unpaid intern of Cognito and the leader’s assistant” he put his hands on his hips in pride. You would laugh and brush back your hand “well it's nice to meet you, Brett” “You too, [y/n]”

You started to turn when he would clear his throat to speak again “i-i sure hope i see you around again! Maybe get a drink!” You would look back at him “Maybe- im still getting used to it here”

“Then let me show you around- my treat! Give you the v.i.p tour!” He made exaggerated hand gestures with a smile of a muppet. The childlike wonder persuaded you and you nodded “fine fine. Come on now. Show me the wonders of the facilities”

[tennco]

already gave my thoughts on it on stream but here we go. uhh, yeah touhou 19 sure is a phantasmagoria game.

it was a bit disappointing that there wasn’t anything new besides what was shown in the announcement. which.. sounds kinda weird now that im writing it but idk, they could’ve not shown the available roster to keep it a surprise for the demo at least. but also maybe im too used to the experience of getting 3 new characters right off the bat.

i like the new changes to the gameplay, particulary that you can now hold down Z (!!!) instead of getting carpal tunnel. and bombs are back. there’s also something going on with the way the battles play out, like you gotta wait for the AI to do some special spell card attack to beat ‘em? if there’s some way to trigger it that i didn’t get because, japanese, then sure, very welcome change to make the fights more snappy. if that spell card happens whenever the AI feels like it then, it’s still pretty much waiting for the AI to fuck up which is, the main reason i dont like phantasmagoria games. there’s just no clear indication of when you’re doing things right, or rather no way to do things right.

graphically the game looks amazing, following in the same style of UM. everything just pops out and is so full of color. ZUN has gotten increasingly better at art, im a really big fan of this new style. also goddamn the new boss sprites look so good i love them, kinda reminds me of the sprites from Gouyoku Ibun (i did hear it was a Twilight Frontier artist who did them so, checks out)

i didn’t really expect a lot of music, but what is there is nice. reimu and marisa got new themes which... honestly it’s gonna be pretty hard to replace the ones we already know but, good attempt. i don’t know why they act as regular stage themes too? like they can replace the ones from other characters, i don’t know what’s up with that. also aunn has an arrangement of her theme, while seiran and nazrin have arrangements of the stage theme where they appear, which i found a bit weird. they’re all pretty good tho, nazrin’s i found to be a bit weak? i think i honestly prefer the UFO version of that one but, it’s fine.

anyways, pretty good demo. some bugs here and there which is, to be expected. and p1 is set to gamepad by default which makes sense but uh, no. i can’t talk about the plot because no tl but i kinda doubt there’s gonna be much of that with this few characters. again i wish there could’ve been at least one new face to talk about but, guess we’ll have to wait until the full release for that.

STAY BELIEVING MIMAMANIACS