#i found it and have never felt such relief that it wasn’t deleted

[skz-miroh]

i always wonder what it would be like if i never knew fanfiction existed because i have finally (at 22:30pm) found the 97k worded fic that i have been looking for since 07:00 this morning and i plan on reading the entire thing meaning my sleep schedule is once again thrown into the ether

[heliosunny]

Hi, I don't know if this is wrong but I would like to ask for a yandere sashisu x reader request, the plot doesn't matter, it's just that there is Little sashisu content 🥺

If this petition bothers you, you can delete it 🥹

Wish granted ✨ I love Sashisu so this is really long ahahaha- haha- yeah😔 by the time i finished this, it'll be about 1:00 AM.

THE CAGE OF LOVE

1st year reader, 2nd year SaShiSu

Your arrival at Jujutsu High was supposed to be a fresh start. This is a place to hone your ability, make friends and maybe carve out a small place for you in the chaotic place of Jujutsu sorcery. But from the moment you arrived, three individuals became unavoidable.

You have this sweet 'little sister' vibe, the charm seemed to attract attention like a magnet. Despite being one of the strongest among the first years, people couldn’t help but dote on you. You didn’t mind, though. The extra care felt… comforting, even if it was a little stifling at times.

You had heard whispers of the infamous second-year trio before—their names carried weight and intrigue among the students. But you never expected to cross paths with one of them so soon.

It started in the library. You were searching for a book on cursed tools, perched precariously on a chair to reach a high shelf. Just as the book’s spine slid free, the chair wobbled, sending you off balance. A gasp escaped your lips, but before you could hit the ground, strong hands caught you mid-air.

“Careful there” a deep, calm voice murmured.

You glanced up, heart racing, to meet the dark eyes of Geto Suguru. “Thank you,” you stammered, your cheeks warming as he set you upright.

He nodded, offering a polite smile before walking away.

Later that evening, you stayed in the library until dusk, engrossed in your reading. The quiet comfort was interrupted by the faint sound of footsteps behind you. You turned, startled, to see none other than Shoko Ieiri.

“Eh… so there are dedicated students left at this school. How rare.” she drawled, her tone teasing as she pulled out a cigarette.

Before she could light it, you quickly stopped her. “You’re in a library, so…”

“Oh, oops” she said, slipping the cigarette back into her pocket with a lazy wave. “Anyway, see you around.”

And just like that, she was gone, leaving you to wonder about the strange second years you’d encountered that day.

--------

The next day, you found yourself at the training field. Your usual teacher was away, leaving Geto and Shoko to oversee your class’s exercises. While your classmates struggled with the challenges they set, you managed to hold your own, much to their amusement.

“Not bad” Geto remarked, his gaze lingering on you a moment too long. Shoko smirked beside him, her eyes glinting with something unreadable.

When the session ended, you excused yourself and headed to the canteen, eager for a quiet lunch. It had become your habit to eat here, where the hum of conversation was comforting and the food was decent.

But today, the canteen was eerily empty, save for one figure.

At a nearby table, Satoru Gojo sat slumped forward, his face buried in his arms. His signature white hair made him unmistakable, even at a distance. You tried to ignore him, focusing on your meal, but his presence was impossible to overlook.

Then, as if sensing your gaze, he suddenly lifted his head. His blindfold was missing, revealing piercing blue eyes that locked onto yours.

“You!” he called out, his voice startlingly loud in the silence.

You froze, unsure how to respond as his stare seemed to pierce through you.

“Whatcha looking at?” he asked, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

Before you could stammer out an answer, another voice cut in.

“Satoru, you’re scaring her.”

Geto appeared behind him, his calm demeanor a stark contrast to Gojo’s brashness. Relief flooded you at the sight of him.

Gojo groaned, slumping back in his seat. “I wasn’t scaring her. Was I?” he asked, turning to you with a pout.

“N-No” you replied quickly, though your heart was still racing.

Geto chuckled softly, his dark eyes studying you intently. “You’ve got a way of attracting attention, don’t you?”

You weren’t sure how to respond, so you quickly excused yourself and left the canteen, feeling their gazes follow you all the way out.

As the days passed, the trio seemed to weave themselves into your life in ways you couldn’t escape. Geto’s quiet yet commanding presence, Shoko’s teasing but strangely protective demeanor, and Gojo’s overwhelming energy, each of them seemed to orbit around you, pulling you into their gravitational field.

And while they treated you with an almost obsessive care, there was something unsettling about the way their attention lingered. Geto’s gentle smiles lasted a beat too long. Shoko’s casual remarks often carried an edge that made your stomach twist. And Gojo… Gojo’s playful teasing always felt like it was concealing something darker.

You wanted to believe their intentions were good, but their intensity was suffocating. Every glance, every touch, every word seemed to trap you further in their web.

--------

You received a mission.

The mission had seemed simple enough: a first-year assignment to exorcise a few low-grade curses plaguing an abandoned factory. Your teacher had been confident in your ability to lead the group, given your strength and strategic thinking. The second years were preoccupied with their own training exercises, leaving you and your classmates to handle things on your own.

At first, everything went according to plan. The curses were weak and predictable, and you systematically eliminated them one by one. But as you ventured deeper into the factory, a sinister presence began to gnaw at the edges of your senses.

And then it appeared.

A Grade 1 curse emerged from the shadows, its grotesque form towering over you and your classmates. Panic spread like wildfire among your team as the curse unleashed its power. You fought with everything you had, managing to shield your classmates from its attacks. But its movements were erratic, and in a single devastating strike, you were thrown across the room, crashing into a wall.

The impact was brutal. Pain erupted in your side as you crumpled to the ground, blood pooling beneath you. Your vision blurred, and the world around you became a haze of shouts and the curse’s guttural growls.

Your classmates rallied, calling for help through their communicator. But it was clear they were outmatched, and their fear only worsened as they saw you lying motionless.

Meanwhile, the second years were wrapping up their training session on the other side of campus. Shoko stretched lazily, her cigarette dangling between her fingers as she glanced at Geto.

“Think the first years are managing without us?” she asked, smirking.

Geto chuckled. “They’ll be fine. It’s a low-grade mission. Besides, they’ve got her.”

But their casual banter was interrupted by the crackle of a distress call over the communicator.

“This is Team 1. We need immediate backup! Grade 1 curse encountered—severe injuries! Please send someone!”

Shoko’s smirk vanished. “What the hell?” she muttered, straightening up.

Geto’s expression darkened, his usually calm demeanor replaced with a sharp edge. “Who’s injured?” he demanded, grabbing the communicator from a nearby table.

The response was immediate, but it was the words they dreaded: “It’s her. She’s down.”

For a moment, time seemed to stop. Shoko’s cigarette slipped from her fingers, forgotten, as she and Geto exchanged a glance.

“Where are they?” Geto barked, his voice colder than you’d ever heard it.

“Abandoned factory near the west district.”

“Stay there!” Geto snapped. “We’re on our way.”

When they arrived, the scene was chaos. The curse had been subdued by a reinforcement team, but the damage was done. Your classmates hovered nearby, their faces pale with fear and guilt.

And there you were, lying on a stretcher, your uniform soaked with blood. Your breathing was shallow, your face pale.

Geto was at your side in an instant, his usual composure completely shattered. “What happened?” he demanded, his voice shaking as he assessed your injuries.

“She shielded us.....” one of your classmates whispered, their voice trembling. “If she hadn’t… we’d all be dead.”

Shoko crouched beside you, her hands already glowing with healing energy. “Idiot,” she muttered, though her tone was thick with worry. “You push yourself too damn far.”

“She shouldn’t have been in this situation!” Geto growled, his hands clenched into fists. His dark eyes burned with fury, though whether it was directed at himself, the curse, or your teacher for leaving you unprotected, it was hard to tell.

Shoko worked quickly, stabilizing your condition, but it was clear you were in no state to wake up anytime soon.

Later, in the infirmary, Geto and Shoko stayed by your side, refusing to leave.

“She’ll be fine” Shoko said softly, though the tension in her voice betrayed her own uncertainty.

Geto sat silently, his gaze fixed on your unconscious form. His usually serene expression was tight with guilt and something far darker.

“If I had been there…” he murmured, his voice barely audible.

“She’s strong,” Shoko said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Stronger than we give her credit for. But next time…” Her tone grew cold. “Next time, we make sure no one touches her.”

Geto nodded, his resolve hardening. “No one.”

And as you lay there, unaware of their whispered vows, the air in the room seemed to shift, an unspoken promise that they would never let you face danger alone again, no matter the cost.

Gojo, meanwhile, remained unaware of the incident, busy with his own responsibilities.

------

It wasn’t long before Gojo heard about the incident. Word spread quickly, and as soon as he caught wind of it, he stormed into the infirmary like a hurricane.

“What the hell happened?” he demanded, his voice echoing through the room. His usually carefree demeanor was replaced with a rare intensity, his blindfold pushed up to reveal furious blue eyes.

Shoko glanced up from where she was checking your vitals, her expression calm but tired. “She’s stable. That’s all that matters right now.”

“Stable?” Gojo snapped, pacing. “She nearly died! Why wasn’t anyone there to back her up?” His glare landed on Geto, who sat quietly at your bedside, his hands folded as if in silent prayer.

“Don’t start with me, Satoru,” Geto said, his voice low. “You weren’t there either.”

“And that’s why I’m pissed!” Gojo shot back. “I should’ve been there. I could’ve-”

“She doesn’t need your guilt” Shoko interrupted sharply. “What she needs is rest. So shut up and let her recover.”

Gojo fell silent, though his jaw clenched as he looked down at your pale face.

Days passed, and eventually, you regained consciousness. Your body was sore, and your memories of the mission were hazy, but relief washed over you as you saw familiar faces surrounding you.

“You’re awake” Geto said softly, leaning forward.

Shoko offered a small smile. “About time. You’ve had us worried, kid.”

Even Gojo seemed uncharacteristically serious. “Don’t ever scare us like that again, got it?”

As you recovered, you noticed something strange. Your cursed energy felt… different. Stronger, sharper, as if the experience had awakened something dormant within you. You discovered a new ability—a defensive barrier that activated instinctively, a shield born from your determination to protect your classmates. The realization filled you with pride, though it didn’t erase the weight of what had happened.

Not long after, the higher-ups summoned you. Despite your recent injury, they deemed you ready for another mission, eager to test your newfound strength.

When word reached Shoko, Geto, and Gojo, the response was immediate.

“She’s not going.” Geto said firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument.

“She just got out of the infirmary” Shoko added, crossing her arms. “Are you trying to kill her?”

Even Gojo, who often challenged authority with his carefree attitude, was deadly serious. “If you send her out again, I’ll personally make sure you regret it.”

The elders hesitated, clearly unnerved by the trio’s united front. They ultimately relented, agreeing to delay the mission.

As you regained your strength, one of your classmates approached you in private. He was the one you’d saved during the mission, and his gratitude was evident in his every word.

“I… I just wanted to say thank you...” he said, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. “You saved my life back there. I don’t know how to repay you, but maybe… would you like to go out? Just for lunch or something?”

You blinked, taken aback by the sudden proposal. “Oh, um… I guess?”

He beamed, looking both relieved and excited. “Great! How about this weekend?”

You agreed, unaware of the eyes watching from the shadows.

The day of the “date” arrived. You were nervous but determined to enjoy the rare moment of normalcy. Your classmate met you at a small café in town, his cheerful energy helping ease your nerves.

What you didn’t realize was that the trio was never far behind.

Geto lingered outside the café, his sharp eyes fixed on you through the window. Shoko, disguised in casual clothes, sat at a nearby table, pretending to scroll through her phone. And Gojo, as unsubtle as ever, leaned against the counter, chatting with the barista while keeping an eye on your every move.

As the date progressed, their silent interference began.

The waiter mysteriously got your order wrong, delaying your food. Shoko “accidentally” spilled her drink near your table, forcing your classmate to help clean up. And when you both tried to leave for a walk, Geto casually stepped in front of the door, pretending to inspect the weather outside.

Your classmate grew increasingly flustered by the strange occurrences, but you didn’t think much of it—until Gojo decided to make his presence known.

“Yo!” he called out, striding over with his signature grin. “Fancy running into you here!”

You froze, confusion and embarrassment flooding your face. “Gojo-senpai? What are you-”

“Just grabbing a coffee~” he said smoothly, though the amused glint in his eyes betrayed his true intentions. He turned to your classmate, his grin widening. “And who’s this? A friend of yours?”

Your classmate stammered, clearly intimidated by Gojo’s overwhelming presence.

Before you could respond, Shoko appeared at your side, her arm casually draped over your shoulder. “We were just about to head out, weren’t we?” she said, ignoring your confused look.

Geto joined the group a moment later, his calm smile hiding the possessiveness simmering beneath. “Let’s not keep her too long. She still needs to rest.”

Caught between your upperclassmen and your increasingly nervous classmate, the date was effectively over.

As the trio led you away, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. Their protectiveness, once comforting, now felt suffocating. But as Geto’s hand rested lightly on your shoulder, Shoko’s teasing laughter rang in your ears, and Gojo’s grin loomed above you, you realized you couldn’t escape them, not that easily.

------

The second mission was supposed to be simple, a routine exorcism with Gojo as your partner. Given your recent injury, the higher-ups had decided you wouldn’t go alone this time, and Gojo insisted he’d keep you safe.

“Relax” he said with a smirk as you both entered the cursed area. “With me here, nothing can touch you.”

Despite his confidence, you stayed vigilant. The cursed spirits weren’t difficult to deal with, but halfway through, you felt a sudden spike of cursed energy. Before you could react, a sneak attack came from the shadows, a cursed blade aimed directly at Gojo’s back.

“Look out!” you shouted, throwing yourself in the way. The blade grazed your arm, slicing through your uniform and leaving a shallow but painful wound.

Gojo turned instantly, his hand snapping out to catch the attacker with ease. His grin vanished, replaced by a chilling glare.

“You’ve got guts trying to touch her” he said, his tone unnervingly calm as he crushed the curse with one hand.

Before you could catch your breath, a new figure appeared, a bounty hunter hired to disrupt the mission. The man was skilled, his cursed energy strong, but he was no match for Gojo.

“I’ll make this quick.” Gojo said, his voice icy. Within moments, the man was incapacitated, left crumpled on the ground.

“Are you okay?” Gojo asked, turning to you. His tone softened, but the tension in his posture remained.

“I’m fine” you said, clutching your bleeding arm. “It’s just a scratch.”

But the look in his eyes said otherwise.

-------

That night, after returning to Jujutsu High, you found yourself restless. Your encounter with the bounty hunter had shaken you, but more than that, it was the trio’s unwavering presence in your life that weighed on your mind.

You couldn’t ignore it anymore, the way they hovered, the way they claimed to protect you yet suffocated you in the process. But despite it all, you couldn’t deny your feelings. Somewhere along the way, their twisted devotion had captured your heart.

Summoning your courage, you asked to meet them in private. The three of them arrived almost immediately, concern etched on their faces.

“What’s wrong?” Geto asked, his voice gentle but laced with worry.

“I… I need to tell you something” you began, your voice trembling. “I know you care about me. And I know I’ve been relying on you a lot. But this… this is too much. I can’t keep living like this, always feeling like I’m being controlled.”

Their expressions darkened, but you pushed forward.

“That said… I care about you, too. I don’t know when it started, but I can’t deny it anymore. I love you—all three of you.”

For a moment, there was silence. Then, to your surprise, Shoko let out a soft laugh.

“You’re something else, you know that?” she said, her tone both affectionate and exasperated.

Geto sighed, running a hand through his hair. “We’ve been too overbearing. I can admit that much. But it’s because we can’t stand the thought of losing you.”

Gojo grinned, though his usual playfulness was tinged with something darker. “So you’re saying you love us, but you want space? That’s cute, but you know we’re not the kind to back off so easily.”

Your heart sank. “I’m serious. I need boundaries. You can’t keep interfering in my life like this.”

Geto stepped closer, his expression unreadable. “We understand,” he said softly. “But…”

“But we’re not giving up,” Shoko finished, her eyes gleaming.

Gojo leaned in, his grin widening. “You’re ours, whether you admit it or not.”

--------

In the weeks that followed, things seemed to settle. The trio gave you more space, respecting your wishes on the surface. But beneath their smiles and reassurances, something darker was brewing.

You began to notice small changes. Your schedule became mysteriously clear of difficult missions. Classmates who showed interest in you suddenly grew distant, avoiding you without explanation. And no matter where you went, one of the three was always nearby.

It wasn’t until you overheard them talking late one night that the full extent of their plan became clear.

“She’s too vulnerable out there” Geto said. “We need to protect her, even if she doesn’t realize it.”

Shoko’s voice was calm but firm. “We’ve already adjusted her mission roster. It’s only a matter of time before the higher-ups agree to keep her closer to campus.”

“And if they don’t,” Gojo added, his tone light but with a chilling edge, “we’ll make them.”

Your blood ran cold as you realized what they were doing. They weren’t just protecting you, they were isolating you, tying you closer to them with every move they made.

--------

One night, they cornered you in the quiet of the school gardens. “We’ve been thinking,” Geto began, his voice as smooth as ever“about what’s best for you.”

“And we’ve decided,” Shoko added, her gaze steady“that staying here, with us, is the safest option.”

Gojo stepped forward, his usual grin replaced with something far more intense. “You love us, right? Then trust us. Let us take care of everything.”

You backed away, your heart pounding. “This isn’t what I wanted. I love you, but I can’t live like this.”

Geto caught your wrist gently, his touch firm but not painful. “You’ll understand eventually. We’re doing this because we love you, too.”

Before you could protest further, Shoko pressed something into your hand, a small charm infused with cursed energy. “This will keep you safe” she said, though the unspoken message was clear: it would also keep you bound to them.

Gojo cupped your face, his grin softening as he looked into your eyes. “Don’t fight it. You’re ours now.”

And as their overwhelming presence surrounded you, suffocating yet strangely comforting, you realized there was no escape.

They weren’t just protecting you—they were keeping you. Forever.

-----------

Once again, thank you for your request✨

To my readers out there, feel free to send me more ideas. I love receiving new contents. Some were so good that I didn't know how you can come up with them🫶🏻

I watch a lot of anime & I read a lot, so I'm pretty sure I can keep up with your requests no matter what fandom that is👌

[slashersgostabbystabstab]

Object of Obsession

Ghostface x Reader Smut

Mmm...old fic from my old, deleted blog...felt like posting it cause why not. I remember if anybody remembers this fic.

Warnings? SMUT. And everything else you would expect in a DBD fic (I'm sorry it's midnight and I'm posting on my phone,I'll fix this whole post tomorrow)

I stg if this gets a decent amount of notes(just to show people wanna see more) I will post the other fics I had deleted (these involve the Blight, more Ghostface, and possible Wraith ones...)

Words: 6,021

"Hello?”

“Hello there.”

It had all started with a call, a mere and simple call.

“Who's this?”

“Soon you’ll discover.”

You assumed it was a telemarketer, or some kind of prank perhaps.

“I'm sorry, sir, but I think you have the wrong number.”

Now that you thought about, you had wished it was some stupid teenagers or some guy offering to buy some stupid prodcut.

“How are you so sure? Tell me your name, and I'll tell you mine.”

“My name? But why?”

Yet it wasn’t either of those.

Had it been one, you wouldn’t be limping through the lone yet crowded streets of this neighborhood.

“I want to know who I’m looking at.”

Putting aside the lack of doors and completely run down homes, one could have said the neighborhood...was normal looking.

Normal.

That was what you could now consider the life you no longer lived.

A life in a neighborhood not too different from the one you found yourself in.

Everything had been going well, even if life was shitty, it was no doubt better than this.

“You sick fuck!”

In your mouth you perceived the taste of iron, one you knew belonged to the blood smeared over your lips. Thinking about it, you weren’t even sure if the blood came from your lips that you bit to contain desperate whimpers of pain, or from the blood that was found nearly everywhere you limped through.

“I’ll gut you like a fish!”

That voice, you despised it with every ounce of remaining blood in your body. You weren’t even sure how much you had left after everything you had endured. All you knew was that your complexion had indeed turned into a paler one, your loss of blood evident as you unconsciously continued to bleed.

It had all started with a call, a mere and simple call.

Why did you have to pick up the damn phone?

Why did you pick it up all the following times that bastard called?

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a scream that prompted you to skid to a stop, nearly crashing into one of the trees you were now surrounded by. With the hand that was not holding your impaled side, you clung onto the tree as your teeth now released your lip and you allowed yourself to pant after so much running.

Another scream was heard, a voice telling you to look to your right. Once you did, there he was.

In a panic, you shut your mouth as tightly as possible before rushing towards the direction you had just been coming from. You gulped and concealed whimpers that were created by the pain coursing through your ankle. As you fixed a generator earlier with one of the many people suffering the same, neither of you ever realized the looming presence that failed to strike your shoulder, instead hitting the generator that further damaged it.

You and the other person saw him, that bastard who was brought into this world of chaos with you. A man with a ghostly mask and dark clothing that helped him blend in with his surroundings. And he stared you down after you had fallen onto your bottom, already raising his blade above his head to strike upon you. But to your relief, the person behind stood in between the two of you, flashing the ghostly mask with a light so bright that made him loudly groan before your teammate helped you up and away.

The woman ran to the left as you ran to the right, never realizing that your footsteps were enough to have the ghostly figure chasing after you once more. However, before he had the chance of piercing your skin, you jumped through a window before falling to the harsh floor, injuring your ankle in the process. As you got up, you stared up at the window where you saw the figure peering down at you with a tilt of his head, deciding that now was not the time to continue your chase.

Obsession.

That was what the other survivors called you, as well as others like one who you learned went by the name Laurie Strode.

According to the others, there was more than one being with the goal of killing, and each one was somehow matched up with a being with the goal of survival.

You were one of the poor souls who had been matched up with a killer obsessed with their survivor.

Even more unfortunate was the link created with this obsession, brought to life by the very being that brought you and that bastard into this world.

“What do you want!?”

“What do you want…” you muttered through grit teeth, remembering that those words were the last you cried out after being chased in your own home. You remembered being cornered in your bedroom with the obsessed predator standing between you and your freedom.

“I want to see what your insides look like!”

Those words the last words he shouted, right before the lights in your bedroom turned extremely bright and blinded the two of you. You brought your arms up to shield your eyes, realizing that the lights had turned into swirls of red that flashed once and quite intensely, all the while a thick fog engulfed you and the figure.

Once the light show had ended, you opened your eyes, finding yourself alone and in a strange place.

A strange place you eventually learned was one of the realms conjured up by The Entity.

Your thoughts were once again interrupted, this time by the sound of a phone ringing.

You cursed under your breath and immediately pressed the ‘answer’ option, pressing the device against your ear as you heard the same ringing coming from one other location that had previously been three others, one for each survivor.

Two had now been sacrificed, and the third...well, the latest scream was more than enough information.

From the other line you could hear a dark chuckle, making your eyebrows furrow deeper and your teeth grit harder.

“I always feel like somebody’s watching me.~”

“Fuck you! Fuck you!”

“Aw, Dollface, no need for that kind of language.~”

You angrily ended the call before resuming your limping around, having to stop for a moment to wince in pain and grit your teeth even harder, causing a new pain to be created. Right then, you heard the phone in your pocket ring again and this time only yours, making you the last survivor again. But, it also made you the only one around with a phone, making you much easier to locate.

“You sick, sick fuck!” you hissed into the phone once you replied, frustrated how this so-called Entity made it so that you could never rid of the phone unless you were given a moment of peace or faced against another one of those bloodthirsty predators.

“Why so angry? All I want is to play a little game.”

“Well game’s over asshole!” you gripped onto the phone, scouting the area while being cautious, knowing how well this man hid. “I’m gonna find that damn hatch, and I’m living another day!”

“Oh, is that so?” the man chuckled once more. “That’s not what happened last time.~”

Death was something nearly inevitable in this realm, and it was something that you and the others were able to experience multiple times.

The last time you were faced with this man, you finally had a taste of sweet, sweet death, deciding that that would be the first and last time you would.

So you ended the call in a fit while scanning every inch of the overgrown grass you currently ran through, hurriedly searching for the hatch you hoped he hadn’t shut back. Without a key, the hatch was useless, especially because you still needed two more generators to power up the gates.

The phone rang again, further irking you before you answered.

“What do you fucking want!?”

“The question isn’t, what do I want.”the killer cooed at you, somehow being heard over the sound of your heart rapidly beating in your ears.“The question is, where am I?”

“Where, are you?” you jeered, holding your side with your fingers digging deep into your ripped shirt that had been slashed earlier.

“Heads up.~”

At the sound of that, a feeling overcame you...a dreading feeling that you were completely exposed.

You felt your eyes widen as you ever so slowly turned to look up, lips quivering upon the sigh of the ghost mask looking down at you from one of the roofs. You gasped as the killer waved at you with a tilt of his head, then rushing away from the home for you knew he had jumped down with ease and no pain.

Not that there was no need to hide your sounds, you panted loudly while sprinting down the empty street, never daring to look behind you for you knew the killer was just a few feet away.

Had it not been for your racing heart, you would have heard the heavy steps coming from the killer’s boots as he continued to chase. Yet you knew those running steps were heard, so you made your way towards a sidewalk that was placed between a tree and a fence.

Of course, the killer followed right through but was immediately thrown back when you cleverly pulled down one of the leftover pallets.

As the killer tried to recuperate, you took your chance and ran through a space between the homes before making a right and continuing until you found yourself limping into the front entrance of one of the far houses.

With the feeling of exposure gone, you silently made your way towards the living room where you found a pair of lockers. Carefully grabbing the handle of one, your bit your lip while attempting to open it as quietly as possible, something quite impossible.

And this you witnessed like several other times, ignoring it and placing your body in the space before shutting the door to then be immersed in a darkness. The only light came from the three slots on the door, giving you the slightest view of the outside world.

With a hand clasped over your mouth, you tried to steady your heart pace and your heavy breathing, ignoring the pain on your side and ankle that you found it impossible to stand on. Your eyes were shut tightly as you gave a slight wheeze, the stab wound on your side continuing to bleed out.

“I want to see what your insides look like!”

Those words replayed in your head, especially as you heard muffled breaths outside your locker, making you gulp and clench your free hand into a fist, ready to strike if needed.

You opened your eyes, feeling your hand shake but forcing it to stop once you saw the killer just outside the locker.

He stopped walking as he was a few feet away, deciding to crouch down with one of his hands holding his blade as his other dialed something into his personal phone, prompting a deep panic to course through your body as you readied yourself for whatever happened after your phone began ringing.

Yet...your phone never rang.

“Fuck!”

Through the slots you could see the man stand in pure frustration, kicking a leftover couch as you both realized that your phone had run out of juice. Thankfully, the Entity kept things considerably fair.

You saw as the killer angrily made his way out of the house, giving you a chance to sigh in relief before placing your hands on the locker’s doors, opening them in an instant before looking to your right and feeling the relief once more.

“The hatch!” you whispered to yourself, grinning ear to ear before making your way over to it.

Another day-

With the sound of a loud creak and then slam, you skid to a stop before your grin fell into a frown oh terror once you looked into the void-like eyes of the ghost mask, it’s owner just having shut the hatch before your eyes.

“No!” you barely cried out, turning before trying to make a run for it until you felt the back of your shirt be grabbed and pulled, making you fall backwards and onto the hard, wooden floor.

After wincing in reaction for the briefest of moments, you looked up and immediately reacted with your healthy leg, kicking upwards to where you saw the killer ready to strike his blade.

You heard an ‘oof’ from behind the mask, right before the killer dropped down after having been kicked in the abdomen. After rolling onto your stomach, you attempted to drag your body out of the house as the killer took his time, but you shrieked in pain once you felt a leather glove wrap around your injured ankle.

Soon you were pulled backwards by the ankle and then turned onto your back again before feeling a hand be placed on your chest, keeping you down as you attempted to move it away. Instead, you felt something heavier hold you down as your wrists were held above your head, realizing that your waist was straddled by the killer. You saw as he felt his hands above his head again, ready to plunge to blade deep into your heart several times.

Memento Mori.

You gasped at the memory of that phrase, shutting your eyes and covering your face with your arm as you expected an immediate kill rather than sacrifice.

However...it never came.

Hesitantly, you opened one of your eyes and to look up at the man who’s blade was no longer above his head but already down. Now with both of your eyes opened, you glanced up to where your pinned wrists were, seeing as the knife had been struck into one of the aging wooden planks.

“Gotcha there, didn’t I?” the killer spoke through his mask, chuckling at the sight of your helpless form. “Thought to myself, how fun would it be to stab you like the game before? But then I thought, no...maybe not this time.”

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, blinking up at the man who tilted his head like every single time.

“I’ve seen the way you stare.” he started once he retrieved his blade, still never releasing your wrists. “That glint in your eye when I grab another one of those pathetic idiots, slinging them over and onto a hook like nothing.”

“What?” you finally spoke up.

“Don’t play dumb Dollface.” he presented his blade, holding it horizontally before it teasingly made its way over to your neck to now graze over your skin, threatening to break it. “You think I know nothing, but I know everything about you.”

“Because you’ve been fucking stalk me even before we were brought here?” you attempted to move your arms, but the man’s hold grew stronger.

“You could say that.~” he purred while sliding the tip of his blade up to your chin, now gliding it against your jaw as he leaned down and close to your ear. “Kitten.~”

Fuck.

Fuck no.

“Oh, don’t tell me you liked that.~”

You squirmed beneath the killer’s grip, then choking out a gasp once you felt both of his hands place themselves on your body after he had repositioned himself.

With the knife being no more but instead an accessory on the ground, you found a gloved hand wrapped around your throat while the other ever so casually placed a finger on your thigh as he kneeled in between each one.

“What are you-” you croaked out as your hands wrapped themselves around the one on your throat, attempting to remove it as you felt its grip tighten.

“Drop the act.” he purred right into your ear, taking notice of how your breaths and heart rate quickened, prompting him to slide his lone finger up and down your thigh in a teasing manner. “You fucking love this shit."

“I-” you wheezed out, feeling as his finger on your thigh was now joined by the rest of them, squeezing your denim covered leg. “Fuck!”

“Look at that,” he pressed his mask against your ear as you shut your eyes, digging your nails into the hand that refused to let go of your neck. “Just a small squeeze…”

“Stop…” you tried to gulp, now feeling as his hand sank to the inside of your thigh, caressing it soft enough to make you squirm beneath him.

“Stop?"

“Y-yes!”

No.

Never.

“Stop!” you exclaimed as best as possible, especially as his hand now squeezed your thigh, basically massaging it before his hand traveled under it to hold it securely.

“Is that really what you want?” he lifted your leg into the air, pressing the cheek of his mask against it to rub himself. “You want me to stop and hook you?”

“Yes, I-I mean...no?” you stammered, finally breathing in peace when the man released your neck and instead placed his hand on your leg so that both of them gripped on.

“You’ve kept me waiting for this long, better make up your mind now before I do.”

“W-waiting?” you blinked at him a few time, then feeling something...somewhere.

Your eyes trailed down his body that kneeled in between your legs, then making your eyes widen once you noticed that beneath all the dark clothing was a bulge pulsating right in front of your crotch.

Wow.

Fuck.

“Whoa…” you started as you attempted to sit up, only to be pushed down in a rough manner. “Whoa, whoa-!”

Soon you felt as your leg was lowered and the killer’s hands were instead placed on your waist, dragging your body so that the bulge between his legs poked the opening you unintentionally provided.

“Crap…”you muttered out once a heat came upon your cheeks, this being due to the newfound heat in between your legs.

Before you could react any further, you felt as your body was hoisted up and onto the killer’s shoulder. There was no time to attempt and wiggle out of his grasp, for you now found yourself being thrown onto the nearby couch, purposely having been put in a slouching position as the man once again kneeled in front of you and between your legs.

“What are you…” panted words escaped your lips as the killer placed each hand on each of your thighs, spreading them further to lean in extremely close to the in between. “Hey..!”

“What?” he asked, never turning away from your area as you felt your cheeks burn hotter.

“A-At least take me out on a date first!” you semi-joked, grateful for the mask he still wore and the jeans covering you, for if neither of those hadn’t been in the way, you would have felt his hot breath over your… “Shit…”

“First you’re fighting and trying to kick my ass,” the man dragged his hands closer to the center, making you squirm a bit more. “But now, you’re here squirming under my grip, shy over the big bad killer being in between your legs.”

“Big? As if.” you scoffed as you attempted to regain your composure, instead giving a slight gasp when he dug the fingers of one hand into your leg, just as the other reached up to the hem of your pants.

“Take them off.”

“W-what?”

“Pants.” he posited in a deep voice, squeezing your thigh once more before his tone grew much more assertive. “Now.”

With a shaky nod, you reach down to unbutton your jeans, soon feeling as they were quickly being slid off your legs before being flung to the side like nothing.

“I-”

“You never know when to stop talking, hm?” the man shushed you as his hands grew close to your center once more, this time taking their time to taunt you. “You never know anything.”

This time, you kept quiet as you felt him press one of his thumbs on your briefs, rubbing a few circles that made you hiss through your now grit teeth.

“You’re a stupid one, but maybe not that stupid.”

You could tell this bastard was licking his lips right behind that mask, eyes watching your every move and getting off it.

“You don’t know just how long I’ve been watching you.” he continued as he rubbed the slight dent on his mask against you before sinking it further. “How long I’ve craved for you.”

“Craved?” you breathed out with fluttering eyelashes, not daring to look away from the man who snuck a finger under your panties, tugging on them to only tease and expose your opening.

“I thought that after all our previous encounters you would have figured it out by now.” he finally placed two fingers onto your entrance, making your arch back as he went under your folds to encircle your bud by dividing and reuniting his fingers various times. “I thought, maybe all this chasing and slashing was enough to tell you."

With your mind in a haze, you kept what could have been considered quiet, not being able to speak a comprehensive response, let alone word.

“But fuck you’re an oblivous one.” the killer stopped his motions, making you give the slightest whine as you looked down at him with half lidded, pleading eyes. “But now that I have you here...I sure as hell am gonna have my way with you.”

You bit your lip at the sound of his husky tone, hands desperately reaching to the couch as you now felt as your bud was roughly rubbed, but in such a satisfying manner that made you throw your head back.

“I know you’ll love every second of it.” he continued to tease your clit, now using his other hand to open your folds and breathe heavily against you.

Wait.

“Moments ago you were ready to run, but look at you now.” you heard his voice, realizing it was no longer muffled. “So wet already.~”

You managed to look down at the man between your legs, surprise filling you as you saw that his mask had been slid up and away from his face that was unfortunately not visible to you.

At his words you shut his eyes: he was right, he was so right.

Maybe...just maybe when you first saw the news with a picture of this man’s mask...just maybe…

“The Ghostface Killer” was what the news said, and just maybe you...

“No…” you shook your head to yourself, not realizing that the man had looked up at you with a quirked eyebrow.

“No what?"

“Huh?” you glanced down at him, barely being able to see a scruffy chin after he had lowered his head again. “N-nothing-!”

You immediately clasped a hand over your mouth and shut your eyes as you felt something wet against your entrance, a moan muffled right behind your palm.

“Fuck…” you whispered as your other hand attempted to grab whatever, just so you had a hold on something while the wet appendage continued to move against you.

Seeing as the killer no longer made any comments, you could guess that he was now using his tongue as his hands held you down and open for him.

You managed to grab onto the top of his head, the man not minding nor worried that you would see his face due to how you arched your back and even rolled your eyes to the back of your head as he continued to lick your bud.

“A-ah…” you whimpered, digging your nails into the man’s hood as his tongue moved in a circular manner before moving up and down, making you choke out a sound of pleasure. You especially moaned at the feeling of one of his fingers teasing below that, right before plunging itself into your hole that made you bite your lip intensely.

But what made you a complete writhing mess was his lips planting themselves on your clit, sucking on you, making gross, sloppy sounds that turned you on even more and made your toes curl inside your shoes. Now, both of your hands were gripping onto the killer’s hood as one of his held you down with how much you moved around.

“Fuck, fuck, f-fuck-!” you wailed out, the man’s hands on your hips as you felt a knot in your stomach, something that was ready to explode at any moment. “Oh fuck, oh...Ghostface!”

Now that was enough to make the killer reach down to his crotch, cupping his bulge as you said that name.

“Say it again.” he paused his treatment on you, allowing you a moment to recover and grasp a bunch of your own hair.

“G-ghostface…” you wheezed, then shrieking in delight once you felt him suck on your clit once more. “Ghostface! Oh, fuck, yes!”

Squeezing your eyes even tighter and your legs attempting to repeat the action, you felt oh so close to sweet, sweet release.

And that moment finally came, right after Ghostface went back to licking you as his fingers wiggled inside you, mimicking a ‘come hither’ motion before he detached his lips from you and instead rubber his thumb on your clit.

You weren’t sure what it was you said, but you swore and you screamed into the cold air as one of your legs kicked up. You didn’t know how long this moment lasted, but it was a blissful moment that had you seeing white whether you had opened your eyes or not.

Ever so slowly, you returned to your senses and could hear the faint sound of your juices being slurped by Ghostface as you felt the slight stubble of his chin brushing against your wet skin.

You heaved with a euphoric sigh as your eyes fluttered open, then glancing down at the killer who adjusted his mask enough to cover his face while making sure to keep a space open.

He lifted his two fingers that he had used on you, bringing them up and into his lips as you heard him sucking on the remainder of your juices.

“Look at you,” Ghostface cooed as he stood up, now fixing his mask so that it properly covered his face. “So worn out, and I haven’t even finished.~”

“What?” you lifted your head to look at him, seeing as one of his hands cupped his throbbing bulge once more. “M-more?”

“After all the chases and kicks and punches,” he reached down and under his top, and you could hear the sound of a belt unbuckling right before an unzipping noise followed. “I think I deserve a little more.”

Your eyes fell onto where his hands were, widening at the bulge that he now unfurled out of his pants to reveal an erect member pointing right at you.

One of his hands held onto it, slowly pumping the member as you noticed trickles of precum at the tip, threatening to spill onto your abdomen once he had stepped closer towards you.

“Such hungry eyes.” Ghostface breathed out a chuckle, not realizing that he himself had grown desperate, nor that he began rubbing his tip over your drenched briefs. “Such a good hole...just for me.”

Before you could say anything, you felt his free hand grab under your right leg before he lifted it and set it on his shoulder which opened your entrance even more. Once that was done, he kneeled on the edge of the couch while still supporting himself on the ground, leaning in until the forehead of his mask was pressed against yours.

He tucked his arm under your raised leg to keep it in place, placing his hand on the couch to hold himself as his other hand guided his member, using it to move your undergarment to the side before he rubbed himself at your entrance. As he breathed deeply, he felt you wrap your arms around his neck before he finally brought himself inside, making you arch right into his chest that provoked a deep growl in his throat.

“Fuck…”you heard him grunt behind the mask, especially as he sunk himself deeper inside you which made your toes curl once more. “Fucking, hell…”

After a moment, you brought your left arm to his back and eventually slid it down to his bottom, unconsciously pushing on it so that he could continue.

“What are you waiting for?” you sighed out, staring into the lifeless eyes of his mask before you felt him pull out and thrust into you rather harshly.

“Quiet.” he commanded, just as he felt your other hand claw at his hood, grabbing a bunch that nearly removed it. “No...don’t keep quiet...scream. Scream for me.”

“Scream…” you gulped before feeling Ghostface repeat the same action from before, this causing you to give exactly what he wanted.

“That’s better.” his voice sounded through your ears over the sound of your heart beating fast. “Say my name. Scream my name.”

“Ghostface,” you panted out as you felt him slowly pull out again, then thrusting back inside at the same teasing pace that made you give a whine. “Please...Ghostface, please.”

“Ghostface what?” he questioned as he continued his movements in a slow manner, creating a new knot in your stomach that was instead bothersome, ever so irking with this terrible, terrible taunting. “Say it Dollface, tell me what you want me to do.”

“Ghostface,” your bottom lip quivered as you dug your nails right into the killer’s back and neck now. “Please...f...fuck me.”

“Thought you’d never ask.” the killer purred against your neck, right before he quickened his movements, feeling your left heel dig into his back as well.

“Ghostface,” your voice grew louder. “Ghostface, oh fuck-!”

“Mmm, Ghostface. Oooh, Ghostface!” the killer mocked you, now pressing his right hand on your throat as he squeezed. “You fucking like that, huh? Tel me how you fucking love it.”

“Ghostface,” you started, removing both of your hands from his body to place them on his wrist. “Ghostface, I fucking l-love it.”

“Of course you do.” he laughed as he squeezed your throat. “You love it when Ghostface fucks your little hole; nobody knows what you want but me.”

You breathlessly nodded while tightening your grip on his wrist, especially as his thrusts became even faster and roughed.

“Fuck!” you choked out, feeling as Ghostface did not hold back in the slightest bit.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head once Ghostface finally removed his hand from your throat, instead bringing it down to your clit to rub it with a pace that matched his thrusting.

“Oh, fuck, oh my-” your hands once again returned to Ghostface’s back before one went to his head yet again, clawing at his hood which you accidentally lowered, the man not seeming to care. “Ghostface-!”

“I’m so fucking close.” he whispered into your ear, hand clawing into the couch that neither of you heard squeak and creak with every rough move. “But not yet...not yet.”

Before you yourself were able to come to another release, you gave a disappointed breath once you felt the man’s member missing. You turned down, giving somewhat of a pout as you saw him hovering just above your entrance.

“Ghostface…"

“Move.” the man told you after having lowered your leg and sat on the opposite end of the couch. “Now.”

You gave a shaky nod before getting on your knees, looking at his exposed member that dripped with a mix of your and his juices.

Ghostface spread his legs before patting his lap, you already knowing what he wanted.

So, you carefully climbed onto his lap, straddling him as you held yourself above his member, only the tip touching you.

His hands were placed on your hips and they forced you down onto his cock, making you gasp in surprise once you felt your skin smack against each other despite him still wearing his pants.

You stared down at the killer, once again pressing your forehead against his mask before you felt him move under you, prompting you to bite your lip to contain any other sounds.

He moved his hips in a way that made you plant your hands on the couch as he began to move you upwards, right before his hands brought you down again. Ghostface watched every expression you gave, a chuckle rumbling in his throat as he had you panting against his mask. His fingers dug into your hips, no doubt leaving bruises that would eventually match the ones he had caused on your thighs earlier.

Ghostface huffed as he now moved his pelvis upwards so that your body wasn’t the only one moving, his thrusts becoming sloppy yet remaining rough and quick.

“Say my name.” he aggressively grabbed your chin, squeezing you as he brought you to a more appropriate eye level. “Scream.”

“Ghostface!” you finally opened your lips, wrapping your arms around him again as his hugged your frame tight against his chest. “Ooooh, fuck! Faster!~”

You struggled to do anything, you didn’t even know if you were still calling out to him or gave all kinds of shrieks and moans. All you knew was that the knot from before had returned, and you were having a hard time both hiding and restraining it.

“Such a tight little-” Ghostface had to stop himself, hips continuously clashing against your bottom that was probably also bruised at this point. “Squeezing my cock, you fucking love this, don’t you?”

“Y-yes!” you managed to cry out, nails once again digging into what you could only assume were Ghostface’s shoulders or arms. Considering the pads he wore, it was probably the latter.

“I’m, I’m close!”

“You don’t finish until I fucking tell you to.” Ghostface hissed at you, one of his arms still holding you tight while his other hand snaked up and inserted two of his fingers into your mouth.

With his fingers in your mouth, you choked out all kinds of sounds, never realizing that a bit of drool dripped out and down your chin, making Ghostface lick his lips.

“Yeah...yeah…” he breathed out, marveling at such a sight he waited far too long to see.

He picked up the speed, grinning like a deviant once he felt himself twitch inside you.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop…!” you mewled after his fingers were pulled out of your mouth, once again on your chin to pull your gaze down after you had thrown your head back lost in ecstacy.

“I’m not fucking stopping.” he gave a few grunts, pulling you face even closer to press himself against you. “Oooh fuck. Should have waited to kill the others, just so they could hear your cute little moans.”

“Mmm, Ghostface!” you whimpered as you felt yourself even closer, the possessive hold on your chin and body making you clench around the killer’s cock that continued to pound inside you. “Ghostface, G-ghost-”

“Do it, fucking do it.” he teased right into your ear, practically licking and nibbling you as you finally released that tension inside you.

With a scream, you wrapped your arms around the man who let go of your chin to wrap both of his arms around you again.

His thrusts became faster before you felt a hot liquid be shot inside you, eventually dripping out and sliding down your thigh as you once again had that hazy feeling.

You held onto Ghostface like your life depended on it, feeling your bottom half tremble as his speed slowed down with every final thrust until eventually there was no more.

Ghostface bit his own lip, both to hide his slight pants and the cheeky grin that crept onto his features, now leaning his head to the side where you panted exhaustively into his ears. His hands slid down from your back and waist to your bottom, supporting you so that you wouldn’t fall backwards after such an experience.

The killer squeezed your body, chuckling once more into your ear as his muffled voice spoke.

“Our film’s finished, but you can hope for a sequel.~”

[gunilslaugh]

The One I Like Pt.2

Han Hyeongjun Summary: The aftermath of Seungmin outing your crush on Hyeongjun. WC: ~1.1k Warning:none

DISCLAIMER: This is not my work. It was written by one of my friends. They used to run a blog here on tumblr called odesonnets. This is a collab we did together. They have since deleted their blog so I got their permission to upload their part of the collab on my account.

part 1

photo not mine credits to owner.

The 4 boys sat in silence for a couple seconds before Hyeongjun cleared his throat and spoke up, “Are you…being serious?” 

Seungmin sighed and ran a hand over his face. “Yes, I’m serious. But I wasn’t supposed to tell you. You have to act like you don’t know or they will kill me. They really don’t want you to think we’re dating. Just in case, I guess. But if you don’t like them, don’t bring it up. I’ll kill you if you hurt them.”

“Hyeongjun,” Gunil called out, a teasing tone in his voice. “Your cheeks are red. Is there something you need to tell us?” The other two members were too caught up in the fact that Seungmin had impulsively revealed your secret to notice the blush rising up to Hyeongjun’s ears. 

“You like them!” Jungsu accused, pointing a finger in the poor boy’s face. “Why didn’t you tell us?” 

It was Hyeongjun’s turn to sigh. “I didn’t want to say anything just in case the two of you really were dating. I never thought you were lying when you told us you were dating, but I was just being cautious.” 

Seungmin nodded in understanding before ruffling the younger boy’s hair. “Well, now’s your chance. You know things will end up going the way you want them to.”

Seungmin was back in your bedroom, sitting at your desk. “I talked to Hyeongjun yesterday.” 

You sat up slightly from your position on the bed, eyes widened, and butterflies filling your stomach. “About what?” You questioned, before furrowing your eyebrows and scowling at your best friend. “You didn’t tell him that I like him, did you?”

Seungmin brought a hand over his heart, like he was offended. “I would never,” He lied. “I just told him that we really aren’t dating, and he said he believed me.” He felt a little bit bad for lying to you, but he knew that you would be happy in the end. He hoped if you ever found out that he had told Hyeongjun about your feelings that you wouldn’t be too upset. 

You smiled and laid your head back down. “That’s a relief.” 

There was a moment of silence until Seungmin spoke up. “Well?” He questioned in slight annoyance, “Are you going to do anything about it?” 

You hummed, thinking about his question. “I’ll think about it. Just because he believes you doesn’t mean he likes me.”

The boy rolled his eyes at you, but you didn't notice due to your position on your bed. “You know, nothing will ever come of this if you don't say anything to him. What's there to lose?”

“For starters, he could reject me and things would become super awkward. I would hate to have to stop hanging out with everyone.” You frowned at the thought. “Secondly–”

“It was a hypothetical question.” He cut you off before you could continue to fill yourself with self doubt. He knew he had to get Hyeongjun to do something since he knew for a fact that you liked him. But knowing how shy Hyeongjun could be, he also knew this wouldn't be easy.

After a few days of deliberation with the members–minus Hyeongjun–they had come up with a plan. Seungmin had invited you to get coffee with him and the guys, and had also told Hyeongjun. He agreed to be there, and so did you, as you both assumed everyone would be present. However, none of the other members intended to be there. It was a setup; a way to get you and Hyeongjun alone. 

When the day finally came, you made sure to dress nicely, as you knew Hyeongjun would be there. You walked into the cafe the group had planned to meet at and surveyed the area, trying to see if the guys had already arrived. Upon your search, you found Hyeongjun sitting at a booth by himself. You walked up to him after giving him a shy wave. 

“Hey,” You smiled softly at him. “Can I sit here?” You gestured to the seat across from him.

“Y-yeah! Of course!” Hyeongjun felt his cheeks starting to heat up slightly and he prayed you didn't notice. “The other members said they would meet us here soon. I guess I finished my practice before they did.”

“Oh! Okay!” You sat down and the two of you sat in awkward silence for a few minutes until you decided to break it. You were starting to get the feeling that the other members weren't going to show up. “What were you practicing today?”

He looked up from his lap, where he was fidgeting with his fingers nervously. “Currently I've been practicing a song that I wrote. I'm still working on it, but I'm hoping I get the chance to show it to the members soon.” 

“I really admire your musical ability. I would love to hear it sometime too! If that's okay with you, of course.” 

“I would love to play it for you sometime.” A shy smile crept across his lips and he opened his mouth to speak again when both of your phones chimed with a notification. You both pulled out your devices and what you saw made your cheeks turn red. A text from Seungmin:

have fun ;) 

You looked up at Hyeongjun and he was already looking at you. “I believe we were set up.” He chuckled lightly, and you laughed awkwardly along with him. 

“I guess so,” You felt embarrassed, and were almost positive that Seungmin had told Hyeongjun about your feelings. “I'm sorry. I didn't know he was going to do this.”

“Why are you apologizing? You didn't do anything wrong. Actually, I'm really glad he came up with this. I never would have been brave enough to ask you out on my own.” Hyeongjun replied sheepishly, looking down and rubbing the back of his neck.

Your eyes widened at his words. “You wanted to ask me out?”

“Yeah, I've actually liked you for a while. I was too afraid to make things weird between us.” 

“You wouldn't have made things weird! I…I like you too, Hyeongjun.” You smiled at him with pink cheeks and he smiled back. “Do you want to…go out with me?” You asked tentatively.

“I would love to.” He grinned. “Let's get lunch, on me. There's a really good restaurant down the street. A lot better than just having a coffee.” He stood up from the table and held out his hand for you to take. 

You hesitantly placed your hand in his and stood up with him. “That sounds good to me.” You were still certain Seungmin had told Hyeongjun your secret, but you were too happy, and the butterflies in your stomach were too intense for you to care. You could deal with your best friend later; your new beginning with Hyeongjun seemed far more important. 

part 1

[paimonial-rage]

of hopes and prayers - zhongli

ship: zhongli x reader

synopsis: in which alcohol brings about a moment of vulnerability

notes: a short deleted scene of bookkeeping!verse that takes place immediately after but it’s better than drinking alone with references to blasphemous assumptions

"You know,” you began as you walked to your homes, “I'm not sure if you heard that day, but one time I told Meng and the Ferrylady that Rex Lapis would never sit alone listening to tales of his life. After thinking about it more, I think I was a bit shortsighted to say that."

"Oh? Why is that?"

"They say that Liyue is 3,700 years old, but Rex Lapis is even older than that. He's one of the oldest gods in all of Teyvat. How many people do you think he's outlived? How many friends had he said goodbye to throughout his life? It wasn't as if he could leave either. He was the Geo archon. It was his duty to watch over Liyue, its people, the adepti... Being forced to see people come and go... I can't help but imagine how lonely of an existence that must have been. Dealing with that, maybe it would be easier to just reminisce alone. That way it would hurt less when they leave... at least, that's what I imagine.”

He chuckled.

“Did you perhaps come to that conclusion after our conversation this evening?”

You shook your head, “No, but I can’t say you didn’t play a part in it. Thinking about it makes me think… makes me hope…”

You bit your lip, lapsing into silence. There was a reason you brought this up. You had more to say, but… You cursed as you felt tears begin to gather at the corners of your eyes. You blamed it on the alcohol. Really, you shouldn’t be getting so emotional over such a childish thought, but with the moon shining beautifully in the sky and crickets chirping around you, honesty found itself coaxed to your lips.

“It makes me hope that he wasn’t alone. That he had someone at his side that he could talk to, not out of duty or respect, but as a friend. That someone was there for him on beautiful nights like this.”

You hated the way your voice wavered, unintentionally letting frustration weave its way between your words. It was stupid thought, a foolish thought of a naive mortal. It probably was an insult to project such immature emotions onto beings like the gods. And yet the more you thought about it, the more sorrow weighed at your heart. You felt a tear slip down your cheek.

“I would think so,” he replied.

It was such a simple statement from your companion, and yet as his shared sentiments sunk in, more tears began to flow. It was embarrassing, it was frustrating, you wanted to die. His words really shouldn’t have meant as much as they did. He was supposedly a mere mortal like you, but… The relief that filled your chest was almost impossible to bear. All you could do was cry.

A chuckle came as a finger brushed your tears away. You could barely hold his gaze for a second before you looked away in embarrassment. You felt your face begin to flush and your heart begin to beat. Did he really have to look at you like that? With amusement? With an undeniable warmth that turned his amber eyes positively molten?

“I’m sure he was very thankful for them too.”

[kyojurismo]

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟐 : 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐔𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐈 𝐁𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐆𝐎 𝐗 𝐅𝐄𝐌!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. +18 nsfw, 815 words, bottom!katsuki (more like sub but anyway), normal au (they’re in university), dub-con, overstimulation, oral sex (m receiving), dacryphilia, written in a rush lol & not proofread.

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒. dear lord, i finally succeeded in posting this piece. as i said, i deleted the previous one and rewrote it all over again, but it’s like completely different and much shorter LMAO. anyway, i’m not very proud of how it came out and also i feel like the whole thing is shit — in a way that doesn’t make any sense, y’know. but yeah. i hope you guys will enjoy it a tiny bit and as always check the tags carefully.

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓.

convincing your boyfriend to come to some halloween party with you, dressed up as michael mayers, was a pain in the ass. katsuki knew how to be stubborn and man, you had to pull the jealousy card to convince him.

“fine then. i’ll ask deku to be my michael tonight,” you shrugged and went to reach the phone on the kitchen counter. katsuki’s heart sank at the thought, his legs moved on their own as he quickly grabbed your arm and stopped you from contacting that stupid nerd. “i’ll do it, okay? i’ll be your michael.”

you jumped in victory in your head, simply nodding and offering bakugo a short smile before putting the phone away. he sighed in relief and ignored completely the grin curving your lips as you went on with getting ready for the party.

you had him wrapped around your fingers.

the party was quite boring, but it wasn’t something new for you. katsuki on the other hand was doing an amazing job — he never broke character, you almost forgot he was the one under the white mask. he was being so good for you, you must reward him right?

you pulled katsuki with you towards the bathroom on the second floor, pushing through the people gathering in the corridor, drinking, kissing, chatting. he was a bit confused, but didn’t question it.

he regretted accepting as you locked the door and pushed his back against it, swiftly pulling his black shirt up, your lips kissing and sucking and licking his abs before reaching his pecs. your lips wrapped around his nipple as one of your hand palmed his cock through his dark jeans, making it twitch. “not a sound baby, okay?” you whispered before biting playfully at his fair skin. he groaned lowly as your hands started pulling down both his jeans and underwear, cold air hitting his dick, who just got completely hard.

as you dropped down on your knees, you grabbed the base of his cock and locked your gaze to his masked face as you kitten licked the head, drops of precum falling on your tongue.

the only sound coming from above was katsuki’s heavy breathing, accentuated by the mask he was still wearing. his hands found your head as his eyes seared shut, he guided your mouth up and down his length. he hissed as one of your hand started fondling his heavy balls, his hips pushed towards your face.

you were fine with deepthroat him, even though you knew it always felt too much for katsuki sometimes. as sensitive as he was there, it was quick to overwhelm his senses.

that was the reason why he tried to push you away. he already came and you swallowed it all so you could stop now, that’s what he thought.

“oi…” he groaned as you pushed his hips against the door, there wasn’t a sign of you pulling away any time soon. “s-stop– that’s enough,” he whined, a sense of humiliation filling his chest at this point. tears picked at his eyes as you didn’t stop, his head hitting the back of your throat repeatedly as you kept going.

what katsuki didn’t know was that you loved seeing his teary face contorted by pleasure, you personally enjoyed having him squirm underneath your body as you took everything from him.

“too much!” he raised his voice, thinking you didn’t hear the first time due to the music or whatever. “take the mask off,” you pulled away and used your hand instead, jerking him off as you tightened the grip whenever you moved closer to the base. he complied, his teary eyes looking your face. your cheeks were warm as your chin dripped with saliva and bit of cum, you smirked as you licked your lips. “are you crying?” you mocked him, before kissing his red tip.

katsuki’s jaw clenched as he felt like he was getting closer again, his body running hot and trembling due to overstimulation. he was pleading you with his eyes, a couple of tears streaming down his red cheeks.

you ignored him begging you to stop, focusing on finishing him off instead. a couple of moments later, spurts of cum hit your face as his length twitched in your hand. once he finished emptying his balls for the second time you finally let go and raised to your feet, cleaning your cheeks with your hands and licking your fingers clean right under his dazed eyes.

“my crybaby,” you murmured softly and kissed his lips, your fingers wiped away his tears as your caressed his hot skin. “don’t make fun of me,” he growled lowly, but he wasn’t really offended. you chuckled and cupped his face, kissing him some more before helping him cleaning and fixing his appearance.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. @naomi-nana @euphiroo @eynnwwyjth @titantears @plast3c @napbatata @laraleafs @katsuslover

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Running from the Flames {5}

Pairing: Pierre Gasly x OFC Warnings: 18+ only, fluff - this is a work of fiction and the events are not based on reality. Chapter: One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine || Ten || Eleven* || under construction

The day dawned bright and I woke up feeling lighter than I had in years. I felt the sunlight warm on my face like I had washed away the masks I had hid behind in a state of numbness. The same person I had gone to sleep thinking of was the same one on my mind when I woke up and I wasn’t the only one.

“Morning, mama,” Addie mumbled as she rubbed her eyes and climbed into my bed. “We see Pear now?”

“Not yet, babygirl, he’s got a big race to concentrate on today,” I said, tickling her when she began to pout. “But, when the race is over we will find him and congratulate him okay?”

“Okay,” she huffed, clearly not happy with having to wait.

I checked my phone while we lay in bed waking up and stared at my home screen for a minute thinking it looked odd until I remembered I had deleted a bunch of the apps that normally filled the page. Forgoing my normal routine of reading the news and scrolling through instagram for a bit, I opened the messages I had received to see my dad had invited us to breakfast. 

“Get dressed, sweetie, Grandad’s going to meet us downstairs.”

Addie tumbled off the bed in her haste but quickly got to her feet and rushed to change out of her Frozen pyjamas. I was a little more sedate as I got up and brushed my teeth before struggling to pull a hairbrush through my hair. By the time I had managed to tame the mess and tie back from my face Adelaide was dressed with her leggings inside out and mismatching socks so we fixed that up and made our way down to the restaurant, Le Limùn.

The restaurant was already quite full and from the lanyards hanging around the majority of necks they too were here for the Monaco Grand Prix. From the quick glance around I hadn’t been able to spot my dad so I stopped in front of the maître d'hôtel.

“Bonjour madame, je peux vous aider?”

“Oui, there should be a reservation for Damian Vowles.”

The hostess looked at the bookings before leading the way to a table overlooking the water. “Would you like a high chair for a mademoiselle?”

“Merci,” I said with a nod and took a seat with Addie on my lap while we waited when my phone vibrated.

From Pierre: I found another one for Addie to steal.

A second later an image came through and I smiled at the selfie Pierre had taken with an Alpine hat identical to the one Addie had left in her room.  

To Pierre: What if I want one to match too?

From Pierre: Sorry gorgeous, it’s our thing, she might get jealous. 

“That smile wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain F1 driver, would it?”

I shoved my phone face down on the table as Addie climbed off me to hug her grandad and I rose to give him a hug too. 

“Hey dad, how have you been?” 

“Trying to put out fires with the press,” he said with a knowing look as he put Addie into the high chair that had arrived and took his own seat. “You’re lucky Addie was in most of the pictures with you and Pierre, they can’t publish any photos of minors without signed release forms.”

I breathed a sigh of relief and reached over the table to grab my dad’s hand. “Thank you. I’ll be more careful.”

“He’s a racer, sweetheart,” dad said, his fading American accent thickening with his emotions. “They run as fast as their cars and never stay in one place. That’s not what you need, you need stability.” He nodded his head to Addie. “For her sake and yours.”

I sighed and was grateful that the waiter arrived to take our orders, giving me a second to think of my reply. All too soon he was gone and my dad looked at me expectantly. I felt like I was a child again and not the 25 years old that I was.

“I grew up in this very environment and yes we moved around more often than not, but I wouldn’t call it unstable. Do you have an issue with me making friends with a driver or specifically Pierre?”

“Is that all it is? Friendship?”

I shrugged. “We are just getting to know each other. Beyond that, I don’t know.” 

Dad sighed and sat up straighter, flattening his blue tie against the FIA issued white dress shirt and standing. A stranger in the same kit greeted dad by name and shook his hand before handing over a folder I had seen many times before - a protest had been submitted to FIA and dad would have his hands full. 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, I have to go,” dad said regrettably before giving Addie a kiss on her head.

“It’s fine, go.” I gave him a smile so he didn’t worry about us but given how grey his hair had gone in recent years I don’t think it worked. “I’ll come home for a visit when the season breaks, we can catch up then.”

“I’d like that, and call your mother, she’ll be worrying when she sees the papers.” 

“I will.” I turned to Addie. “Say bye bye to grandad.”

“Nooo,” she started to whine, reaching blindly from the high chair as she tried to grab him. 

“Behave for your mum, be a good girl,” Dad said to her with a bop on the nose. “I love you.”

“Love you too,” she mumbled before her food arrived and she was distracted from his departure.

He stopped beside me and kissed the top of my head too. “What I have heard of Pierre is that he is a good man, I just worry about you. I’ll always worry about you, even when you are 50 years old.”

“I know, I understand that now,” I said as I looked at my own daughter. “Love you, dad.”

“Love you too.” He started to walk away but turned as he remembered something. “Oh, and tell Otmar to watch his back.”

I bit my lip to stop the laughter escaping. “It wasn’t his fault.”

“His driver, his responsibility,” he pointed out before leaving the restaurant and heading back to the FIA headquarters set up in the paddock. 

“Your grandad is unbelievable,” I muttered to Addie before picking at the fresh fruit that came with my croissant and offering her some. “Want some pear? Shit.” 

I swiped my phone from the table, forgetting I had been interrupted from replying to Pierre.

To Pierre: Sorry, I just met my dad for breakfast before he had to get back to HQ. I can’t believe you are making me jealous of a toddler.

From Pierre: I’ll make it up to you. 

To Pierre: I’ll hold you to that. What time are the pre-race interviews?

From Pierre: 11. What time are you coming to the paddock?

To Pierre: Given how excited Addie is to see you, very soon. 

From Pierre: And what about you?

I probably looked half crazy as I smiled at my phone.

To Pierre: Even more so.

I shoved my phone in my pocket and signed the check to have breakfast charged to the room before helping Addie from the high chair.

“Are you ready for the big day?” I asked her as we rode the elevator back to the top floor. “There’s going to be lots of cars zooming around the track.”

She clapped excitedly and she ran out of the opening doors ‘zooming’ her way along the corridor until I called her back to our door.

I had thought it was busy during the qualifiers but race day was a beast unto itself. Thousands of spectators filled the streets as they queued up to catch a glimpse of the drivers, their merchandise waving around in the hopes of a signature if they were lucky. 

I almost had to use Addie’s stroller as a battering ram and I was grateful I brought it from home because I might have easily lost her in the crowd with how slippery she could be. 

Breaking away from the masses, I made my way to the teams’ entrances and scanned my ID to get through security. With my hair down and sunglasses on I hoped I was incognito enough but the small whisper among the reporters waiting in the paddock grew the closer I got to Alpine.

Not trusting the invasive photographers, I pulled the sunshade low over Addie’s face and she complained she couldn’t see but I held it in place. “Just for a little bit, sweetie, then I’ll lift it up.” We didn’t need to have her face added to the media hype.

I was practically jogging down the footpath by the time I reached the blue and white pop-up garage and ducked inside with a sigh. Addie pushed the visor back before growing frustrated that she was still buckled in and not moving so I unclipped her and set her feet down on the floor. 

“Mama, come on,” she begged as she tugged my hand, remembering the way into the garage where Poppa and Pierre would hopefully be. “Hurry.”

“Are your manners on holiday too? That’s not how we talk.”

“Pleeeeeease.”

I let her lead the way past the offices and empty driver rooms, through the racks of spare tyres, and out into the pit where most of the team had gathered. The mechanics were making last minute adjustments to the tuning and checking their diagnostic tools. The pit crew were warming up and practised synchronising their roles so they were one cohesive unit out on the asphalt. Otmar was busy listening to his advisors, nodding along with what they were saying. And Pierre, he was at his locker putting the cap back on the tube of teething gel I had given him yesterday. 

I made my way through the crowd to him but Addie gave away the surprise when she shouted out excitedly and nipped between the tighter spaces I wasn’t able to. I saw the moment he heard her as a smile grew on his face and he turned in our direction, already dropping to his knees with those lightning reflexes so he could meet Addie’s hug with his own. 

“Look, look!” She pointed to her cap and then his. “I have one too.”

“I see that and it looks much better on you. Are you going to be cheering for me today?” he asked, grinning wider when she nodded eagerly. 

“Maybe Poppa can find an Alpine shirt for you to wear,” I said, nodding my head in Otmar’s direction since he had finished his discussions. “Why don’t you go ask him?”

She ran off and Pierre stood up, opening his arms slightly to give me a choice and I stepped into the embrace. I knew it was lasting far too long to just be considered a friendly welcome but his cologne smelled divine and the crook of his neck was the perfect height to tuck my head into. 

“Did you sleep well?” he asked as he rested his cheek on my hair, neither of us willing to break apart just yet.

“I did, Addie slept through the night and after everything on the boat I was absolutely drained.” Telling Pierre what had happened with the paparazzi was like unloading a tonne of baggage I didn’t know I was carrying around and I had slept like a log. “You?”

He shrugged and I looked up at him concerned but he gave me a small smile and he ran his hand soothingly up and down my spine. “Just pre-race nerves. It’s fucking Monaco. It never gets easier.”

“You’ll do great,” I said as I gently squeezed his narrow waist and begrudgingly stepped back. “Looks like you are needed.”

He looked over his shoulder at his personal trainer just in time to see the tennis ball flying at his head where he swiped it out of the air. He tossed the ball into his other hand, sending a wink to me as he backed away. “Back to it.”

I drifted over to Otmar where he was entertaining Addie but my attention remained on Pierre. His focus was absolute and his speed was staggering, it was incredible to watch and I couldn’t tear my eyes away. It also didn’t hurt that the Alpine shirt he was wearing was skin tight and showed off every muscle as he moved.

“Napkin?” Otmar offered, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket. “You look like you’re going to drool.”

I pushed his hand away with a roll of my eyes. “Was not. I was just admiring the athleticism of your drivers.”

“You haven’t even noticed Esteban over there.” I looked around the room and spotted the other driver with his own personal trainer, proving his point and making him chuckle to himself. “Oh, to be young again.”

“That reminds me, I saw dad this morning and he said to watch your back.” I grinned as Otmar crossed his arms defensively. “I think you are both too old to wrestle, you might break a hip.”

“It’s how we have always worked our way through disagreements,” he said before his head whipped back to me. “Hang on, we aren’t old!”

“Sorry, just immature,” I teased. 

The rest of the morning flew by while the drivers started their pre-race routines but it all came to a stop when the call came out to head to the interview stage. Pierre jogged over after finished up with his neck stretches but he was intercepted by a young woman armed with hairspray and brushes. 

He shifted in his feet impatiently as she styled his hair for the media and ducked out of her reach when she pulled out a makeup brush. It looked like a common occurrence given the sigh she gave before walking away and he finally made it over to me.

“You’re not too bored hanging around here?”

“This was the first 16 years of my life. It’s like coming home to me,” I reminded him. “Plus, the view is alright too.”

The smirk on his face grew and he looked down between us, taking my hand in his. “Just alright?”

I was beginning to learn that Pierre was the physical type, not just with me but everyone he met got hugs or he draped his arm over their shoulders, it was just how he expressed himself. The constant small touches felt natural and after being touch starved for so long I was starting to crave more.

Rising on my tiptoes with a burst of courage, I kissed his cheek. “Better than alright. Now go feed the hounds.” I gave him a nudge towards the inpatient coordinator waiting to lead him and Esteban away. Otmar handed Addie over since he would be going with the men to the principal’s interview and I waved to Pierre as they left.

“There’s a seat here,” a guy from the pit crew offered as they turned the tvs on to watch the interview and I sat with Addie on my lap. “You’re Damian’s daughter, right?”

“Yeah, Brianna.” I shook his gloved hand and turned my attention to the screen as Pierre took a seat beside Esteban.

“Paulo,” he replied with a shake of his head. “I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into.”

“What do you mean?” I asked with a frown but he just pointed to the screen as the interview began.

Click here for chapter six.

Taglist: @my-only-way-tocooperatewithlife

[savvythepirate]

Alive

Pairing: Jack Sparrow x reader, Hector Barbossa x reader, and Elizabeth Swann x sister!reader

Warnings: None

Requested by: @ashllllyyyy

The Request:

Can i request Barbossa x fem reader who is Elizabeth's sister. Reader ran away with Black Pearl one day and Elizabeth thought that her sister is dead but when Jack, Will and Elizabeth found themselves on Black Pearl they met reader who is Barbossa's wife who is currently pregnant (if you are uncomfortable delete pregnant part)

***

You first met Jack Sparrow not long after he saved your sister, Elizabeth Swann, from nearly drowning to what could have been her last day alive.

For a while, you and Jack Sparrow seemed to hit it off almost immediately, forming some type of bond together as a result. This meant you had followed Jack to the Black Pearl and stepped onboard, and all this time, your older sister, Elizabeth feared the worst when you had gone missing in just that split micro second of spotting you before beginning to fight her own battles that day. It wasn’t until you had been declared dead by your people, that she realized this could be very real.

Out of everyone who thought you were dead, Elizabeth never gave up hope that you were still alive and it was because of that hope she believed was the reason you had felt you should send her a letter of reassurance and had given her the information you were a part of Jack Sparrow’s crew and had secretly getting engaged by a pirate under the name of Barbossa. In the letter, you tell her that the engagement had come after the two of you now having child of your own to raise. Elizabeth was thrilled, relieved even now that she knows you were alright, or alive at the least. But as well as that relief she had, she still couldn’t fight the urge to feel a little angry with you in the same way of you were to be her daughter rather than a sister who got lost, who had wondered off without meaning to. That’s the scare she got from this, and not long after the letter arrived, she made the choice to hunt for you, wanting to see you one last time just in case you had no plans on stopping by for a visit.

It took her months until she was able to pinpoint your location after a huge tip given to her by a well known friend of Jack Sparrow’s. This giving her the big break of finding your whereabouts. A few months later, you and your new lifetime partner, Barbossa settled on the ship together. During that time, Jack Sparrow is often seen pacing around the top deck, muttering to himself. You go to ask him what he was talking about and he looked almost hesitant to tell you anything.

“What is it you’re not telling me?” You press on, growing a little agitated with him.

A couple of times, he tried to brush it off by saying it was nothing and nothing for you to worry about, but you were quick to stop him, holding onto him until he finally gave in and gave you the response.

“Listen… don’t get mad, I can’t stress that enough anymore but we have a few visitors.”

“Who are they?”

“All I can say is, they’re some people you may have known for most of your life.”

Your heart suddenly jumped to your throat, he was right about you knowing these people you have yet to see before asking the final question, it was almost blindsiding.

“Where do they come from?”

“I picked them up at the docks in Tartuga, after meeting them over a drink.”

Your face paled, instantly knowing who he was referring to. It was your sister Elizabeth Swann, and best friend Will Turner.

You haven’t seen them in quite a while and you grew anxious to see them, but worried because you have left a very important piece of information in the letters sent to your sister. That little bit of detail tied you to Barbossa and the fact you were expecting, and you only had a couple months left until your child would be born. Jack’s wandered around as if looking for them before landing back on you. Barbossa was briefly mentioned in those letters, but you never said he was your partner, companion and you worried how Elizabeth might take it. A look on your face has changed, causing Jack Sparrow to grow a little concerned of your well-being as he asks about your thoughts.

After placing your small hand on your tummy, Jack instantly knew.

“You haven’t told her yet, have you?” He questions.

“No.”

“Have you told her about Barbossa?”

“Just briefly, I stated that he was only a friend in case knowing about us would bring hard feelings in the family.”

“Well, you should tell her.” Jack encourages.

“Yes, I will do that. Is she here yet?”

“On the top deck with Will Turner.”

You nod and begin making your way there, hands sweating from extreme nerves. Now you were behind the two, and it wasn’t easy to gather your thoughts on what to say first as a greeting.

“Ha! I was right! It’s actually you both! I knew I recognized your voices!” You say cheerfully.

Elizabeth nearly jumps out of her skin before turning around, than grabs you for an embrace. But as she was about to just that, Barbossa shows up and is by your side, he never leaves. This got you confused looks from Elizabeth and Will of Barbossa’s sudden appearance.

“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friends here?” Barbossa asks.

“Of course. Elizabeth, Will, this is Barbossa. Barbossa, this is my eldest sister Elizabeth and longtime friend, Will.” You say.

Silence hangs in the air for a short time, than when you notice Elizabeth is examining your tummy you tried to cover with your light raincoat, you try to quickly change the subject.

“So… what’s new with you guys?” You say.

“I was going to ask you the same thing. (Y/n), is there something you hadn’t told me in your letters? If I’m not mistaken, I think you’re trying to hide something big from me.. us.”

“Guilty as charged.” You admit.

“Why haven’t you said anything?”

“Because I didn’t know how you would react and I didn’t want to take the chance on telling if it means upsetting you and everyone else.”

“You don’t have to worry about that, (Y/n). You’re my little sister, and I’ll always love you, no matter what.”

You let out a sigh of relief before dropping more big news to them.

“I’m glad you say that because there is something else you should know.”

“What’s that?” Will says, you turn to face him as you explain what Barbossa really was to you.

They were both surprised and even a little shocked at the news as anyone would be, but they still love you the same if not more.

At this point, you decide to ask Will something important to you.

“Can I ask for you to be the godfather of our child?”

“Really?”

“Yes, you’re my best friend, Will and you’re one of the few I will trust with our child.”

“I’d be happy to.”

The three of you exchange smiles and Elizabeth is the one to start conversing about baby names once you told her your child was to be due.

Although Barbossa was just as excited, he couldn’t help but begin to feel a little bored, but again, he sticks by your side.

Again, he never leaves.

***

Requests: OPEN

@savvythepirate

Tags: @princessofthornsandroses @justafairytailofinnocence @always-on-hiatus @mypookiebeardavyjones @marsswann @imalittleoutthere

Characters:

• Jack Sparrow

• Davy Jones

• Will Turner

• Hector Barbossa

[obliqueblade]

❗️❗️❗️I'm pretty sure I rambled way too much in this ask. It's alright to delete it if you feel uncomfortable reading/answering it.

Hi! :D How are ya doing? I'm glad Oblique trusted you enough to pass the account to you. Even though I have not met Oblique personally before, I bet that Oblique was a fantastic friend to you, and I'm sure you were to her aswell.

I first found Oblique when she posted chapter 3 of the fic. I remember being so engrossed in her story that I would refresh her blog every day to see whether or not she posted. Then I guess everthing just started to go downhill from there, though I'm pretty sure it had already been like that before I came along.

I really wish I had have reached out to her more. I shot a quick "ask" to her in panic when I realized that she hadn't posted in a few weeks. But the relief I felt when she answered back didn't last long.

I was getting ready to go to school when I saw that Oblique had posted recently, and I didn't really get the chance to prepare myself when I clicked in her blog to see what it was. I felt my heart sink as I read through the update you posted. I thought that I could have interacted and questioned her more about her condition, and that I could have cared more to realized that she hadn't posted anything in the following months, but there was so little I could do now.

I'm really sorry for making you read through my ramblings, but I guess I couldn't really hold back my regret back anymore. The guilt weighed on me more and more everyday until it eventually just lead to me typing this out, and the air around me actually feels more breathable now. I hope you don't get weighed down by this situation, and that you thrive to see everyday happily.

Hello! I’m sorry it took me so long to reply, I saw your message yesterday while I was at work and wanted to take some time while thinking of my response. 

Oblique was my best friend. In a way, I never realized a friend could or should be what Oblique was to me. What she still is. So many of my most treasured memories are with her there, and it’s strange now knowing that I won’t get more of those. 

As you said, Oblique health really took a hit at the end of last year, and at the start of this year, we were told that she wouldn’t make it till Christmas. Come April we knew she wouldn’t make it to her birthday in September. But for us, we were aware of the steady decline- it didn’t come as a shock post weeks later. Not like it did for everyone here.

I know Oblique was appreciative of people just liking or reading her work. I know she definitely appreciated the message that you sent her, but she wasn’t one to demand or expect that sort of thing. She knew people cared, it’s the entire reason I think she really wanted me to continue after her passing. No point in updating if no one is reading right? 

I do ask that you don’t blame yourself, or look back on what could have been. You have nothing to be guilty of. In whatever way you interacted with Oblique, she wasn’t one to forget the kindness shown to her. 

Please don’t feel bad or apologize for asking. I’m glad I can share more about my friend with people. 

Be kind to yourself, I know she wouldn’t want you to hold the what-if scenarios over your head.

💛

[bigbillybepper]

Overshare/trauma dump time:

I just remembered a bit of my own personal lore that I forgot for a minute lol.

So back in the day when I had less than trustworthy friends there was an occasion when our antics had me sent to the hospital.

We had gathered round to do some drugs and party and they offered me what they claimed was mdma or something. I can’t remember exactly what, but I really have the feeling that it was just straight up meth or PCP or something. Like, it was not….definitely not how I’ve heard mdma or ecstasy be described.

What happened after I imbibed is a little strange and hard to explain but I’ll try my best.

So a little background. My friend group was exactly as you’d imagine a ragtag group of art kids and weirdos could be. Some of us in college, some dropouts, some not really sure what we were up to. But we were all running around doing irresponsible things.

One ‘friend’ in particular had really wronged me at this point. It was to the extent I wasn’t really sure what I was doing with this group of people any more. Are they my friends? Do I love them or do I hate them ? But I was having a fun time being self destructive so I continued to hang out with them (they weren’t all bad. There’s some folks i even wish I still could talk to)

Long story short (I wrote a lot more and deleted because holy fuck is this a loaded story) I got triggered by something they said about/to me. And looking back on it I think they intentionally said it to make me feel bad or something ? Anyways the drugs multiplied the emotions I was feeling and I fucking f r e a k e d out.

I blacked out at some point after trying to fall on my head hard enough to pass out. I just wanted out dude. I didn’t wanna die necessarily, I just didn’t want to be conscious. That’s all I can really remember as far as my motives. My friends took me to the hospital and at one point in the hospital I fucking panicked because I was morbidly addicted to nicotine at the time. It had been hours and hours since I had any, and I was getting desperate since I sobered up and found myself in a hospital bed not allowed to leave until I was cleared by doctors.

So I told the doctors I need some nicotine in me right fucking now.

And dutifully they came back with a full strength medical grade nicotine patch that they slapped onto my arm and good god.

I’ve been thirsty in my life. I’ve been hungry in my life. But I’ve never felt more relief than when I felt that shit absorbing directly into my skin. I sometimes let myself smoke a little tobacco here and there… but it’s almost like I can never ever fully get back to that sense of relief. That’s such a terrifying part of addiction- having the moment that’s so pinnacle and such a raw feeling of bliss that you will never ever find that same kind of enjoyment from whatever stimuli again.

Oh but yeah I got out of the hospital once I convinced the doctors I was sane and that it was just an itty bitty mishap. I was fine, other than some grand embarrassment and apologies to all involved. Yeah, I apologized to my friends that witnessed it. It was my fault, or I felt so at the time.

This post kind of started as a silly one in my head and then I remembered just how dark this story got. Haha it makes me feel thankful to be alive, because I’m much happier now.

If you read this far thanks for being here with me and also don’t do drugs with shady people!! It’s not worth it.

[crowtrobotx]

@whateverthefuckyouwantiguess sent me a lovely ask about what Karl and Lottie’s most chaotically fluffy moment was. Tumblr, being Tumblr, completely demolished the formatting when I tried to answer and then proceeded to just delete everything when I tried to edit lol.

Anyway, did you want a ~2k word fic in response? Because you got a ~2k word fic in response. I sell chaotic father daughter fluff and chaotic father daughter fluff accessories.

Characters: Karl Heisenberg, OC (daughter)

Warnings: Swearing, brief and non serious mention of drugs/alcohol. ***

In some other life, Karl might have been a heavy sleeper. In a world where he didn’t have the omnipresent eye of Mother Miranda burning into the back of his neck, something like the suspicious clattering coming from outside his bedroom wouldn’t have even fazed him. But in this reality, all it took was the whirr of an appliance turning on for a few seconds to send him rocketing out of bed, clothed only in his boxers and stained undershirt, his hammer at the ready to flatten whoever had the audacity to come into his factory and use his hand mixer.

Had he been more awake, he might have paused to consider that the likelihood of a villager or even one of his “siblings” breaking in only to cook a late night snack was… small. Unless the flies had broken into their mother’s wine cellar, the culprit was either ghosts, a malfunctioning soldat – personal cyborg cook, filing that away for future experiments – or….

“Lottie! Dammit, what are you doing awake?”

Karl paused in the kitchen doorway, letting his muscles relax and the hammer clunk against the floor. He heaved a sigh of relief at the sight of her, perfectly unharmed, but coated in a fine dusting flour. Well, either that or cocaine – he wouldn’t have put it past her, to be honest.

She turned to look at him from her perch atop a chair, panic evident in her features. She curled her small frame over whatever she was working on, shielding it from his view. The hand mixer that had given her away – missing a beater – dropped unceremoniously onto the table.

“Ack! Don’t look! You’re ruining the surprise!”

Karl moved cautiously into the room. It was a mess at the best of times, but it looked like a tiny tornado had passed through. There was a cracked egg lying forgotten on the tile, every spice they owned strewn about the counter, and a trail of discarded spoons leading from the sink to where Lottie was, still watching him like a hawk. He fished around the top of the fridge until he found one of his many, many cigar stashes – complete with matchbox. He used the time it took to light one to both calm his still jittery nerves and sift through the possible responses to the unusual situation.

He wasn’t going to scold her. He couldn’t. And, in truth, he wasn’t angry. Mostly just confused – what on earth had gotten into her this time? Was this normal? Did little girls go through a culinary phase? She had been acting strangely the last week, spending an inordinate amount of time sifting through his book collection and whispering to the Duke when he dropped by. Karl had attributed this to her usual antics, one of those silly games she liked to make up on the fly, but maybe they had been plotting something after all.

“Surprise, huh? So, what’s the occasion?” He gestured vaguely around the kitchen, hoping he sounded cool and casual. Kids respected that, after all. He was hip – he knew these things.

Lottie straightened up, looking sad suddenly. He could see now that she was hunched over a large mixing bowl – the mixing bowl, considering they only owned one – with a cookbook sprawled open next to it. He wasn’t quite sure how she could even read it given how much food debris had ended up on the pages.

“You really don’t remember?” she asked quietly.

Uh oh. Karl felt sweat immediately form on his forehead. Lottie’s birthday was in February. He never forgot that. Christmas was most certainly not coming up, and they never celebrated any of the villagers’ holidays unless forced to put in an appearance. There were no anniversaries worth acknowledging anymore, no special occasions to speak of for at least the next three months. Did they have some kind of social engagement? No, of course not – no one invited them anywhere out of their own free will, thank goodness.

He must have taken too long or looked particularly befuddled, because with an angry stomp of her foot Lottie interrupted his racing thoughts.

“It’s your birthday tomorrow!” She pointed at the calendar hanging lopsided over the sink. April 4th was circled in red crayon and decorated by two crudely drawn stick figures in party hats. Karl gaped at it like a dumbfounded fish.

He’d forgotten. Again.

Who could blame him? If his parents – his real parents – had ever celebrated with him, the memories had been lost to time, extinguished like the candles in one of Miranda’s miserable, rickety churches whenever a stiff wind blew through the bones of the frame. Only one other person had ever cared, and she, too, was lost forever. Decades, unnatural and agonizing, had slipped by. Older than he should have ever been, without any of the positives a long life should have brought forth.

Well, almost all.

Lottie was watching him still, no longer trying to hide her work. A hand drawn card, something wrapped hastily with twine. It made sense, suddenly. She’d tried to plan a surprise party. She was attempting to make the chocolate cake she’d found among the dusty pages. The cookbook, mostly in German, was something left in the factory by one of his ancestors that he had shoved into an unlabeled box where it could never haunt him with its presence. But she’d, apparently, struggled through it with her limited vocabulary just to try to please him.

Shit.

“Oh, Butterfly.” Karl walked to her side now, ruffling her messy hair. “You don’t have to do all this. If you wanted a cake I coulda just harassed the town baker for one. This is… nice, but I think you got more stuff on the floor than in the bowl.”

“THAT’S NOT THE POINT!” The change in volume was jarring. “You always do things for me on my birthday! You’re supposed to let other people buy you stuff and make you stuff! At the very least you’re supposed to have fun! You never want to do anything. You’re so boring!”

Karl huffed. “Hey now, how would you know that? You ain’t been around nearly long enough to be sayin’ that kinda stuff – your old man was a party animal back in his day.”

He had never been a party animal. Not once in his life.

Lottie sighed and looked down into the bowl, defeated. The tips of her ears had begun to flush – either out of simple frustration, or a colossal meltdown was incoming. Guilt churned in Karl’s belly – this was awkward. The last thing he wanted to do was upset her, but he truthfully didn’t know how to act. He did like the idea of a day where everyone had to celebrate him and give him shit – hell, he would love to make Alcina tell him five nice things about him – but this particular act was too… personal. He was completely out of his element.

Not to mention…. What was going on in that bowl? He was no baking expert, but he was pretty sure cake batter wasn’t supposed to look like… that.

“Hic. Sniff.”

Oh God. Oh no.

The eyes. She was doing the eyes--!

No no no no no no—

“D-don’t cry! Don’t cry! I’m just surprised is all! In a good way!” Karl was nearly shouting in desperation. “Look! Here! Let’s get it in the pan so it can bake! That’ll be fun, right? WE’RE HAVING FUN?”

One of the cabinets opened on its own with a loud bang as cake pan flew like a bullet off of its shelf and into his hand. Karl slammed it down on the table and snatched the batter up, half tempted to just eat it raw with his bare hands to calm her down.

Lottie blinked, the tantrum vanishing as quickly as it had come on. She threw in an extra snuffle for good measure before nodding, placated. “O-okay.”

Humiliating. Absolutely humiliating – the fourth and most dangerous Lord, bulldozed by a child. Oh, well. No one had to know. Besides, it wasn’t like he hadn’t eaten his fair share of expired SPAM over the years. He hadn’t died – likely because of the mutant parasite squirming in his chest, but who was counting.

There was nothing for it. Karl resituated his cigar between his teeth and reexamined the contents of the bowl. It wasn’t that bad. There were really only a few visible eggshells, a little bit of flour that hadn’t quite mixed in yet… and the ashes he’d now accidentally used as a garnish.

Lottie looked up at him, disappointed. “Flavoring,” Karl said gruffly.

He watched the contents of the bowl ooze into the pan, momentarily fascinated that his daughter had created something which appeared to be neither liquid, gas nor solid. Maybe she was actually some kind of genius – well, of course she was – and he’d have to have her recreate the substance. For science.

“Hey, Lot. Did you put everything in there it says to?”

“Yep!”

“Are you uh…. Are you sure, kiddo?”

She shot him a glare. Lottie looked mostly like him, or at least when he’d been younger. The only evidence of her mother’s participation was the constellation of freckles across her nose and the curls, tighter than his own, adorning her head. But when she was mad – really mad-- dear God. She looked exactly like her, and it sent a shiver down Karl’s spine.

“I know what I’m doing,” she hissed.

“Yes, ma’am,” he mumbled instinctively.

Lottie hopped off the chair and followed him to the ancient oven, in desperate need of cleaning, which she’d miraculously preheated without burning the entire place down. He was proud of her, considering she must have taught herself how to do… everything. He certainly wasn’t showing her how to cook. She looked pleased as punch, even though he’d inadvertently spoiled the surprise.

He should say something. He wanted to say something, but he wasn’t sure what he could say that wasn’t miserably awkward or might, God forbid, make him feel things.

“There we go!” he said once the cake was in. “Can’t wait to sample the first ever Chef Charlotte creation.”

Lottie flinched at her full name being used. “Papa.”

“What? It’s alliteration. Sounds better that way. You’d understand if you were as well-spoken as me.”

Karl gave her forehead a playful flick, to which she responded with a light punch to his thigh. Discomfort of the moment aside, he allowed himself to get a little bit excited about his birthday for the first time in years. What had she gotten him? Had she made it herself? Did she ask the Duke for recommendations? Did she steal it from the big bitch’s castle? Oh, that would be grand.

“Thanks, by the way,” he said at last. It wasn’t enough, but it was all he could do. As if she precisely knew just that, Lottie flung her arms around his middle and squeezed as hard as she could.

“You gotta promise to keep the card on the fridge, too. It’s art. I used my good crayons on it.”

Karl laughed. The good crayons. Damn, he must’ve been really important. He’d like to see one of those priceless portraits in the castle hold a candle to the good crayons.

A moment passed, a rare lull in the usual madness of the factory. While down below there were gears churning and furnaces ablaze and abominations fumbling in the dark, in their perfectly unremarkable mess of a kitchen Karl was once again reminded of why exactly he needed to dismantle the nightmare that had loomed over his head for most of his life.

“Hey,” he said excitedly, crouching down until the two of them were eye to eye. He gestured to the oven with his thumb. “It’s gonna be midnight soon. Wanna get crazy and demolish that bad boy as soon as it’s done?”

Lottie scrunched up her nose. “Are you kidding me? I’m not eating that shit. It’s your birthday.”

Lottie scrunched up her nose. “Are you kidding me? I’m not eating that shit. It’s your birthday.”

[astrabear]

trick or treat

Happy Halloween! Have another abandoned work in progress! Sorry it's so depressing, I guess you got a trick.

**** Nile did extensive research into funerary customs of the Neolithic Eurasian steppes, but Andy said she didn’t remember any of that shit, and as far as she was concerned they should just dump her body in a hole. So Nile researched development trends, the migration patterns caused by climate change, and law enforcement practices. Then she gave up and picked a spot in the Chernobyl Exclusion Zone that she was reasonably confident they could sneak in and out of and that wouldn’t be dug up for the foreseeable future. But this was all for later – it wasn’t time yet, she just liked being prepared.

And then it was time.

And then, about a week later – when they were in a safehouse outside Riga, still mostly numb, encouraging each other to eat and sleep while not doing it themselves, trying to keep Booker distracted so he wouldn’t think about how much he wanted to drink – they hauled themselves out of bed one morning and discovered Quỳnh had gone. All she took with her was a change of clothes; all she left behind was a note that read, “Give me a year. I’ll be in touch. I promised her.”

Nile was blindingly furious at first. How could Quỳnh give them something else to grieve? How could she leave Nile to take care of these men on her own? But over the next few days it dawned on her that Joe and Nicky each thought they were taking care of her, and after that she noticed that while they missed Quỳnh they were not distressed by it, and she decided to stop trying to be the older sister she’d grown up having to be.

Slowly, day by day, they got through it. Every few weeks, Quỳnh would send a postcard to Sulastri (Copley’s replacement’s replacement), or text her from a stolen phone, and she’d pass the information on to the rest of the team. Quỳnh never said where she was or what she was doing, only that she was still all right. The year turned into two, then five, a decade. She’d leave notes and keepsakes in safehouses and stashes as she passed by, and they took to doing the same. No one ever talked about when she might rejoin them, or at least not while Nile was around.

Most of the time, they were too busy to dwell on it. There were climate refugees to relocate from submerged islands in the South Pacific (safely, in communities, rather than in the camps and holding facilities they’d otherwise be stuck in.) They broke up a water cartel in Chennai and a black market for diverted relief supplies operating out of Asmara; Booker crashed the accounts of their backers and investors and transferred their funds to reforestation programs, which amused him. They drove Sulastri crazy by acting as human shields during protests and riots, forcing her to hunt down and alter or delete recordings. After Nicky shattered his collarbone taking a blow meant for a teenage boy’s head, she stopped scolding them about it.

They went to ground for a little while, literally, in Andy’s old French mine. A nascent military coup in Turkey had suddenly found itself bereft of leadership, and the team wanted to wait out the uproar somewhere under the radar. They’d installed a few modern amenities over the years (a composting toilet, a camp shower, a discreet charging station outside the mine for their solar batteries), and it made a nice respite from the 40-degree heat baking most of Europe.

Their third night there, Nile took second watch. While Joe climbed back into his sleeping bag with Nicky, she settled down just inside the entrance with her night-vision goggles. She let the midnight sounds wash over her: more traffic noises than the last time, fewer birds and insects. When they’d arrived, Booker had commented they were lucky not to find squatters there; Nicky had wondered if maybe it was unethical not to invite people in. Nile sometimes felt oddly cheated, as though she’d become immortal too late to really enjoy it. It was hard to take breaks when instant communications meant they were always aware of how badly they were needed, and it was harder to feel optimistic about human progress and the potential of the future when everything seemed to be falling apart. Joe told her that the entire 20th Century felt that way to him; climate change wasn’t nearly as depressing as two world wars in rapid succession. Nile couldn’t really argue with that, but she stared out into the still, muggy night and saw a future that only held more losses.

And then – a noise. Coming from near the gate. Animal, not mechanical. Large. A person? She stood silently, gun at the ready. One person, moving quietly and confidently; they were coming toward the mine and knew exactly where they were going. They were…

“Quỳnh?”

“Nile!” She bounded over, and in the moment before she wrapped Nile in a hug, Nile saw she was grinning ear to ear. Nile found herself smiling to match, and her cheeks felt stiff. How long since she’d smiled like that? How long since she’d felt relief and comfort, and the rush of warmth in her chest that she vaguely recognized as happiness?

She pulled back from the hug enough to say, “Come on in, let me go wake the guys.”

“No, no, I’ll stay out here for a while. You’re on watch? I’ll sit with you.”

The mention of keeping watch reminded her that they should stay silent, but she couldn’t help herself. “You know they’ll be glad to see you, right?”

Quỳnh laughed softly and took her hand. “I’m not afraid of seeing them. But as long as I stay out here, I can pretend there are four people inside, not three.” They sat simultaneously, still holding hands.

“Is that… do you still… it’s been ten years. You haven’t spent all that time imagining Andy was here.”

“Not all of it. Not even most of it. But sometimes.”

She smiled again; Nile couldn’t remember ever seeing her so relaxed. It was oddly unsettling. A horrible thought came to her, and she asked, “Are you still healing?”

Quỳnh squeezed her hand. “I can show you, if you like.”

“I’ll pass.” She tried to keep her focus on the world around them, but her gaze kept returning to Quỳnh. She looked well-rested, serene. Clean clothes, neatly-trimmed hair. Nile felt about a thousand years older. “You didn’t come here because of us, did you?”

Quỳnh shook her head. “I was in the area, and it seemed like a good place to spend the night. I didn’t know you were here.”

“Will you stay? At least until they wake up? Or… you could stay longer. If you want.”

They sat in silence for a moment. Quỳnh turned to face her and let go of her hand. “You’ve been working.”

Nile sighed. “Pretty much non-stop.”

“Your next job?”

“Eco-fascists. They say the only way to save the planet is to speed up population decline, and they’re destroying infrastructure in refugee camps.”

Quỳnh cocked her head to the side like a bird, an old gesture that Nile hadn’t seen in decades. “And are you stopping them, or helping them?”

Nile had lived with Quỳnh longer than she’d lived with her own mother. She’d fought with her, and beside her; yelled at her, cried with her, died in her arms. She suddenly wondered if she knew her at all. “Which one do you want it to be?”

“Stopping them.”

“Why?”

“I want you to try to stop them because… because it’s more hopeful. I don’t want things to be so bad that the greatest good is served by letting people die. I want there to be a future that’s worth protecting people for.”

Nile’s breath caught in her throat and tears pricked her eyes. None of her reasons for taking this job had anything to do with hope. She swallowed, twice, before she could speak. She’d meant to confirm that yes, the goal was to protect the refugees. But what she actual said was, “What was it that you promised Andy?”

Quỳnh just smiled that same calm smile. “Why don’t I keep watch for you while you get some rest? I promise I’ll still be here when you wake.”

[slowing-down-in-style]

Helping others... Help myself?

I have a post in my drafts I'm sitting on that I don't know if I'm releasing eventually or not. It's totally unrelated to the title of this post but it felt worth mentioning. I guess I want this to serve as a reminder to dive back into it and finish it or delete it. I don't want things hanging out in the draft box.

Anyways... on to the topic of the post.

Dealing with, or listening to, other peoples problems is always easier than dealing with our own and sometimes it has other benefits we didn’t intend. Today, I could feel anxiety creeping in by lunch time. And for no reason what so ever. Nothing happened. Nothing triggered it. I just felt anxious and uneasy and irritable and annoyed.

So I turned on some music (really enjoying James Bay right now) and that really really helped. Then I thought about Travis and Trent and Ryan- three people in my life I knew were dealing with some stressful environments at the moment.

Travis- ambushed by his ex girlfriends soon to be ex husband on the phone.

Trent - various mental health swings as well as relationship issues, work issues and he's been sick.

Ryan- this is mostly board stuff impacting him. We aren't as close as the other two but I know he was really shook up and I wanted to check on him. And let him know I really appreciate the work he’s doing because it’s helping me keep my spirits up for the upcoming season.

I checked in on all three of them. When I did… my own anxiety melted away. It wasn’t that I ignored it or swept it under the rug. I just found myself not giving my energy to the anxiety anymore. Instead, I invested in my friends and the things they were saying to me. Even if they didn’t need help or advice. Just letting them talk and talking to them was the relief I needed. And it stayed that way even after we stopped talking.

I didn’t feel like I was trying to swoop in and save them. I didn’t feel like I was just distracting myself from my problems with other peoples problems. I think I’m just healthier knowing I’m someone people trust enough to talk to about things. I hope I never lose that.

I don’t understand people who take that kind of trust for granted and abuse it. I don’t understand people who use that benefit for personal gain and neglect to protect it.

There’s so much value in trust and loyalty.

[littlemelaninfics]

I love 9-1-1! So could you write an incest smut where Reader Diaz is Eddie's little sister, who lived with her brother to take care of Christopher. While Christopher and Eddie, reader is a secret cam girl. Eddie didn't know until he took a day off and found out about his sister's secret

(repost bc of the community tag)

This one got me h-word on isle 14

part ii

tw: incest, voyeurism

•Eddie loved his home unit. It consisted of the two people he loved the most and it was actually working and functional

•Christopher loved having his aunt around because you took some of the tension away from him and his dad when it got too bad

•Speaking of which, Chris is grounded for three weeks from his game console and you’ve been racking your brain all day trying to keep him entertained

•It was just you two for the most part because Eddie had some insane hours at the firehouse, but he never missed the important stuff and that’s what mattered most

•It was 1am when you got a message from one of your regular viewers. He was offering $300 for pics of you cosplaying as a gamer girl, so you did

•You did your hair and makeup before changing into your metallic bathing suit and grabbing your headset

•Eddie had gotten you your own so you could properly play with Chris. You did however need his chair and set up

•Since it was displayed in the living room, you had to be careful of the time so your brother wouldn’t walk in and listen for the sleeping child in the next room

•You sauntered out there and turned on his console. You realized you can get to the internet on here and if you clear the history and delete the pictures, no one would be the wiser

•You set up your phone and started taking sexy pictures and videos of you fingering yourself in the chair

•Once satisfied, you uploaded them to the console and logged into your cam account. You went live for about an hour and a half before calling it a night

•You said your goodbyes and logged off. But before you could even properly stand, you heard the keys in the lock

•You jumped up, turned off the console and the light and made the fastest beeline to your room possible

•Right when you closed your door is when you heard the front one open and you couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief

•You took off the look for that night and went to sleep

•The next day you hear Eddie yelling and you jump out of bed to see what’s going on

• “Hey, hey, hey! What’s going on?”

•Eddie stood there with arms crossed, “You wanna tell her or should I?”

•Christopher just sighed and rolled his eyes, “I was trying to show dad a cool video and it said I was logged on last night, but I wasn’t! Dad I swear.”

• “I don’t want to hear it. Go get ready to go to Tony’s. Which you’re lucky enough to still get to do.”

•He got off the couch and went to put his shoes on and went to meet his friend downstairs

• “Can you believe that kid? All the lying and secrets,” he said turning off the console.

• “He’s 13, Edmundo. He’ll grow out of it.”

•You felt bad for letting your little nephew take the rap, but it was better him than you. Plus he didn’t get in anymore trouble, so what’s the real harm?

•Your phone buzzed and it was another subscriber asking for fresh shower pics. You didn’t have any in your folder, so you’ll actually have to take a shower

•You got off the couch and made your way to the bathroom, leaving Eddie to his own devices

•Eddie sighed and looked around at what to do when his eyes landed back on the console. He was curious to see what Christopher was viewing so late in the night

•He turned it back on and logged in. He went to the history and his face immediately got red with anger

•Not only was his son lying to him, but now he was watching porn? LIVE porn at that

•He clicked the link and it took him to a different screen…a screen that showed your profile

•He sat up in his seat, not sure what exactly he was looking at. He clicked the latest thumbnail and saw his little sister, spread eagle in their living room, getting herself off for strangers

•He watches a couple minutes of it before you moaned and he felt his cock twitch. He was taken off guard by his body’s response to his little sister, but goddamn it he was only human

•He began palming his hardening cock through his sweatpants when he heard the shower turn off

•Eddie quickly signed off and acted like nothing happened. He got off the couch and began roaming around aimlessly until he saw your bedroom door cracked

•He snuck over and placed his eye right in the crack, watching you lotion your still soaking body and change

•He never knew you looked so beautiful doing the simplest things like clasping your bra. He suddenly grew envious of the men that get to watch you and have you all to themselves

•He knew it could never be him, but that was honestly part of the fun

I’m definitely going to do a part two to this!

[halcyon-girls]

For the Stellatrix writing prompts: Beatrix listens to the worried voicemail Stella left her. When she does and whether/in what way she confronts Stella about it is up to you

The concept is Stella does find some whiskey and sends a few drunken or perhaps not-so-drunken voicemails that get into a revealing her feelings territory. ----------- When Stella leaves the room, finally relenting to take a shower at her suite and grab some food, Beatrix heaves a sigh and falls back against her pillow.

It’s not as if she minded… Wait, did she mind Stella’s presence? Her endless coddling and touches? She thinks back on only hours before when Stella pulled her close and reassured her she was safe.

She reminisces on the softness of her touch, and the gentleness of her words. The tears that spilled as she poured out her relief that Beatrix was alive.

Perhaps she didn’t mind, much.

It wasn’t that she hated it. She just began to feel a certain sense of unfamiliar self-consciousness at the way she looked and acted. Especially now that she. That she- She grits her teeth. That she was slightly more limited in life than before.

She needed a shower.

Beatrix shifts her body, slowly making her way out of bed, hissing when the movement caused an ache she didn’t have before. 

Just before both feet are on the ground, she feels her phone vibrate. Again, and again, and again.

It seemed like it had finally charged up enough to turn back on.

Not wanting to find out what walking felt like just yet, she sits back down on the edge of her bed and pulls out her phone, reading her notifications. She blinks in astonishment as she reads Stella’s name filling all of them. ‘Several missed calls, several new voicemails.’

She considers dropping her phone back down and leaving them but there’s this itch to know what Stella had to say. Probably just angry she’d left without a message. Not that she has intended to leave with those, she sighs, with those scraper things.

She needed to know.

She moves her finger in a familiar pattern across the screen and listens to the clicking sound that tells her it’s been unlocked.

There’s no better time than the present, she supposes. She calls the voicemail number and starts to listen.

There’s silence for a moment before Stella’s voice fills her ear. ‘Figured this would be a long shot.’ She listens to the rustling sounds over the phone and hears Stella’s sigh. ‘I couldn’t find your whiskey.’ A laugh. ‘But I did, however, find your crocs.’

Beatrix’s eyes flick across the room where she knows she hid those things. They were just… comfortable. She’d never be seen in public wearing those atrocities but in her suite, no one had to know.

Except for Stella, it seems.

Stella continues to speak, her voice growing small. ‘But I’ll reserve that ‘I told you so’ until you get back.’

Beatrix can’t help the smile that finds itself perched at the corner of her lips. She surprisingly looked forward to it. Perhaps she’d even help Stella get another pair. Black was much more fashionable anyway.

Her smile falls as she continues to listen. Stella mentions that she hopes her mission with Rosalind is going well and apologises for it being a pathetic voicemail.

Beatrix clenches her fingers around the phone as she hears Stella’s last words. ‘I know you’re going to hate me for saying this, but, um, I’m worried about you.’

The voicemail ends and silence fills her ears. She considers slamming the delete button on the rest of them. Maybe some things were best not learned.

She tells herself to do it. She removed her phone from her ear and hovers her finger over the ‘clear inbox’ button. 

Her finger falls. She can’t do it. She was wrong about Stella’s messages. There was no anger, only fear and concern. Unexpected. She didn’t mind it.

She hits play on the next message and listens.

‘So, I didn’t find your whiskey but I found some cheap stuff in my suite.’ She hears the slosh of a cup in her ear. ‘It’s absolutely dismal, let me tell you that.’

A clink echoes through the speaker. The cup likely has been put down. ‘I’m probably going to regret sending all of these but-’ 

There’s silence and Beatrix wonders if that’s where the voicemail ended, halfway through the sentence. How very un-Stella-like. 

She’s proven wrong when Stella’s voice filters through once again. ‘But I miss you, I miss our calls and texts. I’m starting to get more than a little bit worried. Where are you?’

The next few voicemails ring out in a similar fashion, Stella’s voice starts sounding a little more intoxicated with every message, but it’s all the same. Fear. Worry. Desperation. 

She’d never had someone care as much as Stella. Why didn’t she say that, though? Say that she’d been pacing around her room for hours absolutely sloshed sending voicemail after voicemail?

She gets her answer when she plays the final one.

Stella’s voice rasps, and the sound of her clearing her throat before speaking echoes in Beatrix’s ear. ‘I-’ Stella starts, tapping against something wherever she was. ‘I worry whether you’ll return. I worry more that I’ve missed a chance to say that-’ There’s a loud shuffle heard. Stella mutters words under her breath before the next words become clear. ‘That I care about you in ways that I hadn’t expected. That I love-’ 

Beatrix hears a bang loud enough to force her to pull the phone away from her ear. ‘Shit, shit, delete, delete, wait, no-’

Voicemail delivered. 

Beatrix drops her phone on her bed with a thud.

Love. Stella had said. Love. 

Love what? Love her whiskey? Love her crocs? She bites her lip, pulling a loose strand of fabric on her shirt. Love her?

Stella loved her. Or at least potentially loved her. The thought of it is enough to get her out of her bed, ignoring the way her body ached with every single step she took. How would she even respond? Did she love Stella? She’s not sure. It’s not like Riven or Dane ever said those words to her.

The thoughts mixed with how horrible she was feeling body-wise were maddening. She huffs out a breath and rushes for the shower. Maybe the hot water would clear her head.

One extremely hot shower later and a new set of clothes and Beatrix can definitely say that it did nothing. In fact, it exasperated the feelings. The shower was far too small to pace in to avoid them.

Before she can spiral any further, she hears a knock again her door. Assuming it’s her current dilemma on the other side, she reluctantly answers. ‘Enter.’

Stella pushes the door open slowly, a sheepish smile on her face. ‘Sorry that it took so long. My suitemates were worried over how long I’d been gone.’

She lifts up a bag she’s holding in her left hand. ‘Hot tea and sandwiches?’

Beatrix nods her head, gesturing to her bed for Stella to sit. 

Stella sends her a smile and drops down on the right. ‘How do you feel?’

Beatrix knows Stella had meant it as just a simple check-in. After those voicemails, it was anything but. She might as well have asked the most loaded question in the world.

She drops down onto the left side of the bed, accepting a cup of tea and a sandwich. ‘I’m, well, I’m doing alright.’ Part of her desperately wanted to ask what that voicemail meant. Another part of her feared Stella would run away.

She doesn’t think she could handle any more abandonment than what she’d already been served. 

She eats her food in silence, every so often shifting her gaze to Stella who seemed to be quietly enjoying her meal without a care.

When the sandwiches are finished, Beatrix opens her mouth, trying to form the perfect question.

‘Yes?’ Stella questions, an amused smile on her face.

Beatrix huffs. ‘I didn’t say anything.’

Stella reaches over, squeezing her arm. She finds herself having little inclination to pull away. ‘You were opening and closing your mouth like a fish.’

How embarrassing. 

She shifts herself on the bed, moving closer to Stella to ask her a question. Her phone that she now realises was sat directly under her answers instead.

The voicemail plays and all Beatrix can do is watch as Stella’s face seems to go through every emotion possible before settling on flushed cheeks and widened eyes.

‘I-’ Stella starts. ‘I was drunk, I didn’t-’

Beatrix purses her lips, willing Stella’s words to not hurt her. ‘You didn’t mean it?’

It seems to snap Stella out of her panic, her hands rushing to reach for Beatrix’s, her eyes watering. ‘I meant every word,’ she admits. ‘I meant every word but I don’t want you to think of me as weird, or as some sort of pathetic friendship-ruining girl.’

She rubs Stella’s hands, contemplating her words. Did she like her? She stares at Stella’s face, admiring the flush in her cheeks and the way her eyes seemed to crinkle at the edges under Beatrix’s inspection.

She definitely liked her, but love?

She doesn’t even know what love is.

She must have said that out loud because the next thing she knows, Stella is pulling her into her arms, holding her close. ‘Would you like to find out?’ Stella flushes brightly. ‘You don’t have to or whatever, we can delete all those voicemails and pretend this never happened.’

Beatrix leans back, her hand sliding over Stella’s jaw, directing her face downwards. ‘I’m not one to pretend.’

‘Then?’ Stella whispers, her eyes firmly fixed on Beatrix’s lips.

Beatrix pulls her down, her lips grazing over Stella’s jaw. ‘Help me find out.’

Beatrix prepares herself for that same rough grazing of lips she’d get from Riven and Dane. The pressure that forced pressure in return.

She didn’t expect this. Stella doesn’t rush in. Her bottom lip grazes Beatrix’s before finally capturing her in a full kiss. Her lips aren’t hasty, carefully mapping the path of her own desire, gently tugging without demanding anything in return.

Beatrix feels herself start to melt in Stella’s arms, loosening her grip on her face to place her hand against the back of Stella’s head, pulling her down further. She feels herself flush at each involuntary sigh that escapes her but struggles to bring herself to care.

All she could think about was Stella. How this? This was like nothing she’d ever experienced before. She'd like to experience it again.

No. She’d love to experience it again.

Stella pulls back and Beatrix watches as her eyes slowly open, her face flushed and her smile wide. ‘Did you find anything out?’

Beatrix rubs her lip with her thumb and returns the smile. ‘I’m still not certain what love is exactly, but, I’d like to find out with you.’

Stella’s smile widens. ‘I’d very much like to do just that.’

Beatrix hums, running her hand down from Stella’s head to her back, holding her in place. ‘I’m glad your voicemail is dreadful and lacks the capabilities for deletion.’

Stella laughs brightly, and for a moment Beatrix wonders if her magic was making her look this bright or if that was just her usual state of being.

Stella runs her hands down Beatrix’s cheeks. ‘As am I.’ She presses a kiss to Beatrix’s cheek. ‘As am I.’

Beatrix allows each kiss that Stella places and enjoys every last one of them. She’s not sure what love is but with Stella, she thinks she’ll find the meaning.

[rockingrobin69]

golden rim, slightly chipped

Dear Anon, these are weird times, and your message meant so much to me that I somehow managed to delete it. I have no idea how to thank you other than reposting this - 700 words, extending on today’s domaystic drabble, very much for you. sorry love you sorry THANK YOU

When Draco first moved into his flat, it was entirely empty. The only thing he had to put in the cupboard was one small cup (delicate flower pattern with a golden rim, slightly chipped). He ate slices of cheese until he got a kettle from his overly-chatty neighbour, at which point he lived solely on pot noodles, using his suitcase as a table. He didn’t go looking for anything more; it was enough, and trying was—too hard. Demanded too much energy. His house was empty but for a kettle, one cup, and at least a dozen pot noodles.

Then Pansy came over with wine glasses (‘one must always, Draco, darling,’) and Blaise got them the shittiest bottles of wine Tesco offered. They sat on the floor together and ate chips with single-use chopsticks. A few days later Greg came by with a chair, then a table, both of which he probably nicked, gods know where from. Theo bought three sets of cutlery and a couple of bowls. He warned Draco he never wanted to see him drinking soup out of glasses again (or, worse, plastic tubs. ‘Bloody disgraceful, mate’).

Then came Potter, with the three horrible encounters no one in their right mind would consider as dates, and the fourth one which was somewhat better. (Draco had forks, now, but the leftovers from their meal he still fed Potter with his fingers, directly out the Styrofoam). Potter brought lots of things; a base and a headboard for the mattress in the bedroom, an Ikea sofa and bookshelf he built himself, and a new name, like a breath of air, musical and sweet (‘Harry’). And the flat kept filling.

Granger loaned him loads of books—so many that at some point she stopped asking for them back, and then so many more that she became Hermione. Ron swiped at least half the Burrow’s pots and pans. Neville got a microwave, and Dean and Seamus sprung out on a toaster. Draco found an armchair on the street, one leg broken and upholstery all torn, and decided to fix it. He brazenly called it my chair, and no one contested the name. It felt like winning, somehow.

Luna and Dean made art to hang on the walls, or showcase on the shelves Ginny installed. Marcus and Oliver Wood built a proper, actual wardrobe, in which Draco’s clothes could really hang, meaning he didn’t need to spend half as much time on the iron he got from Percy. Then Mrs. Weasley (‘Molly. Aren’t we way past that, dear?’) tailored curtains for the windows, magicked to let through just the right amount of light, and by this time, Draco realised it wasn’t his flat anymore, it was theirs; Harry’s toothbrush sat next to Draco’s in the mug Teddy made, his socks filled the drawers in George’s cabinet. The little dent in the sofa in the shape of his bum, the scratches in Draco’s heart where he’s clawed his way in. Not just him—everywhere he looked he could see it, the physical ways the people in his life manifested in the flat.

That’s what that was, then. The Manor had been full of things, but it never felt like this. Like… happiness, filtering like sunlight through him, reflecting off of Harry’s smiling eyes and catching on the flowers in Millie’s vase. Draco leaned back and sighed in relief. He didn’t think it would ever—even if he still felt the odd hankering for noodles. That was all right too, though. He kept a few in the kitchen, and when he needed time alone he’d open one up, and no one would bother him until he came back. Of all the miracles he could never imagine; a pot of noodles, and a chair, and this. His family. Words could never describe exactly what it meant to him.

When Mother returned from France, she brought back a gift: three cups, delicate, flower pattern with a golden rim. A perfect set among a whole array of mismatched cups and mugs. (The chipped one was still his favourite, for knobhead-related, sentimental reasons). Draco’s cupboard—like his life, like his flat, like his heart—has never been so full.