#i like how i said too late now as if i'm not using pencil and paper

[ramonahblog]

Well, one of my goals is to practice drawing and than posting it...Soo...

First off, my drawing skills lie solely in flat garment sketches so I apologise for the weird scaling and awkward stiffness. Believe it or not, I used a scene from Cerise's Picnic Panic as a reference plus the red gown as more of an inspiration.

I tried a background (which threw the scale off even more so that was a mistake but too late now). But I added stuff to the clothes like a further apology but also why not sprint with this idea? Just keep going and going and going.

Mainly, tassels, a nightcap (including a little pom-pom between the ears used from the leftovers of cutting out the earholes), a scarf and a flower brooch to pin the scarf because why not.

It's a deep v nightgown. The squiggly lines on the belt and the sleeve are supposed to be tassels. Technically it is a nightgown.

I really wanted to add a lit fireplace right behind Bad so he'd have like an aura of light but that was beyond my skill.

Lastly, thank you Class-of-Classic-blog, I have filled one of my sketchpads with nothing but nightgown designs and that was great. This is a genuine thank you, I had fun with it.

Hear me out, HEAR ME OUT-

What If ...

Wolf: Hey Reddie?

Red: Mm?

Wolf: Does your grandmother have one of these "Oh what a misfortune, my dear husband had just mysteriously died and left me with lots of money and a mansion" nightgown?

Red: ... what?

Wolf: You know, one of these lavish long nightgowns with fluffy sleeves that rich widows wear in murder mystery shows? What are the chances that you can get me one of those to wear when we do our story?

Red: Why do you need that?

Wolf: Well Huntsman has been annoying me with how his destiny is to be a hero and I'm the big bad villain and how he will kill me and blah blah blah. So I decided to mess with him a little bit during our story and I think it would be pretty funny to ruin his little heroic moment-

Red: what color?

Wolf: What?

Red: What color do you want your nightgown to be?

Wolf: :D

So then you have the huntsman just bargain in the grandmother's house prepared to save Red from the big bad wolf and find Wolf in this

Huntsman is confused as fuck

Wolf is giving it his best performance trying to flutter huntsman as much as possible

Red is trying really fucking hard not to burst out laughing

And grandma is in the closet not having a clue about what is going on

lol

[leviackermanstoes]

Please do a jayvik x reader where reader is their assistant and constantly glances at the both or them while they're working and either Viktor or jayce catches her in the act

YES OF COURSE! I think this idea is so good!

A/N: This is a little bit suggestive but very minor. Mostly just jayvik teasing reader.

---

You've been assisting Jayce and Viktor for many months now. You've learnt many things about them, like how jayce enjoys a cup of milk late at night and when viktor is tired he'll hum to himself. You've brought them Drinks and food and helped them out with their blueprints and stacks of paper. You were their doting and loyal assistant always happy to lend a hand.

But you thought you were subtle in your actions, how you always snuck glances at jayce when he was flexing his tanned muscles while hammering something, or how you always gazed perhaps too long on viktor's nimble fingers working on small cogs.

Late one night in the lab as you sorted through a stack of diagrams as per viktor's request, You snuck a small glance at the two males at the desk working and conversing. Jayce's arms sat flexed and heavy against the table, his white button-up shirt rolled up his arms. Beside him, viktor was giving much darker vibes, his lips are close together in a line and he's got a slight arch in his brow. His red tie is loose and his sweater vest is undone by one button.

Safe to say you were pretty entranced by them.

Both are illuminated by a dim Amber light coming from the evening sky outside, and it only adds to their beauty.

"Is there something on my face?" Jayce knocks you out of your trance, his face decorated with a boyish smirk.

You scoffed and looked away. "You're really funny talis," you said sarcastically, your eyes rolling back in the process.

"I think you're pretty funny too." Two large hands sat on your desk.

You looked up to see Jayce. His dark eyes are boring holes into you as his square jaw clenches slightly. You see and feel something in his gaze that makes you feel on fire.

"I think it's funny that you think we don't see how you look at us"

Jayce's face grins when he sees the beet red tint blanket your face, your jaw hangs low as the two of them begin to laugh.

"I didn't mean to make you both uncomfortable I jus-"

"You're scaring her, jayce. Relax, love, it's okay. " viktor held up his bony hand with a small smile. "Were not interrogating you, ignore him"

You took a deep breath and stood up to find a new pencil. You could feel the two scientists' eyes still on you. One like honey one like midnight, but both equally as enthralling.

"If I've done something wrong, please tell me"

"You haven't done anything wrong, love. Why didn't you mention you had a crush on us? Were not that scary, are we?" Jayce finishes his sentence with a deep chuckle.

"No, of course not, but your both-", you fixed your glasses. ",well your both quite attractive and a bit out of my league, so I just decided to stay quiet,"

Both jayce and viktor stepped closer to you, the two of them putting a hand on either shoulder for some kind of comfort. You first looked at viktors honey golden eyes. They were gentle and encircled by dark tint.

"You weren't very quiet with your eyes movements, dear. Infact I'm surprised you didn't notice either of us also looking at you, we've caught you staring many times"

"What?" Your mouth fell agape.

Jayce laughed. "Of course we noticed. You were staring when viktor was fixing his tie earlier last night before we left for the meeting"

Viktor interrupted. "And at that very same meeting, I caught you drooling over jayce when he was giving his speech"

By now, you were bright red and hiding behind your hands. You could've died right then and there of pure embarrassment. You couldn't believe that your secret endeavours of glancing upon your superiors had finally been noticed.

"Oh my gosh I had no idea!" You exclaimed.

Trying to help with your blushing but failing deeply, and really only making it worse, jayce put his hand in yours. It was rough and calloused and warm and felt like home. You were at home with them and you hoped that they would be understanding about this all.

"How would you like to upgrade from assistant to partner? It's a full-time position,"

Viktor grinned and ran his free hand through his hair, the other holding his cane.

"Are you... serious?" You looked at the both of them. Eyes darting back and forth.

They both nodded eagerly. "You've been deeply loyal and loving to us for many months now, and you've become more to us than just an assistant," jayce spoke as he held your hand tightly.

Quickly, almost embarrassingly so, you said yes. Viktor planted soft kisses to your cheek.

"Come with us dear"

[starling0rock]

M'SORRY.

NSFW

SUMMARY: You were babysitting Sarah for Joel, as usually, but he came home late and it started to storm. He asked you to stay for dinner by then spilled hot tea on you, so to make it up he uses his mouth and fingers 👄🙏

WARNINGS: Smutt, age gap (not described, but I imagine 20s/40s) cunilingus, fingering, praising, squirting, (idk if this is a warning but reader get tea spilled on her thigh and it burns a bit)

WORD COUNT: 1.7 k

A/N: sweet peas, this is my first one shot, fist Smutt, first time using Tumblr, first everything, k? Please request (if you're able, cuz idk how this singly dangly app works, if you can't do it, just write in the comments🙏🙏) I tried my very best, so enjoy, my lil Joel Miller fuckers💋

Requests that I take:

Pascal and Joel

Sebastian and Bucky

James Hetfield

David Bowie

David Tennant

Johnny Depp

It was late evening, around 11. Mr. Miller still wasn't home so you put Sarah to bed and headed to the kitchen to do some studies. You opened your books and papers, spreading them on the table. The room smelled nice with some coffee, that you made earlier today and some candles that were usually lit for atmosphere. You didn't quite catch the time, that was going fast as you were reading, trying to memories as much as you can, so it started raining and storming outside. You heard as door to the house softly opened with slight creak, and keys being hung on the wall, you turned around to see Mr. Miller that was taking off his boots and hanging a black, damp coat.

"Good evening, Mr. Miller."

"Oh, hey, darling, didn't know you were still here." He said with slightly raspy and quite deep voice.

"Yeah, I didn't want to leave Sarah alone in the house, in case anything happened. But I'm heading home now." You, said as you started to pack your books and papers, and other needed stuff in the backpack.

"Dont worry 'bout it. It's raining, so you can stay, i'll make some dinner, if you don't mind." He offered kindly, as he looked at you with his soft, brown eyes. His arm was on his hip, while he leaned on the counter.

"Mr. Miller, you're being too kind.. it's late, and im sure you would rather go and rest." You answered him politely.

"Now-now, no more 'Mr. Miller' s'just Joel. And I don't mind cooking for a pretty thing, like you." He smiled, his voice was filled with cockiness and teasing.

"Fine, as you say.. Joel." You answered, giving up and chuckling faintly. "What do you have in mind for a dinner?"

"Well.. maybe some cinnamon toasts with tea? How d'ya feel 'bout that, hm?" He asked, preparing a kettle for some tea.

"I don't mind, if anything, I like green tea, two spoons of sugar." You smiled to him.

"Green tea it is." He smiled back and looked at you over his shoulder, then looking back to the kettle. He prepared two mugs, by putting two bags of green tea in each and adding some sugar. When the kettle made sound, telling him the water is boiled, he took it and poured some hot water in the mugs. He turned his body to you, waiting for the tea to be ready.

"How's your day? Was Sarah behaving?" He asked, to fill the silence.

"It was good, thanks. Sarah is really sweet girl, I never have problems with her, today wasn't exception." You confessed

"Oh yeah, she really is, isn't she. She talks a lot about you, seems she really loves you." Joel declared with sweet smile. He looked back at the mugs and added. "Ah, tea is ready."

The man gently took one mug for you, but as soon as he got closer, he slipped on one of Sarahs color pencils and accidentally spilled the hot substance on you. Directly on your lap and abdomen.

"Oh, Ow-Ow-Ow!" You jumped from your seat and the mug broke beneath.

"Shit, darling.. oh are you okay? Be careful, aight? Shh.." He gently wrapped one arm around you, to walk you away from shuttered mug.

"God, I'm really sorry.. let's check if there any burn, okay? M'gonna get you to the couch." He said and led you to the couch, making you to sit.

"I'm so sorry.. does it hurt badly?" He murmured as he kneeled between your legs*

"It's okay.. burns a little." You stated and looked at him. You pulled the wet cloth from your legs, and the one that was on your abdomen.

"Oh, man.. let me check, okay? Just pull your pants down." You blushed at his words, some pervy images flooded your mind, but you tried not to show it, he was righteous man, after all, so you did as he said, slightly moving you hips up, and pulling your sweatpants down. The red stain was clearly visible on your thigh, left from hot liquid, he gently touched it with his finger and you squirmed.

"Poor thing, I'm so sorry.. it'll be alright soon enough, there is nothing serious, alright?" He looked at you, noticing your flushed face. He smirked to himself at such cute sight of you, but didn't moved his hand from your thigh for an inch.

"Mhm." You purred, you couldn't help but notice how strong his arms were and how veiny they are, his fingers were fat and perfect, wondering how full they would make you feel. You noticed him smirking and tried to hide your eyes.

"What's up with that red face, hmm? Is someone enjoying it a little too much?" He teased and moved his hand slightly higher.

"S'nothing." You mumbled, and blushed even more. He looked to the ground.

"Tsk tsk tsk.." Joel chuckled faintly at your reaction.

"Want me to stop, then?" He moved his hand away from your sweet place.

"Mh-mh.." You whined a lil as his hand moved away from the place you wanted it to be.

"Want me to make it up to you, maybe?" He purred leaning his face slightly between your thighs.

"Mhm.." you murmured looking him in the eyes.

"Nah, darling, use your words." He teased even more as his hands were now sliding up and down, and you could feel how calloused they are, and hot on your skin"

"I do.." Words finally came out of your throat. You were shy and embarrassed by such turn in events, but he clearly wasn't. He enjoyed it. He enjoyed seeing you at his mercy.

"Oh baby... Such a poor thing, aren't ya? Mr. Miller spilled hot tea on you, didn't he?etc him make it up to you." He murmured against the sling of your reddened thigh pressing soft kiss to it.

"Bad, bad Mr. Miller." The kisses on your leg grew more open, wet and hungry, your soft gasps only fed his desire. He slowly made his way to your mound. His nose met with the hem of your panties and he slipped the finger under the lacy piece of underwear, teasing soft skin with little hair on it. After you made grumpy noise, he pressed his nose right into your clothed clit, drawing the sweetest moan from you, as his mouth was open on your clothed entrance. He pressed his tounge onto the damp clothing, feeling how you ached and pulsated against it, how much you wanted to feel it inside. Who he was to decline, after such violent event. He quickly pulled your panties aside and instantly covered exposed hole with his warm mouth. You couldnt help, but moan at such action, and burrow your fingers in his, slightly curled, hair.

"Mr. Miller.. please." You begged, and so he pushed his tounge right inside you, tasting you and humming with pleasure. You thighsalmost clenched around his neck and fingers tugged on his curls. He pulled his tounge out only to lick it's way up between your lips, collecting all of your sweet nectar, not wanting any of it to go to waste.

"Such a good girl for me, being all whiny and wet. I bet many boys wanna taste it so bad.. but I'm the only one who did, yeah?" He asked, continuing his maddening sucking on your aching clit. His hand grabbed your thighs, but being careful around the hurt one.

"Y-yeah.." you purr weakly, feeling yourself lost in the ocean of pleasure.

"She is so wet for me, god... I can't help myself." Joel confessed and burried his head deeper into you, one of his hands moves lower to his big, aching bulge, the evidence of his excitement. He palmed himself as he never stopped sucking and feasting on you, like hungry lion that finally find something to eat.

"Fuck, baby...yer s'delicious.." He moaned right into you, his free hand thrust one of his finger inside your core massaging on your walls lightly, while his other hand rubbed himself violently. You couldn't help but moan at his action and feel worshiped, like a goddess.

"J-..Joel..ngah!.." his name slipped from your lips, sending shivers down his spine.

"M'close!" You stated, choking on your words. In response he quickened his movements and fucked you with his fingers, as he wanted the last bits of you, making sure he doesn't have to share with anyone. Just the moment your walls clenched around his fingers, and your fingers grabbed his hair tightly, making sure he doesn't stop, he started to lead you to the complete edge with his fat fdigits hitting all the right spots inside you, curling and moving. When he felt you cumming he instantly removed his fingers, so he could capture more with his mouth, but to his surprise, your legs started to shake vigorously and you squirted all over his face and chest, he was more than happy that it was him, who made you feel like this so he instantly captured your sensetive lips with his and drew all the sweet liquid into his mouth.

"M'sorry.. m'messy" you mumbled closing your eyes with your hand.

"My baby... So sweet for me... You're not messy, nothing to be sorry about." Joel reassured and kissed your puffy vaginal lips again, making out with them sweetly, as you responded with sweet moans. Only when he had enough he moved the cloth of your panties back to its place.

"Such a beautiful girl... Am I forgiven though?.. for spilling the tea on you?" He asked with teasing smirk, leaning his head on your thigh.

"Mhm.. you are.." you smiled to him and he moved away, only to hug you. He gently wiped his mouth with his sleeve and moved you to his lap. He took off your wet t-shirt from tea and his, from your juices, then he pulled you into embrace.

"I'm gonna need to find you some dry clothes.. but not now, 'k?" He ran his hand through your hair, as you burried your face in his neck.

"Mkay.." you responded quietly and snuggled closer.

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

I REALLY DID MY BEST, M SORREY🙏😭

[nachrosas]

DADDY'S DOCTOR | s.reid x reader

summary: in which Paddy suffers an accident and doctor Spencer enters the scene. pairing: spencer reid x reader content warnings: small mentions of needles word count: 807 a/n: while i'm working on the second chapter of my unsub!reader series, i left you guys another dad!spencer! hope you like it!

The majestic silence of the late afternoon was only interrupted by a series of low, irregular sobs. On the floor of the lilac room, among the scattered building blocks and pencils, Olivia was sitting cross-legged, her face hidden behind Paddy. Her favorite teddy bear.

Soft sunlight streamed in through the open window, illuminating the teddy's arm, which now hung loosely, almost completely torn. Loose threads stood out like exposed wounds, and Oliva held the toy carefully as if she feared hurting it even more.

Her small shoulders trembled as she tried to hold back tears. “I'm sorry, Teddy,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I didn't mean to hurt you!”

Just then, light footsteps echoed down the corridor. The bedroom door opened slowly, and you and Spencer appeared. You stopped midway when you noticed Olivia's expression.

“Baby? What happened?” you asked, your voice laden with concern. 

She raised her watery eyes, showing you the teddy bear. “I… I just wanted to hold him tight, but… I ended up hurting Paddy!” she explained, sobbing. “Now he's broken…”

Spencer tilted his head, observing the damage with a careful eye. He knelt down beside her and picked up the teddy bear, examining the torn arm with almost scientific precision.

“Ah.” he said softly, a slight smile appearing on his face. “It looks serious, but nothing a good doctor can't fix.”

Olivia blinked, confused. “A doctor? You know how to fix it?”

You plopped down next to her and said with false seriousness, holding back a smile. “This is Doctor Spencer Reid and he's at your service! His specialty is surgery on good teddy bears!” She looked at you with a twinkle in her eye. “And, of course, like any good surgeon, he'll need a talented assistant. Will you help him?”

For the first time since Paddy's tear, Olivia let out a shy smile, wiping away the tears with the sleeve of her blouse. “I'll do it.”

And just like that, the room turned into a makeshift operating theater, with Spencer already planning the procedure while Olivia and you watched the scene with curious and hopeful eyes.

Spencer came back into the room with a small sewing kit in his hands, balancing a pin cushion and brown thread that matched Olivia's teddy bear. He knelt down beside her, opening the kit as if it were a first aid kit.

“Now, we need to prepare for emergency surgery,” announced Spencer, adjusting his glasses and assuming an exaggeratedly serious tone.

Olivia watched him carefully, her eyes still slightly moist. “Surgery? Are you really going to fix Paddy?”

“Of course!” he replied, smiling. ”But first we need to anesthetize the patient.”

With that, he took a band-aid from his wallet and carefully placed it over the teddy bear's head. “There. He won't feel a thing now,” he explained, winking at Olivia.

You started to laugh and noticed that Olivia's little eyes began to sparkle. “Paddy doesn't have a real head, Spencer!”

“You're right!” he said, nodding with false gravity. “But it's always better to be safe!”

Spencer then picked up the thread and needle, beginning the repair with his deft fingers. As he worked, he looked at Olivia. “You know, when I was little, I had a favorite toy too. A rabbit called Watson. I used to carry him everywhere.”

“Watson?” she asked, curious.

“Yes. He lost his ear once when I left him near a washing machine.” Spencer continued, frowning as if reliving the moment. “Grandma Diana sewed it back on for me. It was the first time I'd seen someone repair something that I thought was impossible to fix.”

“Did you cry?” Olivia asked, leaning forward.

“A lot! I cried so much I could hardly speak!” admitted Spencer, laughing. ”But Grandma said Watson was stronger than ever. Because there was part of her in him now!”

Olivia smiled, watching as Spencer finished sewing up the teddy bear's arm.

“Now we just need to close the cut and… that's it!” he held the teddy up in the air as if presenting a work of art. “Paddy is officially cured! He's got a bit of you, Mommy, and me in him now.”

Olivia picked up the teddy, hugging it tightly before throwing herself into Spencer's arms. “Thank you, Daddy! You're the best teddy bear doctor in the world!”

Spencer smiled and hugged her back, stroking the top of her head. “You're welcome, my love. I'm glad Paddy's back on the team!”

The three of you were sitting together on the bedroom floor. Olivia was happily playing with Paddy on the carpet, pretending that they were going on an adventure with their other toys. You leaned your head on Spencer's shoulder as you watched the scene with a satisfied smile, murmuring in a low voice: “Small gestures really can be the best medicine for the heart.”

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Chapter 5- Miles Between Us

Summary: Frankie's decision to join the Army was the catalyst in the collapse of your friendship. When he's forced to reconcile with his past, packed away in boxes in his childhood basement, he finds pieces of you in everything he's left behind.

Word Count: 5.0K

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader (reader has a name/nickname)

Warnings: Angst, lying, guilt, military deployment, FEELINGS, Frankie's mom not putting up with his shit

A/N: IT'S TIME TO PEEL BACK ANOTHER LAYER OF THE ONION, BABY!!! I hope you guys don't hate me that this is a slow burn- I know this is not how I normally write at all, but it's been really fun to build this story up bit by bit (if you hate it though, please tell me lmao 💀) I'm excited for this chapter and how it hints at next chapter (we're finally getting to some smut y'all, omg) Thank you as always for your kind words, it makes my day to hear what you have to say about these two 🥺💛

All The Things We Never Said Masterlist

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

You, Age 17, Spring of 2006

“You’re late, Morales.” 

“Can’t be late to something we don’t have a set time for, Anderson.” 

It’s true, you and Frankie have never set an official schedule for your afterschool ritual, but it never seems to fail that at 3:45, only 10 minutes after you’ve gotten home from soccer practice,  he’s at the foot of your bed with his forest green Jansport backpack, ready to complain about the homework he doesn’t want to finish and the tests he has no interest in studying for, just so he can keep you company while you stress yourself to death about the same assignments. 

And for as much as he hated school work, Frankie was never late. Never. So to watch him mope into your bedroom an hour later than his usual arrival time, it almost would have been safer to assume he was dead than anything else. 

“What took you so long? Get lost on the way here?” You joke, trying to keep it light while still prodding for an answer about his absence as you write down the answer to the math equation you’re trying to solve. 

“No. Don’t worry about it.” 

There’s been very few occasions you’ve seen Frankie so stoic. Even on his worst days, he’s at least still got a little tolerance left in him for your stupid banter. It’s enough to draw your attention completely away from your homework and onto him. 

“What’s wrong? Why are you being so weird?” 

You can tell then that something’s clearly not right, the way he’s angrily yanking loose papers and textbooks from his backpack and nearly slamming them onto the edge of your bed, making you gnaw anxiously at the end of your pencil you’d been using. 

You’re too nosy for your own good to let up until you find what you’re looking for. 

“Nothing’s wrong.” 

“Well obviously something’s wrong.” 

“What? I’m not allowed to be late, ever?” 

“No? Frankie, I just asked where you were and you’re acting like I’m asking you if you just shot the fucking president or something. What’s going on?” 

“It’s nothing, MacKenzie!”

“If it’s nothing, then why are you so upset about it?” 

“I’m not upset!” 

“You clearly are? Frankie, what the hell are you-” 

“I’m joining the Army, okay?!”

Out of all the things you could have expected to come out of Frankie’s mouth, that would have been at the bottom of your list. In fact, it’s so out of left field, you’re not even quite sure you believe him. 

Your forehead hurts from how tightly your brows are knitted together in confusion, scowling at Frankie with a dumbfounded intensity that probably had you looking like you had just gotten an unsuspecting whiff of the world’s most sour lemon. 

There’s no way he’s being serious. He can’t be. 

“Ha ha, very funny, Francisco.” You mock, frown still splayed across your face, “Now will you please tell me what’s actually going on?” 

His silence makes your heart drop into the pit of your stomach. You can feel the way your face falls, the muscles once tensed in adamant skepticism now sinking into a quiet panic. You can hear each breath as it flows in through your nose and out through your mouth, blood pounding louder and louder in your ears with each pulse of your veins. 

“Frankie, if this is one of your stupid jokes, it’s not funny.” 

“It’s not a joke.” 

His eyes are still peeled to the floor, too afraid to bring himself to look at you. All he can do is stare at his pinky toe, poking out of the hole in his socks that he refuses to replace. You wait for what feels like hours, days, for him to say something, but his silence is deafening. And the sound of Frankie’s silence is the scariest thing you’ve heard in a very long time. 

It’s so terrifying, the only thing you can do to cope is fill the quiet void with your rambling and pray that Frankie Morales is choosing to play the world’s worst joke on you. 

“What- what do you mean? Frankie, I thought- When you and Santi talked about doing the same thing as Will- I thought you were fucking kidding? What about college? We already both got accepted to Florida State, what are you gonna do-” 

“I didn’t get in.” 

Please let him be kidding. Please, please, let this be a sick joke. 

You can feel your confusion starting to bubble into anger, jaw clenching at the way Frankie’s too coward to even look in your general direction, gaze still glued to that stupid fucking hole in his worn down sock. 

“Frankie, what the fuck? We both got accepted back in January? You’ve been lying to me this whole fucking time?” 

“I didn’t wanna lie, okay?!” 

He’s riddled with enough guilt to speak up, trying to keep himself from the brink of tears as he works up enough courage to finally look you in the face. You can hear how hard he gulps, like his heart is bobbing in his throat, trying to buy all the time he can to come up with a reason for his deception that won’t hurt you any more than he already has. 

“I just- fuck,” he sighs, chewing at his bottom and bouncing his leg against the bed so intensely it’ll make him sore the next day, “I didn’t know what to do, Kenz. I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry.” 

It’s hard to stay mad at him when you know he means it. It’d be easier if it weren’t for the way his brown eyes flooded with disappointment in himself, spilling out in tears onto his cheeks. For as frustrated as you are, you have enough sympathy to ease up on him enough to at least try to understand. 

“Well, not lying to me about it for the last four months probably would have been a good start.” You huff, the air that puffs from your nostrils still tainted with the let down you’re trying so hard to not let override your conversation. 

You can’t help but let yourself find a spot next to him on the edge of your bed, a peace offering that you hope is enough to signal to him you’re willing to listen to what he has to say. 

“I- I didn’t think you were being serious when you and Santi were talking about it. I- I thought you- I thought the plan was to go to Florida State. Together. What happened, Frankie?” 

It’s quiet for a few more moments. Frankie takes a few, slow deep breaths as he runs his hands through the curls twisting at the nape of his neck. The silence isn’t as bitter as before, but it stings enough to gnaw at the edges of your nails, the anxious habit you can’t seem to break, and certainly have no intention of giving up right now.  

“Stop chewing at your nails, Kenz. You’re gonna be pissed at yourself later.” Frankie sighs, gently grabbing your wrist to pull your hand away from your mouth, trying to fulfill his duty of being the one to stop you from ripping your nail beds to shreds. 

“You’re kinda making it hard not to.” You try your best to attempt a laugh. It’s the only way to keep yourself from crying. “So are you gonna tell me what’s going on or what?” 

“Y-yeah.” Frankie re-adjusts himself on the edge of the bed, twisting the fabric of your comforter between his fingers, trying to ground himself in the reality of the truth he’s forced to tell you, “I- I didn’t get into Florida State. I told you I did because I didn’t know what I was gonna do. You were just so excited when you thought we both got in and I- I panicked and I lied. I didn’t even think I was gonna get in anyways. I didn’t think I was gonna get in anywhere. Even if I did, I don’t know if I even could have afforded it. It’s just me and my mom and neither of us-”

“It’s not too late. I can help you look for scholarships. To help you with tuition. I’m sure that there’s a bunch out there that you could apply for. I’ll even write your essays and stuff for you if you want me to-” 

“I’m pretty sure you can’t do that, Kenz. Plus, you hate cheaters.” 

Frankie tries to reciprocate the same half-assed laugh you gave him. He looks over at you, the small smile he’s forcing to keep between his lips quickly fading as he sees the way you’re pleading with him to realize that you would forge a thousand essays in his name if it meant he wasn’t going to leave you. He’d be a cheater you’d gladly forgive. 

“It’s not even just the money. I just- I- I don’t even like school, Kenzie. I suck at it. If school is already hard now, how much harder is it gonna be when I get to college? To study for a job that I’m probably not even gonna want when I graduate? At least with the Army I can have a job and benefits and hopefully make enough money to help my mom so she’s not working at the hospital 6 days a week. MacKenzie, the only reason I applied to Florida State was because of you. I thought that maybe there would be some miracle I got in and I could figure out how to pay for it and I could magically get smarter and better at school so we could spend the next four years together. I wanted it to happen. I wanted it to happen so bad. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I lied to you. I just- fuck- I just didn’t know how to tell you.” 

Neither of you are quite sure what to say next. That quiet comes back to fill the space between you, allowing enough room for the silent sobs you’re both trying your best to hold in, small sniffles still escaping from each of you. You’re not sure if your brain has fully processed what he’s had to say. The only thing you can understand is the swirling of sadness and confusion in your gut and the pounding ache in your chest. 

You take a scooch closer to him, the outsides of your thighs barely brushing together as you tilt your head to rest against his shoulder. It’s heavy, the weight you can’t help but lean against him, but the arm he wraps behind your back and around your waist tells you that he’ll gladly take it. He’ll take it all, if he has to. 

“Did you already sign a contract to go?” The whisper of your words is so soft, like you’re hoping he can’t hear you. If he can’t hear you, then he doesn’t have to tell you the answer you don’t want to hear. 

“Yeah. Me and Santi did a few weeks ago.” His voice is almost quieter than yours, convinced he has the same idea as you. 

His truth stings worse than the lie he’s been masquerading behind the past four months. You want to scream at him- To curse him with shouts and sobs, question how he could make this choice for himself and leave you in the dark until it’s too late for you to change his mind. You know it’s selfish, the way you want him to stay, the way you would have fought with every bone in your body to keep him from leaving. You know it’s the reason Frankie couldn’t tell you. 

It’s the same reason why Frankie couldn’t bring himself to tell you that if he had given you that chance, he probably would have stayed. 

“Do um- do you know when you have to leave?” 

It hurts to hear the words come out of your mouth. It’s an admittance of defeat. Because once you ask that question, there’s nothing you can do or say that will make him stay. No fighting, no begging, no pleading. You have to accept he’s leaving. 

“Not ‘til the end of the summer.” 

“Where?” 

The more you ask, the more it makes you want to keel over the edge of the bed and vomit, the reality of it all setting in at an alarming pace. 

“Missouri for basic training. I don’t know where after.” 

He doesn’t have to say where. You both know. Even if he doesn’t know the exact longitude and latitude of where the Army will deploy him, there’s nowhere else they’re sending him besides Iraq or Afghanistan or whatever godforsaken, war ridden country in the Middle East he’ll be forced to put his life on the line for. 

And for how much the reality of Frankie leaving scares you, when you’re hit with the reality that Frankie may leave and never come back, you’re absolutely terrified. 

“I don’t want you to go, Frankie.” 

You can’t beg him to stay. There’s no amount of bargaining you can do with him or the powers that be to change what’s been done. All you can do is tell him your truth as you sob into his chest while he holds you. Maybe if you’re not enough to make him stay, you’re at least enough to make him want to come home. 

You’re not sure how long he holds you while you cry. Maybe it’s minutes, maybe it’s hours. However long it is, all the moments you have left with Frankie feel that much more precious. You won’t let any of them slip through your fingers. 

“You promise you’ll come home, right?” 

“I promise, MacKenzie. I promise.” 

If there’s one thing you’ve learned about Francisco Morales, it’s that he’ll never break a promise. You just hope the universe is kind enough to let him keep this one, too. 

“I promise that we’ll have a really fun summer together before I leave too, okay? Whatever you wanna do, Kenz, I’ll do it.” 

“Anything?” 

It’s enough to peek your head out from the crook of his neck, trying your best to wipe away your tears with your sleeve, like you hadn’t just stained the better part of Frankie’s sweatshirt with the same wetness. 

“Anything.” 

“Alright, well, I guess we’re gonna go to Dairy Queen and get an extra large blizzard every day until you’re too fat for the Army to want you anymore.” 

The two of you giggle, a quiet symphony of soft snorts and sobs at the idea of rolling an ice cream filled Frankie off to boot camp. It makes him laugh even harder that he wouldn’t put it past you if you really did try. Perhaps it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if you did. 

“Whatever you want, MacKenzie. I’m all yours.” 

Frankie, Present 

Frankie’s convinced he might as well start training for a marathon at this point. 

He’s not really sure how else to spend his time. It’s hard to keep himself occupied when all he can do at home is sit around and wait for your dad to die or stare out the window like a creep to watch your comings and goings. 

At least if he’s running, he can’t think about you. 

Well, he can’t think about you as much. 

It’s been a day and a half since he decided to follow you on your run. He’s already pushed his luck enough that you didn’t damn near kill him for it, let alone that you even gave him a chance to talk to him. 

He let you take the first  shift on the morning yesterday, despite the fact he’d been awake well before the sun rose. The irony wasn’t lost on him at the way he watched you through his bedroom window the same way he did most Saturday and Sunday mornings for the first few years of your friendship. You’d be up at the same ungodly hour as him, except you’d be pacing up and down your driveway, stretching and lunging across its length as you clicked around on the iPod wrapped around your forearm, searching for whatever song would pump you up for your run. 

It wasn’t until you had finally noticed Frankie peering out his bedroom window every weekend that you began to drag him along on your runs with you. 

“If you’re awake too, you might as well come running with me, Morales. It’ll be fun!” 

“Fine. I gotta warn you though, Kenz, I am actually pretty fast.” 

“You barely run the mile in gym class.” 

“Savin’ up all my energy for when I need it most, Anderson.” 

There was once a time where you would have to beg Frankie to come with you on a run. Now, he’d give anything for you to tolerate his existence ten feet behind you. 

But he’ll sacrifice another run alone through all too familiar roads of his childhood subdivision if it helps him kill time and keeps you from hating him anymore than you rightfully deserve to. 

Yesterday, he went on two runs to pass the time. Hell, today, he’d consider adding a third run to his underwhelming schedule just to keep himself busy. Fortunately, (or unfortunately, he can’t tell yet) for him, Maria Morales has other plans. 

And when Maria Morales has plans, it’s in Frankie’s best interest to drop anything else he had in mind for the day. 

Even when it means he’s got a hot date with his basement and a mountain full of boxes in his basement. 

“Okay, anything in this pile to the left is for you to go through.” His mom grunts, lifting up one last box to add to the heap labeled “Francisco’s things” in her perfectly curved cursive, “If you want to take it home, find an empty box to put it in, but not my new clear, plastic bins, entiendes (understand)? Those were expensive.” 

“No clear plastic bins, got it.” Frankie chuckles, following the exaggerated step his mother takes over his scattered belongings. 

“If you see something and you don’t want it now but you want me to keep it for later, you can put it over on the shelf by the stairs. If you think it’s basura (trash), leave it over here and let me look at it first before you throw it away.” 

“Comprendido (got it).” Frankie nods, sizing up the stack his mom has set out for him, “Jesus ma, this is gonna take me all morning to go through.” 

“If you were home more, there would be less things to go through now.” 

“Yeah, well, you got me there.” Frankie grumbles under his breath, grimacing at the harsh reality of his mom’s words. He knows isn’t meant completely out of malice, but he can’t deny it’s certainly got some truth to it as well.  

“Okay, well I need to go run some errands, and I want this pile sorted by the end of the day, so standing here and moping certainly isn’t going to help that. Get to work, mijo (son).” 

His mom will never be one to throw a pity party for anyone, and most definitely won’t be throwing one for her son, based on his own, self-inflicted problem. Frankie helps her step over another makeshift pile scattered for sorting across the basement floor, giving him a quick pat on the back before disappearing upstairs, leaving him to quite literally unpack his past. 

“Fuck. Okay.” He sighs to himself, gently kicking one of the edges of flimsy cardboard at the bottom of the tower, trying to formulate his best plan of attack to make his sorting as painless as possible. 

He’s thankful that his brain has always worked in a way that allows him to analyze things so quickly, doing some quiet calculations in his head as to the most effective and efficient way to sort through god knows what may be hidden in the pile his mom has created for him. 

He runs his hand through the still messy curls of his morning bed head before selecting what feels like the lightest boxes and moving them off to the side, opening up a cardboard container from the next layer. 

Besides the trophies still in his room, every prize he’d ever won for every sport he’d ever played sits in the box below him. Frankie chuckles to himself, picking up some from the top to examine them, thumb gliding over the fake gold plating to read plaques like “Florida Junior Divisional Freestyle Swimming Finalist- 2005” or “Regional Championship Winners- Florida Firebirds 2007” glued to poorly sculpted plastic statues of swimmers. A few more medals and certificates had sunk to the bottom of the box, Frankie quickly grazing through its contents before rehoming it to the “trash” pile, unsure of when he would ever need proof he won several swimming competitions in high school. 

The next few boxes were more of the same- His varsity jacket, old t-shirts he wouldn’t stand a chance fitting into, considering the gangly figure that stretched them more than a decade ago, some old books from high school he’d only kept because of how much you loved them and he promised you that one day, he’d read them, too. 

It’s the shoe box that catches his eye next, sure that no matter how much his mom loved to hoard, whatever was in there most definitely was not a raggedy, holy pair of Converse from high school. 

It’s not until he picks up the box that he knows exactly what’s inside. It’s one of the lightest things he’s picked up in the last hour, but when he knows the weight of its contents, his arms want to tremble. 

It’s with a long deep breath that he brings the shoebox over to an open patch of floor, letting out a grunt and cursing his knees as he sits down cross legged with the box in front of him. He gently flips open the lid, hand running over his face and down the back of his neck when his suspicions are confirmed. 

Open envelopes spill out over the edges of the worn cardboard, the box stuffed to the brim with every letter you’d ever written to him while he was away.

Even if he wanted to, he’s not sure he could ever physically bring himself to throw them out. Those letters have more miles on them than most people’s cars will ever reach in a lifetime, flimsy, stamped pieces of paper following him to every corner of the globe he’s traveled to. 

Some letters he’s read so much, they’re worn on the edges where he’s held the paper, smudging the pen that’s reached the sides of the pages. Others, he’s only read once. He’s not sure he could ever bring himself to read them again. But regardless of their contents, he’d made a promise to you they’d stay with him. 

“Better not get rid of those letters, Morales. Do you know how many hand cramps I’ve given myself trying to find the words to send halfway across the world to you? You better promise me you’ll keep ‘em.”  

His commitment to the folded pieces of paper ring in his ears as his fingers drag across the tops of the open envelopes. He can’t help the way his index finger and thumb pinch the paper below his grasp, carefully tugging a random letter out of its shoebox storage. 

It’s a gut wrenching gamble, the game he’s about to play, a roulette of making his heart ache from joy or pain depending on the one he chooses to pull. He’s already placed his bet as he pulls the lined piece of paper out of the envelope- He’s not getting the money he’s already placed on the table back, so he might as well pray he makes a return on his investment. 

With one more deep breath, he unfolds the tri-fold creases, ready to watch his bet play out before him. 

August 18th, 2006

Frankie, 

I hope I sent this letter to the right place! I looked on the website and it said to send mail to new recruits (that’s you, Morales), to this address, so no one better be holding my letter to you hostage. 

Anyways, how’s training so far? Did they make you shave your head yet? I hope not. I’m not sure why the Army insists on making you all look like Dr. Evil from Austin Powers. I’m sure you’ll still look cute even with short hair! I don’t think I can say the same for Santi, but you didn’t hear that from me… hehehe 

I just moved into my dorm yesterday! My roommate seems pretty nice. Her name is Jessica and she’s from Georgia. She claims that she’s neat and she better be, or I may lose my mind. I’ll send you pictures of my dorm once it’s all set up! It’s kind of a mess right now, but I made sure to put the picture of us from prom up on my desk :)

I don’t start class until next Tuesday. Hopefully I’ll meet some new people in my dorm or on the soccer team so I’m not a total loser with no friends. LOL. 

Have you met anyone new yet? I can’t wait to hear all about your new Army friends! I already started a countdown calendar until we can see each other again. Only 70 days until basic training is done and I can hear about everything in person! 

I miss you a lot. I know that’s dumb to say because it’s only been a week, but still. I wish I would have kissed you again before you got on the plane to leave. I promise I will when I see you. Nothing says perfect place to kiss like South Missouri, romance capital of the USA (haha). 

I know you’re gonna be busy, but write me back when you have time. The return address on the envelope is my dorm address, so use that, or risk Doug and Michelle reading your mail if you send it to my house!!! I can’t wait to hear from you. Miss you, weirdo. 

From, 

Kenz :) <3

His luck of the draw sends a wave of relief through him, smiling down at the curvy loops of your perfectly neat printing signed at the bottom of the page. It makes his heart skip a beat, the same kind of butterflies coming to life in his stomach as they did the first time he read it. He’s earned his money back and then some. He gets how casinos never go broke, because the high of good fortune is enough to have him reaching back into the box to put another gamble on the line. 

October 13th, 2009

Frankie, 

I always feel dumb sending multiple letters before I hear back from you, but you know me, I love to worry. I know you can’t tell me where you are right now (stupid military and their secrets for the safety of society lol) but I’ve been seeing stuff on the news and it makes me scared for you. I just hope wherever you are, you’re safe. 

My dad’s cancer is back. He’s been in the hospital for almost two weeks now. They found a new mass on his liver, but they said hopefully they can target it with radiation before it starts to spread. Cassandra at the front desk asked how you were when I was at the hospital yesterday. I said that you were good. I think she’s only asking because if you’re not there, there’s no one to keep me from burning a hole in the waiting room carpet. 

I wish you were here. I feel really lost right now. I just know if you were here, you’d find a way to make everything better. You always do. 

Sorry this letter isn’t longer. I haven’t been sleeping that great and don’t have enough brainpower to write something decent. Just wanted to let you know what’s going on.  

Counting down the days until you make good on your promise. I hope you come home soon, Frankie. 

Kenzie 

He curses himself for an unlucky draw, heart sinking at the tear stains smearing the blue ink of your trembling letters. An overwhelming wave of guilt washes over him, vivid memories of reading your notes in his bunk alone, wishing there was a way he could fly halfway around the world for a night just to hold you and tell you that everything was going to be okay. 

It’s the addictive itch in the back of his brain that makes him decide to pull one more letter from the box, taking one last gamble to see if he can prove the nagging pit in his stomach to quit while he’s ahead, wrong. 

February 4th, 2011

Hey, 

If you don’t want to write anymore, that’s fine. I was trying to be friendly, but clearly you don’t really care. Just let me know and I’ll stop bombarding you with mail you obviously don’t want. Or I guess you not responding is letting me know. If you want to send anything back you can send it to my parents house. I’m moving into Liam’s house and it’s only 20 minutes away so I can just drive there and pick it up. No need to send you a new address you probably aren’t going to write to, anyways. 

I guess I’ll see you when I see you. 

MacKenzie 

And that’s how Vegas will always stay in business. 

Because now Frankie is forced to walk away, all his money stolen from him at the stupid risk he’s decided to take. The one letter he’d give anything not to read again is the one he had to pull. 

Heat seethes in his chest- he can’t quite explain why. Because he lost at a rigged game he’d set up for himself? That he still hasn’t quite come to terms with the ugly truth of what he put the both of you through? That he wishes with everything in him, he could go back and change what he’s done? 

Or maybe, it’s because now might be the last chance he has to fix what he’s broken, and he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to live with himself if he can’t.

He leaves the pile in the basement unfinished, shoes barely tied to his feet before he bursts out the door in a sprint.

He's not sure where he's going. He's not even sure how long he's run for. All he knows is the pounding of his feet against the pavement, trying to outrun the stupid decisions of his past.

He tells himself if he runs fast enough, he'll beat them.

If he goes far enough, they'll be forgotten.

If he outraces them, you'll be there waiting for him at the finish line.

@chaotic-iguana @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

@pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24

@3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @raspberrybesitos

@partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo

@endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @milly-louise

@jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled

@pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @vee-bees-blog @itsokbbygrl

@hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr

@amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild

@copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover @bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog

@samgirl4life @pigeonmama @survivingandenduring @jolapeno @ovaryacted

@amanitacowboy @mystickittytaco @anoverwhelmingdin @greenwitchfromthewoods

@witchofthedeepwoods @ericamarie093 @readingiskeepingmegoing @whimsiwitchy @whoaitspascal87

@vickie5446 @katw474 @ravenpoe67 @inthedarkestnight @brittmb115

@harryscherrysugar @wonderpillar @sunnytuliptime @pasc4lfuzz @yesjazzywazzylove-blog

@kungfucapslock @vannabanana1995 @beezusvreeland

@javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

[ierr]

nightmare cuddles // katsuki bakugo

↳ summary bakugo has a nightmare and can’t sleep without being in your arms.

UPDATE: discord server is up!! JOIN NOWW!!

a.n; hey guys..soooo sorry for the late update, this story was supposed to be posted last last saturday and I didn’t meet the deadline 💔 but anyways I hope this make up for it!!

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL THE VOTES ON THE DISCORD SERVER, 74% of you said yes to it, so it shall be done!! I don’t have an estimated time of when it will be done but when is, the link will be in one the stories!!

whenever katsuki would have nightmares the first thing he would do is walk towards your dorm, not liking the feeling of waking up with his heart raised, and sweat dripping from his head. luckily you being up studying, you heard a knock on your door, you perked up from your desk, pulling out an earbud looking up at your door hearing that same knock again. getting up placing down your pencil to open it. you thought it was going to be kiri or denki asking for one of your blankets again but was surprised to see your boyfriend?. "kat?." you were taken back by how fast he grabbed you, pulling you into a hug. his grip was tight. almost like he didn't want to let you go?. "hey, what's wrong? why are you shaking?." — "I just..had a nightmare." oh. you sighed moving your hand up to his hair, combing through it with a small smile, "you wanna talk about it baby?." he didn't say anything but nod his head.

apparently it was about what had happened at the hospital. after the fight with shigaraki, some was badly injured as some weren't, however..unfortunately you were one of the people who were put in the hospital. you had a coma for a full two weeks. from overusing your quirk too much in a span of one day put your life at risk which why many teachers including hawks said it was too dangerous for you to fight at the moment but being stubborn you did it anyways. your quirk is blood manipulation, you can manipulate your own blood cells and ever others. from using too much blood over time can put your life at risk, if you were to use too much you could potentially die. that’s what he’s afraid of. In his nightmare you didn't wake up and was pronounced dead. yelling and yelling begging for you to wake up but you didn’t..waking up with sweat dripping from his head, and his heart racing. you hummed after he was done explaining, "kat… I know what happened scared you— it scared everyone, but I promise i'm fine. I'm ok." you mumbled kissing the top of his head as he held you tighter, "I know..but these damn nightmares keep happening." he snarled but sighed, he cares too damn much about you, he loves you, you're literally the love of his life. the thought of ever losing you scared the living hell out of him, his heart couldn't handle all these damn emotions.

you've never seen kat be afraid as he was tonight. It made your heart sink..how long was he having these nightmares for? he kept a firm grip on you as you two were laid together, his arms wrapped around your waist, as you laid on his chest trailing small circles on his stomach. weirdly it calmed him down a little, knowing you're here laid against him. It calmed him down a little. breathing in and out, his heart felt softer, he sighed pinching your waist out of nowhere, jolting up. "the hell was that for?" you scoffed with a frown hearing him grunt looking away from you. "don't scare me like that again..idiot." he muttered and you rolled your eyes with a small smile, "I won't." you chuckled, but he turned to face you, furrowed eyebrows. "i'm serious." when you heard his tone, your face softened more, "kat..it won't happen again. I can swear it to you. plus.. aizawa won't let me train for awhile till i'm fully healed. you have nothing to worry about.." it looked like he had doubt in your words but sighing in defeat he nodded his head believing you. you smiled, "will you be able to sleep now?" you asked and he nodded his head, pulling your body closer to his, fully cuddling.

"with you here.. I can.."

[midnightfict]

Back in Our Days.

— 𓆩𓆪 —

𓆩 Lee Byung-Hun x F!reader 𓆪

Summary — When two, now estranged friends get caught in an unexpected encounter which triggers a feeling one thought was lost.

A/N — This story is loosely inspired by the song "Who Are You?" - Saga Faye. Please give me story requests, I get story inspirations from songs and/or real-life situations, and I'm currently up for a new challenge.

read pt. 2 here

— 𓆩𓆪 —

The streets of Seoul were bustling as usual. People hurried past, umbrellas shielding them from a faint drizzle. On opposite sides of the road, two figures unknowingly walked in parallel paths. You clutched your bag nervously, trying to avoid the water from ruining your belongings, while on the other side, a tall man in a sleek black coat walked confidently, his face partially hidden by a baseball cap.

As the traffic lights turned red, you stepped onto the crosswalk, and your eyes caught his. Something about him felt achingly familiar, but the thought slipped away as the two of you passed each other. Just as you reached the other side, an unexplainable tug made you glance back. You saw him turn too, his eyes meeting yours for a short moment.

“Byung-hun?” you murmured under your breath.

Gathering your courage, you waved with a bright smile, the kind you always used to greet him with back in the day. But instead of the warm recognition you expected, his expression remained monotone. He looked away and continued walking.

Your hand fell slowly, your smile fading. Hurt pricked at your chest, but you shook it off, convincing yourself there must be some explanation. You couldn't help but remember the joyful times you spent with him.

⋆｡𖦹° ⏾ ˚｡⋆

The bell rang, signaling the start of class, but the seat next to you was still empty. You tapped your pencil against your desk, glancing out the window. Moments later, Byung-hun slipped into the classroom, his hair slightly disheveled, a mischievous grin plastered on his face.

“You’re late,” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

“And you’re still here? I thought you’d be bored to death already,” he shot back with a chuckle.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. Byung-hun leaned closer, lowering his voice. “Wanna ditch?”

“What?” you whispered, eyes widening. “We can’t just—”

“C’mon, we're seniors. They won't bat an eye!” he said, grabbing your hand and pulling you out of your seat.

The two of you sneaked out through the back gate, muffling your laughter as the wind rushed past. The afternoon was spent at a nearby arcade, battling each other in games, eating street food, and talking about dreams that seemed so big back then.

"I want to be a famous actor," He proudly claimed.

"One day, I'm going to write a movie, and I'll make you the biggest actor in the world," You replied, supporting his dream.

As the sun began to set, you both sat by the riverbank, the golden light reflecting on the water.

“Promise me,” he said suddenly, turning to face you.

“Promise you what?”

“That no matter what happens, we’ll always stick together. Okay?”

You smiled, holding out your pinky. “Promise.”

He hooked his pinky with yours, his grin wide and genuine. “Promise.”

Later that evening, you both parted ways. Your grin and wave brought out a giggle from him. It was a small moment, but it stayed with you. You had no idea how much that promise would mean for him.

⋆｡𖦹° ⏾ ˚｡⋆

The memory faded as you found yourself back in the present, the bustling streets of Seoul grounding you once more. The ache in your chest deepened. What had changed? Why did he act like he didn’t know you?

A few days passed and he still lingers in your mind. You were scrolling through your phone when a message from your sister popped up. It was a video link accompanied by a single question:

Doesn't he used to go to your school?

You clicked on the link, your heart skipping a beat as a familiar face appeared on the screen. Lee Byung-hun. The caption read: “Rising Star Lee Byung-hun Shares His Story.”

In the video, he was seated on a sleek couch, his polished demeanor worlds away from the carefree boy you once knew. The interviewer asked about his childhood, and his response hit like a punch to the gut.

“Honestly, I never really felt like I belonged anywhere,” he said, his voice calm and composed. “High school was a lonely time for me. I didn't have any close relations.”

Your heart clenched. How could he say that? The boy who had once sworn to always be there for you—the boy you had shared countless memories with—now claimed he had no friends?

You replayed the clip, hoping you had misunderstood. But the words stayed the same. Each repetition felt like another crack in the foundation of your cherished memories. You closed the video and sat back, staring at the ceiling, the weight of confusion and hurt pressing heavily on your chest. Trying to distract yourself, you grabbed a random book to read. But fate seemed to have other plans.

A picture from your early high school days fell off the shelf. It was the two of you, grinning widely as you held up a trophy from a group project competition. The memory behind that photo stirred something deep inside you. You remembered how you had to practically drag him to the stage when he was too embarrassed to go up, telling him, “You did just as much as I did. If I’m going up, so are you.”

Your fingers hovered over the picture, and as you stared at it, the emotions bubbling within pulled you back further into another memory—your first encounter with Byung-hun. It was so vivid, as though the years separating then and now had disappeared entirely.

⋆｡𖦹° ⏾ ˚｡⋆

The classroom was crowded with chatter as the new student was introduced. Lee Byung-hun stood at the front, his hands shoved in his pockets, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.

“You can take the seat next to her,” the teacher said, pointing toward you.

He shuffled over, barely sparing you a glance as he sat down.

“Hi! How are you?” you said brightly.

He looked at you, surprised. “I'm fine, thanks.”

“Nice to meet you, Byung-hun. Let me know if you need anything, okay?”

He nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. From that day on, the two of you were inseparable. Whether it was group projects, lunch breaks, or late-night phone calls, you had each other’s backs. You remembered the way he had slowly opened up, sharing stories about his old school and how he always felt like an outsider.

“Not anymore,” you had told him with a grin. “You belong here now.”

His smile had been shy but grateful. “Thank you,”

⋆｡𖦹° ⏾ ˚｡⋆

Had those moments meant nothing to him? You felt tears sting your eyes, the hurt bubbling up uncontrollably. But almost immediately, you wiped your face, taking a deep, shuddering breath. This wasn’t you. You weren’t going to let these feelings drown you.

Needing to clear your head, you grabbed your house keys and slipped on your shoes. Fresh air would help, you told yourself. You stepped out into the cool evening, the faint rain lingering in the air. Without thinking, you began walking, letting your feet guide you as your mind remained tangled in memories.

At some point, you found yourself standing at the same crosswalk where you had seen Byung-hun just days ago. You froze for a moment, staring at the spot where you had smiled and waved, only to be met with his indifference. The pang of that memory made you glance down, biting your lip, before you continued walking.

Lost in thought, you didn’t realize how far you had gone until you stopped in front of a building that made you blink in surprise. It was the old arcade you and Byung-hun used to visit whenever you ditched school. The bright, flashing neon lights seemed almost out of place among the modern cityscape, but there it was—still standing after all these years.

Curiosity and nostalgia drew you in. The familiar jingle of the entrance bell brought a flood of memories. You wandered the aisles, eyes scanning the games you used to play together, a bittersweet smile tugging at your lips. It felt surreal, being back here after so long.

“Excuse me,” a voice called out, pulling you from your thoughts. An older man, likely one of the long-time workers, approached you with a curious expression. “You look familiar… Weren’t you a regular here back in the day? Always hanging out with that tall boy…”

You blinked, surprised that he remembered. “Uh, yeah. That was me,” you said with a sheepish smile.

“What was his name again? Byung-something, right?” the man asked, snapping his fingers as he tried to recall.

“Byung-hun,” you supplied softly, the name tasting bittersweet on your tongue.

“Ah, that’s right! Byung-hun! You two were always together. How’s he doing? Are you still in touch?”

The question made your heart twist. “I… no. We're not,” you admitted, averting your gaze.

The man’s face softened. “That’s a shame. You know, I could always tell he cared about you a lot. That boy… he liked you from the very beginning. Said so himself once.”

You froze, your breath catching. “What?”

The man chuckled, clearly unaware of the impact his words had. “Yeah, he mentioned it when you two came in here for the first time. He was so shy about it, though. Just kept watching you out of the corner of his eye, like you were the best thing he’d ever seen. But the last time I saw him, he was a mess. He said you left the country and he wasn't sure if you were going to come back. One thing he said he knew for sure though is that he lost you forever,”

Your mind reeled, the revelation hitting you like a train. All the memories you had shared with Byung-hun suddenly carried a new weight, a new meaning. To you, your goodbye meant a new chapter being written. But to him, it meant losing you—losing everything. Before you could process it further, the man was called away by another customer, leaving you standing there, stunned.

And then, as if the universe wanted to twist the knife, your thoughts shifted—to him. From his perspective, starting from the moment he had seen you again at that crosswalk.

— 𓆩Byung-Hun𓆪 —

Byung-hun adjusted the brim of his baseball cap as he walked briskly down the bustling street. He was on his way to a meeting for his upcoming film, the one everyone was talking about. His agent had reminded him—yet again—how important this role was for his rising career. But none of that was on his mind when he stopped at the crosswalk.

The moment he saw her, his heart stuttered. There she was, on the opposite side of the road, clutching her bag tightly like she always used to when she was nervous. His feet rooted to the ground, his breath catching in his chest. It had been years, but she hadn’t changed much. The same eyes, the same demeanor—still as beautiful as he remembered.

For a second, he thought about calling out to her, but the words died in his throat. How could he? He wasn’t the same person she used to know, and seeing her so cheerful, so bright—it hurt. She looked like she’d moved on, like she’d left their memories behind. And him? He had spent years trying to forget her, but here she was, undoing all of it with just a glance.

As they crossed paths, he saw her wave and smile at him, the same smile she used to give him back in high school. It took everything in him to keep walking, to pretend he didn’t know her. He wasn’t ready to face her, not when all the unresolved emotions threatened to spill over.

He forced his legs to keep moving, his jaw tightening as he left her behind. Once he was out of sight, he paused, leaning against a wall to catch his breath. His hands trembled as he adjusted his coat, but he shook his head and pushed himself forward. He had a meeting to attend.

Hours passed by, and Byung-hun sat at the long table, nodding along as the director explained the plot of his next project—a romance with a bittersweet ending. He should have been focused, taking notes, asking questions. But his mind was elsewhere.

“Byung-hun?” the director’s voice snapped him back to reality. “What do you think?”

He cleared his throat, straightening in his seat. “It’s… an intriguing story,” he replied, forcing a professional tone.

The plot they had described, two people brought together by fate, only to be torn apart by circumstances, felt uncomfortably familiar. It made him think of her, of the promises they had made back in high school. Promises that, in the end, neither of them could keep.

⋆｡𖦹° ⏾ ˚｡⋆

The days leading up to graduation were supposed to be exciting, full of plans and dreams for the future. But something had shifted between you and Byung-hun. You had been distant, avoiding his questions and brushing off his attempts to talk.

“Y/N,” he finally cornered you after class one day, his tone firm. “What’s going on? You’ve been acting weird.”

You hesitated, looking anywhere but at him. “It’s nothing,” you mumbled.

“It’s not nothing,” he pressed. “Just tell me.”

Before you could answer, a classmate approached, grinning. “Hey, Y/N! Congrats on the acceptance letter! How’s the prep for moving abroad going?”

Byung-hun froze, his eyes snapping to you. “Abroad?”

You winced, guilt written all over your face. “I was going to tell you…”

“When?” he demanded, his voice rising. “After you left? Or were you just never going to say anything?”

“I didn’t know how to tell you,” you admitted, your voice breaking. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“Hurt me?” he repeated, his laugh bitter. “Do you even realize what this feels like? We promised we’d always be there for each other. And now you’re just leaving?”

Tears welled up in your eyes. “I was scared, okay? I didn’t know how you’d react. I didn’t want you to hate me.”

Byung-hun shook his head, his jaw clenching. “Do I even mean anything to you?”

The argument ended with no resolution. The days that followed were filled with silence, both of you too hurt to bridge the gap. But on the day of your flight, Byung-hun showed up at the airport.

“I couldn’t let you leave without saying goodbye,” he said, his voice soft but strained. “I… I had to see you.”

You hugged him tightly, whispering apologies and promises to stay in touch. He hugged you back, but deep down, he knew things would never be the same.

"I'm chasing my dreams, Byung-hun. Dreams that I had never even thought were possible. I hope you'll understand and I know you will. You'll always stay in my mind... my best friend. And when I'm back, I better see your face plastered on every movie poster in town," You lightly joked.

He couldn't even crack a chuckle at her. Just tears and hiccups.

As he watched your plane take off, he wondered if you knew. If you knew, would you still go?

⋆｡𖦹° ⏾ ˚｡⋆

Sitting in that conference room, Byung-hun felt the weight of those memories pressing down on him. The question that had haunted him for years resurfaced. Had she ever loved him the way he loved her? And if she did… was it too late to find out?

[takes1]

Hii, I wanted to start off saying that I love your works! You’re writing is impeccable and I’m glad I was able to stumble upon it! 🤍

I wanted to request a Kageyama x reader where they are best friends and there is a lot of mutual pining. I think it would be fun seeing them get jealous and yearn for each other while tension develops around them.

kageyama x reader mutual pining

thank you so so much!!! i'm glad you like it :,) i rlly liked this req!

warnings. none, sfw. minors DNI

details. best friends / mutual pining / jealous!kageyama / distracted!studying / track team!reader / classmate!reader / kageyama teasing you / mutual crushing / tension / questionable touches / 3k words

links. my masterlist. more haikyuu. my request box.

"Are you two dating?"

It was a question you were both used to handling, at this point.

A kind, but curt, "No, we're just friends."

Despite how nice you were to anybody who found the need to ask, you wanted nothing more than to strangle the poor soul who started the official rumor that Tobio was your secret boyfriend. You had been friends for years, but it was only just now a problem.

You liked to think it didn't affect much between you. But that was a half-truth; it didn't affect how much you saw each other, but there was this new, sensitive layer to everything you said and did.

The bell rang for lunch and he was standing at your desk, still trying to shake that incessant question. That was the second time today somebody had asked if you were dating.

Tobio swiped his favorite pencil of yours and twirled it between his fingers. He looked like he wanted to ask you something, but his presence grew quieter, darker at the next unwanted presence.

"(Y/n)!" A couple friends from the guys' track team you hadn't seen since your last practice came into the classroom with a few other students, also looking for their friends for the free period.

You grinned and waved them over, taking to a knee on your seat.

"I didn't get to talk to you Wednesday, but I wanted to say congrats on your record!"

"Yeah, that was sick."

Only you could hear Tobio sigh. It was subtle, through his nose, and impatient.

They were excited about the new record you set for the school in your event, making technical jokes, being a little too sparing with the compliments.

You passed a look to him, grin frozen for a second. He was eyeing your friends, head down toying with all the stuff on your desk, glancing up at them through his brow at times, pissed off. He looked like an asshole. Your track friends were picking up on it, too.

"Thanks, guys," You waved them off, trying to be nice enough to make up for Tobio, "See ya at practice."

It was quiet between you until they were completely out of the room. You tried to stifle your smile at what you could only rationalize as jealousy, or possessiveness.

"You gonna be okay?" You joked and sat back down, just to lighten the mood. He would only get defensive if you were direct.

His gaze softened, eyes gently searching your own face as he crafted a tentative, late reply.

"Yeah," Was all.

The subject changed quick, your shared tension simmering back down, "What's the test over?"

The pencil slipped from his fingers and spun to the floor with a quiet clatter- he dove after it and bumped the back of his head on the way up.

Your hands stifled your amused grin in a flash. He was onto you anyway when he resurfaced, staying in a squat, embarrassment taking the form of a frustrated attempt to flick you in the head-- you slapped his wrist away with an uncovered laugh.

"Stop-," You grabbed the other wrist snaking around to finish the job, eye contact friendly and serious at first, "Stop it."

The look he returned seared into you.

It was too much. Tobio gave up quicker than usual. You let out a sigh, both of you unable to joke around like that for long anymore.

This was commonplace behavior at this point- he liked teasing in the form of physical contact, his specialty being flicks, jabs, soft punches, grabs. You preferred the verbal alternative. Insults to his intelligence of all kinds were your favored choice.

"It should be over chapters six through... ten, I think. All the methods, at least."

"I'm so fucked..." He sighed almost immediately.

You rolled your eyes, "That's your problem, you give up too early and don't study."

His pretty blue irises scanned your open notebook, full of highlighted paragraphs, hand written notes, and graphs he couldn't read.

"You hear me?" Your two finger nudge was ignored. He just let his shoulder be moved, as if a ghost was up to it, "Study?"

"Do you even know what that word means?" You chortled.

"I know what study means," He hissed, only making it funnier.

"I'm sure you do," You teased with a stretch over the back of your chair. You leaned far so you could pop your back, and settled down with a groan.

Tobio was looking at your shirt. You adjusted it, pulling it, fluffing it. When he realized you were aware of his staring, he sighed and looked elsewhere.

"Go eat your lunch," You put your cheek against your fist.

It served as a gentle reminder to leave you alone or people would start talking about you again.

"Why can't I eat it over here?" He squinted at the rest of the room, full of groups of people eating their lunches with their friends.

Why was it only different with you two? He could scope two other guy/girl pairs in this room that weren't dating, to his knowledge. While he was at it, he watched for anybody that might start another rumor.

"Well-," You also eyed the room, "Fine, hurry up though."

Tobio quickly unzipped his bag from two desks over and threw the container to you without warning. You caught it, but it was only thanks to your hand-eye coordination. Good form aside, it could've been disastrous.

"Don't throw shit-," You started, but he was hot on your tail before you could call him a dumbass, equipped with an argument as he swiped a chair and pulled it right next to you.

"You caught it."

"Yeah but-,"

"You caught it-," He shoveled about a third of his lunch in his mouth all at once, "I'knew you woul' catch i'."

He could truly be such an ogre. You tried to act disgusted, but there was something cute about his lack of manners- and your suspicion that he may have actually thought harder about that throw than you wanted to give him credit for.

Through the next half of lunch, you watched a mix of clips on your phone from the last year's Olympics and national level matches of multiple sports. Maybe it was because you ended with volleyball that made him so hesitant to stop watching videos and let you alone so that you could study for the exam.

"I dunno why you're studying now," He used one forearm to wipe his chin, the other hand to flip, disinterested, through the pages in your notebook, "It's Friday."

A moment to digest that. He sat, waiting for you to respond to him with an emptiness behind his eyes.

"And...? The exam is Monday."

He nodded.

"You're going to fail. And I'll have no sympathy for you," You laughed, unable to understand what was clogging up the neurons in his brain to trigger such a severe blockage of learning.

Tobio was quiet and still for so long that you were starting to get some quality time in, reading over your notes, highlighting from your text, making some new notes for later. You thought that there was a possible balance to be struck between how attractive somebody was, and how much intelligence they were allowed. Clearly, he was all pretty face, tiny brain.

You glanced a couple of times across your shoulder to him. He wasn't on his phone, and he wasn't looking at you, you could deduce after a few minutes.

It felt tense anytime you weren't speaking to each other. That's why the two of you made an unacknowledged point to talk often, or do an activity together. It was made of lengthy conversations about your respective sports, talking about your own separate friend groups, or going on a run right after school- not much in between.

"What are you doing this weekend?"

The question was quiet, like he was embarrassed, or mulling over exactly how to ask it the whole time. When you looked at him, you were glad he was avoiding you by staring at your notebook. You didn't want him to see the initial reaction on your face.

Tobio didn't sound too terribly invested, but you considered that he could've been asking it that way on purpose.

You hated when it got weird like this. It was like you were confirming the rumors. It was his fault for being so hot and asking weird questions.

-

All he wanted to do was study. You blew a long breath into the cold evening air and watched it rise until it spiraled into nothing. All he wanted to do was study.

Your foot was tapping, impatient, focused on the new chill creeping down your neck past your coat. It was ten minutes past when he wanted to meet you after his practice. The walk to the library wasn't long, but it was Friday and you had some shows to watch, some supper to eat. You enjoyed playing the intellectual high ground around him, yes, but you had no real plans to study before Saturday afternoon- until he asked you.

As you shivered outside, squinting at the frosty, dead grass, you realized you wouldn't do this for anyone else. That freaked you out just a little.

"Hey," He was jogging up to you from the gym- you turned to the side to face him in the covered walkway.

You sighed, just to express your disdain, but you were unable to control a vicious, goofy tremble in the process.

Instead of the look you were trying to conjure -apologetic, penitent-, he broke out into a half-cocked smile. But Tobio didn't acknowledge anything. No a smartass comment about your giant puffy coat, no jab at your dramatics, not even a mockery shiver.

All he did was bump your shoulder and walk in the direction of the library.

You lagged behind, all of a sudden warmer than you needed to be, and mulling over how cute he looked when he smiled. A genuine one. Not a sly, ill-intended snicker or the smirk he had when he stole your things and held them over your head.

This creeping fondness had to be shaken out of you.

Your legs carried you stronger, faster, to catch up to him. He hardly had a second to turn and look at you before you gave him a playful shove back, your grin ungovernable in such cheesy conditions.

"What was that look for?" You laughed, dodging a smack to the back of the head for such a big and surprising shove. You usually didn't return his touchiness, which in turn kept it at bay, so he took a minute to decide if he wanted to escalate things. You stayed ready at his side as you walked, just in case.

"What look?" He mumbled, careful not to look at you.

His hands were deep in his pockets. His jacket was zipped open, giving him some room to operate, but it was a sign of surrender. You put your guard down.

"You smiled at me," Was cautious in nature, but not in tone.

It was friendly and not indicative of anything- purely observational- but you wanted to know if there was more.

A tiny sideways glance told you so much.

Tobio's face was redder. You weren't imagining it, because he actively avoided your staring.

Hand still in his pocket, he went to shove your shoulder like usual- you dodged it with a laugh, about to punch his side, but got caught short when he grabbed you.

"I dunno what you're talking about," His voice was dripping in sarcasm.

His arm was wrapping around your side, keeping you from fighting back, grabbing firm at your waist through his pocket and pulling you into his warm body, into his jacket with him.

It knocked you completely off balance. Stumbling, pressed into the side of his chest for a few moments, you were trying to keep up with him before he did you the favor of squeezing you closer, taking most of your weight.

He rubbed his arm real tight along your side; it was all you could feel, aside from the floating sensation. His strength took you by surprise.

"This is why people think we're together!"

You pushed out of his loosening grip at a good time. The joke was starting to feel too intimate. You were at your destination, too.

"Well," His defensiveness was so exaggerated it looked like he was upset you wiggled away from him, "I'm not gonna take my hands outta my pockets. Are you kidding me?" He scoffed, leaving you to spiral in the act all by yourself, "It's cold."

As you entered the building, it dawned on you that it was going to be one of those things that didn't get talked about again. You had a built up quite a few moments like that over the past few years- but lately, they seemed to be a more frequent occurrence.

The table you chose was out of the way and quiet. It was far away from the sports section or any screens so neither of you were tempted by any distractions. Tobio took it upon himself to grab the extra book you needed before you got settled in.

You had time to sit and think about it. His argument made no sense. Many arguments wouldn't have held well to that little move he pulled.

When he put his arm around you, his strong, warm arm-- you were breathing in a little too much cologne, mixed with his sweat that you never seemed to mind the smell of-- the smile in his eyes but not his mouth-- the mint on his breath. Was all that really for a bad joke? Just an embrace between friends?

It was all you could think about, but you knew you had to get it together when you saw him coming back from across the library.

He got stopped short by a girl you didn't know. She asked him something and pointed at the shelf.

Your nails raked at the lining on your pants. Your eye twitched and you knew you were too far gone. Your eye was twitching at some girl talking to him.

She reached up on her tippy toes for the novel she wanted.

Sure, he was tall and she was short, but was that really necessary to communicate the point?

"Ugh," You spat- you couldn't help it, you hated those girls that acted like babies for attention. It made everyone look bad.

Tobio grabbed the novel and handed it to her like a dirty rag, chin turned towards you with a big frown that said 'Yeah, yikes.'

You were beyond thankful he hadn't fallen under her spell. But, on the downside, he caught you staring. Staring hard.

When he returned to your table and took the seat across from you, he already looked like he was about to address it. That tiny smirk said it all.

"Don't look so upset," He scanned over your unamused face and reeled it back, opting for a softer, candid, "She's not my type."

This was getting weird and stilted. You both understood there had been too many mentions of dating-adjacent topics. It was about 300% more than usual. There stood a decision to make.

To take advantage of the fact that what was on your mind finally held relevance to the conversation, or to switch the subject and risk never getting the opportunity to talk about it, nor entertain it?

You tried to strike a balance between nonchalant and inquisitive, but it wasn't possible. Your fingers tapped a dull eraser onto the table. You thought it might make you feel better, but it didn't.

"Then--," In fact, you realized you couldn't ask anything at all without looking too interested.

At the last second, you pulled back, your expression impossible to read because you felt a million different ways at once, "Let's just- um-... let's start with chapter six."

He frowned, his gaze anywhere but you. The quiet was heavy.

Without a word, he cracked upon the new textbook in a similar way to yours.

You regretted it. It would be long, uphill battle trying to facilitate a conversation like that again.

As your study session passed in mostly silence, you began to gain a sense of growing respect for the newfound presence forming between you. Whatever was changing needed to develop on its own time.

♕VIP♕

@integers @yuchacco

my masterlist. my request box.

[fanged-fanfics]

hii! I was wondering if I could request a Wukong x GnReader where the readers sleeping schedule is….uh it’s not the best, that’s for sure! Like the reader just stays up all night doing work so they barely sleep? just how Wukong would try to help or something. Or if the bad sleep schedule thing ain’t getting your creative juices flowing just plain cuddle headcanons would be completely fine! Feel free to ignore this and remember to drink some water and take breaks! ^^

👑🧡 Sleep Aid — Wukong x GN Reader Drabble 🧡👑

Genres: Fluff, Romance || They/them pronouns for reader || No warnings needed

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁⋆˚｡⋆୨👑୧⋆˚｡⋆✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖

Working into the dead of night wasn't unusual for you, it was commonplace if anything. Stuff needed to get done, and the daytime was usually filled with so much commotion, especially with the Monkey Gang you'd been frequently hanging around recently. You sighed a little as you put a page up just to grab another, filling out the next dreadful tasks. There was a small flash of gold outside that caught your attention, until the door opened and a familiar voice called out.

"I'm home! Where'd you go, peachfuzz?" Wukong called out. He usually ran late nights too, his work as a Sage never seeming to end even post-retirement. He walked into your shared space, zipping up to you and hugging you around the shoulders. "There you are!" He said as he pressed his cheek to yours. When he pulled back, he noticed the papers out. "You're still working? It's been hours" he asked with a concerned frown. You rubbed his hair gently as you turned more in your chair to face him better. "Yeah, but it's okay. I'm making progress" you reassured him. Despite the King leaning into your touch, he didn't seem any less worried. "Are you sure, bud? I don't want you pulling another all-nighter". "I'm sure. I'll be alright" you said, and Wukong gave a nervous hum. "Okayyy, but since I'm up I might as well help" he said. Before you could protest, he was already making his way into the kitchen.

When he came back, he had a few supplies in his arms. He draped a comforter around your shoulders, sliding a warm beverage on your desk. A kiss was placed to your temple as he gave you a plate of warm dinner. "Did you pull this out of your hair?" You asked teasingly, Wukong grinning as he pretended to be offended. "Me?! Never! You should know by now that I'm a great cook" he said, pulling up a chair to sit beside you. You chuckled as you replied, "I've seen you burn too much to even pretend that's true". "Hush," Wukong said playfully, his tail batting at you gently.

As the time wore on, Wukong kept you company. He commented on the work, told you stories to keep you entertained, but there was a slight plot behind his actions. He'd also gently rub your sore shoulders, keep the warmth of the blanket tucked around you, and made sure you finished up all your dinner. Only a few moments later, his gentle affectionate gestures coupled with the warmth and a full stomach made you drowsy. The second you began leaning on him more, he gently took the pencil from you and massaged the palm of your hand. "You okay, love?" He asked with a fond smile. You nodded. "Yeah, just-" a yawn escaped you "-can't seem to keep my eyes open". Wukong nodded, gently keeping you in the blanket as he lifted you into his arms. "I think that means it's bedtime, sunbeam". After you nodded and leaned into his embrace, he used his nimbus cloud to carry the both of you to bed. He gently placed you on the mattress, going back out to shut down the home for the night and put up the dishes.

When he came back, he handed you a set of pajamas and let you get dressed as he did the same in another room. When you were both done, he folded out the blanket he gave you across the covers, letting you curl into his arms. He made sure you were comfortably situated before nestling down with you. Every night he was getting you to go to bed a little earlier, secretly planning to adjust your sleep schedule little by little until you could get a regular full night's sleep. For now, he was happy to call tonight a victory as he kissed your forehead and closed his eyes for sleep

[lelengerine]

now playing... "show and tell"

pairing | basketball varsity!chenle x artist!reader

synopsis | draw a pretty boy and perhaps he'll come to you.

genre | just literal 3 am fluff thoughts, bball player chenle slight brainrot, no specific prns are used (lmk if there's anything i've missed!)

wc | 0.9k

notes | so... i'm back and it's been a long while 😄 kinda forgot about tumblr for a sec but i hope you guys still remember me TT i was pretty much in a slump + acads were crazy, however!!! i am back!!! somewhat!!! likes and feedback are always appreciated (also new post layout yayy)

m.list

the air inside the school’s gymnasium has always felt humid as it clings to your skin like a damp blanket. the place has the distinct scent of sweat — entire buckets of it actually — while the occasional skid of sneakers on the rubber floor sends involuntary shivers down your spine. it’s hardly a place one would choose for peace of mind, yet here you are, perched on the bleachers, busily drawing on your sketchpad all because of a boy.

honestly, you wouldn’t be willingly subjecting yourself to this either if he wasn’t so… pretty. he sported vibrant orange hair that matched him well, the tips sticking together from the sweat on his forehead. his cheeks were flushed from from the heat, but that didn’t bother him one bit as he energetically ran around the court. but it's his smile that captivates you the most, its brightness rivaling that of the sun, his eyes forming playful whiskers as they crinkle into crescents — a sight you've translated onto the pages of your sketchbook more times than you’d like to admit.

how were you supposed to turn down drawing someone like him as an art student? one that’s in an art slump no less.

curse all pretty men, you tell yourself as your pencil scritches over the surface of your sketchbook.

you weren’t even acquainted to him one bit. in fact, you’ve only learned of his name around a week ago? it was zhong chenle if your memory serves you right.

your friend had told you he was the famous ace of your school’s basketball team, mostly for being able to make shots from such large distances. she was shocked you weren’t even aware of the boy when he was usually the talk of the entire student body, especially during the time championship season rolls around.

hell, you don’t even care much for the sport, but he’s making you second guess that too with the way he moves so effortlessly — like he was made to play this sport. perhaps you could understand the infatuation many others harbor for him… just a tiny bit.

you continue your sketch nonetheless, stuck erasing and re-drawing a certain line that doesn’t want to bend in your favor. it seems to have taken all of your focus, as you don’t even register the sound of footsteps approaching you. a tap is placed on your shoulder, and you turn around to find the exact boy you’ve been drawing for the entirety of his varsity practice.

“is that supposed to be me?” his words are laced with intrigue, accompanied by a gentler smile than you're accustomed to, yet just as captivating in its own right — wait. why is he even here talking to you? peeking at your drawings no less?

“nope. it’s not.” you lie through your teeth without an ounce of hesitation, flipping to the cover of your sketchbook faster than he utter out another word.

“please, who else even has orange hair here?”

“who said the person i was drawing was even real? for all you know, he could be an anime character.” you counter, trying to deflect his curiosity.

“yeah, totally explains why you’ve been hanging out here more lately.” he retorts, raising his finger in mock admonishment, his playful smirk betraying his teasing tone. “don’t think i haven’t noticed you, cause i have.”

“what are you? some security guard keeping records of the people who come to the gym?” you muse, meeting his gaze with a hint of amusement.

he leans in a bit closer, voice lowering conspiratorially. “well, maybe I've been keeping an eye out for someone who appreciates my... what should i call it? anime character potential?”

your heart skips a beat at his proximity, but you maintain your playful demeanor. "oh, is that what you're calling it now? i just needed a little inspiration and the confines of the art room weren’t doing it for me.” technically what you said is true, he doesn’t need to know that he’s actually the main reason your artist block has subsided.

his grin widens, a playful sparkle in his eyes. “inspiration, huh? well, i can guarantee you'll be entertained with me around.”

“you don’t need to keep me entertained, i do that already on my own.”

“oh yeah? by watching me?”

“you just want to fuel your ego, don’t you.”

“maybe a little.” his eyes smile, voice taking on a teasing lilt, "what else have you been sketching lately? any other anime characters i should know about?"

you laugh, a nervous pitter patter dancing in your chest at the prospect of sharing more of your work with him. these were your prized possessions after all. "oh, you know, just the usual. random doodles here and there."

he only beams at your response, leaning back slightly as if to better admire your reaction. "well, i’d love to see more of your usual sometime. maybe you could show me what else you've got hidden in that sketchbook of yours."

the invitation catches you off guard, and for a moment, you're at a loss for words. "uh, sure. yeah, maybe sometime," you stammer, mentally kicking yourself for not sounding more confident in front of him.

but before the conversation can continue, a shrill whistle cuts through the air, signaling the end of chenle’s supposed water break. he glances towards the court, a regretful expression flickering across his face. "looks like i’ve got to go," he says, pushing himself off the bleachers and standing up. "but hey, don't forget about our little art show-and-tell date, okay?”

hold on, did he just call it a date? "hey, wait a moment-" you try calling after him, yet he's already disappeared onto the court. that wasn’t anywhere close to a proper invitation, but your heart flutters at the thought nonetheless.

fine, you conclude to yourself — if it’s a date he wants, then you suppose you could spare some more time for him.

[thechekhov]

Hey Chekhov! How do you start converting an AU idea from character sheets and mini comics into a plot outline for a full, continuous comic? Especially if the series you're basing it on isn't complete?

I've been following your white diamond Steven comics for years, and frankly, I love how it builds and continues the scaffolding canon laid to be something that is thematically still the same but also very unique. And I never thought I'll ever say this, but now I'm working on a canon-divergent AU with someone that's I think aiming to do something similar(continue the themes of canon but different). So I'll just like some advice, I suppose!

You might've answered something like this before, honestly, but I tried to dig a little and couldn't really find it.

Thanks, if you do answer this! I just want take the opportunity as well to say also that your comic and blog accompanied me through parts of my late teens, and I'm very grateful for you being a stabilizing influence during that time.

Thank you! I really appreciate you saying that, and I appreciate you respecting me enough to ask for advice.

As for your question...

Well, to be frank, I don't START with character sheets and mini-comics. In fact, for WD!AU, I didn't have any character sheets until I started season 2.

Think of your story as an aquarium. Your characters are fish.

Yes, they're important, but having a whole bunch of fish without any substrate, tanks, feed and WATER..... will not really make for a memorable aquarium experience.

The reality is that all stories should start with an end.

That's my personal approach, anyway.

What I mean is - you need to know the general idea for your story before you begin to write or plan it.

Let's try this:

1.Tell me about your story in THREE sentences!

Just three. Not long ones, just regular ones.

For my AU, @ask-whitepearl-and-steven, it would be:

"A young orphan runs away from home with a mysterious lady who seems more cryptid than human. He realizes that he's not human either - he used to be the ruler of an alien planet! He and the other aliens he meets decide to (REDACTED) (REDACTED) (REDACTED) and he (REDACTED) (REDACTED) (READACTED) (READ ANDCTED) (READ AND FIND OUT)."

YOU should know how YOUR story ends too! Even vaguely.

It helps if you know at what point you plan to lay down the pencil. Because if you DO know, you are always going to know which direction to walk in, even if the end is so far away it's beyond your line of sight.

It's true that when I began WDAU, I didn't have much information about White Diamond and white Pearl, because they had literally ONLY been introduced. I had to guess a lot of the details (like WP being Pink's originally) and what White would be capable of. And thankfully, my original intent for the story's end fit pretty well with what was later revealed!

But don't forget - you could also just fuck around with stuff! It's your story, after all.

And don't forget... to also look back!

2.Tell me WHY the story is happening in the first place.

There's a reason that the beginning of your story happens when it does. If there is no reason to start somewhere, then find a different place to start.

You should be able to tell me "We're picking up the story here because something significant has happened... and that significant thing happened BECAUSE...."

That 'because' is your main background information that should be revealed slowly throughout the story. In WDAU's case, we only have a few pieces of the puzzle. We know Greg's side. He know Earl's side. But there are still little bits and pieces missing! And they're all important for finding out WHY Steven ended up an orphan and WHY he is being followed by White Pearl (Earl) at the very start of the comic!

3.Tell me what the coolest and most interesting things to happen would be....and then write them!

I think this may be something that's rarely said out loud, but I will speak on the behalf of the people...

We should write the scenes we want to read. If you don't want to read the scene you're writing, then DON'T write it!

If you feel like you "have to" do a page and a half of 'lore' because you think it's traditional to have that 'explanation' about the location of your story, or the history of the species or whatever, you're simply wrong. There are other ways to reveal information aside from just forced paragraphs upon paragraphs of information that would make an SAT Reading Section sweat.

Instead, I recommend that you find the most exciting or hilarious way for the characters to discover the most important bits of info. Find a dramatic twist. Shove it into the narrative. Then, figure out what needs to happen to get there.

Ultimately, though, remember this: When you're taking advice from me or from others, don't forget to take advice from yourself, too! It's your story, after all. You know it best, and only YOU can figure out how to get it written.

I hope that helps at least a little bit! Writing it never easy, but it should still be enjoyable!

[gtsdreamer2]

   You were deep in the Amazon rainforest. A recent graduate with your mycology doctorate, you were researching a special species of mushroom that only was said to grow deep in the jungle and only during the twenty four hours of the full moon during the autumn months. According to ancient texts found in the indigenous people's temples, the mushroom was used in fertility rituals and to signify a bountiful harvest during these months before the cold winter. You were curious about the cultural significance as well as the medicinal properties of this rare shroom. You didn't know what it looked like, only that it wasn't foraged for by the locals anymore and that it should look like a mushroom that you don't know.

   Hours of searching later, you begin to grow tired and wonder if you should give up and wait until the next full moon. The sun is starting to set when you finally spot something different. It's a mushroom you've never seen before, which is remarkable seeing as how you've seen them all. The cap is a pinky flesh color with an even pinker button on top. You giggle to yourself as you remark that it looks like a tit with a firm nipple poking out of it.

   Kneeling down, you take out your notebook and a pencil and begin to sketch it. 'I'm just drawing a boob.' You think to yourself. You stare in awe at this shroom as the sun continues to set. Taking your pencil, you poke the nipple-esque protrusion. Immediately this mushroom expells a giant cloud of spores right in your face. You gasp in surprise, sucking into your lungs an ample amount of the potent plume.

   You hack and cough, but its way too late for that, they're already lodged deep within you and entering your blood stream. Your eyes dialate and your body grows hot. You stand and lean against a tree, trying to catch your breath. You can feel your heatbeat in every nerve. Your cells are responding in a way they never have to the new foreign agent that has begun to take over you. Your heatbeat concentrates in your breasts as you feel your nipples grow almost painfully erect. Then you feel your breasts start to press against your soft white cotton top. You can feel the belts on your corset tighten to try and contain whatever is happening to you. Suddenly you shoot up four inches in height.

   Your sudden growth spurt elicits an a forced maon from your mouth. "Mmmph!" You cry out as a second wave hits you. The belts on your corset snap and suddenly you're six foot five with the seams of your jeans splitting. You feel your feet break free from your hiking boots as your toes sink into the damp rainforest earth.

   'This is starting to feel really good.' You think to yourself as you start to regain a semblance of your normal senses. Doing a body check, you can tell that you've grown. Your breasts have at least doubled in size and are now very hot and sensitive to the touch. You can feel a hunger deep in your womb as if ovulating on steroids.

   You attempt to sit down on the cool jungle floor, your now massive ass shredding the back of your jeans as you squat down. You pick up your pad and pen and continue to make notes about the shroom.

   'It is clear that this is how the Amazon women in the lore of this land gained their stature, and I can clearly feel why this particular fungus was revered for its fertility-inducing properties. I feel so full of life, yet I also feel the need to be bred full of babies.' Looking back at your notes, you are in shock that you actually wrote that down.

   You wonder to yourself how potent the flesh of the shroom might be, considering what just inhaling some of the spores had done to you. As the sun began to set, you walk back over to the shroom and delicately pluck it out of the ground before greedily shoving the whole thing into your mouth, quickly swallowing it without so much as trying to find out what it tastes like. Again the euphoria strikes your body. You feel its effects ten fold as you quickly gain four feet in height and explode out of your inadequate top. Sitting back down on the remainder of your ruined clothes, you bask in the feeling of your massive body and heightened strength and senses. You close your eyes and listen to the jungle around you, lamenting that you ate the only specimen that you had found on your journey, and now the only evidence was what it had done to you. When you open your eyes, the realize that the moon has peaked through the canopy. Your dialated eyes can see the jungle floor quite clearly now, and shimmering all across the damp dense expanse before you, you can see dozens more of the mushroom glowing against the moon, as if drinking in its power. 'It would have been so much easier to find at night.' You chastise yourself as you stand up again. You leave your ruined clothes behind as you pick up your foraging Satchel and start to delicately pick as many of the shrooms as you can carry, trying your best to put them in containers without them expelling more spores. 'This will be so great for my research.' You think to yourself. 'And it'll make a great snack for the walk back'. You giggle to yourself as you pop another three into your mouth.

[midnight036]

The Craving

Sammary: Nanami's a pervert and he can't deny it any longer. Porn with plot.

Note: English is not my first language, so if there's an error don't doubt on correct me ♡ crossposted on my AO3

WC: 1.9K

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You and Nanami had been working together for a couple of months. Although your interactions were limited, you made an effort to connect with him. He often worked late, rarely mingled with other colleagues, and preferred having lunch alone, so your relationship remained strictly professional. However, since you shared the same workspace, you endeavoured to build some rapport. You would engage him in small talk, bring him coffee when he looked particularly exhausted, and occasionally leave some bread on his desk, knowing he often skipped meals.

And that was it. Yet, Nanami couldn't help but be drawn to you. It wasn’t just for how hard you worked that captivated him; it was also the way you made an effort to build a relationship with him. Also, despite your exhaustion, you always came to work looking impeccable. Like today, that your baby blue blouse revealed just enough, your pencil skirt perfectly hugging your curves and how your ponytail swayed gracefully with each step you took.

The problem was that Nanami was a gentleman who firmly believed in keeping his professional and personal lives separate. But on days like today, he found it impossible not to notice you more. Even the smallest touches sent his heart racing.

He despised it when his desire as a man overshadowed his manners, but he couldn't help but notice the growing bulge in his pants as he watched you work so diligently. He tried to conceal it himself under his desk and using the towers of papers to hide his blushing face. Just as he was beginning to regain his composure, you touched his shoulder, causing him to jump slightly in his chair.

"Sorry for disturbing you, Nanamin!" you said, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, using the nickname you had once heard an intern call him. "Could you help me with something?" you asked, holding some papers in your hands, your eyes meeting his with a soft, expectant look.

Nanami turned to face you, his eyes locking onto yours with a mix of surprise and something you still couldn't put your finger on. His gaze lingered on you a moment too long before he cleared his throat, attempting to regain his composure. "Of course," he said, his voice slightly huskier than usual. "What can I do for you?"

"Could you check this report? I feel like something's wrong, but as an assistant, I'm not entirely sure," you say, placing the documents on his desk and leaning in to point out the issues.

"Of course," Nanami replies, his eyes briefly flickering with appreciation as he notices your exposed cleavage. His breath catches, and he shifts slightly in his seat, now keeping his gaze firmly on the papers in front of him. He maintains his composure, his voice low and steady. "It seems there's a slight discrepancy in the numbers here."

"Oh, but why? Is it an error in the calculation or the writing?" you ask, standing up straight. The subtle scent of your perfume enchants him, and his mind races with indecent thoughts as he struggles to focus on the task at hand.

"I believe there may have been an error in the calculations. I'll need to double-check the figures," he says, trying to regain control of his thoughts and remain professional.

"Sorry for troubling you," you apologize, realizing the task is more complex than you initially thought.

Nanami's eyes flicker up to yours, a small smirk forming on his lips. "No need to apologize. It's my job to ensure everything is accurate."

"Thanks, you're the best," you say, giving his arm a reassuring squeeze before returning to your desk.

Nanami's eyes follow your every movement, his mind filled with indecent thoughts. He adjusts himself awkwardly in his chair, trying to hide the growing bulge in his pants. He hates feeling this way, the sense of being a pervert gnawing at his conscience, yet he can't help but be captivated by you. He couldn't work like this. No matter how hard he tried to focus on the report, he found himself reading the same sentence for the fifth time. Frustrated and distracted, he realized he needed a break. Standing up abruptly, Nanami decided to go to the bathroom to wash his face with cold water. He hoped the brief respite would help clear his mind. With four more hours of work ahead, he knew he couldn't continue in this state of distraction.

Nanami locks the bathroom door behind him, leaning against it for a moment as he takes a deep breath, trying to calm his racing mind. "She's driving me crazy," he mutters to himself before making his way to the sink.

Nanami splashes cold water on his face, letting out a breath as the chill cools his heated thoughts. "What the hell is wrong with me," he groans, shaking his head in frustration.

Just as he opens the door to leave the bathroom, he's startled to find you standing outside. Your eyes dart around to ensure no one is watching, and before he can react, you push him back into the bathroom, your hand firmly on his chest. You turn swiftly to lock the door behind you.

"Y/L, what are you—?" he begins, but his words falter as he sees the determined look in your eyes. The confined space and the intensity of the moment heighten the electricity between you two, making it impossible for him to ignore the pounding of his heart or the heat rising in his body.

"You think I wouldn't notice?" you say, pointing at his chest with your finger, making him back up into the small bathroom. "How you kept looking at me with those beautiful eyes of yours, full of desire? Did you think I wouldn't notice the bulge in your pants?" You grab him by his tie, pulling his face down to your level, your faces mere inches apart.

Nanami's breath hitches, unable to deny the desire coursing through his veins, his body responding to your touch. "You... noticed?" he says, his voice thick with longing.

"Tell me if I'm reading this wrong, Nanami..." you whisper, your eyes searching his for any hesitation, waiting for his response to close the distance between you.

Nanami looks deep into your eyes, his gaze burning with intensity. He slowly nods, closing the distance between you two. "No, you're not reading this wrong," he murmurs, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer. "I want you—" His words are cut off as you throw your arms around his neck and kiss him deeply.

Nanami eagerly returns your kiss, his tongue quickly exploring your mouth with a hunger that matches your own. His hands wander over your body, pulling you even closer as he deepens the kiss. "You have no idea how much I've wanted this..." he murmurs between kisses, his voice low and filled with desire.

Nanami groans in pleasure as you begin to trail wet kisses down his neck. One of your hands gently grips it, giving you more access, while the other roams over his toned body beneath his shirt.

He eagerly assists in loosening his tie and unbuttoning his shirt, his lips hungrily finding yours again. "God, you're driving me crazy..." he breathes against your lips.

After a few minutes of passionate kissing, your hand moves to his growing bulge, caressing it over the fabric of his pants. Nanami's breath hitches, a low moan escaping his lips as he responds to your touch. His hands tighten around your waist, pulling you even closer, his desire evident in every movement.

His hands travel to your backside, pulling you firmly against him as he grinds his hips into your touch. "You're killing me..." he murmurs, nipping at your bottom lip.

Nanami's eyes widen in surprise and desire as you drop to your knees in front of him. You deftly unbutton his belt and pants, freeing his throbbing erection from its confines. He eagerly assists you, his breath hitching in anticipation.

"Let me make you feel good, Nanami," you say, your voice sultry as you caress his cock. Nanami lets out a low moan as you place small, tantalizing kisses around the tip.

He runs his fingers through your hair, gripping it lightly as he thrusts his hips forward into your hand. "So good..." he breathes out, leaning his head back in pleasure. The sensation of your touch and the sight of you on your knees for him sends waves of ecstasy through his body.

Nanami lets out a low growl as you take him into your mouth, your other hand massaging his balls. The pleasure building inside him is palpable. "Oh god..."

You briefly release him, but continue to stroke his shaft. “Nanami, try to stay silent. You're going to get us caught,” you say with a teasing smile. Nanami nods, struggling to stifle his moans as you continue your ministrations. He bites his lower lip, his eyes fixed on you as he fights to keep quiet.

Nanami's breath hitches as you teasingly run your flat tongue over his length, your eyes locked onto his. He groans softly, "You're such a tease..." Then, with a sudden intensity, he grabs a fistful of your hair, pulling you closer and thrusting his hips forward. Your mouth opens in surprise at the sudden intrusion, and he groans as your lips wrap around him again. "Suck it..." he orders, his voice deep and commanding.

You respond eagerly, taking him deeper into your mouth. Nanami's grip tightens in your hair as he guides your movements, his breathing becoming more ragged. The sensation of your warm mouth and skilled tongue drives him wild. "You're incredible," he mutters between heavy breaths, his body trembling with pleasure.

You obey, stroking his dick hard as he thrusts into your mouth. His other hand tenderly tucks away strands of hair that escape his grip behind your ear, then cups your face, his thumb gently stroking your cheek as he pushes deeper. "You're so good at this..." Nanami leans against the wall for support, his thrusts becoming rougher and more desperate. His hand tightens in your hair, gripping it firmly as he whimpers.

Nanami's thrusts grow faster and more frenzied, his saliva-covered dick hitting the back of your throat with each movement. His breathing becomes ragged, his body trembling with pleasure. He moans loudly as he nears his climax, spilling his seed down your throat. "Ugh... fuck..." he groans, his body shuddering as he reaches the peak of his ecstasy.

Nanami smirks as he watches you swallow his seed and as you clean the saliva that escaped your mouth with your thumb. You brush the dust from your skirt and fix your hair with practiced ease before heading towards the bathroom door. "We'll continue this at my house after work," you declare, leaving no room for argument. It wasn't a question; it was a promise.

You wink at him and step out of the bathroom, leaving him half-naked and breathless as he tries to recover from one of the best experiences he’s ever had. He takes a moment to adjust his clothes, taking deep breaths to calm his racing heart. Just as he is about to leave, he feels a weight in his pocket. Curious, he reaches in and pulls out your panties, smirking as he shakes his head in amusement. “What a fucking tease…” he murmurs, pocketing the panties and heading back to his office, his mind consumed with thoughts of you and what the rest of the day might bring.

[lucajayms]

i sincerely apologize for the rant

pre bullets gerard plsplsplspls!!!! they have an office crush at cartoon network then she moves away without telling anyone and they replace her (CUBICLES BEST SONG EVER) so then he just keeps wondering what may have happened, until mcr are playing like in another city during revenge era then mikey sees her in the crowd before a show and he goes to gerard right before going onstage and its like hey gerard remember that girl you talked about 24/7 in 2001, shes here tonight. and gee just freaks out while trying to play down the whole performance becase hes scared she wont like the whole fake blood/gay/screaming thing. then they finish the performance and he goes to find her and shes like all happy bc she knew he was gonna do much better things than to work at a shitty office. and shes a big comic book artist and does really weid like blood and vampire stuff so shes so happy that gerard also does weird blood vampire stuff. and then theyre happy and then the umbrella academy happens and yea

yea youre free to ignore this, i just have too much free time to imagine shit like this 👍

HELP I LOVE THIS SO SO MUCH!

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CUBICLES

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gerard way x reader she/her used use of y/n

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masterlist

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warnings: swearing!

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"Maybe you could draw her more like this to bring out the background more so she's not just stiff," I instructed him. Gerard is a very talented artist, he just has a little bit of trouble deciding what to put where.

"But I feel like if she was a little different, due to her design, she'd go flat," Gerard argues, putting his pencil where he was describing.

I sigh as I place my hand delicately to my chin, trying to see what he's talking about. The deadline is soon and he's not done pitching these characters. "Honestly, Gerard? Whatever feels right. You'll get her."

"You sure?" He asks, seeking confirmation in my words.

I smile, nodding my head, "Yeah. Deadline is tomorrow, just do whatever feels right!" I say before I'm off to my cubicle to continue my project.

I knew he was looking at me. For weeks now, it had become a pattern—one I could almost draw if I could figure out how to capture that lingering gaze in ink. He thought he was subtle, keeping his distance and asking me barely relevant questions about some “project” or “character design” he’d been working on. Gerard was charming, though; there was no denying that. Quiet, a little too good at staring at his desk, and adorably oblivious to how easy it was to read him.

“Hey, uh, (Y/N)?” I looked up from my sketchbook, where I’d been mindlessly drawing a graveyard scene—something I had an odd fascination with lately. Gerard was standing there, hands stuffed in his pockets, wearing that awkward half-smile that looked better on him than it should.

“Gerard,” I said, glancing up with a smirk. “To what do I owe the honor?”

He chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “I…uh…just wanted to see what you were working on.”

I flipped my sketchbook shut, even though I knew he was dying to see what I’d been drawing. “Just some stuff. You’d probably think it’s too creepy.”

“Try me.”

Maybe it was because I wanted to test him, see how he’d react to what was under the surface, but I opened the book back up and turned it to face him. His eyes widened as he took in the vampires, blood, and dark cemeteries I’d sprawled across the pages.

“You…actually drew all of this?”

I shrugged, trying to keep my cool. “It’s not much. Just whatever’s in my head.”

He laughed, this soft, surprised sound. “Whatever’s in your head is amazing.” He paused, his eyes lingering a second too long.

I grinned, leaning back in my chair. “Well maybe not everything, Way.” I tossed my pen onto my desk, feigning nonchalance. “Can’t have too many weirdos like me around. Bad for the office’s reputation.”

And that's why I left.

Maybe I should’ve told him I was leaving. I hated the idea of going without a goodbye, but part of me figured I’d see him again. He’d get over it. Life had a way of carrying people in different directions, and honestly? I couldn’t stand the thought of another month behind that desk. I needed to be somewhere I could let these ideas out, somewhere that didn’t expect me to keep my weirdness behind a closed sketchbook.

The day I left, I watched the office fade from my rearview mirror, fingers tapping the steering wheel as a familiar guilt crept in. I didn’t leave him my number or my address or even a hint of where I’d gone. Some part of me hoped he’d figure it out. But after that, there was just silence.

Gerard

She left without a word. Just…gone. I tried to keep going like I didn’t notice, told myself it wasn’t a big deal. But the absence gnawed at me, creeping into every sketch and unfinished character. (Y/N) was gone, and I had no clue where she’d gone or why. I stopped asking questions after a while, but I couldn’t stop thinking about her. The thought became like an echo in my mind, constant and inescapable, pushing me to drown it out with anything I could find.

And I did.

One show after another, one drink, one line, whatever I could find to keep the silence at bay. The stage helped a little—at least there, I had the lights in my eyes and the noise blocking out the mess in my head. I’d stand in front of the crowd, hands dripping with fake blood, trying to exorcise whatever pieces of myself felt missing. But then the high would fade, and I’d be left in a dark room, trying to ignore the question that refused to die.

Where did she go?

I kept the band going, kept pretending it didn’t matter, kept letting the weight build. It wasn’t like I had any choice. The shows were packed, and the screams of the crowd felt like both a relief and a punishment. They had no idea. No idea that some days, it felt like I’d never get off this damn ride, that maybe I’d crash and burn right here. But something shifted in 2004. I couldn’t explain it—maybe it was seeing my friends’ faces or feeling the burn of another empty night. But I knew that if I kept going like this, I’d lose everything. I’d lose myself.

I finally made the decision to clean up, and in August 2004, I was clean. Free. My body hated me for it, and my brain wasn’t much friendlier, but I had to get clean. I couldn’t keep living on the edge of destruction. Every day after that, it felt like I was shedding pieces of the person I’d become just to survive. By the time I left, I was…well, I was alive. And that had to be enough.

It had been nearly a year since I’d gotten clean, and for the first time, it felt like I could really breathe on stage again. I could look out at the faces in the crowd and see them. Really see them, not just the blur of movement and lights I’d been numbing myself to. This was what I’d always wanted. This was where I wanted to be.

"MANHATTAN!" I scream into the mic and the crowd before more goes wild. "We are going to FUCK SOME SHIT UP TONIGH!"

And as I say that, Mikey plays the beginning of Give Em' Hell Kid. The set goes without hiccups, the crowd is perfect, and the most I've seen in a few weeks. Right as we leave the stage before the encore, Frank grabs me by my collar.

"Holy shit, Gee," He starts, and concern bubbles in my stomach. Did I do something wrong?

"What? What is it?"

He shakes his head vigorously, "I don't know if I'm tripping, but I swear to God I saw the girl you keep drawing in the crowd."

Fuck.

"What?!" I exclaim.

"Thirty seconds to encore!" One of the stagehands yells.

"Frank, where did you see her?" I ask, frantic. There's no possible way she could be here tonight. Why would she be here tonight.

"Our left, by the barricade. I think?" He explains, looking up to recount exactly where he saw her. My heart thuds against my ribcage as Frank’s words sink in, and I feel my throat tighten. (Y/N)? Here? After all these years?

"Ten seconds!" the stagehand yells, clapping his hands. Mikey shoots me a quick look, and Frank gives me a small, reassuring nod. There’s no time to think or even process—I’m barely holding onto the last traces of composure as we rush back on stage. I grab the mic, trying to get my focus back on the crowd, but every nerve in me is lit up, wondering if (Y/N) is really here tonight.

“MANHATTAN!” I shout again, forcing energy into my voice, hoping it’s enough to cover the wild surge of emotions that’s slamming through me. “YOU READY FOR ONE LAST ROUND?”

The crowd screams, and the band jumps into Helena, the encore I should be ready to pour my soul into. But all I can think about is her—her face, the way she used to sketch, her laugh. The lights are blinding, and I try to keep my focus on the crowd, but my eyes keep searching, desperate to find a glimpse of her. I don’t know if I’m imagining it, but by the end of the song, I swear I see her—a flash of her hair, bright eyes, her face half-turned away in the crush of people, but unmistakably her.

The song ends, and we give a final shout before exiting the stage. As soon as we’re out of sight of the crowd, I turn to Frank, breathless.

“You’re absolutely sure it was her?” I ask, gripping his shoulder.

“Fuck, I don't know how accurate your drawings are,” he says, his voice serious. “Bit it was her, Gee. I’m sure of it.”

“Holy shit,” I breathe, running a hand through my hair as the adrenaline surges through me again. "Where do I even start looking?"

Frank raises an eyebrow. “I’d start by getting your ass back out there before she disappears again. You just finished the show. You’ve got maybe five minutes before the crowd starts spilling out.”

I don’t waste another second. I dart down the steps, half-running, half-pushing past crew members as I head toward the audience exit. It feels like the longest, most insane few minutes of my life, weaving through the backstage area until finally, I’m in the thick of the crowd, scanning every face I can. And then—I see her.

She’s lingering by the side of the barricade, glancing around, half-smiling to herself like she might leave at any moment. She’s a little older, a little different, but I’d know her anywhere. I take a deep breath, feeling my hands start to shake, and then I call out, loud enough to cut through the noise.

“(Y/N)!”

She turns, her eyes finding mine, and for a moment, it’s like everything around us goes still. Her face lights up, and I swear I feel that same electricity that ran between us in the office all those years ago.

"Oh my god, you guys did so good!" She laughed, too, shaking her head. “Gee, look at you! Rockstar Gerard. I always knew you’d end up doing something wild, but I never expected…” She gestured at my blood-stained shirt and smeared makeup. “This.”

I rubbed the back of my neck, heat creeping up my face. “Yeah, well, it’s, uh, a little different from Cartoon Network, that’s for sure. But I never thought I’d see you at a show.”

“Oh, please,” she grinned, giving me a playful nudge. “I knew you’d be doing something big. You were always too talented to be stuck behind a desk, remember?”

I laughed, surprised by the surge of relief that came with her words. “Guess it’s been a while since anyone told me that.”

She softened, and something flickered across her face. “I'm sorry I disappeared. I had to move, and things got in the way, and…” Her voice trailed off, and she shrugged, a little awkwardly. “I never thought we’d run into each other again.”

“Same here,” I admitted, looking down. “But I’m glad we did. Even if it’s, uh…” I glanced at my blood-streaked hands, shaking my head. “Like this.”

She laughed, a bright, genuine sound, and I felt my nerves ease a little. “Honestly, I kind of love it. I’m doing comics, Gee. Lots of, you know…gory, bloody, vampire stuff. Seems like we’re both into weird stuff now.”

“Every time I go into a comicbook store, I look for your name.” I say, feeling a familiar spark of admiration light up in my chest.

“Yeah, well,” she shrugged, but her smile told me she was proud. “I kept drawing, kept pushing for it, and here we are. I got some stuff out that's been somewhat successful, but you—you’re the one really living the dream.”

It felt surreal, standing there with her, years and miles from where we’d left off. She was still (Y/N)—the girl who got me, who somehow saw through everything. But she was different, too. Confident, sharp, like she’d grown in ways I never got to see. And she was right here.

We fell into silence, the crowd thinning around us. Finally, I took a deep breath. “You know, after you left…I wasn’t great, to be honest.”

Her brow furrowed, and she gave me a sympathetic look. “I figured,” she said quietly. “It was a pretty messed-up time for both of us.”

I nodded, knowing she got it. “Yeah, I got pretty lost for a while. It took me…a lot to get back on track, but I’m good now. Clean, you know? And I’m just trying to keep my head on straight, one show at a time.”

She smiled, reaching out to squeeze my shoulder. “Good,” she said, her voice full of warmth. “That’s what you deserve, Gerard. You don’t need anything dragging you down.”

I felt something click into place then—a kind of peace I hadn’t felt in years. “Thanks, (Y/N). Really.”

She grinned, glancing around like she was taking in the whole scene again. “Hey, I think we’re due for a major coffee catch-up. I want to hear everything.”

I chuckled, feeling that old sense of ease wash over me. “Deal,” I said, grinning back. “But only if you show me your sketchbooks. I wanna see all the vampire blood and gore.”

She laughed, rolling her eyes. “You got it. Only fair, since I’ve got a feeling you’ve been drawing me for years anyway.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, and together, we walked out into the night, talking like no time had passed at all. And this time, I knew she wasn’t going anywhere.

(Y/N)

What a fucking life. Leaving Gerard like that in 2001 did something to me, you know? Fucked me up. I felt really fucking bad.

But it's okay. We're good. And by good? I mean my boyfriend is the fucking lead singer of My Chemical Romance. Like, who gets to say that?!

After their final tour ended, Gerard was bugging me more and more about his comic that he was writing and that he desperately wanted me to illustrate for it. Apparently, he had been working on it for around three years, and he wasn't getting anywhere by himself.

"I don't know, baby. I got deadlines," I always say, but God, who could say know to that pretty face of his.

And so I finally agreed to illustrate The Umbrella Academy.

And boy, did that change my life.

[rowretro]

𝓜𝓻 𝓑𝓸𝔂𝓯𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭

✧taglist:✧ @strxwbloody

✧warnings: toxic/yandere themes, violence

✧synopsis: Yandere Sunoo, is a young teacher at y/n's high school, the 2 only having a 3-4 year gap. He's so in love with her. She's sweet, cute, loving and sensitive, she's a goddamn pushover and she needs him. Sunoo watches you, he knows everything about you, where you live, what you like, how you feel.

And now he finally has you.... though you're not into him....

✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧

You clutched onto your books, feeling judged as you walk down the hallways. Though the school board were ok with it, and Your parents were even willing to marry you off to Sunoo, there are no barriers for Sunoo. You even tried running away, how stupid of you. Your bruises and cuts were almost healed, thigh high socks hiding them from people's view.

You had to distance yourself from Jungwon too, not because of Yena and her group, who were thankfully expelled, but because of Sunoo. He gets so jealous on an insane level. You heard the locker slam shut, sighing as you knew who it was... Yang Jungwon. Things didn't exactly end the way you hoped they would.

You planned on drifting from him like most friends do, though it was hard, crying at home, missing the one close friend who was there for you no matter what. A boy you possibly had a crush on. You found out he had feelings for you too. However, you were with Sunoo and Won hid his love perfectly, but when you found out, Sunoo forced you to fall out with him, saying she only befriended him and acted nice to use him. She had no other choice but to do just that.

Jungwon gave you a dirty look before walking off. You stood by your locker feeling pretty hurt when you felt someone pat your shoulder. "Y/n, stop daydreaming and get to class... I don't like late comers" Sunoo said as the girl rolled her eyes when he wasn't looking. Sunoo smirked when heard the tapping of her platform heels not too far behind him.

The whole lesson, his eyes were on you. The other students too busy with their essays to even look at Sunoo. Not that he cared anyway. He loved watching you do normal things like studying. The way you sort of fiddle with hair or spin your pencil between your fingers, or doodle artistic little doodles around your work once you're done, waiting for the others to finish So you could start marking them.

"Why was Sungchan talking to you?!" Sunoo asked as you got in the car. "Huh? oh, he wanted me to help him with something" you simply answered as Sunoo stared at you intensely "help him with what?!" he asked, clearly annoyed. "Math homework. Don't worry I said no. He won't bother me anymore..." She added as the male narrowed his eyes at her, but smirked to himself hearing how she handled him.

Upon arriving home, the girl showered first, silently getting changed before going to the living room to do her homework while Sunoo marked some papers. "Sunoo... are clouds edible?" the girl suddenly asked as Sunoo frowned. "No... have you learned nothing in geography?" he asked as the girl shrugged. "I thought it would taste like marshmallows..." the girl mumbled with a pout.

"Y/n what is this?!" Sunoo asked as the girl blinked "test?" she said, blinking innocently as he glared at her, showing her paper and her bestfriend's paper "the same exact answers and you both failed what is this?" "Omg we have the same answers... makes sense we study together... and we took the same exam with the same questions" the girl said acting shocked as Sunoo sighed.

The girl sighed, lying upside down on the sofa, as she switched through the channels. "Sunoo... can I go out with my best friend?... I'm bored..." the girl asked as he stared at her in disbelief. "No. I'm not letting you go out. Last time you almost fucking ran away..." Sunoo pointed out as he squeezed one of her fresher wounds. "Did you learn nothing?...." he asked as the girl winced.

The girl gently pulled away as she sat normally, moving away from Sunoo. "Babe..." Sunoo called out as he sat beside "yes?" the girl asked as Sunoo turned to her "Do you love me?" he asked as the girl went silent. How the fuck could she? he hurt her, he gets dangerously jealous he fucking kidnapped her for the love of god. "yeah..." she said as Sunoo nodded.

"Then say it." He said "Say what?" "Say that you love me." he asked as the girl went silent. "Why you already know I love you right?" the girl asked, nervously chuckling as he stared at her. "You don't love me do you?..." he asked, silence trailing after. "I love you Sunoo..." she said, a forced sincere tone, with hidden venom and disgust. "How comes you never say it or kiss me or hug me or do what girlfriends do?!" he asked as the girl went silent.

"Because you're busy with school work and at school we can't fraternize..." she pointed out as the male nodded. "Hmm... I guess that checks out." he said, leaning over toward her, pulling her into his embrace and kissing her forehead not caring about the girl's unresponsiveness.

[wanderingsoul6261]

Gif credit to ecstaticruby

James Beaufort x Tailor!Reader (female)

PART 2

Warnings: swear words. About it. Nothing else.

---

It would be about a month before James Beaufort saw Y/N Y/L/N again. She had definitely gained his attention, even if she wasn't gunning for it from the beginning. He had found a strange interest in her, and James wasn’t quite sure where it came from. Was it because he had never heard of her, especially supposedly being trained by the best? Or the way his father never yelled at her for being late? Why was she the one to fill the shoes of who used to be his tailor and what happened to him? Which he had asked himself again, but knew he would likely never get an answer from anyone in particular.

Walking into the room, James had seen that she had dressed far better than their first meeting. She wore a white dress shirt underneath a sweater vest, although the sweater vest had an intricate design that he didn't like, all accompanied by black skinny dress pants.

Y/N had turned to look at him as he walked in, allowing him to notice the pencil behind her ear and the tape measure around her neck and hanging in front down the front of her. She had only spared a few seconds, before turning back towards the notes she had in her hands.

“Welcome back, Mr Beaufort. I figured my poor appearance scared you away.” Her voice filled the air, and something about it seemed hypnotizing, and James had worked to fight it off.

He scoffed, but had answered honestly.

“My father seems to have faith in you, despite my complaints.”

“Oh, so you have complained about me.” She put her notes down on a desk and had finally turned towards him. Y/N motioned for him towards the rack that he now finally noticed. “I'm so flattered.”

James rolled his eyes as he looked towards the rack, moving forward to take a look at the work that she had conjured up. Upon first look, it had seemed that she didn't do too bad of a job, but the final answer would Come when he finally tried it all on.

“Most people don't work so hard to get on my bad side.”

“Well I hate to break it to you, Mr. Beaufort, but I'm not like most people.” She gave him a cheeky smile. “And to be fair, I haven't particularly done anything to be on your bad side.”

He had scowled at her, knowing that she was technically right, but he didn't say so. It would boost her confidence and she was already insufferable and infuriating as is. As much as he didn't like being around her, there was something about her that still drew him in.

James looked down upon, having towered over her by quite a few inches. He took In her height, sneering at her.

“How can someone so small make a job like this work? How do you reach your taller clients?” He asked, avoiding the comment she made about working in an attempt to piss him off. It was her turn to scowl at him, the previous cheeky grin on her face now gone.

“I make it work. Now try on the damn suits and let me do my job.” She punctuated the last two words with a moderate level of anger.

He gave her a sarcastic grin.

“As you wish.”

—-

As the day drones on, they had several disturbances. At a moment in time, even Y/N had grown irritated. She didn't mind at first, enjoying watching James squirm in irritation and anger at the constant interruptions. He truly wanted to get out as fast as he could.

But people interrupted her for questions, making James realize just how respected she appeared to be here.

Apart from those, people would also come in and ask if he needed or required anything. Sometimes he said no. Other times he said yes, especially if it interrupted her own work, taking enjoyment out of it. But he only handled so much, growing irritated when it became too much for either of them to get anything done. Well, it was mostly Y/N doing the work, adjusting his suits and pants as needed, but he felt like he was putting in enough work by being patient enough to let her do her job.

And as much as he wanted to deny it, she did it fairly well. He had taken in the meticulous way in which she worked, double checking, even triple checking seams and adjustments she had to make. As he desperately tried to find a flaw In her work, he could find none.

“It's impolite to stare.” She commented.

James blinked. He hadn't realized he had been staring and gone silent.

“Well where am I supposed to stare.” He already knew the answer she was going to give him.

“Anywhere but me. I have performance anxiety.” A bluff. She had been working just fine in the last little bit that he had been apparently staring at her. He Watched her movements as she took a few steps back after fixing a seam, her eyes moving over his body.

He smirked.

“Like what you see?” He asked coyly. Y/N’s eyes moved up to meet his as his eyebrows wriggled. Her eyes moved back down to a particular part in the seams.

“No. Not at all. I need to spend more time on those seams. Plus I want to replace the buttons on your cuffs. Those ones don't suit you.” She finished the sentence and trailed off. Her eyes bounced back up to his momentarily. “No pun intended.”

“and you know what does and doesn't suit me?” He asked. James hadn’t meant for it be derogatory and harsh in any way, but her eyes had narrowed nonetheless.

“You are my client. It’s my job to know what suits you.”

“You just have to make what my father requires you to for his next clothing line.” James said, as If she didn't already know this. However, as she opened her mouth to retort back to him, her phone went off.

Y/N let out a slew of curse words, surprising even James as she answered the phone in rage, turning her back to him.

“What! I'm busy!” she was silent for a moment and then her back tensed and the harshness in her voice fell. “What?” There was shock, a meekness to it that not even James expected, especially coming from her. A quiet “shit” fell from her lips.

It was silent for several minutes as the voice on the other end spoke to her and she mindlessly ran her hand through her hair.

It had seemed like forever before she spoke.

“Yea. Yea. I'll be there.” And then she hung up her phone and instantly turned around, the pencil flying from behind her ear at the sudden movement and the measuring tape getting tangled in her limbs. She had thrown it the ground, allowing it to the join the pencil and raced past James, who attempted to stop her, demanding answers.

Instead, he had received none, and she had escaped from his grasp, bolting through the doors and disappearing into the building.

His father, who seemingly had been ready to enter the room, stared after her, watching as she skirted around the corner, fumbling with her phone in her hands as she left their line of sight.

Mr. Beaufort looked towards James, who only shrugged his shoulders, and had expected his father to be pissed, but he didn't seem so, as if he knew what possibly might have happened.

But why was no one telling him?

---

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