#i tried a new way of formatting this and I think I like it better

[paintedonmyteeth]

Life w/ Mr Crawling!

A QUICK WARNING BEFORE YOU READ: This is following after the Blissful Love Life ending, if you don’t want spoilers I suggest scrolling! — Anyways moving on from that, I FINALLY got the fucking motivation to put something out after how many months, (yay!) Starting off with my new horror game fixation :)))) Finally got my brain juices going, and I thank Homicipher for this. This is probably going to be me posting abt it for a while. BUT it gave me the motivation to write stuff at least. If you also noticed I changed the formatting a little with my hcs and I think I like it better this way w/o the bulleted list, so Imma def keep this.

⭑.ᐟ — Ever since you’ve escaped the other world with Mr. Crawling, you had some small difficulties in getting back in the swing of things. You no longer had to worry about your safety, check over the shoulders for any monsters, you had your normal life back now.

⭑.ᐟ — And this time you had Mr Crawling to share it with! :D

⭑.ᐟ — When you first brought Mr Crawling home with you, man was absolutely ecstatic and he immediately went exploring around the house while you fixed him some food to eat.

⭑.ᐟ — Mr Crawling really liked your place, it felt cozy and warm, it had you too of course, and it was so much more welcoming and nicer in appearance compared to his world. Plus there was a lot of new stuff he hasn’t seen before.

⭑.ᐟ — It was a nice change not having the house to yourself anymore, Mr Crawling made the place a little more lively with his presence, following you around the house like a lost puppy, occasionally asking a few questions.

⭑.ᐟ — You showed him many things, movies, books, and lots of other things. He even had his first shower too!

⭑.ᐟ — You even tried teaching him basic words in your language such as “hello”, “goodbye”, “thank you”, or “please”. While Mr Crawling was having a hard time getting a gist of them, he still tried his best. <3

⭑.ᐟ — With your old life back it also meant you had to pick up your job/college again too.

⭑.ᐟ — Mr Crawling was never fond when you left the house for this long, so he mostly sat around at the front door waiting for your return.

⭑.ᐟ — Then upon your arrival it’s extra cuddles tonight to make up for loss time. He’s sad that you left him alone for this long :((

⭑.ᐟ — On the bright side however he likes going on grocery runs with you! Since nobody else could see him, it wouldn’t bring any unwanted attention. Of course with Mr Crawling’s babbling as he followed you into the aisles, you brought headphones/airpods with you so people didn’t think you were insane for talking to yourself.

⭑.ᐟ — Mr Crawling in general is very happy you let him tag along with you leaving his world, he couldn’t be any happier getting to stay by your side. And his love for you grew as well! :)

⭑.ᐟ — The first time he tried saying something in your language was “I love you” to show his gratitude. Though it sounded a bit butchered for a first attempt, the sentiment still meant a lot to you and it was a step towards somewhere to say the least.

[ultrabean]

PAGE 41

FIRST

NEXT

PREV

Guess who’s back lmao.

Alright, first things first is that I’d like to apologize for taking this long to get a new page out. As I said before in the month of November to December I got hit with burnout, and I found it hard to finish these two pages. And that’s not even counting outside issues.

The main reason for my burnout was that these two pages were sitting unfinished in the backlog for a long time, so when I tried working on them during my break it felt a lot like sluggish baggage, not to mention that I think they’ve clearly shown their age looking back at them after several months. My mind desperately wanted to make new pages rather than continuing on these, but I knew I couldn’t leave them unfinished. Originally this one page was meant to be two pages, but I combined them together so that they’d flow better. So the good news is that I’ve cleared up all the remaining pages that needed to be worked on, and now I can focus on making new ones, at least.

Now I hate myself more than anything for wasting my two and a half months of vacation because I felt too drained to even continue working on it. And I’m going to even more because I wont have time to work on any new pages because I’m heading into my final semester of college. As you’ve probably guessed my parents can be a pain in the ass sometimes. The worst part about all of this is that I won’t even guarantee that I’ll be able to consistently work on pages after my final college semester, because by that point I’d likely have a part time job before going into university. Which means even less time to work on my AU, as you’ve probably guessed.

I don’t think I’m done with this AU yet, as bad as I feel about having practically nothing to show for after a long-ass break. I still want to continue telling my story to the best of my ability, though I acknowledge it’s going to be harder from now on. I’ll be thinking of ways to simplify it, whether it’s the art style, or even just the format of my AU (turning it into an askblog / axing the full comic and only telling key parts of the story through comics).

Either way I’d like to thank you for waiting patiently for my slow ass, and hope you enjoy.

[fixyourwritinghabits]

How to Tell If That Post of Advice Is AI Bullshit

Right, I wasn't going to write more on this, but every time I block an obvious AI-driven blog, five more clutter up the tags. So this is my current (April 2024) advice on how to spot AI posts passing themselves off as useful writing advice.

No Personality - Look up a long-running writing blog, you'll notice most people try to make their posts engaging and coming from a personal perspective. We do this because we're writers and, well, we want to convey a sense of ourselves to our readers. A lot of AI posts are straight-forward - no sense of an actual person writing them, no variation in tone or text.

No Examples - No attempts to show how pieces of advice would work in a story, or cite a work where you could see it in action. An AI post might tell you to describe a person by highlighting two or three features, and that's great, but it's hard to figure out how that works without an example.

Short, Unhelpful Definitions - A lot of what I've seen amount to two or three-sentence listicles. 'When you want to write foreshadowing, include a hint of what you want foreshadowed in an earlier chapter.' Cool beans, could've figured that out myself.

SEO/AI Prompt Language Included - I've seen way too many posts start with "this post is about..." or "now we will discuss..." or "in this post we will..." in every single blog. This language is meant to catch a search engine or is ChatGPT reframing the prompt question. It's not a natural way of writing a post for the average tumblr user.

Oddly Clinical Language - Right, I'm calling out that post that tried to give advice on writing gay characters that called us "homosexuals" the entire time. That's a generative machine trying to stay within certain parameters, not an actual person who knows that's not a word you'd use unless you were trying to be insulting or dunking on your own gay ass in the funniest way possible.

Too Perfect - Most generative AI does not make mistakes (this is how many a student gets caught trying to use it to cheat). You can find ways to make it sound more natural and have it make mistakes, but that takes time and effort, and neither of those are really a factor in these posts. They also tend to have really polished graphics and use the same format every time.

Maximized Tags (That Are Pointless) - Anyone who uses more than 10 one-word tags is a cop. Okay, fine, I'm joking, but there's a minimal amount of tags that are actually useful when promoting a post. More tags are not going to get a post noticed by the algorithm, there is no algorithm. Not everyone has to use their tags to make snarky comments, but if your tags look like a spambot, I'm gonna assume you're a spambot.

No Reblogs From The Rest of Writblr - I'm always finding new Writblr folks who have been around for awhile, but every real person I've seen reblogs posts from other people. We've all got other stuff to do, I'm writing this blog to help others and so are they, the whole point of tumblr is to pass along something you think is great.

While you'll probably see some variation in the future - as people get wise to obviously generated text, they'll try to make it look less generated - but overall, there's still going to be tells to when something is fake.

I don't have any real advice for what to do about this (other than block those blogs, which is what I do). Like most AI bullshit, I suspect most of these blogs are just another grift, attempting to build large follower counts to leverage or sell something to in the future. They may progress past these tattletale features, but I'm still going to block them when I see them. I don't see any value in writing advice compiled from the work of better writers who put the effort in when I can just go find those writers myself.

[sknyuz]

garden fairy | y.j.h.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

synopsis ─ a variety show trip to a tiny village school turns unexpectedly sweet when the kids start calling jeonghan a butterfly prince—and you his fairy.

pairing ─ yoon jeonghan x gn!idol!reader

genre ─ fluff. slice of life. secret relationship. idolverse

wc ─ ~700

note: you and jeonghan have been secretly dating for 6 months. also, i tried a cute new format !! lmk what u guys think <3 this is a request from anon. taglist at end.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

you hadn’t been expecting to see him on today’s call sheet.

especially not next to your name in bold letters under the words:

“episode 5 - healing days: idol village edition

garden team – school visit – jeonghan + y/n”

“you two have good chemistry,” the pd had said brightly, way too brightly.

jeonghan had only tilted his head at you, all wide-eyed innocence. “what a coincidence,” he said, already smiling like he knew exactly what he was doing.

now, two hours later, you’re knee-deep in a school garden that’s somehow both adorable and wildly chaotic, trying to actually do your assigned task—while jeonghan has become the unofficial lettuce whisperer to a group of second graders.

he’s supposed to be weeding. instead, he’s squatting in front of a lettuce patch, holding up leaves like sacred scrolls. “this one looks like a dragon’s wing,” he tells a wide-eyed kid. “see that curve? totally a dragon.”

“what about this one?” another child asks, holding up a rounder one.

jeonghan squints. “hmm… that one’s a turtle shell. or maybe a sleeping cap.” you glance over from the carrot beds, deadpan. “jeonghan.”

“yes, farmer y/n?” he grins, batting his lashes.

“the lettuce won’t harvest itself.”

“neither will my fanbase,” he says, gesturing to the kids now giggling around him. “i’m sowing the seeds of friendship.”

you chuckle despite yourself. it’s impossible not to, even you weren’t safe from his charm. one of the kids suddenly turns to him and blurts, “jeonghan-oppa, you’re so pretty!”

jeonghan gasps like he’s just won an award. “really? thank you!” another girl pipes up. “you look like a butterfly prince!” at this, his hand flies to his chest, gently bowing his head. “i’ll accept this royal title.”

but then the princely man turns to you, mock-offended. “wait—what about our y/n-ssi? don’t you think they’re pretty too?”

the kids peer at you seriously, as if debating a very very serious topic within their little minds.

you smile, brushing dirt off your cheek, but before you can say anything, one girl clasps her hands like she’s made a discovery. “they’re not just pretty—they look like a garden fairy!” the other kids cheer and agree, echoing her words.

jeonghan blinks. “...a fairy?! that’s even better than prince!”

you snort, cheeks warming. “you’re the one comparing lettuce to dragons.”

“fairy magic,” he says solemnly, “is clearly more powerful.”

off to the side, one of the staff members walks by and mutters—just loud enough—“butterfly prince and garden fairy… sounds like a solid we got married pitch.” you and jeonghan both freeze.

then, almost in sync, you slowly turn to look at each other.

he raises a brow, dangerously amused. “should we start calling each other yeobo for authenticity?”

“don’t even joke.”

“too late. it’s canon now.”

you groan, turning back to the carrots, only for a little boy to tug at your sleeve.

“excuse me,” he asks seriously, “are you really married to jeonghan-hyung?”

jeonghan doesn’t even hesitate, eyes lighting up as he humored the little. “what do you think?”

the boy tilts his head. “...yes.”

jeonghan beams, absolutely delighted. “see? even the kids know we’re meant to be.”

you bury your face in your gloves.

and yet…

you glance up a few moments later, just in time to catch jeonghan gently squishing a little girl’s cheeks with both hands, his expression soft and playful as he tells her she’d make a perfect space princess one day.

and something about the image sticks—him crouching in the dirt, the light catching in his hair, kids gathered around him like flower petals. your chest aches a little in that quiet, dangerous way.

you imagine a little girl, smaller than these ones, her hands curled around the fabric of his hoodie, her laugh echoing in a cozy kitchen. jeonghan crouched in front of her to tie her shoes, telling her to protect you while he’s out for schedules. brushing her hair behind her ears and calling her his princess even if she’s got jam on her face.

your future.

your family.

your jeonghan.

you blink the thought away, heart skipping like a pebble across water.

jeonghan glances over. “you good?”

“fine,” you mumble. “just wondering how much lettuce we’d get if you actually worked.”

he snickers, but you don’t miss the way his eyes linger on you—longer than before.

like maybe he’s wondering about the same what if.

𐔌 . ⋮ taglist .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ @ateez-atiny380 @alien0n3arth @cuppasunu

join here!

[rassicas]

Something always bugged me about the fruits and vegetables in Alterna compared to the ones in the Greater Inkadian/Splatlandian region.

According to a page in the Splatoon artbook, fruits and veggies evolved/genetically mutated to resemble squids, (eg. Squid Fin Lemons, "Squiddage" (cabbage), Squid Leg Grapes, squidkin (pumpkin), Squiddymelon?) But then Tomatoes are JUST Tomatoes. No change in either appearance or name. And its known to the NSS that tomatoes were grown in human times accoring to one of Marie's lines reading "...they should've let tomatoes go extinct..." ("they" being the human occupants of Alterna ofc.)

Meaning 1: the Tomato plant and its fruit had been known to Inkfish before ROTM

And 2: Marie had to have tried them at some point and found out her distaste for them

So if that were the case.. why dont the Tomatoes have squid pun names/appearances if they were known to Inklings WAY before the discovery of Alterna? If they were always there, then wouldnt they be named with the same format as the rest? And have some unique feature that links it to Inkling appearance?

ah yes the fruits and vegetables page from the s1 artbook that everyone loves. this is the kind of shit that got me invested in splatoon's worldbuilding babyyyyyy

ok lemme pick apart your ask >According to a page in the Splatoon artbook, fruits and veggies evolved/genetically mutated to resemble squids The other very plausible option other than a natural evolution/mutation is that these plants were selectively bred to look squid shaped or to react with ink. This would make a lot of sense with the amount of plants that are unchanged. (like a lot of decorative/inedible plants look normal, and it seems like just some fruits and veggies are squid-shaped) This would fit with how humans selectively bred these very fruits and vegetables to be easier/better to eat in the first place.

to address the main question. if you have nothing but this crop of this page it looks like there's just. regular tomatoes. it might just be older concept art though, or rather the shape of the structure the tomatoes are in was more important than the fruit's design in those drawings. but right above this section, there is art for a squid-shaped tomato

and in the art of splatoon 2 it appears again, being called an ink tomato. (...next to a squiddymelon erroneously just called a watermelon)

the fun thing about these tomatoes is not only are they squid shaped, but they also react to ink color! they can be seen growing in kelp dome, the fruits change depending on team color.

(shout out to @splatreference for always having the extremely specific ungoogleable screenshots i need) beyond that though it seems like non-ink tomatoes exist. represented as sculptures in salmonid territory+check the salad. these look like cherry tomatoes though

the species list has a section for plants too!

ok one last thing I didnt realize marie mentioned she wishes they let tomatoes go extinct in alterna. LOL. i think this is in reference to her news dialogue for kelp dome in s1:

Callie: 「そう言えば、じーちゃんが子供の時　トマトとか　無かったらしいよ！」 (Say, Gramps said that when he was little, tomatoes and such didn't even exist!) Marie: 「その時代に　生まれたかった…」 (I wish I was born back then...)

oh yeah wait this dialogue. what do you mean tomatoes didnt even exist. options: -cuttlefish is just lying to his grandkids (possible. old people will do that.) -food culture changed dramatically for the naturally carnivorous inkfish, and became more varied and veggie heavy in the past 100 or so years (also possible. and interesting)

this line of dialogue has crossed my mind before and now i subject you all to it too<3

[swoofllia]

THE PROJECT.

#Vance Hopper x Reader

PAIRING/PAIRINGS : Vance Hopper x Fem! Reader.

FORMAT : Series.

SUMMARY OF CHAPTER : Y/N and Vance were partnered up for a project. Obviously, both of them did not want to be together because of an incident that happened two summers ago. But were there any other choices? And what other surprise would await Y/N later on the day?

♺ TW ! : Mentions of fighting, cuss words, bruises, wounds, brusies, scars, blood, threats, abuse, kidnappings, and more.

AUTHORS NOTE ! : I just want to say that English is not my first language and that there is a scene (where Y/N is complaining to her best friend) inspired from a Vance H. fic called Pinball, Hair, and Detention by ellemfaoh! Please go check it out. It's so good! Also, there will be some 70s slang in the fic, so I will give you the meaning of it down below! This will also be on wattpad! My username there is the same as here.

↓

Hairy eyeball - If someone were to give you the hairy eyeball, it would mean they're shooting you a nasty or menacing stare.

Enjoy your stay ! :)

CHAPTER I - What A Day.

NORTH DENVER, COLORADO - 1977.05.27.

"And... Vance and Y/N! You two will be the last assigned pair for this upcoming project." Said, Mr. Hall. You froze at the news. You hated Vance. Well.. Not exactly hate. It was more of a dislike type of way. From your side, at least. Long story short, when you moved to town before first grade, you both became friends. But because of an incident two summers ago that everyone in the school knew about, everything went upside down. Though the feeling was mutual. Vance felt the same way about you, too.

Now you are just a girl who has hobbies and interests others would call weird and lame, while some idiotic kids at school try to pester you and whatnot. You have tried to ignore them, but just can't ignore the agitating buzz they made in your head. Could you now?

Needless to say, both of the teenagers wanted to be switched with someone else. Even if it's with the most stupid kid in this class. Seriously.

"If you have any questions, ask the-"

"I'm sorry for interrupting, sir, but is there any chance that I can work alone? I just feel like I'll be better on my own." You questioned, raising your hand slightly to attract the teacher's attention. Mr. Hall's eyebrows furrowed as he looked at you.

"If anyone works alone, it will be an automatic fail. If you want an explanation, I won't give it to you, because i don't owe you one." Mr. Hall stated flatly as you groaned quietly in annoyance, rolling your eyes. "Now, I want everybody to sit next to their assigned partner. Remember, I will check if everybody is sat where they have to be, if not there will be consequences."

Cringing quietly at that last part, you shifted uncomfortably as you glanced around the room to see if anybody reacted the same way. Some of them did, but most didn't. Probably because they were so used to Mr. Hall and his weird ways of threatening. There was some rumor tha-

"Move, fat ass." Jumping slightly in your seat, you were a bit startled. As you looked up at the figure that insulted you and brought you out of your mind, you couldn't really recognize who it was. Was she one of the girls that liked Vance. Carol, maybe? You grimaced. Did you have to sit next to him? To Vance Hopper? That's probably why she looked like there was steam coming out of her ears. Does Carol still think that you and Vance are friends or something? Even though the whole school knows you aren't?

"Maybe when you calm your balls down a bit, I will move you snot-flicking doofus." You spat out. Getting up, she threw you a nasty glare. You ignored her and went to sit where Vance was. Great. When you went to his desk, you dropped your bag on your side of the dirty, almost peeled-off at the top desk and sat down, giving the dirty-blond a quick glance. Just as Vance was about to say something to you, Mr. Hall started checking as he promised, and after, he announced. "As you all know, yesterday we wrote down some very important notes about World War 1 and World War 2. Well, almost everyone." paused Mr. Hall, giving Vance a quick look of disapproval before continuing. The boy in response, sneered. "All of you will have one to two weeks to do this project. Before you start it, I want all of you to write down some more notes, as the project's prompt will be about WW1 and WW2." After that your mind completely dozed off somewhere else. The prompt was all you needed. You would just write down the notes that were needed and zone out again.

As some minutes ticked off, you felt a sharp pain towards your leg. You quietly hissed out as you looked beneath the desk and saw Vance's leg, ready to attack again. You shot a glare towards Vance. All he did was smirk. Narrowing your eyes, you moved your legs far away as you possibly could. After a while, a thump on your leg was heard, and you bit your tongue just so you don't yelp out from pain. Looking up at the clock on the wall in front, you checked the time. Your eyebrows furrowed for a second before going to an expression of pure despair. 15 more minutes. You sighed in defeat, leaning your head on your palm. It won't be that bad. Right? It was just 15 minutes.

WRONG.

"You don't understand, Bugs! It hurt like a hundred hits with a belt!" You stated while she raised an eyebrow, silently questioning your words. "Okay, okay, I'm exaggerating, but still! He's the worst! And just as I thought he was gonna stop, he started tugging and pulling on my hair!" You ranted to your best friend. Exchanging the books in your hands with the ones in the locker, you slammed it shut. As you leaned against it, you turned towards her - Maya. She was obviously trying to hold her laughter. When you started squinting your eyes and crossed your arms is when she burst out laughing. After a second, you chimed in. The both of you got weird stares from some other kids, or whatever. Who cares, tho? You were only having fun with one of the most normal girls in school.

When you were over with the giggling session, she spoke. "Maybe our little Vancey has a little crush on you!" teased Maya. "Oh yes, I hope Vance likes me! I really do!" You said with a fake smile and a high-pitched voice, making a face afterward. Maya started laughing again, but you just stood there watching her. You rolled your eyes and sighed as she laughed. "If a boy likes you, he shouldn't be tugging or kicking your leg! Not bullying the person you're attracted to is literally the bare minimum!" You exclaimed, throwing your hands in the air in frustration, face laced with confusion.

"True, true. But still, imagine if he actually does."

"Are you trying to get on my nerves today?" You grumbled out, looking sideways at her. She shrugged as the bell rang. "Maybe, but luckily we have English together. You know what that means..." She exclaimed, changing the subject as her mouth curved into a smile. You gave her a smirk of your own.

Whenever the both of you had classes together, you wouldn't stop giggling for the most stupid reasons. Would it be teachers, other kids in school, hell, even objects! Honestly, she was everything you could ask for in a best friend. You knew each other since first grade. Maya knew about the incident with Vance because she was there too. Ever since then, the both of you hung out a lot, and you got very close, resulting in her being your best friend and you being hers.

As you both walked towards the English classroom, ahead of you, you saw Vance with his supposed 'friends' and some two other girls. You scoffed, rolling your eyes while Maya just looked at them with the white of her eye. The both of you walked past the horrendously annoying group (in your opinion), but you noticed that Maya made some sort of expression you couldn't explain. Closest to it was one of surprise. An 'Ooh' and 'Aah' escaped from her lips as if she were reading some sort of fascinating fashion magazine. You turned your head to see what she was 'Ooh'ing' and 'Aah'ing' about, and you mentally groaned out.

Turning your head back, you saw Vance fucking Hopper staring at you. Right directly at you. The both of you locked eyes. As you kept eye contact with his icy blues, you saw that Carol girl angrily glaring at you. Making a face you turned your head towards Maya.

"I swear that chick has some problem with me!" You commented. "She keeps giving me a hairy eyeball, and I don't know why! I honestly think-"

"It's because she likes Vance. Yeah, I know. The whole school does." She replied, cutting you off. "Last year, when I was paired up with him for the school's baking competition, she kept either glaring or sneering at me." She said with laughter. "Who cares, tho? It's not like she can win over his heart with her bitchy attitude. Wait! Actually no!" She exclaimed, her head turning towards you with wide eyes and a grin on her face. "They would be the perfect couple! They both are assholes like it's their full-time job and are just... Eugh!" Maya shivered a bit, a scowl plastered on her face while you chuckled at her reaction.

When you both went inside the classroom, you went to your usual seats, which were almost at the back. As you sat on the dirty plastic chairs, both of you started talking about different topics.

"And then she-" Maya got interrupted by the teacher walking in. Ugh. Mrs.Young..

After a while, you started quietly giggling at a thought that came in your head. Maya looked at you, confusion drawn on her face. You just gave her a nod, meaning that you would tell her in a bit. As the class began to sit down, Mrs. Young started talking about something that clearly wasn't important to you because you were quietly laughing and whispering with Maya.

"Y'know.. Young doesn't suit her. Like at all. She's fuckin' ancient, an annoying old hag that passes the jocks so they can graduate, just because she wants to pull down their pants since she can't do that to her husband." Maya quickly put a hand over her mouth, trying not to laugh or even giggle. You could see her eyes slightly filled with tears as she blinked profusely.

"It wasn't that funny, but still. Its so-"

"Y/N!" Mr. Young yelled out. You stiffened as the expression on your face quickly turned from joy to panic. As you straightened up and turned your head towards her, you saw the whole class looking at you and her make the most horrendous expression on an adult you have ever seen. You tried to keep it inside, but you let out a giggle and a quiet laugh.

"Get up!"

Here we go.

"Something funny, young lady?" The teacher questioned.

Yes.

"N-No Mrs. Young.." You said through laughs.

Fuck.

As you glanced at Maya, you already knew she was gonna be the reason you were gonna end up in detention. As you let out a laugh again, that's when Mrs. Young shouted out.

"That's it! Detention for three days!"

"But-"

"I don't want to hear your excuses!"

You sighed as you plopped down on the plastic chair, placing your cheek on your palm.

What a day, honestly.

When the bell rang, you quickly gathered your stuff and left without uttering a word to your best friend. She called out to you, but you ignored her completely. As you went to your locker, you heard her shout out your name while you quickly switched up your books.

"Y/N..!"

Maya's voice echoed through the hall. You turned around to look at her as she jogged towards you. When she was in front of you, she panted for some seconds before speaking up.

"What." You questioned, voice flat. It took her a moment to talk as she was taking some breaths. "Listen.. I didn't mean to make you mad or get you into trouble. I just wanted to make you smile after her nagging 'n shit, you know?" "Yeah, but that doesn't mean while she's scolding and looking at me!" "I'm sorry! Okay?" She exclaimed quickly while looking down at the ground. You just smiled at her. When she looked to you, her blue eyes crinkled at the end as she gave you a grin. You know she didn't mean any harm. "You're lucky you're my best friend, or I would have done everything possible to get you stuck in detention with me." She let out a giggle and hugged you, you doing the same.

As the time flew by, you went to detention, and when that hell of a place was over, you walked to the exit to leave school. You decided to go to the Grab 'N Go later and you walked half the way towards your house, you heard leaves crunching behind you. You shrugged it off and started walking a bit faster. When you realized the person behind copied you, you hesitated to turn around, but you did. Your eyes slightly widened for a moment, then narrowed immediately.

Vance fucking Hopper. Great. Just great.

You locked eyes with him. He looked you up and down, sneering. You stopped in your tracks, your face contouring into confusion and annoyance. "Are you followin' me or something, Hopper? You weren't even in detention, so what are you doing here walking so late after school?" You questioned, raising an eyebrow as you gripped the straps of your backpack. He probably took notice of it because he looked at them. Narrowing his eyebrows, he barked out, "Get a hold of yourself, dimwit. I would never follow anybody, especially you. Stupid bitch." 'Such a lie. He would definently follow someone if they piqued his interest.' You tought. Then he walked past you, grumbling something inaudible afterward.

You rolled your eyes and started again. Honestly, you expected some more arguing with him right now, but he didn't really do anything troublesome today when you think about it. Not even a minute fight with someone. Well, except when he started kicking your leg and tugging on your hair. He didn't answer your second question, too.. whatever, but what was that supposed to mean? Someone like you?

This time, Vance was ahead of you, so you decided to observe him. He was wearing his jean vest, a mix of blue-ish and gray-ish jeans, a white wife beater, belt, and some dirty black shoes. That was the outfit he wore most. Then, your eyes went up to the back of his head. His long, dirty-blond curls bouncing with every step he took. Honestly, you sometimes envied him for his hair. It was interesting. Wait. Did you just give that asshole a compliment? Yeah, his hair was pretty! But his personality was the total opposite. It's like he was born on this planet to terrorize everything and everyone. You tought to yourself for a moment that it was because of his home life. You knew about it. He had told you a bit before you two had started hating each other. But that didn't excuse his behavior at all.

What you didn't realize was that you were so caught up in your mind that you were two blocks past your house. Stopping in your tracks when you had realized, you turned around, giving the blond one last glance.

Unlocking the door, you went inside, kicking your shoes off and dropping your backpack. You went to the wired phone to call Maya. Dialing her number, you put the receiver on your ear and waited. When she answered the both of you made an agreement to meet at the Grab 'N Go in 10.

Hanging up, you quickly ran up to your room, grabbing a 5 dollar bill, shoving it in your pocket. You closed the door and rushed down the stairs, putting on your shoes. You went outside and locked the door. You weren't really rushing, so you were walking at a normal pace. You started wondering where the nickname 'Bugs' for Maya came. After a while of thinking, you remembered it was from that one cartoon animation with a bunch of episodes. Looney Tunes, was it?

When you arrived at the Grab 'N Go, Maya wasn't there. She lived closer to the mini store than you did, so you thought it was unusual. Another strange thing is that she always waited for you right in front of the door. You decided to wait for some more minutes. Maybe she would be a bit late than usual, or was she inside? Your gut feeling was telling you something was wrong. You just hoped that The Grabber didn't kidnap her. Just the thought of that made you want to vomit. You quickly decided to first look inside the Grab 'N Go.

Going in, you saw a familiar blond hunched over the Pinball Machine, trying to beat his high score, its bell dinging whenever he scored. Typical Vance.

Ripping your attention off of him, you went between the aisles, but there was no sight of Maya. Suddenly, you heard a lot of commotion come from the side of the freezers. You decided to go there. Going on the other side, you saw a formed crowd of kids. A lot of hyping up and yells could be heard. A fight was happening. You don't know how the lady at the cash register wasn't hearing them chanting 'Fight, fight, fight!'. You wanted to shrug it off, but it was like an itch waiting to be scratched. As you pushed through the kids towards the center, you froze. Your eyes widened from the scene in front of you.

What the fuck?

Some two girls were holding Maya's arms from both her sides, and a third one was throwing punches and kicks at her. Your best friend's face was bruised, and so were her legs and arms. Her lip was almost busted. It wasn't even a fight at this point it was torture.

With clenched fists, your knuckles probably turning white at this point, you looked at the cashier and then back to Maya. When she moved her eyes towards you, you saw pain but relief when she took notice of you. There was so much more, but you couldn't just stand there anymore.

As you pushed through the kids, you went behind the girl who was hitting her. Grabbing her from the hair, you heard her yelp out in pain. "You putrid crotch-sniffing toerag, I swear to God I will kill you!" You yelled at her while turning her head to look at you. "Let me go, you cunt!" She screeched out. Ignoring her demanding, you straight up bashed her head in the freezer then threw her to the ground afterwards. Lifting her head up you saw that her eyes were teary and her nose was bleeding. She touched the bloody trail dripping from her nostrils with her fingertips and she quickly glared at you, anger evident in her eyes. As she got up she swinged a punch at you but you quickly ducked. Seeing her leg move a bit, you assumed she was going to try and kick you somewhere. Knowing her next attack, you blocked it with the tip of your elbow. You heard from somewhere that blocking it that way hurts your opponent more. Suddenly, an idea popped up in your mind. You grinned, bending your knees down a bit, hands resting on them.

"Stupidity ain't a crime, so feel fuckin' free to get outta here, bitch!" You remarked. "Oh! And by the way. I dont know if your parents realize that they're living proof of making a complete mistake and a fucking bitch that bullies other kids and projects her problems on them." You spat out afterward. She just stared up at you. And that's where you crossed the line. Before you can even comprehend, she punched you right in the nose.

"Y/N!" You heard the voice of your best friend call out to you. There was so much noise and commotion. You felt like everything was a fever dream. That was until you felt a kick to the stomach. You shut your eyes, a stinging feeling in them as you clutched your stomach with your arms. When you opened them, they were teary, and you felt a warm liquid trickling down your nose. Yup, you definently got a bloody nose, too. You wiped the blood with the sleeve of your shirt and looked up at her with a nasty glare. She was just grimacing down at you like you were some sort of creature that snuck on Earth. Out of nowhere, she decided to kick you in the hip multiple times, and your not gonna lie, it hurt like a bitch. It almost felt like you were gonna have a broken pelvis.

Just as you thought you were done for and embarrassed yourself in front of the whole Grab 'N Go, Maya shouted unexpectedly.

"Hey, you cock-sucking hackwag!" The girl turned around, facing her. She was surprised at her words because earlier she was tormenting your best friend, and now she's getting insulted by her. "Getting bold, are we?" She questioned, tilting her head while crossing her arms in front of her chest.

You sat up, your back leaning against the freezer door. You felt a slight lump on your lip. As you touched it a bit with the tips of your fingers, you realized she busted your lip. Grimacing, you looked up at the crowd. Some of them were watching Maya and the girl. Some were watching you. Including Vance. His eyes were scanning your bruises and whatnot that was on your exposed skin. He wasn't looking at you only. He observed the girl, Maya, and you. He was a fighter. After all, he was here for the fight. But when his eyes went to your slightly parted bloody lips, his eyebrows furrowed as he locked eyes with yours. The both of you were having a staring stand-off. Well, that was until someone's torso fell on your feet, hissing and groaning as you heard an 'Oh!' from the crowd. You were ready to attack that rascal again if Maya was the one on your feet, but it wasn't. It was quite the opposite, actually. Maya was standing proudly, a small grin plastered on her lips. You brought your feet up to your torso, her back hitting the ground, making her groan out again. You let out a laugh and stood up, dusting yourself.

Grabbing your best friend's hand, you pushed through the crowd. "We gotta leave immediately!" You exclaimed, turning your head to glance at her. Going past the cashier lady, she gave you an odd look. Maybe it was because of your beaten up state. Or maybe because of the loud voices all at the same aisle. Turning her head, she gazed to where the leftover commotion was coming from.

When you and Maya went out the door, the bell rang, signaling your exit. You started running and giggling bit, both of your lungs burning. You were bruised - blue, green, and yellow spots covering your arms and legs, scratches, and whatnot. People on the street were giving you weird and concerned looks, but hey. At least you kind of protected Maya. But you owed her now. She saved you from that imbecile of a girl before she could do something else than throw a blow and some kicks at you. You were just glad she was okay.

As for now, both of you went over to your house and fixed each other up on the living room couch while watching some clichè action movie. There was a comfortable silence between you. That was the feeling you needed. A feeling that made you feel safe while not needing to talk - maybe something like silent communication.. After a while she spoke.

"Dude, I honestly thought you were done for when she started kickin' you 'nd shit. You looked so.."

"Don't even finish."

She chuckled at your fast reply, laying her head on your lap as her legs rested themselves on the armrest. "I'm just glad you're okay, N/N." She murmured.

"Me too, Bugs." You answered, bringing your hand to her head, caressing her hair. "Oh, by the way, did you see the way Vance looked at you? It was weird."

"I know, don't mention it. Again." You exclaimed quickly. "Why?" She asked. There was a moment of silence between the both of you. "Because I don't know what kind of look it was." You mumbled. "What kind of look did you hope it was?" She looked up at you, her blue eyes looking for an answer in yours.

"I don't know." You stated, ripping your eyes from hers towards the TV.

"Then, if you don't know now, you will find out another day." She said before turning her attention towards the movie.

What a day.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ NOTES : Hello, guys! Hope you enjoyed this chapter. I am currently working on the second chapter of the fic, so stay tuned! If you want to get tagged when chapter II is out, please leave a comment or like! If you have any suggestions for the next chapter, feel free to tell me in the comments! Bye-bye! :D

Tags ! : @yayitsyannie @serradiary1ry @dollyzdove I edited the fic up a bit, so that's why I'm tagging you guys for chapter I !

© swoofllia

[yawujin]

─ what type of kisser are they?

ⓘ danganronpa protagonists , non established relationship , valentine's day , head canon format , friends to lovers , cute , non killing game , they/them pronouns used for reader 💌

makoto naegi ♡

waits for the perfect moment to ask "can i kiss you?"

tries not to overthink it but he knows he would be pretty embarrassed if he ended up making a goofy face while going in for a kiss

that thought leaves makoto's mind as soon as his lips touch theirs

he allows enough time to pass for the other person to ease into the kiss, and soon after, he relaxes too

his hands move around to feel them. after he tests the waters for a little bit, wandering his partner's body becomes as natural as breathing

there's not a lot of force behind his kisses, leaving room for his partner to pull away if they need to. as for makoto...he could kiss them for hours (okay, maybe not that long...)

komaru naegi ♡

poor girl rushes into the kiss without thinking, pulls away with a big grin and asks if she did alright

her partner lets her down easily, telling her that she'd be better off starting slow

nervously, komaru places her hand on her partner's shoulder. she leans in and tries not to pucker her lips so much

her mouth is left slightly open after each kiss, not knowing if she should keep it like that until everything is over

after a while, she starts to feel flustered and pulls away. she's wide-eyed , pink in the face and out of breath...

"that was great!" ...but has zero complaints for her partner

hajime hinata ♡

sometimes, he'll wait for his partner to initiate. he'll only lean in to kiss them when they've already started to do so themselves.

other times, hajime will intertwine his fingers with their own, holding their hand before going in for a kiss. it's either that or he'll let his hand glide up their arm and hold onto their shoulder.

his kisses are quick, but don't feel that way. they're deep and passionate, as if he's trying to steal their breath away (which he always does)

watch out though! his lips may be sort of dry due to him constantly licking them (a habit he does while he's thinking)

kaede akamatsu ♡

she's very sweet and tastes even sweeter

her kisses are very loving, she makes sure of it each and everytime because she wants them to know how much she appreciates her partner

kisses on the lips are used sparingly, but kaede tends to go wild with forehead and cheek kisses 😌

she'll gently place the palm of her hand on either the back of their neck or on their cheek, going in slowly for a quick kiss (that may or may not be easily turned into a semi-short makeout session)

usually carries lip balm with her, so no need to worry about chapped lips ;)

shuichi saihara ♡

the first few times he kissed his partner, shuichi was held back. he felt kind of restrained, not knowing really where to put his hands and all

sure, it takes a while to get familiar with a friend turned partner's likes and dislikes but...he was feeling anxious

this feeling of anxiety faded out little by little, as he got to know their boundaries (their new ones, now that they were together, that is)

he seems to be the type to tentatively move his hands up from their waist, to their back and caress those areas as he kisses them.

he tries his best to quiet his thoughts as they continue on further. he's pulling them in closer to him. he's adjusting himself so he can be as close to them as possible, deepening the kiss and feeling his partner's warmth.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hello, Gidel. What do you think of the dorm leaders?

I thought this would read a little better as headcanons, so that’s the format I went with.

Curiouser and Curiouser...

Riddle

He's just like me! ... Is what Gidel thought at first. Honestly, he mistook Riddle for a kid like him on account of his small stature.

He quickly learns that Riddle isn’t a kid at all. He acts like an adult! All these big words and manners. It’s impressive. Gidel can try all he likes to try and imitate him, but never come close.

Gidel doesn't like it when Riddle raises his voice. It makes him skittish, dredging up bad memories. Scams gone wrong, angry mobs, times when their bosses are upset with them and shouting over the phone. He cowers behind Fellow whenever Riddle’s mad, waiting for the fallout to settle.

But there’s a softness to Riddle too. Gidel is one of the few able to sense it--how Riddle is kind to the animals, how he longs for that childhood he never had. Gidel tries to get him to open up, tugging Riddle by the hand and pointing to the little things in the garden he might not notice right away. The colorful mushrooms by the base of that tree, how this rose is a late bloomer, the chrysalis that will one day become a butterfly. Gidel can also show him thumb wrestling and patty-cake, all the free games he and Fellow play on the road.

Leona

This onii-san looks a little scary. Gidel of course recognizes him from the events of Playful Land. He nervously watches Leona from a distance, wondering if he’s mad at him for what happened.

Gidel notices that Leona's very smart. After all, he's always reading these thick ancient texts and telling the other students what to do. Gidel wants to be tutored by him (so he can be big-brained too!!), but is too intimidated to even know how to approach. So he keeps watching Leona from a safe distance. (Gidel thinks he's being slick, but he isn't at all.)

At one point, Leona gets tired of pretending like he doesn't see Gidel and he strolls right up to the boy. Gidel worries that he'll be scolded, but instead he feels a hand on his head, ruffling his hair. Leona gruffly warns him to look out for himself, cuz no one else will. It's his way of wishing the kid luck and hope for his future--though when Gidel smiles at him, he'll shudder and balk away, insisting that he didn't intend on being kind to him.

Gidel feels okay coming up to him after that, though Leona continues to gripe about how annoying he is and how he wish he'd leave him alone. Gidel's starting to feel like a second Cheka, always following him around like a lost lamb and staring at him as if inviting Leona to play.

Azul

Gidel’s immediate thought is that this guy reminds him a lot of Fellow. They just have similar vibes of being scammers! Because of that, it's easy for Gidel to follow along with what Azul says (much to Fellow's chagrin).

Gidel loves listening to Azul perform, be it singing or piano. It takes him away for a moment and to a new festive world full of song and delight, makes him want to get on his feet and clumsily join on that seafloor stage.

Being a gullible little child, Gidel doesn't realize that Azul is playing him for everything he has. Azul will give him a bunch of food and drinks (which he puts on a tab), then demands that Fellow foot the bill when he comes to pick up Gidel. (They dine and dash.)

Azul reminds Gidel of Fellow in other ways too. Sometimes there are nights when he's down on himself and unsure. In those instances, Gidel silently goes up to Azul and pats the back of his hand--as if to say, There, there. It'll be alright, hang in there.

Kalim

Probably his favorite person of the dorm leaders, since Kalim's immediately amicable and never held any ill will toward him or Fellow, even all the way back in Playful Land. His friendly demeanor make him a great buddy for Gidel.

Kalim treats Gidel like his own little brother! … That is to say, he spoils the absolute crap out of him. Tons of food, gifts, games—you name it, and Kalim provides it by the truckload. It actually starts to make Fellow jealous at some point; he has to check in with Gidel to make sure he’s still “his number on big bro” (which Gidel reassures Fellow he is).

He shows Gidel so many new things. Here are some of Kalim’s favorite dishes from his hometown. Oh, and these are animals from all over Twisted Wonderland. Gidel’s always been curious about these things, but never had the resources to actually access them. He drinks it all in with his senses, then becomes curious to learn more.

What he likes the most about Kalim is his ability to listen and empathize with others. Being mute, Gidel sometimes finds it difficult to communicate with others. They tend to talk over him or assume things they shouldn’t—but Kalim is perfect, patient, and reads his bodily cues to the best his ability.

Vil

In his head, Gidel thinks of Vil as one of those fancy rich ladies Fellow flirts with to steal their valuables. Sometimes those women would come after Fellow, hollering about how he deceived them or how they never want to see him again. Hell have no wrath like a women scorned, as Gidel would come to learn—so he’s careful to walk on eggshells around Vil.

Whenever Vil looks at him, Gidel feels as though he has done something wrong. He just has this aura about him that radiates harsh judgment, and Gidel can feel every last bit of that trained on him.

Vil fusses over Gidel’s appearance. His hair is a mess, his sleeves are too long, and his shoes are untied. However, Gidel realizes that Vil never outright insults the obvious patchwork incorporated into his clothes, only comments on the things he can feasibly change (combing the hair, rolling the sleeves up, tying the shoes). The stitching is masterful, Vil tells him—and besides, he’s just doing the best with what he has.

Gidel likes shiny things, so he’s naturally drawn to the baubles Vil wears. His hair clasp, his tiara, the golden threads on his uniform. When Vil catches him rooting around in his closet, Gidel for sure thought he was dead—but instead, Vil sighs, and, after a thorough lecture, lets Gidel pad around on his oversized dorm uniform and crown for an impromptu fashion show. Maybe he’s not as mean as Gidel thought he was?

Idia

Whoa! That's a person? Gidel thought it was a ghost haunting the school this entire time. He thinks Idia would be great at hide-and-seek (from the police, a game he and Fellow like to play) since he blends in so easily with the wallpaper.

He thinks Idia lives a fun life! He gets to play video games, guzzle soda/energy drinks, and eat candy + other junk food in his room all day? Cool! Gidel wants to do that, too! (Fellow begs him not to become a mega-geek.)

Gidel doesn’t really understand any of the technobabble Idia rambles on about, but he still thinks it’s cool. What’s this? What’s that? He pokes and prods at everything he sees, or sometimes trips and falls, activating machines he didn’t mean too. This often evokes panicked screams and sobs from Idia, which makes Gidel feel bad (but also makes Fellow laugh).

As soon as Gidel learns that Idia has a little brother, that makes him a lot more excitable. He approaches Idia with Fellow in tow, hoping he can play with Idia’s brother. That way, he can be friends with Ortho and Fellow and Idia can be friends! … Right? Right?

Malleus

Monster. That’s the first thing Gidel thinks of when he sees Malleus. The shape of him—the horns especially—remind Gidel of shadow hand puppets Fellow makes to amuse him before bedtime. Long, lanky shadows stretching in the darkness… It’s an image fitting for the Prince of Nocturnal Fae.

… But even if Malleus is a ‘monster’, Gidel feels a sense of loneliness about him too. He sees how others keep their distance, how they scream when he comes close. He pushes the boundary, one step at a time, inching closer and closer until he it able to reach out and nervously touch Malleus’s sleeve. “Hoh? Aren’t you a brave one.”

Really, Gidel learns, he’s not so bad. Just a really private guy. If he sticks around for long enough, Malleus might ramble to him about his special interests or even amuse him but pretending to strike him or disappearing and reappearing behind Gidel to see if he gets spooked. (He does, and it gives Malleus a good laugh.)

When he sulks, Gidel curls up with him. Malleus will insist he’s not upset, but Gidel knows better. He won’t say anything though (he can’t, even if he wanted to). He only hopes that his presence—and Malleus knowing that he’s there for him—helps, even if only a little.

[cloversnstrawberries]

I really loved the platonic RE yandere you posted, would you mind writing a continuation of the Wesker part? xoxo

platonic!yandere!albert wesker & S.T.A.R.S!gn!reader [oneshot] ! !

masterlist ! [this is a continuation of this post !]

description; Honestly, why were you here? Why you? Why was it, out of everyone on the now defunct S.T.A.R.S team, you who caught his attention like you had? And why is he acting like this is normal?

additional notes; hello!!! i'm so glad you like it so much!! it was my first time doing multi-HCs, and i think it came out really well all things considered :)) i haven't really gotten the hang of HC format fully though, so i ended up doing a oneshot for this </3

but thank you so much for requesting a continuation!! i was more than happy to do it :)) i also tried a new style(?) of description, but i don't know if i'll stick with it or not </3

warnings; Drugging, hospital/medical setting, Wesker's god complex, mention of the other S.T.A.R.S members and their fates, imprisonment, captivity, general terror and confusion, Reader is very suspicious of Wesker's reasonings (he's not helping it at all), possessiveness, soft(ish) Albert Wesker, and if there's anymore i missed, please let me know!! :D my writing seems to leave my mind the moment i put it down...

w/c; 4.1k

How could it end like this? How could you let this happen?

You're trained. Maybe not as much as your other team members-- but you went through school for this, and you could've sworn you were just getting the hang of it all.

But then again, maybe there was nothing you could've done. Even if you were as experienced as everyone else-- hell, if you had more experience than everyone combined, it'd probably turn out the same regardless.

You trusted him-- they trusted him, just for him to lead them all like lambs to the slaughter;

He spared you, though. Why? What the hell is he up to?

That phone call you'd been eavesdropping on-- at the time, you couldn't make heads or tails of it. But now, oh... now you understand it perfectly.

S.T.A.R.S was never what it claimed to be, but out of everyone, only Wesker was aware of that. Not even Marini, because lord knows if he knew what was actually going on, he wouldn't have had any part in it.

Did any of them survive? Wesker made it sound like there was no chance anyone could've made it out alive. Apparently, he hadn't made it out alive--

He claims to have died, but to have come back better; reborn as something truer than what he had been.

God... how did you not see this coming? Again, you were trained! You... you were supposed to be able to spot these kinds of things. Maybe you'd been too blindly trusting, after all, he was your captain.

If you couldn't trust anyone else, you should've been able to trust him. That's how it's supposed to be. Only for him to turn around and stab you all in the back.

Even if he didn't send you out there. Even if you were the one exception, his companion (whatever that entailed), that couldn't mean much. Not to a man like him, who uses people as stepping stones. Who used your co-workers, your friends, as just rungs in a ladder; as he sought to achieve godhood.

He's different, now. He says he'd died-- and you don't quite doubt that fact. Maybe you should, but his... his eyes. His eyes gave you pause, as you tried to discredit his claim of being revived.

They were like a snakes-- no, a dragons, actually. You don't think snakes can have that sort of coloring naturally, the central heterochromatic yellow around his pupils, and the bright, jarring red the rest of his pupils held.

Sometimes, they almost glowed. The way he moved now wasn't human. Nothing about him was-- but not all of that could be attributed to his strange, unexplainable (from your point of view, at least) metamorphosis.

In theory, he was still so human. He had the same face-- his bone structure hadn't changed, god no. The only physical attribute that tangibly changed had been his eyes, and maybe his teeth and nails being a little sharper.

But something about him was monstrous, beyond those traits. Maybe it was the knowledge of what he'd done, or the fear spawned out of uncertainty. Uncertainty of what he has planned for you, that makes him seem so otherworldly beyond the obvious.

Why you? Why, out of everyone, did he spare you? It couldn't have anything to do with your age-- he'd mentioned no sort of exception made for Rebecca, who was only 18. Safe to say, he didn't have any qualms about leading a literal teenager to her untimely death,

And maybe you could argue that it was his higherups-- or whoever that Birkin he was seemingly talking to on the phone-- that forced his hand and made him 'euthanize' S.T.A.R.S.

He talked about them like they were animals, and not people with hopes, dreams-- families. Reasons to live outside of their jobs, reasons they were important.

Like they were lab rats, he'd indirectly referred to them as much during the phone call. So what did that make you?

When you were young, you had a neighbor who owned a snake. You don't remember what kind exactly, but it was a very sweet little thing. You wouldn't think a snake could be cuddly until you met that little sucker-- but in the end, it was still a snake.

It still needed to eat; most of the time, your neighbor would feed it frozen mice. But the snake would get bored, and if it got too bored then it'd refuse to eat until something caught it's fancy;

And in those cases, your neighbor would get live feeder mice. One of them, the runt of the litter-- had tugged on his heartstrings, one that seemed more intent on snuggling into his head more than trying to flee.

He kept it, and named it Sunflower. Sunny for short; and kept that little feeder mouse around as long as it could last-- and it even went past the expected age for a domesticated mouse. Much less a runt feeder.

Is that what you are? A feeder mouse that somehow managed to squeeze your way into whatever was left of Wesker's heart, one that snuggled up so sweetly-- that he couldn't help but to keep you, while he threw the rest of your brethren into the hungry snake’s enclosure.

Dinner and a show, your neighbor had dubbed it to try and make it seem less gruesome. If anything, it made the action worse in your little mind-- to add such an unassuming title to the practice.

You just can't wrap your head around it, how Wesker could give up so many people-- people he knew personally, that he'd actively sought out for their positions,

But that he seemed to draw the line when it came to you. That for some reason, he decided he wanted to keep you.

He visits you often, but not too much. You have no way of telling the time or date, or even an approximate of how long you've been here. You're set up in this strange sort of... half hospital room, half normal bedroom. It sort of looked like your bedroom back home-- your childhood one, but not to the point were you'd assume Wesker broke in and took a look around.

No, it just... looks like a normal bedroom, not necessarily childish, but not necessarily full adult. There was a dresser, a desk, nightstand, and a clothes rack-- an empty one, sure, but it was still there regardless.

That didn't make much sense to you, considering there seems to be a closet right next to the empty rack; but if you've learned one thing, it's hat you have no hope of trying to figure out why Wesker does the things he does.

And then, there was the bed. It was your average, run-of-the-mill hospital bed, complete with the ability to adjust the incline, bars at the side, and places for medical equipment to be threaded through or attached in some manner.

There was a stool next to your bed, and a metal rolling cart that Wesker usually pushed just out of your reach when he wasn't actively in the room. Like he was taunting you-- he probably was, actually. Just another thing to rub your own helplessness in your face.

Honestly, you wish you could explore the room. It wasn't large, but it wasn't small; you'd probably find very little, sure, but it'd still be something.

Instead, you were handcuffed to the metal bar of the hospital bed. As if you were a particularly high-risk patient, and not a completely healthy person that Wesker fucking kidnapped and hooked up to an IV, pumping god-knows-what in your system.

It didn't make you out of it, but you weren't exactly fully aware right now. Not physically, anyways-- you could hardly muster enough energy to turn onto your side, so safe to say that's the intention of whatever fluid is the IV bag hanging by your bedside.

And while it didn't necessarily make you out of it-- you could still think perfectly fine--, it did dull your senses a little bit. Made you more susceptible to being snuck up on,

"Good morning, dear heart." Honestly, it surprised you that you had enough energy to jolt a Wesker's sudden appearance-- you swung your head around so fast that your vision went bleary for a few seconds, before inexplicably clearing up.

"Is it really morning, or is it just another one of your lies?" This had become a routine of yours-- questioning every little thing he said. Everything he does, everything he says, could be (and most likely was) in an attempt to trip you up further.

Wesker has yet to be annoyed by this, and that worries you. It worries how... kind he's appearing to be. Yes, he's still stern, and grabs you a little too roughly when you try to resist whatever medication or food he's trying to give you--

But that's nothing compared to hell he put the rest of S.T.A.R.S through, from what you could piece together from little context clues here and there-- and the tiny tidbits of information he seems to let slip on accident.

He sat on the stool next to your bed, letting out a breathy laugh "Do you really think I'd lie about something soinconsequential?" You deadpanned, and immediately shot back with a monotone "Yes."

Again, he laughed. He always did this-- always had some sort of fondness held in his eyes, a softness to his smile that you didn't think he was capable of, especially now. He's acting as if this just another day, as if this is normal.

Like this is life or death for you, like you aren't in the den of a viper-- acting like a caring, nurturing figure to its prey. You know better, though. You know better than to believe it, that he won't turn around and eat you whole once you've served whatever hidden purpose he has for you.

"Well," He began, as he leaned over and pulled that metal rolling cart by his side. As he busied himself with preparing the blood pressure cuff (god knows why he's so insistent on doing this every visit-- like you were actually sick and in need of his care, and not like he was actively pumping drugs in your system to make you sluggish and lethargic for his own gain), he continued his thought.

"Despite what you seem to think, I don't particularly enjoy lying. Especially not to you, dear heart." You had half a mind to jerk your arm away when he reached out, but you knew from previous experience he just wouldn't care. He'd just grab you regardless-- be a little rougher with it. It didn't accomplish anything, fighting him like this.

...But it was the only conceivable way you could fight back right now, and that infuriates you. You like to think that, if you weren't cuffed to the bed with an IV stuck in your arm, you'd be able to take him down.

As if he took those precautions to protect himself from you, and not to protect you from yourself-- or keep you from trying to make a break for it the first chance you get. He knew you were clever, he'd said as much himself.

Oddly enough, Wesker had this strange habit of always complimenting you; usually, it was in relation to himself-- saying you were smart, but too kind for your own good. That your relation to him blinded you, made you overlook any and all red flags until it was too late to do anything about it.

But sometimes, he'd just... compliment you. No apparent backhandedness about it. Sometimes, he reminded you of a proud dad, welcoming home his kid after they got all A's in school.

It was disturbing, to say the very least.

After a few moments, you finally respond with a curt "Whatever helps you sleep at night.", Because you don't believe him for even a second. You wish you could yell at him, that you could berate him over everything he's done-- but with the drugs making you less articulate than before, and the fact that he could just kill you right then and there-- or at least cause you grievous bodily harm--, you decide against that.

For a moment, you could've sworn you saw genuine emotion cross his face-- but it was gone so fast, that you seriously question if your brain just made it up. That even after all he's done, your brain still tries to grasp at straws that he cares for you. That he cares for you as a person, and not what you can do for him.

...Whatever that might be, which has yet to be seen by anything but Wesker himself.

Wesker took a deep breath, a habit you used to think fondly of; because it meant he was actively putting an effort into not snapping at something, and he was downright terrifying when he got angry-- or even just irritated.

Now, it just makes your body tense. Back straight, muscles wound up-- like a hare ready to bolt. He seems to realize this, but doesn't seem to process what caused it. Instead of moving back, because it was so obviously him that was bringing out this primal sort of fear in you--

He just leaned closer. Thankfully, he didn't reach out to touch you or anything-- but he was still closer.

...Then you realize he was just opening a new bottle of disinfectant-- obviously, you hadn't gone down without a fight, no matter how futile it was. Maybe this was your brain trying to humanize the monster before you-- but if you didn't know any better, you'd say he felt guilty for causing your injuries.

Even if they weren't that serious; he treated them like they were the end of the world, when you knew you've sustained much worse from much less then a god-like being trying to capture you.

Hell, one time you got a concussion from falling off a spinning chair in high-school! (admittedly, that was not your best idea-- but it got the job done! you'd fixed the loose ceiling tile that'd been bugging for three weeks straight!) You'll be fine--!

But for some Godforsaken reason, Wesker seems to think your more fragile than a porcelain doll; and a not trained S.T.A.R.S operative (though, you weren't very experienced, that didn't negate the fact that you had the formal training, and passed all the tests).

For now, you let him play doctor. You tried your best to suppress a hard flinch when he leaned forward, and started tending to the cuts and scrapes littering your face and arms-- for some reason, he thought it'd been a good idea to toss you through a fucking window--

...Albeit, the window had been in the first floor lobby of your mediocre apartment-- and it did very well to slow you down from escaping, but still. Why would he do that? You were lucky to get away with what little injuries you had from the action--

Sometimes, a scary, downright existentsial fear inducing thought crossed you mind. That maybe, just maybe he genuinely hadn't meant to do that. He just didn't know his own strength-- didn't know how easy it was to toss your around like a ragdoll, now that he was... whatever he was now.

You didn't realize how quiet it'd gotten, only the faint whir of the medical equipment and occasional sound of shifting clothes or something being picked up-- until Wesker spoke again, startling you out of your downward spiral of thought.

"Is there anything you'd like?" That was... unexpected. Very out of the blue-- and at first, you thought it had to be some kind of test. Like he was trying to trick you.

Cautiously, you needled him for further explanation with a simple, straight-to-the-point "...What?"

Very well-spoken, you were-- but who could blame you, with whatever cocktail of sedatives and (entirely unnecessary, in your opinion) painkillers working through your system right now?

A faint, almost soft, smile graced his face-- as he, unhelpfully, just repeated what he'd said before. "Is there anything you'd like, dearheart?"

Your brows furrowed, as you searched his face for any clue on what the actual hell he was getting at.

Surprisingly, he let you think it through. Didn't rush you, and didn't seem to be getting impatient. You, however, did not want to push that limit, and ultimately just gave and asked "What do you mean? Like... meds?"

Predictably, Wesker laughed-- unpredictably, at least from your point of view, he leaned forward and fucking-- ruffled your hair?

Seriously, did his supposed death and rebirth cross some wires or what? What was going on??

"No, but I don't fault you for thinking that." You grimaced, his hand staying firmly on your head for a few more seconds, before he pulled back-- and you thanked whatever was out there for finally helping you out here, but that thankfulness was quickly dashed when he grabbed a hold of your hand.

It reminded you of when you caught pneumonia as a child, probably around 5 or 6. Your mom sat by your side the whole time, holding your hand just as Wesker was right now.

You wanted so badly to smack it away and yell at him, demand that he leave you alone and just stop acting like he cared--!

"Anything at all, a favorite food, a book, something to keep you busy,"

You should know better then to interrupt him, but you can't help it. It was a stupid idea, the whole thing-- but you had to try. That's all you can do right now, is try whatever you can--

"I want to be let go." Immediately, there was a very... noticeable shift in the energy of the room. No longer was it a tentative calm,

Now it was so stifling that it felt hard to breathe, as Wesker stared-- you're pretty sure, again, his eyes are covered as always-- you down, making you squirm.

His hold on your hand tightened, and you swore you could feel the bones in it creak and shift under the pressure of it.

Right before you were sure your hand would simply cave-- just give in under the pressure, Wesker loosened his grip.

Just enough where you were not longer worried about the immediate shattering of your bones-- it still wasn't comfortable, physically and emotionally speaking.

"There's nothing out there for you, dearheart." The strange sort of monotone aspect of his voice should've tipped you off, should've had the alarm bells in your head ringing louder than an emergency siren-- screaming at you to don't you dare try to push it! don't be dumb!

Evidently, you weren't paying any attention to that. It was like sleeping soundly through a tornado warning--

But hey, might as well start calling your Dorothy, huh?

"I don't care." Foolishly, you tried to pull your hand from his. Obviously, he didn't budge-- but it was a good sign that he didn't tighten his grip any further.

...Mostly because it would absolutely cause some serious damage if he did, and you're sure he was well aware of that fact.

"I don't want to be here anymore. I had a life outside of S.T.A.R.S, outside of you, and you can't just keep me in this room forever--!"

You don't think you've ever seen him so angry before. It caught you completely off guard, how open the emotion on his face was. How tensely he held himself,

"I wasn't planning on doing so! I'd let you roam once you're better, and I know you won't try anything stupid." There was... so much unbridled rage in his tone, that you felt like your heart might give out right then and there.

He'd never raised his voice at you before.

But you were too far in-- this was your chance, with him so worked up; you might be able to get some real answers out of him now.

"Why are you doing this?!" You sat up, trying in vain to yank your hand from his grip again-- surprisingly, he let you do so. But as you came to realize, it wasn't because of your efforts;

He stood, turning his back to you and headed over to the closet-- that was... unprecedented. You didn't know what was in there, and it only made you panic further.

Grasping at straws now, you tried to poke at his supposed admiration of you-- rushing out a quick "What's so special about me, huh? That you go through-- through all of--"

You didn't fault yourself for stumbling over the words, you were still drugged, and it was impressive as hell that you were able to be this coherent as it was.

That, to give credit where credit is due, got his attention. He was halfway through opening the closet-- and for a second there, when he stopped moving for just a second, you really thought he was going to answer you.

Shame on you, for thinking any part of this hellish experience would work in your favor-- because after that momentary pause, he went along his merry way without another hiccup.

Your heart was going a mile a minute, and you leaned over the side of the bed and strained your neck, trying to get a view inside the closet and--

Huh.

Despite your previous assumption, it wasn't so much a closet for clothes, as it was a... supply closet. Like ones you'd usually find in hallways, filled with cleaning supplies and miscellaneous home goods that didn't have anywhere else to go.

But instead of some strongly lemon scented spray cleaner and a dustpan-- there was some more medical supplies. Name bloodwork things, syringes, vials of god knows what;

And Wesker sure as hell wasn't reaching for the bloodwork stuff.

"Please, just-- just answer me!" Desperate saturated your tone, and you begged for a straight answer-- this was all so confusing. Why? Seriously, why you, why now-- why like this?

You couldn't see what he doing for a while, but when he turned, you realized the syringe was filled with something. While it didn't look particularly suspicious-- just a clear liquid in a run-of-the-mill syringe, you knew that not everything was as it seems.

In a last ditch effort of escaping whatever it was Wesker had planned, you threw the white hospital blanket off your legs and stood; you were cuffed, you knew very well you couldn't do jackshit--

But you weren't thinking very clearly, obviously.

To his credit, Wesker didn't really reprimand you for standing. Usually, he'd get a little 'worried' (thinly veiled annoyance, in your opinion) and get you to lay back down,

This time, he just grabbed you. Didn't try and get you back on the bed-- you struggled, God knows you struggled best you could;

In the end, it all amounted to nothing. Like you knew it would.

And yet, you still tried to fight the inevitable.

You felt a sharp pinch in your upper arm-- you looked down to realize he'd managed to inject you with whatever it was.

It took a few moments to register what had happened, and by then it was already taking effect. You stumbled, and managed to slur out a barely discernable "Wha.. was tha-at..."

"Just a sedative, no need to be worried." You wished you were in any condition to give him a glare that'd send any normal person running for the hills-- not that it'd do much beside amuse him, but it's the thought that counts in this situations--, but alas, you really weren't.

You weren't in any condition to give a coherent response either, or fight as he helped you back on the bed and placed the blanket back over your legs and torso, tucking you in like you would with a small child.

"And to answer your first question," Your mind had slowed down exponentially-- rendering you almost entirely unaware to the world around you,

But something about his words, even if you couldn't make sense or make any connections at the time, cut through that fog just enough where you vaguely processed it.

Wesker leaned down, giving you a little kiss on the forehead-- like a parent wishing their beloved child a good nights sleep, before he finally answered.

"It's because you're mine, dearheart. There's no deeper meaning, I simply wanted you safe and by my side. Like you always should've been."

At that point, you were mere seconds from passing the hell out-- the last thing you really registered was this smug sort of smile, like he knew you wouldn't remember a majority of that exchange come morning (or whenever you woke up).

[kaleidoscopecth]

we need a calum fic with lots of praise and him being a little dominant please and thank you <3

All I Need

MDNI

pairing: calum hood x reader

summary: it’s just you and calum in the rainy woods, nothing stopping you from giving in to each other in every way.

warnings: unprotected sex (i think im starting to see a pattern, sorry chat), bike sex, cursing, that’s it i think

word count: 3.3k

title: all i need by radiohead

a/n: when i got this ask all i could think of was “holy shit this is essentially him in the smuts of my new fic” so after consulting the “council” i decided to post a smut from the fic as a little snippet LMAO. it’s edited into an x reader, but it’s the same scene that you’ll hopefully read when i do put out this fic. ANYWAYS. enjoy <33

(special thanks to zuza for editing this for me, ur a life SAVERRRR)

Copyright © 2024 kaleidoscopecth. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

The night air was crisp as you and Calum sped down the highway on his bike. There was something deeply comforting about being with him—a quiet steadiness that felt both grounding and oddly familiar, like you’d known him forever.

The wind whipped past, carrying your laughter as you threw your head back, savoring the freedom that came with the open road. You could hear Calum’s chuckle in response, low and warm, and it only made you laugh harder, the sound blending with the steady hum of the engine beneath you.

When he finally pulled off the road and into the edge of the forest, parking the bike, a nervous flutter settled in your chest. This moment felt so different from all the others you’d shared—those times forced together by circumstance. Now, under the quiet canopy of the night, it was just the two of you, with no obligations or pretense. Calum’s smile was as bright and infectious as ever, and it made your nerves soften, if only slightly.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, his voice low, his smile shifting into something softer. The weight of his gaze made your heart race, but before you could process it—or say anything in return—fat raindrops began to fall.

The first few landed lightly on your skin, cool and scattered, but in moments the drizzle turned into a downpour. Calum spluttered in surprise, brushing rain from his face, while you threw your head back with a loud, carefree laugh.

You had expected the rain—this was Seattle, after all—but there was something thrilling about the way it drenched you both, soaking your clothes and hair within seconds. Pulling away from Calum’s embrace, you held onto his hand and twirled in delight, the rain mingling with your laughter as thunder rolled in the distance.

The rain quickly soaked through your clothes, making your shirt and jeans cling heavily to your skin, but none of it seemed to matter. Calum stood beside you, his lips curved into a faint, amused smile. His hair was plastered to his forehead, rain dripping from the dark strands as he tried—unsuccessfully—to look annoyed.

But you knew better. You caught the laughter dancing in his eyes, the way his barely contained smile betrayed the truth. It wasn’t irritation; it was something softer, warmer—something that made your heart skip a beat despite the chill of the rain.

“You look adorable,” you giggled, brushing the rain-soaked hair from Calum’s face. “Like a wet puppy.”

Calum let out a soft grumble but couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped as he met your grin. “Should’ve known it was gonna rain,” he muttered, shaking his head. “And you like that, don’t you? Knew it was coming.”

You gave a nonchalant shrug, slipping your hand into his and leading him a few steps farther from the bike. The rain fell steadily, soaking you both as Calum’s arms slowly wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer. You tilted your head up to look at him, your hair a dripping mess, water clinging to your face, but the playful spark in your eyes remained.

“We’ve never danced together,” you murmured, your voice soft yet teasing against the steady rhythm of the rain.

Calum raised a brow, brushing the wet hair from his face with a smirk. “So, you want to dance in the rain?” he asked, already knowing the answer from the way you grinned.

Instead of waiting for a response, his hands shifted firmly to your waist, lifting you effortlessly off the ground as he spun you around. Your laugh rang out, bright and carefree, your hands gripping his shoulders for balance. For a fleeting moment, joy swept through you both, unrestrained and electric, the rain the only witness to your impromptu dance.

He held you close as you moved together, your soaked clothes clinging to your bodies like a second skin. Mud splashed up your bare feet as you swirled, but neither of you seemed to care. The world around you faded, leaving only the rhythm of the rain and the warmth of his touch.

In his arms, you felt normal-just a girl with a guy who understood her, who looked at her as though she was something precious, something extraordinary. The weight of your past hadn't disappeared, but in this moment, it felt lighter. It felt conquerable. Like maybe, just maybe, the two of you could make it through anything.

Calum leaned down and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your lips, warm and grounding against the cool rain. When he pulled back, his hands stayed on your waist as the two of you continued to sway, caught in a quiet, tender rhythm. But then his gaze dropped, and his eyes widened slightly as they landed on your chest.

A mischievous grin spread across his face.

“So..you just skip the bra pretty often?” he teased, his tone playful as his eyes flicked up to yours, gesturing at the hardened peaks visible through your soaked white shirt.

You rolled your eyes but couldn't help the laugh that escaped you. “Enjoying the view, are you?” you shot back, matching his playful tone.

“Absolutely,” he admitted without missing a beat, his grin widening as he pulled you closer.

You raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. “What can I say?” You shrugged. “I got my nipples pierced for a reason. Can’t let them go to waste without showing them off a little.”

Calum’s expression darkened, his hands tightening on your waist. “So this was all part of your plan?” he murmured, his voice lower now. “Ditch the bra, wear a white shirt, all in hopes of getting my attention? Did you factor in the rain too?”

You laughed, throwing your head back in pure amusement. “Yes!” you teased. “You’ve got me! I don’t know what to do now.”

Calum laughed, shaking his head as he leaned forward and rested his forehead against yours. “You’re fucking crazy, you know that?” His tone was dripping with fondness, and maybe a little bit of desire too.

You bit your lip, feeling the atmosphere shift from lighthearted to something heavier—thick with heat and desire. “You know what they say,” you murmured, letting your hands slide up to Calum’s broad shoulders. “Don’t stick your dick in crazy.”

Calum's eyes flicked down to your chest, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed hard.

“Don't tell me what to do,” he whispered, his voice low and strained before capturing your lips in a hungry kiss.

You responded eagerly, pulling him closer, your fingers tangling in his damp hair as the rain slicked your skin. Calum's hands gripped your thighs, lifting you effortlessly. Your legs wrapped around his waist as he deepened the kiss, the intensity pulling you into something electric, something that burned despite the cold drizzle falling around you.

When his tongue brushed against yours, a muffled moan escaped your lips, swallowed by the storm of his kiss. You barely noticed you were moving until the shift in air and the firm coolness beneath your thighs pulled you back to reality.

You blinked, realizing he'd set you down on the seat of his bike, the rain slowing to a soft patter around you due to the cover of the trees. Your heart fluttered as you leaned back on the steering, watching as Calum straddled the bike so that he was facing you. He shrugged off his sopping wet jacket, followed by his shirt.

You let your eyes rake through his lean body, the way the skin stretched so thinly over the muscle and the tattoos that littered his skin. Calum’s lips latched on to your neck, causing your eyes to flutter shut as you let out a blissful sigh.

His hands slid under your shirt, pushing it up and bunching the fabric above your chest, leaving you exposed to him. “You're so fucking pretty,” he murmured, his voice low and rough as he pressed kisses down your throat, along your collarbone, and lower to your chest. His lips left a trail of heat in their wake, igniting a fire that coiled deep in your stomach.

“You're my addiction.” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin before pressing a kiss to your nipple, making you shiver. “All I need. You're all I need.”

His mouth closed around your nipple, teeth grazing the sensitive bud, and you arched against him with a soft gasp. Pleasure blurred your thoughts, but something about his words tugged at the edge of your mind.

They felt familiar— too familiar.

It took a moment to click, and by the time it did, Calum was already working open the button of your jeans.

“Wait,” you said, breathless and slightly dazed, your hands pressing against his chest. His dark eyes snapped up to meet yours, confusion flickering across his face. “Did you just—did you just quote Radiohead while trying to get into my pants?”

“I don’t know whether to be embarrassed or turned on that you noticed that,” he chuckled, tugging the heavy fabric of your jeans down your legs. Thankfully, they were a bit loose, making it easier than expected. He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to the soft skin of your thigh. “But I mean it— you really are everything.”

Calum smirked, kneeling before you and sliding your damp underwear down your legs. The cool air and the chill of the bike's seat made you hiss softly, your half-lidded eyes following his every move. He pressed gentle kisses up your leg, each one slower than the last, before finally brushing a tender kiss to your clit. The sensation made you jolt, your fingers gripping the edges of the bike for support.

Then, he straightened, leaning over you until their faces were inches apart, his breath warm against your rain-cooled skin.

“Calum,” you whimpered, your voice trembling with need as his middle finger teased your entrance, collecting the slickness there but refusing to go further.

He smirked against your neck, trailing hot kisses along your pulse. “Please,” you whispered, your voice breaking as your hips instinctively tilted toward him, desperate for more. “Do something.”

“You sound so pretty when you beg, did I mention that, Princess?” His voice was a husky whisper as his finger continued to make teasing circles around your entrance. He wasn’t giving you what you wanted, at least not without a fight.

“Please,” you whimpered, your eyes squeezing shut as your entire body pulsed with need. You couldn't stop yourself from rutting your hips against Calum's teasing fingers, desperate for even a hint of relief.

Calum chuckled low against your collarbone, the vibration of his voice sending shivers through you. Drops of rainwater dripped from his damp hair onto your heated skin, making you shiver again. Slowly, agonizingly, he slid just the very tip of his finger inside you. It was nothing—just a tease—and it drove you insane.

“Fuck—please,” you gasped, your voice breaking with frustration. “I need you—“

“Spell it out for me, Y/N,” he growled, his voice rough and demanding. “Tell me what you want. I'm not a mind reader.”

A sudden, animalistic surge of desire crashed over you, and you opened your eyes, meeting his gaze through your lashes. Your lips parted, and your voice came out in a desperate, breathless whine.

“I need you to fill me up,” you begged, the words raw and unrestrained. “Fuck me like I'm your filthy slut.”

Calum’s eyes darkened significantly as he slid the rest of his finger inside you, accompanied by another one. The stretch made your back arch, and you let out a moan as he curled his fingers perfectly inside you. “Good fucking girl,” He growled, biting the skin of your neck harshly. “You’re such a perfect girl f’me.”

His lips crashed against yours, swallowing every desperate moan that spilled from you as his fingers worked you relentlessly. The slick, wet sounds of his movements mixed with the steady rhythm of the rain falling around you. Your fingers dug into his shoulders, clutching for support as your body trembled with need.

“Such a little whore for my fingers, aren't you?” Calum chuckled, his voice dripping with arrogance. His thumb pressed against your clit, rubbing it in just the way he knew drove you insane.

Your eyebrows knitted together in pleasure, and you threw your head back, resting against the handlebars as your breathing came in shallow, uneven gasps. “Please,” you begged, your voice breaking. “I want to come on your cock.”

Your words seemed to ignite something in him. Calum withdrew his hand, leaving you whimpering at the loss. Without hesitation, he brought his fingers to his mouth, licking them clean with a deliberate slowness, his dark eyes locked on yours.

You barely had a moment to catch your breath before he focused his attention on the button of his jeans, shoving them down just enough along with his boxers. His cock sprang free, hard and heavy, slapping against his stomach as he leaned closer.

“You want more, Princess?” he growled, the teasing edge in his voice making your toes curl. He dragged the tip over your swollen clit, eliciting a sharp cry from you.

“Then you're gonna fucking take it,” he snarled, his lips brushing your ear as he spoke. “You're gonna take it so well for me, like the good little whore you are.”

You found yourself nodding eagerly, your breathing having hitched at his words. You gripped his biceps tightly as he sank into you inch by inch, seemingly determined to drag the moment on for as long as he could. Finally, when he was buried to the hilt, he let out a moan. “You feel so fucking good,” He muttered. “So wet, so fucking tight. Love this pretty little pussy, and it’s all mine.”

“It's yours,” you gasped, your voice breathless and shaky as Calum began snapping his hips against yours with an unrelenting rhythm. He didn't give you a moment to adjust, the sharp edge of the pain only heightening the overwhelming pleasure that coursed through you. You felt stretched, completely filled, as your nails raked down his back without mercy.

He hissed at the sensation, his breath catching before he crushed his lips to yours in a bruising, desperate kiss. His hips continued their punishing pace, each thrust driving you harder against the cool, unyielding metal of his bike. The intensity of it all blurred the lines between pain and pleasure, leaving nothing but raw, electric connection in its wake.

Your head fell back as you cried out into the night, droplets of water still falling onto your bodies, making everything so much slicker. You shivered as Calum began to suck at your sweet spot right where your pulse beat, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin.

“Look at you,” He moaned between kisses. “Taking me so well, it’s like you were made for this, made to take my cock, weren’t you? My filthy little slut.”

“I’m yours.” You were beginning to grow dizzy with how much the pleasure began to build up in your stomach, the familiar sense of nearing the edge finally occurring. “Fuck, I’m all yours, made for you.”

Your thighs trembled, your entire body tightening around him as he continued to pound into you. “I’m so close,” you sobbed into his shoulder. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop.”

Calum’s thumb found your clit again, rubbing tight, deliberate circles around it as his hips continued to snap into yours. “Come for me, Princess,” he urged, his voice commanding. “Clench around me— make a mess out of my cock.”

With a broken cry, you felt your orgasm finally wash over you with such intensity that your vision went black for a second. Your nails dug harshly into Calum’s biceps as you rode out your high, quickly growing more and more sensitive.

Your moans quickly shifted into overstimulated whimpers as your body writhed beneath him, your muscles twitching with sensitivity. You tried to pull away, but Calum's firm grip on your hips kept you in place.

“Sit still, babygirl,” he commanded, his voice rough and strained as his thrusts became more erratic. “I told you to take it, so take it.”

You bit down on your lip, the cool rain mingling with the heat radiating off your skin as you surrendered to him, letting him use you to chase his release. Your breaths came in short, shallow gasps, and before you could think better of it, the words tumbled out of her mouth.

“Come on my face,” you whispered, the request barely audible over the rain.

Calum froze for a moment, your words hitting him like a lightning bolt. Then, with a guttural groan, he pulled out of you, stumbling back off the bike in his urgency. His hand worked furiously over himself, his eyes locked on yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch.

You felt a fleeting emptiness as he left you, but the anticipation building in your chest quickly replaced it. You leaned back against the handlebars, sticking your tongue out and meeting his gaze with a mix of submission and challenge.

That was all it took. With a strained, guttural moan, Calum finally gave in, his release spilling onto your waiting tongue and heated skin. You moaned softly at the taste, your fingers reaching up to wipe the streaks from your cheeks, gathering as much as you could.

Calum watched you, wide-eyed and breathless, his chest still heaving. His mouth fell open as you licked your fingers clean, your eyes fluttering shut in satisfaction. “Taste so fucking good,” you murmured, your voice husky and dripping with praise.

Before you could say anything else, Calum closed the distance between them, crashing his lips against your. It was quick but heated, his tongue exploring your mouth— seemingly desperate to taste himself.

When he pulled away, still breathless, Calum looked down at you with awe etched across his face. “You're so perfect,” he whispered, his voice soft but full of conviction.

Quickly, he tucked himself back into his pants and helped you shimmy into yours, his movements gentle but efficient. Your shirt was still bunched up just below your collarbone, and he couldn't resist leaning down to place a lingering kiss on each hardened nipple before reluctantly pulling the fabric down to cover you. The wet fabric was more than a little uncomfortable, but you could hardly bring yourself to care.

“Only for you,” you murmured, your voice tender as you watched him. You loved the way his fingers brushed through your damp hair, the way his gaze held yours as if you were the most precious thing in the world.

Calum's lips quirked into a small, shy smile as he leaned in to press a soft, chaste kiss to your lips. “I really hope so,” he murmured, his tone carrying an unexpected vulnerability.

He squeezed your hand, intertwining your fingers as he straightened up. “But we should get back before we both catch a cold,” he added with a playful grin, his voice light and teasing, though his eyes still shone with unspoken affection.

You let out a soft, resigned sigh. “You're probably right,” you pouted, resting your head against his chest. You didn't want this moment to end, finding comfort in the quiet of the forest and the gentle rain as long as Calum was there.

“Don't sound too sad,” Calum murmured, tilting your chin up so your eyes met. His expression was warm, teasing. “We can head back, take a hot shower, get rid of these soaked clothes. Maybe do this—” he gestured to the bike with a shy smile. “Once or twice more.”

You grinned, your lips curving against his as you leaned forward to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “You really know how to cheer a girl up,” you teased, lacing your fingers with his. “I'm down. Though, I might be up for more than one or two extra rounds.Who knows?”

Calum shook his head, a low laugh rumbling in his chest. “Yeah,” he said, smiling. “Maybe I should stick my dick in crazy more often.”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

send in your requests, this has been fun!!!

[bloodiedvisions]

Jealous!Mr. Scarletella x gn!reader. Reader is kind of pissed off by Scarletella's antics but is still fairly nice to him and reasonable. SFW, no warnings I can think of, mainly communication issues that the reader sorts out and canon-typical stuff. Might read the slightest bit suggestive, but really it's the Scarlet Rain ending power dynamic.

Formatting notes: [italics] — other world's language.

You stormed into the room you had been staying in for the past few days, Scarletella following closely with his head lowered. He didn't show any surprise when you practically slammed the door closed and didn't raise his eyes from the floor. If you didn't know any better, you might have even thought that he was sorry.

You were visiting the others, as you did from time to time. Mr. Silvair and Mr. Chopped stayed near the former's lab most of the time and didn't usually follow you when you went exploring the world with Scarletella. Mr. Crawling followed you more often at first, but with Scarletella sticking to your side like super glue, they were bound to clash. You didn't personally witness much animosity between the two, but with time little Crawly started staying at the lab with Mr. Silvair more. He was still just as happy to see you every time, but it was difficult not to notice that he tried to avoid Scarletella. He also seemed sadder when you paid much attention to Scarletella, somehow different to when you were with Mr. Chopped or Mr. Silvair. So, he followed you less while exploring these days and it seemed cruel to ask him to. He was usually happy enough to stick around the lab, and seeing him do well was nice.

Unfortunately, your very own Scarletella didn't seem to share that sentiment. Just a few minutes earlier, you were hanging around with Crawling, listening to what he had been up to since you last saw him and petting his hair. He beamed at you as he told you about the new path he took to get Mr. Chopped to the hairdresser, when you saw the room go bright red. One look at Scarletella made it clear that it was, indeed, his doing. Frowning at him in warning did nothing, and instead you found the space around you transforming and shifting until you were standing in the apartments.

You stepped close to the man responsible for the sudden change, not an ounce of remorse visible on his face at that moment. His eyes were stormy, his desperation clear, even as he did not move towards you. You shook your head and tried to convey your disappointment in the way you looked at him.

"[Cannot bring elsewhere. Not do. Bring me room again]" you told him sternly.

He looked a bit guiltier at that, but shook his head.

"[Cannot]." was his simple answer. That was where you started getting angry at him.

"[Bring me room again. I not like.]"

"[Cannot]," he stood his ground, even as he started looking more and more like a kicked puppy. But that only fueled your anger, as you were quite fed up with the way he treated your friends as it was.

"[I leave]." At your words, his hand shot out and he grabbed your wrist, his grip tight and eyes wild.

"[Not leave, want you to not leave]," he almost whispered, the intensity in his tone palpable.

"[Bring me room again]", you insisted sternly. He lowered his eyes to the floor, closed them as if trying to gather the strength to do as you had told him. And within a moment, you were standing in front of a sad and startled Mr. Crawling.

You ripped your wrist out of Scarletella's grip and turned to your little Crawly, patting his head right away and smiling at him. He leaned into your touch as soon as he felt your hand on his head.

"[Pet-pet]," you smiled at him. "[Sorry. I not want to leave, I want to speak you.]"

Crawling nodded in understanding, but did not continue talking as you pet him. Scarletella stayed still and silent. In a few moments, you leaned down to give Crawling a forehead kiss (you had introduced him to them some time ago and he was extraordinarily happy about the act) and promised to return soon. After confirmation from him, you looked at Scarletella and gestured for him to follow you.

That was how you found yourself in the room, with the tall mountain of a man looking like a guilty puppy next to you.

But you were not having it.

"Kneel," you told him in your language. You found that the longer you travelled with him and the closer you let your connection with his umbrella be, the more he started to understand human language. It was still very hit-and-miss, and he could only grasp very simple concepts, but it definitely made communication easier. He kneeled in front of your bed, his hands clutching his umbrella across his lap and his eyes still on the floor.

You shook your head and took a breath to steady your temper. Scarletella didn't often get like that and would usually listen without throwing tantrums. So, it seemed that hearing him out might be the more effective approach, no matter your annoyance at his behaviour.

That didn't mean you couldn't make him squirm a little, to make sure the lesson stuck. You took your time walking around the room to put down your crowbar and sort through the bag with bits and pieces from the human world that you sometimes collected while exploring. This time you scored some manga you had never read before, which was pretty exciting. There was also a half-used notebook with a pencil tucked into its spiral, could come in kind of handy. You looked through its contents, which mostly seemed to be grocery lists and some random calculations, and afterwards you glanced at Scarletella from the corner of your eye. He had not moved from his position, nor did he look up. Good.

Satisfied with the time he'd had to stew, you moved to the bed and sat in front of him. When he didn't move, you lifted his chin with your hand, prompting him to look at you. His gaze was intense, but none of the warring emotions from earlier could be found; instead, he seemed to revel in being close to you, no matter why or how. You clicked your tongue to convey your disappointment, but that didn't change the emotions in his eyes.

"[Why you bring me elsewhere?]" you asked, your tone as cold as you could purposefully make it. Scarletella blinked, which he sometimes did instead of looking away.

"[You speak them. You not speak me]," he said, as if that answered everything. You raised your eyebrow to prompt him to explain further. He did not elaborate, just stared.

"[I speak you much. I speak] Crawling [a little. Why you bring me elsewhere?]" you continued your questioning, unimpressed with his reasoning. At that point, it seemed that he at least started to understand what displeased you, and his eyes got sadder. You stood your ground and looked at him, expecting an answer.

"[I like you. I want to speak you much. I want together you much. Want you to not speak them, want you to speak me. Want you to like me.]"

You couldn't help sighing at his honesty. He sounded rather lost, in a way he hadn't seemed since you defeated him at the apartments and took his umbrella. It had been obvious that he was pretty much obsessed with you, and seeing him lost or sad because of that wasn't your intention for this conversation. But he couldn't get away with stunts like that either.

"[I speak you much. I speak them little. I want to speak you, I want to speak them. I not like you bring me elsewhere. I like together you, I not leave]," you tried to explain yourself as best you could, with the limited language you had. "[You not bring me elsewhere, I not leave you.] Okay?"

He stared at you, his uncannily wide eyes hopeful.

"[You like together me? You not leave?]"

"[I not leave]," you nodded. "[You not bring me elsewhere?]"

"[Alright, I not bring you elsewhere]," he nodded enthusiastically as he stared almost uncomfortably deep into your eyes. It was a little funny how easy he was to please sometimes. After a small pause of just looking at you, he spoke up again, quieter this time, "[Want you to pet me.]"

"[What?]" You were caught a little off-guard. Cuddling with Scarletella had become fairly normal since your insomnia incident, but the two of you weren't particularly touchy most of the time.

"[You pet them. Want you to pet me.]"

You couldn't hold back a small chuckle at his obvious jealousy but obliged nonetheless. Your hand found its way from under Scarletella's chin into his bright red hair, cool and soft, and you made gentle stroking motions. For a few moments, the man held eye contact with you, but his eyes soon fluttered shut as he leaned his head towards you, as if trying to get as much touch as he possibly could. Shaking your head in amusement, you added your other hand to his hair as well, which prompted him to inhale sharply. He didn't need to breathe, and you suspected that he adopted these small human gestures semi-consciously to show emotions. Either way, he leaned forward until his forehead rested against your knees as you continued petting his hair.

"[Thank you]," you heard him whisper. It was sweet, in a way, how needy he was. And sure, having him stick so close didn't come without issues, but he wasn't impossible to reason with most of the time. And moments like this one, when you had his head rest in your lap as you played with his soft hair, might just make keeping him around worth it.

A/N: I have some ideas for a NSFW continuation of this fic with m!reader, but idk yet when or if I'll actually get to it. Also did you know that chances that a fic writer will write another work get higher the more you talk to them about their work? Everyone can do whatever they want forever, but if you do want more writing, you are welcome to drop an ask, a dm, a note on a post, whatever you like best.

[scientia-rex]

Hi Dr. Kristophine, do you have any advice on what kind of information doctors need for medical issues that are more nebulous than "my knees hurt"? I've been feeling Weird and Bad in a way that has me concerned, but I'm afraid to make an appointment because I don't know what to say that will get the Weird and Bad feeling across in an actionable way. Going to the doctor takes SO much energy that I don't have to waste and I don't want them to just take a blood test and say everything's fine go home (again).

The best thing you can do with medical information you're trying to prepare for your medical provider, as a lay person, is be as specific as possible.

-Location: Is it one place in particular, or everywhere? Does it stay in one place, or move around?

-Timing: When did it start? Did it come on suddenly or slowly? Does it happen continuously? Does it come and go? Is it always there to some extent, but it gets better and worse? On a scale of 1-10, with 1 being fine and 10 being the worst you can imagine, how bad is it at its best, and how bad is it at its worst? How much time does it spend really bad vs only kind of bad?

-Quality: If it's pain, is it aching, burning, stabbing, dull, electrical zap, etc.? If it's not pain, what is it? Is it discomfort? Is it weakness--i.e., you can't do that thing? Is it fatigue--like maybe you can still push through doing the thing but it feels like you're trying to wade through mud to do it? Is it a racing heart, sweating, pressure?

-Triggers: Does something in particular set it off? A time of day, a food, an action, a medication, a thought? A surprisingly common trigger for migraines is sitting still with your neck in one position. (New research suggests that necks are critical to migraine formation, to which I yelled out loud at the paper, no duh!) There may be triggers you haven't noticed; try keeping a symptom diary, where you note down when you have episodes and what you were doing beforehand, what you ate that day, menstrual phase, etc. Any detail that you can remember, whether or not it seems relevant at the time.

I cannot tell you how many times I've dug deeper into a chronic issue only to discover that the patient can, in fact, tell me what the trigger is, but because it's something important to them, they simply haven't noticed. May subconsciously even avoided noticing. Do you get migraines every time you DM? Do you need to work a stretch break into your D&D session?

There can also absolutely be multiple triggers--I know I'll get migraines if I don't sleep, if I'm sick, if I sit still for too long, if I have dental work, etc.

So bring in all the info you can. Write it down if you're afraid you'll forget. Don't hand it to the MA, too many doctors will go "oh my GOD they brought a LIST how high-maintenance" and tune out. Hang on to it but tell them about everything.

I don't expect patients to be able to tell me "I believe I've had a left radial styloid fracture" but I do expect them to tell me "I fell and tried to catch myself with my left hand and now my wrist hurts," and that's good enough. The rest of it is my job. When it's something more vague, like "I started feeling different and bad about six months ago," any other information helps. Did you start a new med around then? Are you going through menopause? Do you struggle with anxiety? Do you have first-degree relatives (parent, sibling, or child) with genetic disorders, autoimmune disorders, etc.? Do you have a history of anemia? Are you vegan? Have you started having night sweats and unexplained weight loss? Did you recently travel internationally? This can go a lot more different directions than a hurty wrist, so bring in all the info you can.

And keep in mind that modern medicine is very limited--much more so than most people think. There is an excellent chance that medicine will not be able to diagnose your condition. It may still be able to offer treatment. It may fall on your shoulders to manage it as best you can, knowing that doctors don't have answers. Nobody can tell me why I have chronic pain, and I don't mean as in "I've asked doctors and they don't know," I mean "I've personally scoured the literature and had the relevant and appropriate tests and no one can know at this phase of medical knowledge." So I deal with it, I've stopped trying to push myself past my reserves because people who can't admit to ignorance tell me to, I keep my painful body moving because that helps, I do PT, I take a multivitamin occasionally because I know my diet sucks. I manage.

There are not always right or wrong answers--I don't take gabapentin, because I don't want the sedation and kidney exposure, but patients with my exact symptoms might find it helpful and may find the risks and costs worth the benefits. My mother, who has whatever it is that I have, right down to the tricky stomach, from whom I presumably inherited it, has taken medication at different points in her life, depending on how much pain she was in and what other responsibilities she has, and that is perfectly reasonable. Autonomy matters. People have to be able to make these choices for themselves, with assistance but not paternalism from their medical professionals, because the math is different for everyone.

[ammoknightsofficial]

Translating the Dev's Headcanon Spread for Kyle's Family

Alright, so, I've gotten my hands on the Monster Hunter Stories 2 Art Book! That means it's time to translate This Image, piece by piece! The text on this is quite small, and the halftones can interfere with legibility at times, but I managed, for the most part. I'll be including notes for each section, particularly anything that may seem like an odd or interesting choice, for Maximum Transparency!

Everything's Under the Cut!! Have fun!

母：優しく穏やかな女性 // The Mother of The Family. A Loving, Gentle, and Quiet Woman.

I've chosen to write this in full sentences, rather than the original format, since that feels easier to communicate. You may notice that "Gentle" is both Green and Blue, and that's because 優しく and 穏やかな both communicate a kind of Gentleness, with 優しく being more like "Tender" and 穏やかな being more like "Calm".

カイルがまだ幼い頃に病にかかりこの世を去ってしまう // She Fell Ill when Kyle was Very Young. She never Recovered, and Passed Away when he was still just a Child.

Before I Get Into Translation Notes - I Have Some Thoughts.

I'm going to be fully transparent - this part is one of the main reasons I got the book. I had my suspicions that she was terminally ill and died when he was young, but I didn't want to make any absolute statements until I could properly translate this passage. I had basically no doubts about it, though - this particular scene here is absolutely striking, and communicates what's going on extremely well even if you can't read it. Kyle's too young to understand what's going on. He thinks a flower will make her feel better. Meanwhile, you have the second youngest brother that's just barely old enough to know, and in that horrible point where he understands what's happening, but doesn't know what to do or how to handle it. Then there's the middle child, with enough emotional intelligence to know that comforting the second youngest and not dissuading Kyle's - the youngest of them all - attempts to help is the absolute best course of action here, to keep everyone strong while their mother (tries, and fails to) fight(s) her Terminal Illness. It's really amazing character work, all in one simple image.

This explains a lot about Kyle's actions during the course of the story. It's kind of difficult for a lot of people to understand why he reacts the way he does to his father getting injured, but with the context that he watched his mom die of a Terminal Illness when he was practically just a baby, and was powerless to do anything about it... It really makes sense, doesn't it? On a personal level, I mean. It also puts this post-game line into some new perspective...

"I'm not putting on a brave face" is such particular wording, and such a particular reassurance to give. He's had to before, and the way he's saying this almost implies - to me, at least - that maybe the player character is intended to, perhaps, know about that bit of history. That's all Speculation, though - I just find it an incredibly interesting string of implications.

As for Translation Notes...

The main thing that may seem out of place is the fact that "She never Recovered" is in both Red and Green. That's actually nothing special, it's just the fact that her illness and her death are being linked together in this passage. She died because of her illness - not because she got, I don't know, eaten by a dragon or something later, in some odd unrelated event. She was Terminally Ill, emphasis on Terminal.

カイル家族イメージ　―　作中には出てこない設定イマージです // Headcanons about Kyle's Family - These are Characters + Character-Establishing Headcanons that Do Not Appear in the Story.

Apologies for putting the Document Title all the way down here. I wanted to talk about Kyle's mom first, lol. I've already explained my reasoning for translating イメージ as Headcanon. I don't think anything else is all that noteworthy.

A Chart Depicting the Developers' Ideas for What the (Living Members of the) Family Looks Like. In Birth Order, we have...

長男：真面目・優等生　―　23年

First-Born: Serious + An Honor Student - 23 Y.O.

次男：自信家・明るい　―　21年

Second-Born: Self-Confident + Cheerful - 21 Y.O.

三男：優しい・賢い　―　18年

Third-Born: Kind + Wise - 18 Y.O.

四男：勝気・負けず嫌い　―　16年

Fourth-Born: Determined + Hates Losing - 16 Y.O.

Me, personally, I think the birth order sounds right, but I'm not a huge fan of how young everyone is. The Fourth-Born looks 19-21 to me, the Third-Born looks in their mid-20s, so on and so forth. But that's partially just the fact that I, myself, am currently in my 20s, and generally really prefer writing + drawing adults. Straight up, I clocked Kyle as being at least 18 when I was doing my playthrough of the game, but this image seems to imply he's about 15. Extremely weird thought to me. I will personally continue writing him as an adult, and his siblings as generally way older than the Devs are estimating. That has no bearing on this piece of Dubious-Canon, however, just something I wanted to mention as a bit of an oddity to me.

Also, the second Kanji in the Birth Orders actually specifies that they're all sons (男), but I'm using the Gender Neutral forms of the Birth Order terms just because I find that more comfortable and less clunky, personally. No other reason.

And, no, I don't really know what that bit of handwriting next to the Third-Born's head is. I also currently cannot fully decipher what this passage (originally below the Headcanon Spread) means, though that's likely just a Skill Issue.

If I figure it out, I'll likely Reblog this Post with an Update, but for now, I think I've covered what I can.

Thanks for Reading!! Hopefully you found this interesting, and maybe you found it useful!! The print on this spread was really, really small, and at times quite frustrating to decipher - hell, I just straight up gave up on the above passage - so any comments or compliments in the notes will be appreciated!!

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Rest Had Seemed The Sweetest Thing.

Bucky's slowly learning that love isn't a finite resource. aka, Bucky's first Christmas.

pairing - bucky barnes x female reader

warnings - none!! just tooth rottingly sweet fluff <3

word count - 1.7k

author's note - based on these two requests!! i'm also trying a new post format... what do we think?? I promised you i'd get a couple of xmas fics out before the 25th... I lied. apologies!! forgive me. title taken from the poem The Owl by Edward Thomas.

as always, if you enjoyed, please reblog!! reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics. thanks, angels <3

masterlist. inbox.

He whispers the words, timid and reserved, directly into your ear as if he's worried someone else will hear. It's only the two of you sat on the couch in your shared apartment, but Bucky's nervous.

Your head whips around in shock, trying to play it cool. Failed.

"Are you... are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure."

You grin, big and blinding, the beams of it radiating into Bucky's bones. It settles into his muscles, eases the tension from his shoulders.

You try not to make a big deal of it, try to keep your excitement under wraps. But you've been waiting for him to say those words for almost six years.

"I want to do Christmas this year."

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

He hates the cold.

No, he's traumatised by the cold.

Years spent frozen, genetically modified and locked in a glorified freezer. Every gust of wind, every flake of snow reminds him of the darkest days with no light to be seen. His blood may run hot, but he feels like his heart is yet to thaw. He debates moving to the desert at least ten times a day.

Then he looks at you. How happy you are when winter comes around. The way your face lights up when it snows. And he figures that if it brings you this much joy... maybe he can tolerate it.

He bites back the chill, grits his teeth at the icy breeze, ignores the shudder of the cold all the way down to his bones. He grins and bears it, because you love it. He thinks you don't notice.

You do.

You've known ever since you met him. His demeanour changes when the winter comes around. He gets a little tentative around the autumn time, as if he's preparing himself for the worst. And then the first snow falls, and he's different. Guarded. Careful. Reluctant. He puts a fake smile on his face and pretends, but you're nothing if not completely in tune with everything Bucky Barnes.

You never asked, never pried. Just stood steadily by his side, regardless of the walls he'd placed around himself. Around his heart.

He broke down one night, wrapped up in bed with you. A chill had blown through your old apartments rickety windows and unearthed old memories, ice running into his veins. He was sure his tears were frozen as they dripped down his face.

You understood him better, since that day.

You've tried to suggest moving in subtle and not so subtle ways, but he won't have it. He knows this is your home. He knows you like it here. He knows he can stay, if he works a little harder on himself.

So, he tries. Every single day, he tries. And that's all that matters.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"Okay, so... ground rules. Hit me, Buck. We do this on your terms."

He thinks for a moment before turning to face you.

"I want it to be just us. No one else."

"Done."

"And I don't wanna do the whole Christmas dinner thing. Feels like too much all at once."

You fight the urge to burst into tears at how easily he's communicating with you, how effortlessly he's enforcing his boundaries. You've come a long way.

"Done. Agreed, by the way. Fuck Christmas dinner. We'll do our own thing."

He grins at you, leaning in to kiss you slowly, tenderly, leisurely. Like you have all the time in the world.

"I want to get a tree. And lights. We don't have to do all the ornaments and stuff, but lights would be nice."

"I have an artificial tree in the back of the storage closet... is that okay?"

"Perfect. I don't want to stand on all the pine needles, anyway."

Laughing, you shift closer to him, tangling your legs together on the couch.

"And no gifts for me."

"But Buck-"

"Angel. I don't want anything. I have everything I need sat next to me."

You roll your eyes, but you can't wipe the smile off your face.

"This isn't fair, suddenly."

"It's plenty fair. You stress too much when you buy gifts, and this is going to be a stress free Christmas. Understood?"

He hooks his fingers under your chin, forcing you to look at him.

"Understood," you whisper, swinging your knee over so you're straddling him. "Stress free."

Bucky tilts his head up to kiss you, gentle at first, then firmer when you roll your hips into his. He's a little distracted, admittedly. He got you to promise not to get him anything, but made sure you wouldn't ask the same. His mind runs a mile a minute, trying to wrack his brain on what kind of gift to get for the love of his life, the person that saved him and continues to save him every single day.

He comes up empty, but lets you kiss the thoughts away for a little while.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"My mom taught me this specific way to hang lights on your tree. Look, grab this end and I'll show you."

You're both still in your pyjamas, fire roaring, a jazzy Christmas melody playing from the radio. You decided you wouldn't put up your tree until the day before, to save Bucky from feeling overwhelmed. It's worked, so far - he looks plenty relaxed as he chuckles and rises from the armchair.

"You're tall, so hold this above your head so they don't tangle."

You work diligently, bottom lip pulled between your teeth as you concentrate. Bucky's happy to watch you, fighting the smile off his face every time you sigh in exasperation. Eventually, you step back and admire your masterpiece, satisfied and content.

"It's beautiful, baby," he whispers, wrapping his arms around you from behind.

He presses a kiss into your neck, then another, then another. Your eyes slip closed, and you sink into his embrace, feeling more at peace than you ever thought possible. You spend the evening by the fire, lying on the rug, room illuminated by the lights on the tree.

It's perfect in every way.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"Merry Christmas, angel."

"Merry Christmas, Buck."

His hand finds yours under the duvet, pulling you in close. You tangle yourself around him like lights on a tree, all encompassed by his warmth.

"What's the plan for today, Sergeant?"

He presses a kiss into your temple, propping himself up on his elbow so he can see you properly.

"I say we make some breakfast, spend all day on the couch, and then maybe make some dinner? I know we said we wouldn't do a traditional Christmas dinner, but it'd still be nice to take the time to cook something."

"That sounds perfect."

In the kitchen, you make pancakes with copious amounts of maple syrup, strawberries and pieces of banana strewn across your plates.

"My Mom made us pancakes every Christmas morning, you know."

"You've never told me that."

"I know. I kind of refrained from ever talking about anything festive, because I didn't want you to feel guilty."

"For making you miss out for so many years?"

"I haven't missed out, baby. I chose not to do Christmas because I love you. And that love takes precedent over everything else."

Bucky kisses you then, across the kitchen table, full and golden and so full of love you almost fall off your chair. He tastes like blueberry jam and syrup and coffee, and you wish you could bottle it up and stick a little under your tongue when you get homesick.

"What changed?"

"Hmm?"

"Why now? I would have been content to never do Christmas again, if it made you happy."

"Because I realised something, a couple of months ago. We were sat in the park, and you were laughing at that dog chasing the boomerang. The sun was making you glow, like some sort of angel, and I just knew. I can do anything with you by my side. I can't put my future on hold because of my past."

You're fighting back tears as you look at him, so happy and content. You never thought this was possible, when you first met him.

And here you are.

Celebrating Christmas, showing him your childhood traditions, making pancakes like your Mama used to. You're sat at the kitchen table as the snow falls outside and the warmth that Bucky's love brings is keeping the chill at bay.

It doesn't get better than this.

"I got you something," he murmurs almost sheepishly.

"Bucky-"

"Don't yell at me! I know it makes me a hypocrite, I know I said no gifts, I know."

You roll your eyes, but watch his every move as he gets up and leaves the room. You finish your breakfast and put both of your plates in the sink, turning on the tap so they can soak. When you turn around, Bucky has returned.

He's on one knee.

There's a ring between his fingers, glinting in the winter sun. You're both still in your pyjamas, warm and full, not quite having shaken off the heavy embrace of sleep just yet.

It's perfect.

"Maybe it's cliche to propose on Christmas day, but... I want to replace all of my old memories with new ones. Memories like this."

You walk over to him, kneeling down in front of him so your eyes are level.

"You've taught me what love is, baby. And I can never repay you for that. But I can certainly try. Every day, I can try."

There are tears dripping down both of your cheeks, Bucky's grin matching yours. The two of you are overwhelmed in the best way, unsure of how to process the gravity of what you're feeling.

"Marry me, baby. Let's do this forever."

You lunge forward and smash your lips to his, laughing into his mouth.

"Yes," you breathe when you pull away. "God, yes. A million times yes, Buck."

His arms wrap around your middle as he picks you up, twirling you in circles around the kitchen, both of you shrieking with joy.

Bucky slips the ring onto your finger when he puts you down, both of you tilting your heads to admire it.

"I love you," you murmur, leaning up to press your foreheads together. "The cold can't touch you now, baby. This love will warm us forever."

The cold can't touch him now. Love will warm him forever.

@lizzystuffsthings <3

[cigarettessmokeandberries]

Fixer Upper Part Three (Melissa Schemmenti x reader)

The day has worn on Y/N and even Melissa has seemed to notice.

A/N: i apologize for any formatting issues

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  The most pressing thing Y/n has tried to help Melissa with, is her double classes. Y/n had contacted the school board, spoke with Ava about possible budget changes (though, Melissa would have hated it if that were the case) and even tried to convince an Addington teacher to switch over with the expense of a pay cut (a desperate and last ditch effort) . It seems all avenues Y/n went through, none led to a successful outcome.  

Meanwhile, while Y/n spent her days trying to help Melissa, Melissa now had a new task: finding out if Y/n is scheming something with her niceties. Melissa had grown a liking to Y/n, or rather more of a tolerance to the member of the enthusiast gang. But, that didn’t mean Y/n wouldn’t butter her up for something. Melissa knows it would be nothing malicious, but doesn’t know what she would name it. She almost thinks it could be a “crush,” but only chuckles at the thought.

Walking into the teachers lounge, Melissa notices two things: Y/N looking worse for wear, and a mess of police tape around the coffee machine. Melissa takes her seat, setting her things down on the table.

“What’s up with you?” She throws over her shoulder before turning to face Y/n. Y/n faces Melissa with a sigh.

“End of the year reports,” Y/n says before taking a sip of her coffee- out of a paper cup that looks rather familiar. But, Melissa stares at it only for a moment before speaking.

“I know ya’ have more than a month for that, you gonna tell me or not?” Melissa sighs and waits a moment for anything other than silence. A too long silence passes before Melissa rolls her eyes, turning to her phone.

The lounge remains silent until everyone else piles in a minute later. Janine takes her seat next to Y/n, fixing a smile her way before seeing the defeat in her eyes. “End of the year reports stressing you, too?” Janine questions with a sympathetic nod.

At Janine’s sentence, Melissa turns around, “Yous started those,” Janine looks towards Melissa with raised brows.

“Of course?” Janine replies surprised that not everyone had.

After hearing Janine’s response, Y/n perks up, happy her excuse has defense.

“Yeah,” Y/N comments with a little more confidence. Melissa looks at both women with a confused expression furrowing her brows before deciding her time would be better used for some other meaningless morning task.

---

---

Y/N’s fingers were sore, her brain was fried, and now she had made a mistake she would surely regret by the end of the week. Y/N had talked Ava into splitting Melissa’s double class with another second grade teacher. She knew Amy, said teacher, would soon be marching to her desk with more than a few ugly things to say. Y/N had told a slight lie to Ava, saying Amy was more than willing to take on more students. She nearly got on her knees and begged Ava to switch up the classes, and Ava was surprisingly reluctant. She is slightly convinced Ava only agreed to the switch to teach her a lesson, knowing the other woman also had an inkling of Y/N’s little crush.

Y/N’s head rested in her palms as she leaned her elbows against her desk and a headache brewed. She felt too hot, even in her short sleeves, and she could almost swear her forehead felt a little warm. She hoped she wasn’t getting sick but she knew that the stress was getting to her body. Just as she was ready to face the day, lift her head high, and finish her reports, Amy walked through the office. A nearly audibly groan left Y/N’s lips before she was able to snuff it out.

Amy walked up Y/N’s desk and the next few moments were a barricade of insults and nasty words.

---

---

Y/N’s eyelids felt like weights as her shoulders hunched over her desk completing paper. The last bell of the day rang and all the students rushing out just caused Y/N’s head to pulse more. It felt like someone dropped a paperweight inside her skull as each set of feet hit the ground. She had skipped lunch to nap in her car but yet the headache still prevailed. A sigh of relief left Y/N’s lips as soon as the last of the students made it outside. She rested her head on her forearms and now definitely felt a fever coming on.

A loud familiar voice rings out not more than a few moments later causing another ring to sound through her head. Melissa made her way into the main office, ready to foil whatever plan you had been working on. A twinge of something went through Melissa, one she was sure to ignore now, when she saw the state Y/N was in. To Melissa, the woman looked worse for wear with her tired eyes and slouched shoulders. Melissa was quick, though not too quick she reassured herself, to plant her feet in front of her desk before speaking in a tone she considered gentle.

“You look like the Eagles just lost against the Cowboys,” Melissa’s tone takes on a harsher note at the mention of the Cowboys (don’t mention the Cowboys, Y/N notes even in her sickened state) but nonetheless sounds softer than normal.

Melissa reached over the desk and placed the back of her palm against Y/N’s forehead and was relieved to not feel the warmth of a fever, but that only made her eyebrows furrow. Melissa had no idea why she cared so much at the sickly state Y/N looked in but her heart constricted in her chest at the thought that you were coming down with something. Melissa chalked it up to her appreciation for the speech. However, before Melissa could speak anymore, Ava waltzed out of her office.

“Melissa-” Melissa’s worried brow creased more as Ava told her about her class transfer, especially when told she was sending most of her class to one of the bitchiest teachers , and it finally made some sort of sense. The coffee cup from this morning was now fresh in her mind, but priority number one was whatever the hell was wrong with you right now.

As soon as Ava walked off, an almost scowl painted itself onto Melissa’s face. She wasn’t angry but the conclusion she had reached had her feeling a way she couldn’t describe, so her only option was to block it out. Why was Y/N doing all this for her? And why was it making her feel some kind of way? Melissa did not have the strength to deal with it after thinking all day about what Y/N could want, but she did have the strength to make sure you at least got home okay.

“I don’t know your end game or what you have planned to throw at me, but when I find out-” Melissa stops herself mid-sentence when Y/N looks up at her, her eyes slightly glazed and her face paler than normal and another twinge shoots through her chest. Melissa found it hard to lay out a threat to her. Oh god.

“Come on.” Melissa’s sentence was not a question, it was a command, so quickly Y/N stood up and grabbed her bag, a slight pang going through her head at the same time a flutter echoed in her stomach. Two fools.

---

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The drive to Y/N’s apart felt longer than it should have. The air in the car felt thick as Melissa focused on the road. For most of the trip, Y/N had been watching the passing of the familiar landmarks but as soon as they passed the coffee shop that Melissa frequented, her attention shifted away as if Melissa could read her mind. Soon, her eyes were drawn to Melissa as she drove. Her hands gripping the wheel lightly as she breathed softly against the heat in car, just now getting warm enough. Her freckled skin, Y/N even found her eyes focused on Melissa’s pores. As if Melissa could feel the heat of Y/N’s gaze, she turned her eyes from the road for a moment to put a question on her face.

Y/N’s mouth would not form any syllables, her tongue weighted down by her nervous thinking. Melissa bit back a smile with a short chuckle before focusing back on the road. The inside of Y/N’s stomach started to somersault.

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“I would say to come in but I think I'll just pass out,” Y/N found her words on the welcome mat in front of her door. When the road marks started to spell home she had left Melissa to her driving while she thought about why she was doing this.

When Y/N had done the good deeds for Melissa it was a pull inside of her. Whenever she would see Melissa stressed or upset, her heart would ache with a pang of guilt. Y/N saw the most in Melissa and to see her suffering, even the tiniest bit, sent a feeling of service through Y/N. All the thoughts she had would wander back to Melissa and how she could rein in her struggles. Her brain could not go a day without fixating on something of Melissa. One day its the accent that drips from her tongue, the next its an eyelash that had the luck to fall on her cheek. How she wishes she could kiss it off and make a wish.

Even now, on her front stoop, Y/N is completely enamored by the way the light has shone Melissa hair auburn. The blue sky outside was a stark contrast to the raging storm inside of Y/N’s head, but even through the thunder of her brain, Melissa found a way through.

“Just get some rest, kid,” Melissa said the word 'kid' as if it didn't send a steel blade through Y/N’s chest. The veil of peace in her mind soon thundered as loud as her headache, shaking until it crumbled right down into her stomach. There was no chance there for Y/N, the fantasy was just that: a fantasy. Melissa had decades on Y/N and Y/N had a broken heart on Melissa.

Y/N’s head nodded mechanically as her mouth struggled to form any more words. ‘I’ll blame the headache’ mantra-ed in her head as Melissa turned to leave.

[shadowsviper]

Ooo can you write the reader as a cat while thanos and namgyu take care of them?

Thanos and Nam-Gyu taking care of Cat reader

Literal cat. I made it so they live together just to make it easier to write. Whether they’re dating or not is up to you. Bro who was gonna tell me that the formatting for phones is weird compared to laptops

• There’s two ways I can think of how they find you and they’re high as fuck in both situations

• One way is that they’re coming home from the club and while walking down a dark alleyway they find you rummaging through some trash looking for something to eat

• Nam-gyu noticed you first, he immediately got down to your level and started pspspspsps at you

• Thanos was high as fuck so he actually kept walking and left him behind for a minute

• You were cautious of Nam-gyu. You peeked your head out to look at him but didn’t make a move

• He tried to lure you out with his hand but because of how cautious you were and the fact that he had nothing to offer you, you stayed put

• Thanos came back after realizing Nam-gyu was gone. When he noticed you, he let out the loudest gasp, scaring the fuck out of you

• You immediately hid under some cardboard

• “What the hell? You scared them off!” Nam-gyu grumbled.

• “We should take them home!” Thanos suggested. He started moving some cardboard out of the way

• Unfortunately for you, his movements were fast and unpredictable which scared you even more. It didn’t help that compared to you he was a giant human

• His hands reached down for you, effectively grabbing your body and lifting you up to his chest. Your paws immediately pressed against him, trying to push him away

• “You suck at holding them, give them to me,” Nam-gyu said, reaching over for you. His hands grabbed you from Thanos and cradled you to his chest

• It wasn’t that much better than Thanos, but at least he had a comfortable grip. Just like that, they now have a cat and you have a new home

• The other way I could think of them finding you is at a animal shelter. They were high as hell and decided to go look at some animals for fun

• Thanos immediately went for the dogs, claiming that they would match his energy

• Nam-gyu gravitated towards the cats. He preferred them over dogs.Dogs were too energetic for him. Having Thanos around was enough for him

• Nam-gyu looked at every cat available before he circled around and came back to you. He couldn’t explain it but there was something about you

• He stared at you, and you stared back. It became a staring contest for the two of you. Nam-gyu didn’t blink at all, but not blinking might be a side effect of drugs

• He asked a worker to let you out so he could spend some time with you. He already knew you’d be the one

• You were the only one who even bothered to approach him and accept his hand for pets

• It took some time before you were comfortable to play with him. You swatted at the toys he gave you, showing off how playful you could be

• Nam-gyu sat near you, his hand constantly reached over to pet you. His touch was gentle, almost as if he’s scared to pet you. You can’t help but purr every time he pets you

• Thanos comes in loud as always, scaring some of the cats in the room

• “Nam-su! They have a bunch of dogs here-” Thanos stopped when he realized you were right besides Nam-gyu and purring. “Is that a cat?”

•”No it’s a hamster,” Nam-gyu said sarcastically, ignoring the nickname. “Yes, it’s a cat. They’re very playful. I think they’ll be a nice fit to our place.”

• And here comes the argument

• Thanos wants a dog, Nam-gyu wants a cat. They’re both arguing over which animal to pick as if they actually had the goal to adopt when they came into the shelter high as fuck

• “Dogs are cooler,” Thanos whined. “Imagine me walking around with a big ass German Shepherd, or a Doberman! I won’t look as cool with a cat, I can’t bring them outside.”

• “Yeah but guys having cats is considered a green flag,” Nam-gyu said. He was getting distracted by you making biscuits on his pants as he pet you. “You’re a walking red flag, you need some green to even it out.”

• Thano argued that he did have green to even it out. It was weed

• Nam-gyu sighed.

• Either way, Nam-gyu eventually convinced Thanos to adopt you. It didn’t take too much effort considering that he was high and he listened to Nam-gyu whenever he was high

• Congratulations you now have two dumbass junkies as your owner

• Which ever way they found you, they made sure that you were the most spoiled cat ever

• They made their apartment more comfortable for you. There were beds everywhere, cat trees everywhere, scratching posts, you name it they have it

• Thanos made sure you had every toy in existence and that you would always be comfortable

• Nam-gyu made sure you had the best quality food. Whether that be the best quality kibble, wet food, or even raw diet, he made sure it was perfect

• Cuddles are a must for Thanos and you don’t have a say in when or where. He’ll just grab you and hug you close for a while. He’s done it while you were sleeping which earned him a few scratches

• He definitely tried to grab you while he was in the bathroom saying some shit about needing a buddy while he goes

• Yeah just stay away from him when he’s in the bathroom

• Nam-gyu respects your space. Which is funny considering how touchy he is with Thanos

• He’ll let you come to him most of the time. The only times he’ll grab you first is if he needed to move you or just wanted a hug

• The bed is always the best spot. It’s warm and cozy, and it has their scent. It keeps you sane when they’re gone for a long time doing whatever it is they do late at night

• You soon realized that they’re different when they’re sober

• Thanos is still as loud as ever but he’s more aware of how loud he is. Ever since having you in the apartment he realized how sensitive your ears are and will quiet down around you

• He respects your space a little more when he’s sober because he’ll realize that he never leaves you alone

• Nam-gyu is pretty much the same. He’s more aware of his surroundings and will be more accommodating towards you but fuck everyone else he doesn’t care about them, only you… and maybe Thanos

• Thanos would be annoying as hell, he’d buy every pet outfit he sees and buys it for you to try. His phone is filled with pictures of you dressed up

• They both have you as their wallpaper

• Thanos either has you with an outfit as a wallpaper or it’s some bad quality photo he got of you mid sneeze. He only has bad quality photos of you and maybe like 2-3 good ones. He loves to send those bad quality photos as reaction pictures when texting anyone

• Nam-gyu only has good quality photos of you. Ones that people would pay hundreds for. His wallpaper is always you looking perfect. On the couch lounging, sleeping in the cat tree, looking at birds out the window. The best quality only

• Anyways, they love you very much and will only provide the absolute best for you, nothing less