#i wish there was more blue in this one!! but the red kinda brought it together

[bigtomo]

0_o

[bywons]

୨୧ KISS IT BETTER — n. riki

pairing. badboy!nishimura riki x f!reader w.c. 0.8k tw/cw. mentions of fighting, nicknames, kissing genre. highschool au, non idol au, fluff feedbacks and reblogs are always appreciated!

sru's note! niki my cutest boy >.<

m.list ⏐ requests are open! ⏐ navi

the youngster winces at the cool sensation of ice against the fresh bruise, blooming red and blue under his skin.

but what's hurting him even more than the burning bruise on his left cheek, are the eyes of the girl pressing an ice pack to it. your reddening hurt eyes, brimming with tears which are threatening to spill onto your flushed cheeks, a result of crying earlier.

but the reason? nishimura riki, your boyfriend, showing up with bruises and cuts all over for the third time this week at your favourite rendezvous point— behind the small cozy bungalow of the old 'cat lady' in town, who almost never came out.

"you promised riki", your voice shakes, the delicate heart of yours no longer being able to withstand the sight of your lover's wounds and gloomy expression, "then why?"

"ya won't get it princess", riki breathes out the nickname for you so smoothly, utterly believing at the complete vanishing of your subdued anger.

but instead a gasp leaves riki's mouth at the sudden absence of the cool, relaxing and alleviating sensation from the sore bruise. riki's frown deepens and a cute pout forms on his tough face when he lifts his head to look at you.

"i won't get it? i won't get it?!", you scoff at his words and abruptly remove the ice pack from his bruise, "how do you expect me to not get it when the bruises are basically 'cause of me!"

"don't you blame yourself now!", riki's fast to get protective, even if it means to protect you from yourself.

however, you weren't entirely wrong, as everyone who mocked or insulted you for any reason was forced to smile and greet you after riki entered your life-frame. their change, while good, was involuntary on their part. nishimura riki was the main change brought in.

he'd often get his knuckles bruised and crimson, not hesitating to land punches on faces you didn't like. riki was known around the school campus for being reckless as heck, he knew it too, so doubtlessly he didn't mind adding the point, "protecting my girlfriend", to his list of becoming even more reckless.

but he forgets that he's getting punched back, getting wounded up too just to make his girl sweat.

"riki", the way his name slips out of your kissable lips and the way it sounds so dulcet, but it repels your glossy eyes and a frown full of worry.

and riki's heart aches again.

"y'know i hate seeing you like this! y'know i don't like you getting hurt," the ice pack falls on your lap with a sigh leaving your mouth.

"it's only for your good, love. don't like those people near you—"

"they've stopped hurting me riki!", you sigh again, placing your hand ever so softly on his cheek, "you've done enough for me."

"hmmm", riki hums in relaxation and melts into your touch, tilting his head onto your hands, secretly wishing your touch would linger around forever.

"it still kinda burns", riki pouts, pointing towards his bruise on his cheek still crimson and puffy, "kiss it better?"

despite of dating the boy for nearly a year now, he's always catching you off guard, even with his immense love for you. like right now, when he decides to sacrifice his already worn out school trousers to the dusty earth covered by dry birches leaves, without hesitation. riki makes you sit above it though, upon a makeshift chair out of an unfinished wooden rack in the backyard.

it was moments like this when a genuine smile played on your lips, and you know riki's the one.

with a shy smile and coloured cheeks, you lean down to your boyfriend sitting on the ground, to press a feathery kiss to his bruise and heal in some magical way for him.

you pull away quickly worried that if you press your lips any harder, it may hurt him.

"now this one?", riki smirks, pointing to another bruise painting his skin purple. this one dangerously close to his lips, lying on the corners.

"you cheeky!", it's refreshing for riki to see you giggle again, the dry tear-stricken cheeks of yours elevating to laugh.

you lean down, this time cupping his soft face and bringing it closer to you. and just when your plump lips brush against the corner of his, riki moves his face in a way that his lips meet yours. into a sudden, yet endearing kiss.

your eyes widen after the kiss, shocked eyes meeting riki's proud and smug ones.

"promise me", you whisper as your eyes travel around the recent and previous marks and cuts on rikis face, "you'll never fight again."

"can't promise something like that angel," riki scoffs, taking your hands in his, and softly pressing his lips against your knuckles.

"hey riki—!"

"but that's alright, you'll kiss it better every time, yeah?"

© bywons, 2024. do not copy, translate or upload any of my works without my permission.

taglist: open! CLICK ON THE LINK TO BE ADDED!

[downbadf0rficppl]

you're on your own kid

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You had a rough childhood, what with an absent father and a piece of shit mother. When a family dinner goes wrong, how do you stop your brain from spiraling? How do you convince yourself you're not alone? A certain blue-eyed, metal-armed avenger, of course.

Word Count: 3.3K

Warnings: Eating Disorders/Weight Related Talk, Blood, Injury, Kinda Self Harm, Child Abuse [PLEASE DO NOT READ IF THESE TOPICS MAKE YOU UNCOMFORTABLE!!!]

You squirmed in your seat, fidgeting with your sleeves. It was awkward being at home after so long. You hadn't been home for four years almost - and it had probably been even longer since you'd sat at this table. Your mother sat across the table from you - her gaze heavy on your head. Heavy is the head that wears the crown, your brother had joked.

He was sitting next to you, his knee gently brushing against yours. A placating movement. He was trying to keep the peace - enjoying the first meal that you had had as a family in a long while. You don't know what it was that made you seek them out. Maybe if you had waited a week, you would have thought about the facts, rather than the feelings. Maybe if you had waited a week, you wouldn't be sitting here with the weight of the world on your shoulders.

You sat in silence, playing with the food on your plate. Your mother was of the almond variety, weighing out plates before passing them around the table. You didn't have much to talk about. Things hadn't ended well the last time the two of you spoke.

Your brother chimed in with the odd question - 'How's your gardening coming along, mom?' or 'How's the new job, sis? What's it like working for the Avengers?'. You'd humour him until your mother's disapproving stares became too much and then you'd shut up. He'd give you a sad sort of pitying smile, before returning to his food.

Dinner was long - even it was less than the traditional three courses. Your brother packed up some extra food, and took it home - he only lived about a half mile away so it made sense for him to go home. You made to go with him but your mother insisted you stay with her. "I made up your room, just the way you like it."

You doubted it. But you smiled anyway and hugged your brother tightly. He whispered that 'you would be fine' and 'it's only one night' and maybe for a second you believed him. As soon as he left, you headed to bed, claiming that 'The trip was long, ma, I'm super tired.'

The look on her face screamed that she didn't believe you. But she waved you good night and headed to the kitchen to find her favourite bottle of scotch.

You opened the door to your childhood bedroom to find it almost the same. The pink walls and bedcovers were suffocating, the blinds drawn shut to create this overwhelming feeling of being trapped. You were. Trapped.

You took your jumper off, laid it over your vanity chair, and jumped onto the bed. It was comfortable, but lying there staring at the ceiling brought back all the horrible memories you tried to suppress. Diet pills and weighing scales, small plates and vomiting, screaming and crying, sirens and hospital bills. Tears streamed down your face as curled up onto your side.

It was almost midnight when you heard your mother walk up the stairs. You knew she was drunk - her steps were loud and out of sync, and the bottle in her hand frequently tapped the banister as she tried to stabilise herself on it. You half expected her to keep walking, cross the landing, and fall dead asleep on her bed.

Instead, your door creaked open and you came face to face with her. Her glassy eyes were rimmed with red - she'd been crying too. Her eyes raked over you and suddenly you wished you'd never come back at all.

"Such a shame," she whispered, "You could have been so much more."

"Ma?"

"You were always... the best. The prettiest. The skinniest. You could have been incredible. Instead, you are... nobody."

Her words cut deep but you tried to ignore them. You were somebody. You worked for the Avengers, you were a top-level agent for SHIELD. You helped save the world.

"I tried my best. To help you. But you were ungrateful," Your mother stalked closer, her sadness giving way to anger, "conceited, convinced that you could be anything more than what I made you. But you were wrong. I created you. Without me, THERE IS NO YOU." She launched the bottle at your head and it shattered at the wall behind you.

She kept screaming, but you tuned her out, slipping off the bed and grabbing your jumper and keys. You ran past her, shoving her hard as she tried to grab you and ran out to your car. She watched you go screaming abuse after you, telling you to 'never step foot inside her house again.' You weren't planning to.

You drove like a madman back to upstate - traffic was pretty light considering the ungodly hour. You parked haphazardly - Tony would probably murder you for it in the morning but you couldn't find it within yourself to care. You trudged upstairs, footfalls far too heavy for someone is literally a superspy, but this was your home. You weren't running from anyone in here.

You were so stuck in your own head that you didn't realise that Bucky was sitting in the living room, watching as you walked into the kitchen. He'd heard your footsteps and he was worried. You never walked that heavily.

"Everything ok, doll?"

You looked up at him, not registering a word he said. He stood up and walked over to you, fingers reaching up to stroke your face.

"You good?" He whispered, his forehead almost touching yours.

You pulled away from his touch, even though your body was screaming for you to collapse into his open arms. "Yeah, Buck, fine. See you in the morning for training." You stepped past him, heading for the stairs.

"Yeah, doll. See you in the morning."

The morning came around far quicker than you'd hoped. You had barely slept, tossing and turning all night, your mother's words ringing through your head.

Eventually, you realised it was a futile effort. You might as well get up and be productive. You found yourself in the gym just as the sun came up, face to face with a heavy bag. You clenched your wrapped fists before shaking the sleep out of your system.

Your hits were precise, measured, calculated. If there was one thing no one could fault you for, it was your skills. You were an impeccable agent. If only your mum could see that. You took your rage out on the heavy bag, pouring every ounce of resent in your body into your punches. Sweat beaded on your forehead, the exertion making your breaths heavier and your knuckles sting. You kept punching, time slipping away from you.

You heard the door to the gym open, and someone was talking. Their voice was muted, almost as if your head was underwater. Between the punches and your tiredness, nothing registered in your foggy mind. From the distance you could hear footsteps, getting louder almost as if they were walking towards you.

You nearly jumped out of your skin when a hand brushed against your shoulder. You spun around ready to cuss out whichever stupid rookie decided to bother you so early in the morning. You were surprised to see familiar eyes boring into yours.

"I called your name, you know," Bucky said, his hands moving to rest on your waist, "twice. I even dropped my bag next to yours to get your attention."

"Sorry, I was thinking."

"I can tell," Bucky's thumbs drew circles on your waist, absentmindedly, "Where's that pretty mind been at lately?"

"What do you want, Barnes?"

"I'm worried. About you. You haven't been yourself lately. What's going on?"

"Nothing." You sighed, removing yourself from his grasp, "Missions, reports, meetings. It's tiring."

"Maybe you take a holiday? Try and relax a bit?" You could hear the genuine concern in his voice but you still rolled your eyes.

"Maybe you mind your own fucking business, Barnes? Don't you have other shit to be doing apart from hovering over me?" You grabbed your stuff, refusing to make eye contact with him, and walked out.

"I'm still seeing you for training right?" You hear him call after you, but you keep walking. You let out a shaky breath as soon as you got into the elevator.

He didn't see you for training. Or after.

You'd skipped training in favour of going on a run with Steve and then you had to file a few mission reports. You'd holed yourself up in your office, manila files piling up on the corner of your desk your fingers brushing over the keys with seasoned speed. Bucky had wanted to stop by but given your odd behaviour in the morning, he'd decided against it.

You were glad. You hated that Bucky could see right through you, even when you tried your best to hide it. Especially because you were irrevocably in love with him.

You'd been in love with him ever since you'd started working at the compound. Bucky was one of the few people to notice you and your efficiency. You became one of his preferred mission partners, a fact of which you were very proud. You quickly became one of his favourite people, period, and Bucky even went so far as to blow off Steve to spend time with you.

It hurt you to keep him at arm's length but you knew it was for the best. You remembered what your father told you the night before he left. You're on your own kid. You always have been.

You were given a mission assignment in the evening, with strict instructions of 'wheels up at 0600.' The early pickup time wasn't strange and you were itching to get out of the compound. You packed your bag up, leaving it by the door, and headed to bed.

Another restless night of sleep was the last thing you needed, but you were up and at the hangar waiting for Captain Rogers by 0600. He smiled when he saw you and handed you a coffee. You smiled. Your first real smile since you visited your parents.

"Good luck out there." A voice calls from behind you. You freeze. Bucky jogs towards you both, his eyes betraying his tiredness. Steve's face breaks into a grin at the sight of his old friend. Steve throws his arms around Bucky.

"Don't do anything stupid until I get back," Steve says, his joking tone making Bucky laugh.

"How can I? You're taking all the stupid with you."

You want to smile at the sight of the two of them together but you held yourself back. You walked towards the quinjet, ready to get this show on the road when you hear Bucky clearing his voice behind you.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"Onto the quinjet?"

"Not without a hug, you're not." You sigh but trudge down the steps to give him a half-arsed side hug. He pulls you in tight, and whispers into your hair, "When you get back, we're gonna talk. Okay?"

You don't respond, brushing him off and climbing into the jet. Steve follows you in, dropping his bag next to yours, before turning back to wave at Bucky.

"Don't worry, Buck, I'll take good care of your girl."

His girl. That sounded nice. You shook the thought away before elbowing Steve in the sight. Jokingly of course, but he still doubled over for effect. Bucky burst into laughter.

That was the last thing you saw as the door went up.

The mission was hard. Not terrible - no one died, which was a win in your book - but it wasn't fun. Multiple shootouts, car chases, and three hours of hiding in a dumpster later, you were ready to nap for a week. But, alas, Fury had set a debrief at 8 the next morning, which meant that you had - you checked the clock on your microwave - 6 hours at best.

You dropped your bag on the sofa and headed into the bathroom. You unzipped your utility vest, dropping it on the floor. You needed to disinfect it - god knows what had stained that vest. You pulled up your compression shirt, wincing as the flecks of red came into view. You quickly stripped it off, dropping it in the washing basket, before whipping back around. You caught your own reflection in the mirror and tilted your head, taking in your reflection of your body. Your mother's words played back in your head. Maybe your mother had a point.

You quickly shook your head, dispelling those horrible thoughts from your mind. But still, you continued to stare at your body, scrutinising every feature. I mean, sure you weren't as skinny as you used to be, but that's because you had muscle now, right? And the hamburger you had for lunch was a treat - you know for completing the mission? The super important mission that you were on because you are important and you are somebody and you have value and you are someone without your mum. Don't you? And it's ok that you can't see your ribs because actually you have abs now and that's way more attractive. Right? And.. and... and....

SMASH.

Broken glass was shattered all around you, fragments piercing your skin. Your mirror now had a fist-shaped hole in the middle, from where your sadness had quickly bled into anger.

You cradled your bloodied fist in your hand, sinking to the ground as sobs racked through your body. Glass dug into your knees as they hit the floor and you curled your hands into your chest. Hurtful 'what ifs' swirled through your head, stealing your breath and making it almost impossible to breathe.

Pounding on your door broke you out of your thoughts. You tried to regain your bearings. It was 2 am. You were in your apartment, the apartment that was miles away from the compound, that you lived in alone. Who the hell would be at your door right now?

You were silent, breath bated as you waited for the stranger to go away. They banged on the door again.

"Doll, I swear to god, if you don't let me in, I'm going to break your fucking door down."

You knew that voice anywhere. The knowledge that you weren't alone, that he was here for you, that Bucky wouldn't make you suffer alone brought new tears to your eyes. Fresh sobs burst from your chest as you tried to move. Glass shards were stabbing into your legs, and one of your hands was bleeding profusely. Bucky, your safety net, was so close and yet so far.

"Doll? Doll, I can hear you. Doll, please, please let me in." You could hear the panic in his voice as he struggled with his conscience. You tried to move but the pain was excruciating. A pained scream erupted from your lips.

A loud bang came from your front door, followed by heavy and fast footsteps.

"Where are you, doll? Come on, just come and talk to me." He said, sweeping through your living room. You whimpered from the bathroom, his enhanced hearing focussing on even the smallest of sounds.

He quickly found his way into the bathroom, his eyes raking over your hunched figure, before flitting to the broken mirror and the shards of glass on the ground.

"Oh doll," he whispered, bending down to scoop you up from the floor. He cradled you gently as he carried you from the bathroom into your bedroom. "What happened, doll? Talk to me."

You looked up at him, trying to figure out where to start. You blanked. You couldn't find a good place to start the story that would cause you the least pain. Your mouth opened and closed a few times with no sound coming out. Bucky rested his hand against yours, trying to reassure you to take your time, but the sound of your wince drew his attention to your hands.

"Doll, your hands." He grabbed your hands gently, peering at your knuckles. They were mauled, glass sticking out of torn-up skin, "What did you do?" He stood up, walking into your kitchen to grab the first aid kit he knew was under the sink. Watching him walk around like he owned the place made some small part of your heart happy - it was almost as if your dreams, your darkest-held fantasies, were coming true.

Bucky kneeled in front of you, placing the first aid kit beside him. He brushed all the glass shards off your legs - luckily none of them had been embedded into your skin. He cleaned any small scratches before turning to your knuckles. The sight of your knuckles made him wince and you started to pull them away. Bucky leveled you with a look that said, let me take care of you. You let him. He sterilised a pair of tweezers and got to work pulling the shards of glass out of your knuckles. You sat in silence for a while, Bucky diligently working on your knuckles, and you watching the swiftness with which he worked.

"Why did you punch the mirror, doll?" Bucky asked after a while.

"I was angry," you whispered, your voice deathly quiet. Now that the rage was gone, all you had left was embarrassment.

"And why were you angry?" Bucky coaxed, his eyes pleading for some answers. He pulled out the last shard of glass before swiping an alcohol wipe over your knuckles and bandaging them up. He packed up all the items back into the first aid box and went to put it away and wash his hands.

You were still sat on the bed contemplating your answer when he got back. He knelt in front of you again, before he rested his hands on your face, "Why were you angry doll?"

"I didn't like it." You whispered, pulling your body away from him.

"What didn't you like?" Bucky's eyes stared into yours and you suddenly felt extremely self-conscious. You tried to remove yourself from his all-seeing, mind-reading gaze, but he didn't let you. He pulled you into his lap, and you hid your face in his neck. His beard tickled your forehead as you nestled into him, trying to seek out the comfort you so desperately needed but didn't know how to ask for.

"Me." You said, your head turned away from him as you stared at your hands.

"What?"

"I didn't like me." Your voice started to shake as you tried to find the right words to tell him the truth, the whole honest godforsaken truth, but you couldn't.

Bucky seemed to read your mind, "It's ok, take your time. We don't have to talk about this today. We can come back to it later, when you're feeling up for it, okay?" You nodded, burrowing further into him, "You wanna sleep?"

You nodded again, and Bucky shifted, wrapping his arms around you so he could gently place you down on the bed. He removed his arms from underneath you and tucked you into bed, gently kissing your forehead as you turned to leave. You whined.

"Pleasedon'tgoBuck-" You mumbled, sleep quickly pulling you under. He smiled, perching himself on the end of the bed.

"You sure you want me to say, sweetheart? Not sure you'll ever get rid of me if I stay?"

"I promise. Never want you to go." You said, clinging to his arm and pulling him back into bed.

You slipped into an easy slumber as Bucky shuffled around in your room. Maybe you didn't have to be on your own anymore.

fin.

buy me a coffee

[dingus11111]

Heya! Request from @legendaryflowercheesecake

Night Creature!Edouard x Night Creature!Male Reader PT. 2!!

Warnings: NSFW because of his dream, male!reader, teratophilia, Soft Edouard, OOC (whoops), jealous!reader, bottom!male!reader.

PT. 1!!

FEM/FEM ALIGNED DNI!!!

Soft breathing puffed onto your left ear. You were sitting in Edouard’s lap, sleeping. You took comfort in his large frame enveloping you to seemingly protect you from the dangers of the world. You slept peacefully. Edouard smiled softly, relishing in the moment. Soaking up the feelings that he felt. His eye’s began to close as he brought one of his arms to caress your back lovingly.

“Sleep well..” Edouard mumbled.

He began to drift to sleep. A dream popped into his brain. A happy dream. A good dream. He dreamt of being free with you in his arms. Of him kissing you until you couldn’t breathe. Of him holding you close and whispering sweet nothings into your ear. Of him kissing you, and gently making love to you.

He dreamt of him pinning you to a mattress so that you were comfortable. He would put your legs over his shoulders and press his forehead to yours. The hands covering his eyes would be open. His blue, piercing gaze would wash over your sight like the clear, blue ocean would to sand. He would stroke your cock to the rhythm of his thrusts. A composer to your music made up of your moans. The lewd, slick noises your hole would create. The sounds of your sharp nails against his back. He would make a symphony out of you that you would wish to experience eternally. He would make you orgasm over and over, making you feel pleasure almost unimaginable. He wanted nothing more than that.

CLANK!

Edouard’s eyes shot open and so did yours. You quickly looked behind you and got off of his lap. The woman behind the metal bars of the cell was just as surprised as both of you were.

The woman had black locks that had metal jewelry in them. Her skin was dark and beautiful. She was wearing a light mustard vest with a white, long sleeve shirt underneath. A thick, red belt was situated at her waist. The belt had accents of sky blue, black, and yellow. She had black, comfortable looking pants on that made you almost jealous of her due to you only wearing a loincloth.

“Annette!” Edouard leaped forward.

“So he knows her.” You thought.

Annette looked at you and then back at Edouard.

“Who or what is that?” Annette asked.

Edouard stepped towards you and picked you up with ease, carrying you bridal style. You blushed softly.

“This is M/N.” Edouard introduced you.

“Oh.” She replied, sounding almost hurt.

You grumbled ever so slightly at Annette. You just found out who she is, and you already don’t exactly like her.

Suddenly, a vampire and a few night creatures began to chase after Annette. They were too busy with her to realize that you and Edouard were both in the same cell. You hugged Edouard deeply.

“Never let me go.” You mumbled.

“Of course, sweetheart.”

Hope you enjoyed! I got kinda lazy with this one. 😭😭😭

[d0wnb4df0rf1cm3n]

you're on your own kid.

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You had a rough childhood, what with an absent father and a piece of shit mother. When a family dinner goes wrong, how do you stop your brain from spiraling? How do you convince yourself you're not alone? A certain blue-eyed, metal-armed avenger, of course.

Word Count: 3.3K

Warnings: Eating Disorders/Weight Related Talk, Blood, Injury, Kinda Self Harm, Child Abuse [PLEASE DO NOT READ IF THESE TOPICS MAKE YOU UNCOMFORTABLE!!!]

Author's Note: I don't really know what this is. Sorry, I've been MIA for so long. Not my best work. Sorry.

You squirmed in your seat, fidgeting with your sleeves. It was awkward being at home after so long. You hadn't been home for four years almost - and it had probably been even longer since you'd sat at this table. Your mother sat across the table from you - her gaze heavy on your head. Heavy is the head that wears the crown, your brother had joked.

He was sitting next to you, his knee gently brushing against yours. A placating movement. He was trying to keep the peace - enjoying the first meal that you had had as a family in a long while. You don't know what it was that made you seek them out. Maybe if you had waited a week, you would have thought about the facts, rather than the feelings. Maybe if you had waited a week, you wouldn't be sitting here with the weight of the world on your shoulders.

You sat in silence, playing with the food on your plate. Your mother was of the almond variety, weighing out plates before passing them around the table. You didn't have much to talk about. Things hadn't ended well the last time the two of you spoke.

Your brother chimed in with the odd question - 'How's your gardening coming along, mom?' or 'How's the new job, sis? What's it like working for the Avengers?'. You'd humour him until your mother's disapproving stares became too much and then you'd shut up. He'd give you a sad sort of pitying smile, before returning to his food.

Dinner was long - even it was less than the traditional three courses. Your brother packed up some extra food, and took it home - he only lived about a half mile away so it made sense for him to go home. You made to go with him but your mother insisted you stay with her. "I made up your room, just the way you like it."

You doubted it. But you smiled anyway and hugged your brother tightly. He whispered that 'you would be fine' and 'it's only one night' and maybe for a second you believed him. As soon as he left, you headed to bed, claiming that 'The trip was long, ma, I'm super tired.'

The look on her face screamed that she didn't believe you. But she waved you good night and headed to the kitchen to find her favourite bottle of scotch.

You opened the door to your childhood bedroom to find it almost the same. The pink walls and bedcovers were suffocating, the blinds drawn shut to create this overwhelming feeling of being trapped. You were. Trapped.

You took your jumper off, laid it over your vanity chair, and jumped onto the bed. It was comfortable, but lying there staring at the ceiling brought back all the horrible memories you tried to suppress. Diet pills and weighing scales, small plates and vomiting, screaming and crying, sirens and hospital bills. Tears streamed down your face as curled up onto your side.

It was almost midnight when you heard your mother walk up the stairs. You knew she was drunk - her steps were loud and out of sync, and the bottle in her hand frequently tapped the banister as she tried to stabilise herself on it. You half expected her to keep walking, cross the landing, and fall dead asleep on her bed.

Instead, your door creaked open and you came face to face with her. Her glassy eyes were rimmed with red - she'd been crying too. Her eyes raked over you and suddenly you wished you'd never come back at all.

"Such a shame," she whispered, "You could have been so much more."

"Ma?"

"You were always... the best. The prettiest. The skinniest. You could have been incredible. Instead, you are... nobody."

Her words cut deep but you tried to ignore them. You were somebody. You worked for the Avengers, you were a top-level agent for SHIELD. You helped save the world.

"I tried my best. To help you. But you were ungrateful," Your mother stalked closer, her sadness giving way to anger, "conceited, convinced that you could be anything more than what I made you. But you were wrong. I created you. Without me, THERE IS NO YOU." She launched the bottle at your head and it shattered at the wall behind you.

She kept screaming, but you tuned her out, slipping off the bed and grabbing your jumper and keys. You ran past her, shoving her hard as she tried to grab you and ran out to your car. She watched you go screaming abuse after you, telling you to 'never step foot inside her house again.' You weren't planning to.

You drove like a madman back to upstate - traffic was pretty light considering the ungodly hour. You parked haphazardly - Tony would probably murder you for it in the morning but you couldn't find it within yourself to care. You trudged upstairs, footfalls far too heavy for someone is literally a superspy, but this was your home. You weren't running from anyone in here.

You were so stuck in your own head that you didn't realise that Bucky was sitting in the living room, watching as you walked into the kitchen. He'd heard your footsteps and he was worried. You never walked that heavily.

"Everything ok, doll?"

You looked up at him, not registering a word he said. He stood up and walked over to you, fingers reaching up to stroke your face.

"You good?" He whispered, his forehead almost touching yours.

You pulled away from his touch, even though your body was screaming for you to collapse into his open arms. "Yeah, Buck, fine. See you in the morning for training." You stepped past him, heading for the stairs.

"Yeah, doll. See you in the morning."

The morning came around far quicker than you'd hoped. You had barely slept, tossing and turning all night, your mother's words ringing through your head.

Eventually, you realised it was a futile effort. You might as well get up and be productive. You found yourself in the gym just as the sun came up, face to face with a heavy bag. You clenched your wrapped fists before shaking the sleep out of your system.

Your hits were precise, measured, calculated. If there was one thing no one could fault you for, it was your skills. You were an impeccable agent. If only your mum could see that. You took your rage out on the heavy bag, pouring every ounce of resent in your body into your punches. Sweat beaded on your forehead, the exertion making your breaths heavier and your knuckles sting. You kept punching, time slipping away from you.

You heard the door to the gym open, and someone was talking. Their voice was muted, almost as if your head was underwater. Between the punches and your tiredness, nothing registered in your foggy mind. From the distance you could hear footsteps, getting louder almost as if they were walking towards you.

You nearly jumped out of your skin when a hand brushed against your shoulder. You spun around ready to cuss out whichever stupid rookie decided to bother you so early in the morning. You were surprised to see familiar eyes boring into yours.

"I called your name, you know," Bucky said, his hands moving to rest on your waist, "twice. I even dropped my bag next to yours to get your attention."

"Sorry, I was thinking."

"I can tell," Bucky's thumbs drew circles on your waist, absentmindedly, "Where's that pretty mind been at lately?"

"What do you want, Barnes?"

"I'm worried. About you. You haven't been yourself lately. What's going on?"

"Nothing." You sighed, removing yourself from his grasp, "Missions, reports, meetings. It's tiring."

"Maybe you take a holiday? Try and relax a bit?" You could hear the genuine concern in his voice but you still rolled your eyes.

"Maybe you mind your own fucking business, Barnes? Don't you have other shit to be doing apart from hovering over me?" You grabbed your stuff, refusing to make eye contact with him, and walked out.

"I'm still seeing you for training right?" You hear him call after you, but you keep walking. You let out a shaky breath as soon as you got into the elevator.

He didn't see you for training. Or after.

You'd skipped training in favour of going on a run with Steve and then you had to file a few mission reports. You'd holed yourself up in your office, manila files piling up on the corner of your desk your fingers brushing over the keys with seasoned speed. Bucky had wanted to stop by but given your odd behaviour in the morning, he'd decided against it.

You were glad. You hated that Bucky could see right through you, even when you tried your best to hide it. Especially because you were irrevocably in love with him.

You'd been in love with him ever since you'd started working at the compound. Bucky was one of the few people to notice you and your efficiency. You became one of his preferred mission partners, a fact of which you were very proud. You quickly became one of his favourite people, period, and Bucky even went so far as to blow off Steve to spend time with you.

It hurt you to keep him at arm's length but you knew it was for the best. You remembered what your father told you the night before he left. You're on your own kid. You always have been.

You were given a mission assignment in the evening, with strict instructions of 'wheels up at 0600.' The early pickup time wasn't strange and you were itching to get out of the compound. You packed your bag up, leaving it by the door, and headed to bed.

Another restless night of sleep was the last thing you needed, but you were up and at the hangar waiting for Captain Rogers by 0600. He smiled when he saw you and handed you a coffee. You smiled. Your first real smile since you visited your parents.

"Good luck out there." A voice calls from behind you. You freeze. Bucky jogs towards you both, his eyes betraying his tiredness. Steve's face breaks into a grin at the sight of his old friend. Steve throws his arms around Bucky.

"Don't do anything stupid until I get back," Steve says, his joking tone making Bucky laugh.

"How can I? You're taking all the stupid with you."

You want to smile at the sight of the two of them together but you held yourself back. You walked towards the quinjet, ready to get this show on the road when you hear Bucky clearing his voice behind you.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"Onto the quinjet?"

"Not without a hug, you're not." You sigh but trudge down the steps to give him a half-arsed side hug. He pulls you in tight, and whispers into your hair, "When you get back, we're gonna talk. Okay?"

You don't respond, brushing him off and climbing into the jet. Steve follows you in, dropping his bag next to yours, before turning back to wave at Bucky.

"Don't worry, Buck, I'll take good care of your girl."

His girl. That sounded nice. You shook the thought away before elbowing Steve in the sight. Jokingly of course, but he still doubled over for effect. Bucky burst into laughter.

That was the last thing you saw as the door went up.

The mission was hard. Not terrible - no one died, which was a win in your book - but it wasn't fun. Multiple shootouts, car chases, and three hours of hiding in a dumpster later, you were ready to nap for a week. But, alas, Fury had set a debrief at 8 the next morning, which meant that you had - you checked the clock on your microwave - 6 hours at best.

You dropped your bag on the sofa and headed into the bathroom. You unzipped your utility vest, dropping it on the floor. You needed to disinfect it - god knows what had stained that vest. You pulled up your compression shirt, wincing as the flecks of red came into view. You quickly stripped it off, dropping it in the washing basket, before whipping back around. You caught your own reflection in the mirror and tilted your head, taking in your reflection of your body. Your mother's words played back in your head. Maybe your mother had a point.

You quickly shook your head, dispelling those horrible thoughts from your mind. But still, you continued to stare at your body, scrutinising every feature. I mean, sure you weren't as skinny as you used to be, but that's because you had muscle now, right? And the hamburger you had for lunch was a treat - you know for completing the mission? The super important mission that you were on because you are important and you are somebody and you have value and you are someone without your mum. Don't you? And it's ok that you can't see your ribs because actually you have abs now and that's way more attractive. Right? And.. and... and....

SMASH.

Broken glass was shattered all around you, fragments piercing your skin. Your mirror now had a fist-shaped hole in the middle, from where your sadness had quickly bled into anger.

You cradled your bloodied fist in your hand, sinking to the ground as sobs racked through your body. Glass dug into your knees as they hit the floor and you curled your hands into your chest. Hurtful 'what ifs' swirled through your head, stealing your breath and making it almost impossible to breathe.

Pounding on your door broke you out of your thoughts. You tried to regain your bearings. It was 2 am. You were in your apartment, the apartment that was miles away from the compound, that you lived in alone. Who the hell would be at your door right now?

You were silent, breath bated as you waited for the stranger to go away. They banged on the door again.

"Doll, I swear to god, if you don't let me in, I'm going to break your fucking door down."

You knew that voice anywhere. The knowledge that you weren't alone, that he was here for you, that Bucky wouldn't make you suffer alone brought new tears to your eyes. Fresh sobs burst from your chest as you tried to move. Glass shards were stabbing into your legs, and one of your hands was bleeding profusely. Bucky, your safety net, was so close and yet so far.

"Doll? Doll, I can hear you. Doll, please, please let me in." You could hear the panic in his voice as he struggled with his conscience. You tried to move but the pain was excruciating. A pained scream erupted from your lips.

A loud bang came from your front door, followed by heavy and fast footsteps.

"Where are you, doll? Come on, just come and talk to me." He said, sweeping through your living room. You whimpered from the bathroom, his enhanced hearing focussing on even the smallest of sounds.

He quickly found his way into the bathroom, his eyes raking over your hunched figure, before flitting to the broken mirror and the shards of glass on the ground.

"Oh doll," he whispered, bending down to scoop you up from the floor. He cradled you gently as he carried you from the bathroom into your bedroom. "What happened, doll? Talk to me."

You looked up at him, trying to figure out where to start. You blanked. You couldn't find a good place to start the story that would cause you the least pain. Your mouth opened and closed a few times with no sound coming out. Bucky rested his hand against yours, trying to reassure you to take your time, but the sound of your wince drew his attention to your hands.

"Doll, your hands." He grabbed your hands gently, peering at your knuckles. They were mauled, glass sticking out of torn-up skin, "What did you do?" He stood up, walking into your kitchen to grab the first aid kit he knew was under the sink. Watching him walk around like he owned the place made some small part of your heart happy - it was almost as if your dreams, your darkest-held fantasies, were coming true.

Bucky kneeled in front of you, placing the first aid kit beside him. He brushed all the glass shards off your legs - luckily none of them had been embedded into your skin. He cleaned any small scratches before turning to your knuckles. The sight of your knuckles made him wince and you started to pull them away. Bucky leveled you with a look that said, let me take care of you. You let him. He sterilised a pair of tweezers and got to work pulling the shards of glass out of your knuckles. You sat in silence for a while, Bucky diligently working on your knuckles, and you watching the swiftness with which he worked.

"Why did you punch the mirror, doll?" Bucky asked after a while.

"I was angry," you whispered, your voice deathly quiet. Now that the rage was gone, all you had left was embarrassment.

"And why were you angry?" Bucky coaxed, his eyes pleading for some answers. He pulled out the last shard of glass before swiping an alcohol wipe over your knuckles and bandaging them up. He packed up all the items back into the first aid box and went to put it away and wash his hands.

You were still sat on the bed contemplating your answer when he got back. He knelt in front of you again, before he rested his hands on your face, "Why were you angry doll?"

"I didn't like it." You whispered, pulling your body away from him.

"What didn't you like?" Bucky's eyes stared into yours and you suddenly felt extremely self-conscious. You tried to remove yourself from his all-seeing, mind-reading gaze, but he didn't let you. He pulled you into his lap, and you hid your face in his neck. His beard tickled your forehead as you nestled into him, trying to seek out the comfort you so desperately needed but didn't know how to ask for.

"Me." You said, your head turned away from him as you stared at your hands.

"What?"

"I didn't like me." Your voice started to shake as you tried to find the right words to tell him the truth, the whole honest godforsaken truth, but you couldn't.

Bucky seemed to read your mind, "It's ok, take your time. We don't have to talk about this today. We can come back to it later, when you're feeling up for it, okay?" You nodded, burrowing further into him, "You wanna sleep?"

You nodded again, and Bucky shifted, wrapping his arms around you so he could gently place you down on the bed. He removed his arms from underneath you and tucked you into bed, gently kissing your forehead as you turned to leave. You whined.

"Pleasedon'tgoBuck-" You mumbled, sleep quickly pulling you under. He smiled, perching himself on the end of the bed.

"You sure you want me to say, sweetheart? Not sure you'll ever get rid of me if I stay?"

"I promise. Never want you to go." You said, clinging to his arm and pulling him back into bed.

You slipped into an easy slumber as Bucky shuffled around in your room. Maybe you didn't have to be on your own anymore.

fin.

[sebsbarnes]

psychopomp || tangerine

tangerine x f!reader

summary: it was that moment, underneath the streetlight, that tangerine knew he had no choice but to love you

warnings: death, dying, anxiety

word count: 1.6k+ ; ANGST

masterlist

a/n; can't lie team this one kinda hurts maybe not as bad as 'the days you meet' but its also a diff kind of hurt??? anyways enjoy? inspo from one of my fav songs

psychopomp: a spiritual guide to a living person's soul

it had been a year. one year since tangerine died on the bullet train. one year of grieving the man you loved harder each day that passed. you woke up each day wishing it was a dream, some sick fucking dream meant to torment you until it drove you mad but you'd still wake up. and when you did, tangerine would be lying next to you in bed, one arm draped lazily around your waist greeting you good morning.

it was only a day before tangerine died that the two of you finally spoke those three words. it wasn't even needed truth be told. you both knew the love you had for the other whether it be your actions or words, it was evident.

"you are my everything," tangerine whispered to you one night. the confession came out of nowhere in the middle of watching an action movie. from his lap you looked up at him, cheeks turning red but thankfully the dull light from the tv masked the blush. reaching up you gently stroked his chin running a thumb across his bottom lip.

"you are my everything and more."

the memory ached. your skull felt tight and you screwed your eyes tight wishing away the painful memory. it felt too real. it felt like that night two years ago was unfolding at the current moment. you could almost smell tangerine's shampoo and feel the fabric of the couch on your legs. it's not real. the air held no fragrance and the bed sheets were a far sensation from the fabric of the couch.

"i don't think i'd ever be able to do life without you," you grinned lovingly at tangerine. he stumbled in his steps, caught off guard by the loving sentiment.

tangerine quirked an eyebrow at you, "why 'cause i picked out some peppers for you?" he joked holding up a plastic bag of peppers he just grabbed from the grocery store shelf.

the laugh you let out echoed off the walls of the grocery store earning some curious eyes. some may think it's silly to profess such a statement for an action that is so mundane but you were smitten by tangerine, and something as simple as grocery shopping was something you wished to never experience without him.

even though you lay there with closed eyes you felt your lips twitch into the smallest of smiles. you could remember the confused yet playful tone in his voice and the way he dangled the bag of peppers. you swore you could feel the tingling on your cheek after he kissed you and then whisked you away to check out. your fingers twitched to caress your cheek but your arm couldn't move.

it was beautiful, that night 366 days ago. the sky had never been so clear. the breeze drifted delicately across your bare arms. the distant sound of a mother urging their child that it was time to leave the park was met with defiance. it made you giggle, understanding the desire to stay out late and continue to play. tangerine was standing behind you, arms wrapped around your shoulders, head tucked into your neck. his breathing tickled your neck ever so slightly raising goosebumps. you weren’t sure if it was intentional but he was rocking the two of you side to side as you both admired the sky. the way the midnight blue encapsulated the fiery orange.

“i love you,” he stated as if it was the easiest thing to say.

and it was. it was so easy the way the vowels and consonants rolled off his tongue to form three simple words. three words used so much on their own yet when put together carried the weight of the world.

you turned in his arms that moved to your waist and brought yours around his neck. he watched as your eyes glossed over and shined back at him as if he was staring at a star.

“i love you, tangerine.”

"do you mean it?" he jested with a lopsided grin, the fingers on your waist pushing you closer to his body.

"more than you could ever possibly know... moron..."

you took a heavy breath through your nose. your chest ached the same way it did that night except this time your heart pounded from anxiety. you swear you can feel tangerine here with you, you can feel the way his fingers pushed into your skin, you can hear the sound of his heart beating.

his heart beating.

it's not possible.

"but it is," you heard a whisper somewhere far in the depths of your mind.

you heaved forward and your eyes darted around. the lights were too bright and you could barely make out the figure in the corner of the room through half-open eyes. you ran a hand across your face in some measly attempt to wake yourself up more. if you weren't tucked underneath the white sheets you would've fallen over at the sight before you.

"tan- tangerine. w-what? i don't understand, what? what are you doing here," your head couldn't figure out what the hell was happening.

tangerine appeared at your bedside, his smile pulled into a line. he sighed, "i think it's me that should be asking what you are doing here?"

you looked at him quizzically. is he serious you thought. before you could yell at the man you thought was dead for the last year, you watched him solemnly gaze around the room, the side of his lips twitching. you seized all motion besides the robotic movement of your head as you took in the room around you.

white walls and floors, a white bed. a large window into a hallway. there were people running back and forth. the door slammed open and in rushed a frantic man adorned in a white coat. you watched him walk past you and in front of tangerine as if he wasn't there. the man in the coat yelled out to someone behind his shoulder and despite being next to him his voice was distant.

"tan, i don't understand what's going on," you whispered with shaking hands.

tangerine attempted to blink away tears. his blue eyes were even more striking in this moment. he looked beautiful standing next to you but you couldn't ignore the grief on his face.

"there was an accident," he said with a cracking voice, "a bad one."

you turned to look over your shoulder but you were face to face with yourself. anxiety crept throughout every vein inside your body and you began to pant. you felt your chest concaving into itself and you felt the swelling of your throat. you watched the doctors and nurses poke and prod at your body, the monitors unleashing their high-pitched songs.

"i don't understand tangerine what is happening. please, what is happening," you pleaded through panicked tears.

"you were in a car accident darlin'," he swallowed back the sob he wanted to let out. he placed his hands on your shoulders forcing you to face him now.

and you could feel it. you could feel the weight on your shoulders. you could feel the warmth on his hands. he was here. you could feel him, you could smell his cologne, you could see the way his eyes were looking at you, you could hear his voice.

"b-but you're dead... how. does that mean...?" you trailed off waiting to hear his answer as the tears brimming in your eyes finally broke.

"no, my love. not yet," he murmured, his hands rubbing down your arms attempting to bring you comfort, though the tears streaming down his beautiful face made you feel worse.

"i can't do life without you," you pleaded tugging at his hands, threading your fingers through his.

tangerine closed his eyes and steadied his breath. he desperately tried to ignore the way your eyes shined just like that night 366 days ago. the way the streetlights and the tears in your eyes shined as you confessed your love for him was a far cry from the reason why your eyes shined right now. but he couldn't help but be transported back to that park. he wished with every fiber of his being that that night never ended. that you two stood swaying back and forth muttering 'i love you' until dawn broke and day turned into night and night turned into day and you stood there on the pavement until your feet wore holes into the ground.

but he couldn't.

so he let your hands drop to your sides and brought his arms behind his neck. you watched as the gold chain lifted from his chest and he enclosed your hand with his pressing a firm kiss to your forehead.

"it's not your time, darlin'," he grieved. you felt the gold chain snake its way into your palm.

you felt a jolt of electricity course through your body. you could feel it in every bone, muscle, and vein and it ripped into your lungs and it tore you awake. you were met with the frantic eyes of doctors and nurses, some of whom sighed in relief.

"almost lost you there!" one of them chucked nervously fidgeting with a monitor and tubes.

unfortunately, that was the least of your concerns. your eyes scanned every inch of the room looking for tangerine. he was here. he was just here. he was real and alive. he had a pulse. his chest fell and rose because he was alive, he was breathing. you felt his hands on you and you felt his lips on your skin. so where was he? why don't you see him?

"excuse me where did that gentleman go?" you asked.

one of the nurses turned to you confused, "i'm sorry?"

"the man that was standing next to me. long hair, mustache, in a suit?" you pried hoping for any form of recollection to grace her face.

"i'm sorry miss but no one has been in here. i've been monitoring you alone for the past two hours until you started to flatline," she stated confusion still riddled in her tone.

all you could do was mutter the quietest of ohs. you looked down at your body that was now re-tucked underneath white sheets, an iv poking your left arm, a cast protecting your right hand. the white walls and floors with the large window in the wall, just like you had seen.

you noticed the nurse hunch down to the ground before standing up and examining something.

"oh this must be yours!" she exclaimed as you brought your eyes to look at her.

"how cute," she giggled, "there's a little tangerine on it."

time moved in slow motion as she placed the gold necklace in your hand.

[woonhakist]

your only girl

synopsis — you see karina as your own personal aphrodite on earth—arguably even more alluring than the goddess herself—but you could never imagine her knowing that.

pairing — yoo jimin x fem!reader

genre — fluff, angst

warnings — one-sided pining(?), the infamous nail painting scenario, mostly just best friend!karina things (but y/n is horrendously down bad), kinda ambiguous ending

word count — 2.3k

notes — i finally did it…..after suddenly feeling the urge to write this for her, i came out with this 🙏 enjoy!

“what color do you want?” karina asked, fanning out her shimmering, ruby-painted nails. her gaze was glued onto her hands, pure satisfaction in her expression.

“whatever color you want, rina,” you responded, giggling through your words at her intentionally over-exaggerated awe towards her freshly colored nails. “i don’t mind.”

“ooh! okay,” karina clasped her hands together excitedly, tucking her long, shiny black hair behind her ear before digging through the nail polish bin beside her. “i’ll find the best color for you, just wait.”

you hummed in acceptance, staring down as you pressed your palms onto karina’s silky sheets. you silently envisioned different colors on your bare nails, the entire rainbow cycling through your head: red, orange, yellow, green, blue, then purple; all of them over, and over, and over again.

suddenly breaking your color-filled trance, you brought your eyes back up to karina, being met with her nauseatingly gorgeous side profile. you swallowed heavily, your cheeks heating up. instinctively, your hands met each other, taking turns wringing the other hand’s fingers.

there wasn’t a single ounce of makeup on her skin, yet she still had the face of a goddess. she radiated a type of energy that never failed to reel you in, it was like you were eternally hooked on her line. you thought she was above every standardly beautiful face; not even aphrodite could touch her.

“i think i found one,” karina announced, pulling out a thin bottle of shimmery, dull pink nail polish. she shook it gently between her index finger and thumb, smiling widely. “we can match!”

you smiled back at her, your heart pounding. “i have no complaints, that color’s so pretty!”

no amount of times you called something ‘pretty’ could equate to the amount of times you wished you could call her beautiful. even though you already found yourself saying it tons of times, you wanted to say it in contexts that weren’t just complimenting her pictures or makeup.

“even if you did have complaints, i’d still put this on you,” karina joked, beginning to prep the nail polish for painting. “it’s gonna look so good, promise!”

as much as you’d like to be, you weren’t even close to being the only one who thought karina was heaven sent. she was the type of girl that was adored by every passerby and classmate she came across; she was completely the type of girl to be the one you’d see first in a crowd of people.

you couldn’t even fully count the amount of admirers she had on two entire sets of hands. as far as you remembered, nearly every boy in your classes had their heart beating for her. valentine’s days for her were far beyond eventful, and the school’s dance seasons were even worse.

she got far more attention than you ever did, but you never minded; you could barely even care to recall admirers of your own. her attention was the only attention you had ever really wanted; she was enough. you never wanted to be her or be like her, you wanted to be with her.

“give me your hand, y/n,” karina spoke, interrupting your thoughts. she had her own hand out, palm up, patiently waiting for yours.

as soon as you reached your hand out to her, she took it into a gentle grip into her own soft, pretty hand. the pads of her fingers tickled your palm and the back of your hand, awkwardly trying to find the least awkward position to paint your nails. she extended your arm out a little bit more; assumedly for comfort while she worked.

she took the lid-brush out and carefully balanced the topless bottle on the sheets beside her, playing a dangerous game of ‘will it’ or ‘won’t it’ fall with the polish. you let your eyes linger on the bottle for a few seconds, monitoring it as karina carefully shifted in her spot.

“whatever! if it falls over, i can just have you help me wash the blankets,” karina giggles, eyes on your nails. she finally begins to paint the first coat, the cold feeling of the polish spreading through your finger.

you watched her watch your hand, admiring her in the same way everybody else does. you like to think that you do it better, but you know that you don’t. if you did, you knew that karina would have some sort of suspicion, and you didn’t want that.

as much as you didn’t want to be like everybody else, you wanted a special life with karina. you wanted to be what she considered to be her type; her standard. you wanted to be like the boys on the football team that she gawked over, swooning every time and time again. you wanted to be what she wanted, but you couldn’t.

“so, find any new crushes or anything?” karina pried, her voice gradually rising in pitch as she spoke. “you were talking about jaemin from physics earlier, what’s that about?”

you rolled your eyes, sighing at her. “no, nothing new, as per usual. jaemin’s not my type, either—and before you ask why, don’t! i’m just not into him!”

karina laughed and you soon followed her lead, trying your best to keep your hand still for her. she held the polish brush away from your hand as she laughed, but you didn’t want to smudge any of her work.

“so, what is your type, then?” karina settled down, her eyes following as she continued to paint. she was nothing near professional, but you’d pick her over picasso any day. “i don’t think you’ve ever really told me.”

“that’s because i don’t think i really even have one,” you lied, staring at your type right in front of you. “i thought you knew that?”

“well, yeah,” karina tilted her head down and back up, smiling awkwardly. “but, i mean, you can change your mind?”

“that definitely won’t happen anytime soon,” you laughed, and karina fake pouted. she looked up at you, and you could feel your heart skip a couple beats.

“i want to see you all lovey-dovey with someone!” karina gushed, leaning forward for dramatic effect. you laughed for what felt like the hundredth time. “it’s normal for people to want to see their best friend happy like that!”

she only wanted you in the way you didn’t want her to; friendly. you knew it was better than growing apart because of a potential confession from you, but you couldn’t stop your chest from burning every time she talked about someone else romantically. you wanted her to talk about you like that.

“i don’t know, rina,” you shook your head, speaking with purposely amplified uncertainty. “the time will come when it’ll come.”

there was a beat of silence before karina suddenly bursted out laughing, acting as if you said the greatest joke ever told. “wow! how beautifully spoken, y/n. who knew the time would come when it comes?”

you dropped your jaw, instantaneously hunching over to act offended. “hey, i was shakespeare’s ghostwriter in my past life!”

“yeah, right!” karina refuted, leaning forward as her laughter consumed her entire body. “you barely passed english last year!”

she struggled to get her words out as much as you struggled to process them. yours and her laughter was all that you were able to focus on, and it was almost like the pounding beat of your heart was completely inaudible. it was moments like this where you could almost forget how you felt—almost.

in the midst of her laughing fit, karina suddenly squeezed your hand, consequently snapping you back into the moment. your heartbeat rose back up to your throat, replacing your breathtaking laughter. you began to blink at karina slowly, feeling your skin heat up under her grip.

you watched her calm down as you internally did the complete opposite, feeling like you were bound to explode from the heat bubbling up inside your chest. karina put her “free” hand over her own chest, making sure she kept the nail brush away from her shirt.

“jesus christ,” karina breathed out, her last laughs fizzling out. “i swear, i can only laugh like this when i’m with you!”

“i’m not even that funny!” you grin widely, karina returning the smile without a second thought. “maybe the nail polish fumes got to you.”

“stop! you’re gonna make me laugh again,” karina whined, rolling her head back in faux annoyance. “i don’t know, i think it’s just your effect on me.”

you froze. you knew she didn’t mean it in the way you were interpreting it as, but hearing those words from her did something to you. your insides felt like they did a complete turnover, flipping the ‘in’ to the ‘out’ during the process.

“what are you talking about, now?” you questioned, trying your best to sound teasing instead of troubled.

karina shook her head, giving you a gentle smile before continuing to paint your nails. “you know how i like, love you more than life, right? i’m pretty sure that has something to do with it.”

you took a long pause before scoffing lightly, trying to choke down everything that was suddenly fighting to come up to the surface. “why so sentimental all of a sudden?”

karina didn’t respond, opting for finishing your first hand instead. aside from the occasional sniffle, she looked concentrated. her eyebrows were furrowed and her shoulders were tense; you would’ve thought time stopped for a second if it wasn’t for her lax painting.

karina bit her lip lightly, her mouth morphing into a small smile. “switch hands—be careful with the polish, though.”

she let go of your painted hand, and you simultaneously gave her your other one. you took a look at your freshly colored nails, satisfied with the way the pink looked on you. the shimmer was just right, as well, almost catching the light in the same way it caught karina’s eyes.

“you were right, rina. this color looks super nice,” you commented, in awe with your own hand. you weren’t sure if you were in love with the nails or the fact that karina was the one that painted them—probably both.

“what’d i tell you? you have to trust me!” karina scolded, a smile growing on her face for the millionth time. “it shouldn’t need a second coat, either; this polish is just perfect!”

you didn’t know how she could call something perfect when she herself was beyond it. “yeah, it is.”

karina began to repeat her nail-polishing cycle; reshaking the bottle, readying the brush, steadying the bottle on the sheets, adjusting your hand, then finally painting. it was a slow, peaceful minute of silence, letting you bask in the comforting presence of your best friend.

“you never answered my question,” you blurted out before you knew it, breaking the silence.

“what question?” karina mumbled, not completely present in the conversation.

you shook your head, already regretting what you said. “nothing, it doesn’t matter.”

“no, tell me,” karina insisted, glancing up at you then back down.

the watered-down mood would’ve felt uncomfortable to you, but since it was karina, you found yourself smiling. “i was just wondering why you suddenly got so sappy earlier.”

“oh, that,” you could see karina’s silent laugh, her shoulders bouncing lightly. “i don’t know, i just can’t help it; i feel so comfortable around you—i trust you more than anything, y/n.”

you felt a pang in your chest as soon as you heard the word trust; something you knew couldn’t apply to you at all. it felt so wrong; you were lying—keeping such a huge secret from her—yet you were allowed her unquestioned trust.

she lived out her life with you believing that all you thought of her was that of a best friend, but it was so much more. you knew how you felt, but you also knew you could never let karina find out. you practically betrayed her every day, but you didn’t think you could ever bring yourself to come clean to her—even if you knew she deserved it more than anything.

the best you could do was pretend—pretend you weren’t head-over-heels for the beautiful girl who called you her best friend; your only girl. the most you could do was try for her; you didn’t want to know what would happen if you didn’t. you did everything for her as much as you did it for yourself, but no matter who you did it for, the consequences were all the same.

“did that answer your question?” karina interrupted, bringing you out of your thoughts. she was looking up into your eyes now, her charmingly kind expression resting on her face.

“yeah, it did,” you responded shakily, nodding your head. to your relief, karina didn’t seem to notice your nerves, happily moving on to her next topic.

“okay, good!” she let go of your hand, and you almost tried to chase her touch as she pulled back, reluctantly settling for letting her slip away. she frantically picked up the open polish bottle then carefully screwed its top back on, looking straight at you. “i finally finished painting your nails; do you like them, or do you love them?”

she was almost too excited, her pure joy giving her a picture-perfect girlish look. her clear delight was infectious, subconsciously making you mirror her expression. you found it all too hard to not be overly captivated by her, and this time around, you didn’t even think about fighting it. you couldn’t even look at your nails; all you saw was her.

“i absolutely love them,” you admitted, your eyes only seeing karina.

© woonhakist 2023

[readsrealm]

Buggy & The Roger Pirates Thing (maybe even a little Corabug!?)

Buggy always feeing like he doesn’t belong on Rogers crew. Like he was just brought on to be a playmate for Shanks (practically a pet). He’s not entirely wrong either most of the crew shows unintentional favoritism to Shanks and don’t really remember that Buggy’s there half the time.

The next island they visit they actually forget Buggy. Buggy himself doesn’t even realize until hours later, Roger Pirates far away and still unaware of their mistake. Buggy’s devastated, he kinda wanders around the islands small town and into its forest in shock and despair before coming upon a familiar face. A blond marine who he’d met in the town earlier who was now running through the woods. They had a good conversation earlier and all Buggy had really learned was the boys name. Rosinante.

Rosinante takes Buggy back to Sengoku who goes “WAIT A MINUTE” and then declares that Buggy’s been taken in for ransom. Buggy tells them that nobody is going to come for him.

They wait a couple days, then a week, then a couple weeks, finally two whole months go by and nobody’s showed up for Buggy. Sengoku is disturbed by this and does some digging. Apparently a vote to retrieve Buggy was placed and the majority thought it was too much work for the second cabin boy (the add on, the spare, the unpromising backup). There was also info that Roger and the losing side were upset with the polling results but weren’t going to do much about it.

Sengoku decides right there and then he’s gonna see why Roger let Buggy onto his crew in the first place and why they don’t want Buggy back.

And…..

Sengoku has no clue why they wouldn’t want Buggy to return to them. He’s crafty, smart, loyal. He’s a good kid by pirate standards. Clearly a trouble maker but the passion he has for chemistry and science is unmatched. The way he solves puzzles and can worm his way out of any situation socially is insane. His treatment of people around him and of Cora himself (even if it’s special treatment😉) is admirable. Not to mention the boys luck.

Sengoku suspect it’s cause of Buggy’s less upfront way of fighting and actually assessing situations is what put The Rogers off. Buggy may be cowardly but if he really is needed he’ll do his part. Plus his long range weapons (bombs, altered guns) are nothing to sneeze at.

Buggy ends up staying with the marines for a really long time even if in the beginning he said he was going to escape and get far far away from them. Instead staying, training and getting stronger.

Decades later Red Haired Shanks comes face to face with a marine with long blue hair and the nickname Ringmaster.

Okay first of all thank you for writing this.

now right now I’m crying because that’s just fucking sad.

them leaving buggy there and how they decided is disgusting and I’m literally devastated. Poor buggy wanna hug him so bad.

For me Roger here failed as the captain bc who tf cares what the crew thinks. He is the captain and he should have been defending Buggy but he didn’t. In here Ace was right Roger was a monster bc left a child who looked up to him like no one else ever did in a town from nowhere behind. I wonder how shanks reacted.

I kinda wished that- I don’t know if you watched the LA but there Garp is on the Plattform where Roger gets killed. I wish that buggy would arrive the Plattform when Roger finished his speech him thinking he will die with no regrets and with starting the new era but the moment he saw buggy his smile vanished and he knew he could no longer die at peace.

I have two things in mind of what buggy could say

He would smile at roger with a trembling body saying something like: “I hoped you lived a good live “captain”

or

2. He would be cold and saying shit like: “That’s it Gol D. Roger. You and your loved one will pay for your crimes” and he would mean it bc with people who believe in him he would get stronger and have more determination

I’m kinda surprised that Sengoku would take with if we think about what he did to Ace considering that wanted to execute him for being roger son not being the second commander of Whitebeard who was equal to roger. But I do not complain. If I think about it Buggy could be trained by Sengoku and Garp and Tsuru. Sengoku and Garp were also equal to roger. And while Sengoku could teach him to be smarter fight smarter, Garp could train him in strength combat and haki. Tsuru could help him to calm himself down and always keep his cool. So he could be powerful yonko level bc that what actually oda said. If Buggy would take effort he would be yonko level.

You know what a sad part of this is Buggy is the kind of character who gets treated bad by the “good” ones (in here the goal of the main character) but he would not get justice. He would die and maybe the others would regret it but probably not the same episode one person would say “he would want that you hate yourself…” like BITCH OFC HE WOULDNT BUT YOU SHOULD BC YOU DESERVE THAT.

anyways I’m getting of the topic I think Buggy is smart and a sweetheart if you treat him well. He maybe loves treasure in an unhealthy amount and can be a little arrogant but it’s like he is be mean but still would do everything for you if you treat him right. (I also believe that he would not have a pride problem to apologize if he did something wrong but that another thing).

again with the Plattform (I hope it’s Plattform English is not my native’s language) the thing is Shanks would see it. And I think no matter if choice one or two you choose he would be angry…even though he has no right too. But Buggy doesn’t care about shanks…well not anymore bc he has Rosi. While he hadn’t a bad relationship with Shanks his relationship with Rosi is much better. Shanks if not meant to be mean only teased him which lead to the whole crew teasing him and Buggy didn’t like that. I mean I don’t think he had a problem with some teasing bc that normal and fun you know? Everyone does that but they teased him about everything and it kinda hurt bc it gave off the feeling he wasn’t taking seriously at all. That he couldn’t be allowed to be sad or scared…genuinely.

With Rosi it wasn’t like that he got comforted motivated. Instea if being told that “a pirate isn’t allowed to be scared” or “are you hiding again” or “you wouldn’t be scared if you trained harder like shanks” he gets “it’s fine I protect you” or “don’t be scared buggy! Your strong and if anything happens I’m right here” and it helps bc it motivates him and them saying that they believe he is strong wants him to prove that and he doesn’t and he makes mistakes and learns from them and gets better bc that how it should be done

So if Buggy and Shanks would meet after decades Shanks would be furious at Buggy for doing this to their captain. But with just a few sentences Shanks anger turned into guilt

“Roger didn’t want me. He left me and abandoned me. No one wanted me”

So I think Shanks would withdraw and just go with it. But now he would feel emptier. It was one thing not having seen buggy and him officially cutting of the relationship was hard for Shanks but he shouldn’t complain he didn’t say anything when they voted to leave him even if he didn’t want that he could do more. Bc they would listen to him.

Buggy himself would live a good life being a very much known marine (vice admiral) having Rosi by his side (this is a Corazon lives AU) and be happy.

I even think that Luffy would be on Buggy’s side if he heard that story. But still would not stop being a pirate

[liquidstar]

SEASON 3 TRAILER DROPPED HERES MY THOUGHTS (LN spoilers)

BROTHER AND SISTER OF ALL TIME THEYRE SO CUTE <3 love seeing how their relationship has progressed from beako literally throwing him out a window for stuff like this to her happily playing along its so so so so so cute. genuinely just one of the cutest and sweetest dynamics in the series

hi ram roswaal and fred :) this is probably all we're going to really see of you guys this arc lol

JOSHUA REAL!!!!! but not for long (also otto in the bg foreshadowing all the drinking hes about to do this arc. hes so stressed. poor emilia is trying her best)

julius looks so babyfaced here? they really emphasized his long eyelashes just like subaru has been on about every time he mentions him. they better include the scene where he checks him out, like, if they dont animate subaru looking dead at this mans ass im going to riot

i LOVE this shot of ana. you can really tell shes up to some corrupt capitalist bullshit as we speak. love her for that. wish i had this pic when i made that one money game anastasia video

the red dress actually does look really good on crusch like it compliments the green hair really well but also the crusch we know would not walk around in such a thing so its like. damn looks like the "memories are an important part of identity" story thinks memories are an important part of identity. who knew.

ALSO LOVE FELTS NEW LOOK SO MUCH! the only complaint is i felt (felt lol) like the red brought out her eyes more but the blue also looks cool. three primary colors all being used looks nice too

whatever who cares about all that THE CUNT!!!!!!! THE CUNT IS HERE!!! I CANNOT WAIT FOR ALL THE DRAMA SHE CAUSES TO BE ANIMATED FOR REAL

no fucking way... did they actually...

THEY DID! THEY CENSORED THAT HORRIBLE FUCKING DESIGN OH MY GOD. SHES WEARING SHORTS AND JUST A CROPPED SHIRT. AND CHAPS I GUESS? BUT ALSO A LITTLE SKIRT CAPE SO NO ASS SHOTS... THIS WILL MAKE WATCHING THE SEASON SO MUCH MORE TOLERABLE. i mean not perfect but STILL.

photos taken seconds before disaster lmfao. i still love how chin thinks subaru is a freak and weirdo for being so buddy buddy with him after he and his buddies mugged him. twice. (even more times from subarus perspective. hell he stabbed subaru once) genuinely cant wait to see more of this dynamic its so stupid.

THE FUCKING CUNT!!!!!! also the apples lol

oh you poor thing. you have no idea what next level family drama bullshit awaits. good luck. get ready to kill grandma AGIAN lol

:'( emilia still misses her terrible cat dad and its kinda sad when you know were not getting a resolution on that here either. they both look so sad :(

i cannot wait for garf mommy issues round fucking 2.

THIS CRAZY BITCH!!! I CANNOT WAIT TO SEE THIS CRAZY BITCH ANIMATED. I CANT WAIT TO SEE HOW THEYRE PORTRAY HER MANNERISMS. ESP W HOW WILD PETELGEUSE WAS ANIMATED IN S1. REAL LOONY TOONS BULLSHIT. AND HER POWERS ARE ALSO SOOOOOO MUCH COOLER I CANT WAIT

NO MORE DRESSES FOR CRUSCH YAY

he fucking bit it. yeah i guess thats what dogs do tho.

YOU. DIVORCE MAN. KILL YOURSELF. SLASH SERIOUS.

the empathy powers will have a glowing eye effect. very cool but i hope they dont show it too much in the first scene bc like in the LN i think its cooler if you dont know why everything is so... Wrong.

i dont rly have anything to say i just think ferris looks cool covered in blood. imagine being healed here like doctor catgirl will see you now

emilia be nice. that crazy bitch might be your mom. just like how the previous crazy bitch was in fact your dad.

THEY CHANGED UP CAPELLA'S DESIGN TOO honestly tho her being sexualized makes sense w a lot of the themes (the way its intentionally meant to be perverse and gross in a way explicitly stated) so i didnt mind as much and she still IS here but. this is still an improvement imo just a better outfit looks cooler. bug.

NAUR I DONT WANNA WAIT... OCTOBER.... AUGH

[celestoria]

Needing You

Summary: You didn’t realize your boyfriend finally came back home while you relieving yourself after being so needy for so long. After being such a tease, you decided to take out your pent up feelings on him.

Pairing: Luocha x fem!reader

Words: 1k

Tags: masturbation(f), biting, penetration, creampie, top!reader, kinda vanilla

Do not interact if you are 16 or below (17+)

Everything great had to come with its pros and cons and you can say the same about your relationship with Luocha. He has been such an amazing lover to you however, you kinda wished he spent more time with you.

You knew it was selfish to say that since he’s so dedicated to his job, working for weeks away from home. But within those days where he was away, loneliness always surges through you whenever he’s out of reach.

Staring out into the nothingness of the ceiling, your mind dreamed about Luocha and his presence. You missed how his voice would send tingles through your spine when he mumbled sweet nothings and how his arms would wrap around your waist to pull you close to him.

Yearning and desire for his touch grew stronger by the time you realized how much you craved his passionate kisses tickling your skin that eventually left you tangled up in each other the morning after.

You turned to your side and faced the edge of the bed while your thighs rubbed against each other under your nightgown. Dirty daydreams crept their way into your thoughts and arousal soaked your panties.

How you want- no, you need him to ravage you right now to the point you see the stars up in the sky.

Oh, why does he have to be away when you’re so needy?

Desperation filled you, causing you to sinfully sink your hand in between your legs. Debaucherous fantasies played in your mind like a film while you pretended the fingers in you were his. You knew how to pleasure yourself, but Luocha was the only one who could show you what heaven felt like.

“Luocha,” you moaned with pure lust and your eyes closed shut. “I want you so badly.”

Out of the blue, a hand tucked your hair between your ear and nuzzled on the side of your neck.

“Have I left you for that long, sweetheart,” a familiar voice whispered.

You were startled and your hand stopped curling inside your hole, leading your high to be cut short. Your head turned around and right beside was Luocha, donning that loving smile that told you how much he’s glad to have you in his grasp once again.

Still, your apparent fluster brought a tint of red to your cheeks. How embarrassing it was to be caught in the act. It’s as if you managed to manifest him using your sexual desires.

“Now, if I may ask, what did you say just right now,” he teased. How long did he know you were fucking yourself? “You are aware I cannot give you something without knowing.”

“I want you so badly,” you said quietly.

“Hm?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you cursed and crashed your lips together.

“You do not know how much I miss you,” he confessed in between kisses.

Both your lips parted. “I missed you too, Luocha. I was going insane with how long I need you,” you whined.

You pushed him down on the bed and straddled him. Imagine dealing with a teasing jerk while you had to be there dealing with the pent-up desire for him. You had enough and time to take it out all on him.

After you pushed him down on the bed and straddled him, you took your nightgown off as you grinded on top of the bulge constrained by his pants. Your body moved inches away before hastily undid his clothes. His member came out twitching the same way you were soaking wet for him.

The weight of your body pressed against him with your hands splayed across his chest while you tried to align your cunt with his dick.

As you rocked on top of him, Luocha found himself holding you in your hips. Even if he could take control like your usual routine, It was his night to show you how he’s truly yours and he didn’t want to take that from you. All he wanted was to touch you again in ways he has been wanting to do for the last few weeks.

His head tilted to the side with his eyes closed to relish the pleasure as a frangic moan escaped his lips. You leaned in forward, your hips refusing to stop. You squished his cheeks and directed him to look at you again.

“Don’t look away,” you panted. “You know I don’t want that right now.”

A small giggle left his lips seeing you like this. Luocha found it adorable you dominate his body in such a needy way that he can’t help but obey your every command,

Luocha caressed your back, causing your skin to prickle and your body to push downward on him. You picked up your pace , causing him to dig his nails into your skin while you hid your face on the crook of his neck.

“If you keep moving like that, I’m afraid I might cum inside you,” he moaned, feeling your walls clench around him tighter and tighter.

You didn’t care about that and pretended as if you didn’t hear a single thing from him. You rocked on top of him with such a sloppy yet hungry pace and your mouth bit on his neck, causing the merchant to gasp.

Soon you began to jerk and you found yourself dissolving in pleasure while a warm liquid painted your insides white. You found yourself huffing out of exhaustion and your breath tickled Luocha’s flushed and sensitive skin. You were still on top of him, with his dick still inside your pussy as both of you relishing the satiated lust.

You looked up to the lover you’ve longed for. Sweat formed on his forehead and coated his blonde bangs. You knew he was tired as well, but it was the type of tiredness that came with a sense of euphoria and relief. Even if he can’t move his body the following day, he wouldn’t mind as long as you were at reach once again.

[sequs-art-box]

give me ALL your Anger headcanons,,

You sure you want that? Okay.....

• Has a high pain tolerance. The most you'd get with a punch to his stomach is a small grunt. Nothing more.

• Continuing the tolerance thing, he has extremely high spice tolerance as well. Maybe to the point of not having capsaicin sensors at all. That'd be so funny honestly..

• Cold Take: Anger is Gay and Ace.

• SLIGHTLY WARM Take: He's Biromantic and Ace.

• Physically strong. Even more than Embarrassment. He could have broken through his grip no problem. Do you SEE my vision.

• Completely immune to lava (this is kinda canon already but I don't care >:>)

• Emits heat, even when he's not super angry. The other emotions use him as their personal heater- similar to Baymax in that one scene- during the winter.

• Has woken up the other emotions due to a bad dream many times. Surprisingly enough, his fire extinguisher hasn't been used yet.

• Anger is Joy's second in command.

• One kind of pain he can't tolerate are migraines (totally not projecting)

• I've mentioned this before but I like to think Anger is really good at making the others feel better, whether if it's about themselves or about how they work (gestures to the scene where he comforts Joy)

• Used to sleep with a tank top on but took it off after finding out going shirtless was way more comfortable

• Likes generally hardcore sounding music, but he doesn't mind some relaxing genres too. He ain't afraid to admit that either. He can listen to whatever the fuck he wants.

• Didn't like tea until Fear made him try it (Fear didn't like coffee until Anger made him try it)

• Doesn't have good handwriting. It's not too bad but Joy, Fear, and Anxiety wished he slowed down and wrote a little better.

• Anger is actually a very organized emotion, at least with the stuff he cares about.

• Cheeks turn cherry red when he's flustered (think of it like an opposite reaction to his orange cheeks when he's angry)

• After the events of the first movie, Anger had to *really* learn to control himself. That work definitely paid off by the second movie.

• He's actually not that bad of a dancer, yall just don't give him enough time to practice.

• Tends to babysit Envy a LOT. Says he doesn't like it but he's 100% a father figure to her now. Sorry, no takebacksies.

• PEOPLE THINK THIS MF CANT RUN OR SOME SHIT but he keeps up with the others just fine in the second movie. Dude literally works out every day how can he NOT.

• MY Anger is a good singer, but OG Anger isn't. Sorry bud. I can't see (hear) it.

• He is textbook "act now think later"

• Unintentionally an early bird. Often the first to wake up cause he needs to get shit done.

• The console was made with very durable material, specifically to withstand Ange's outbursts.

• He may be the "youngest" of the original five, but he acts like the oldest.

• Anger's love languages are quality time and acts of service.

• He was the first one to be brought down to the Belief System.

• Despite having a high spice tolerance, he's more of a savory/sweet guy.

• I love to think that Anger is unintentionally charming.... Giving him a high rizz score here. Sorry not sorry.

• Extremely protective of the other emotions. Doesn't show this side often, but when it matters, he'd fight till he fades from existence for them.

• Tried to learn origami with Joy but he kept burning the paper.

• Likes Western dragons more than Eastern dragons, he finds all kinda super interesting though.

• Owns multiple ties with the same design (this can be said about the other emotions too)

• If I were to give him an instrument, he's totally rock an electric bass, or any low sounding instrument.

• Anger is a dog person.

• Looks SUPER good with blue and black clothing. He should wear it more often.

• When he can't show affection to someone, he just punches them (toph from atla core LOL)

• Some positive aspects of his character: Loyal, compassionate, ambitious, and confident.

● Stopped reading the Mind Reader newspapers because they lost their journalistic integrity.

• I will edit this with more headcanons in the future. Enjoy this for now :))

[astermath]

memory lane ु ₓ｡

summary: you and robin recall your first kiss together, and you want a rematch.

word count: 1.1K

tags: established relationship, like a tiny bit suggestive, normal font below!

notes: hey why is literally NO ONE writing for robin?? she’s so cute and so lovely and so ahdkdkd i’m in love w her

The sound of Blondie’s latest album fills the room, accompanied by the scent of incense and opened nail polish. The beige carpet and dark blue walls of your room had long become familiar to Robin, who’d honestly been spending more time at your house than hers recently.

The window was open to make the summer heat somewhat bearable. You both sat on the floor, your back to her chest as you painted her nails for her. Her chin was placed onto the crown of your head, fully relaxed into you as if she was your blanket. It could have been 50 degrees hotter outside, and your girlfriend would still find a way to cuddle up to you. She was always kind of clingy like that, not that you’d ever complain about it.

You hummed along with “Heart of Glass”, stroking the brush over her short nails to paint them a pretty red. “To match your cute uniform,” you’d told her, and it made her feel a little better about how silly the sailor outfit looked.

You always had a way of making things sound a lot better or approachable, which was helpful with a major over thinker like herself. Even before she’d start nervously rambling about whatever she was worried about, you’d sense it, and say something to calm her down. Which usually worked. Not always. Sometimes you’d just have to let her ramble.

“All done,” you gently took her hand in yours, careful not to smudge your hard work, and held it up for her to see.

“Wow, that’s way better than how I usually do them.” she chuckled, leaning in to kiss your cheek. “Thanks baby.”

You giggled at her affection, her loose strands of blonde hair tickling your face. You’d made a habit out of doing Robin’s nails, her hair, her makeup… You were really good at anything beauty related, something she’d always admired about you.

“Remember when I did your nails the first time?” You turned your head so you could look at her, only to see the memory had brought a giddy smile to her face.

“How could I possibly forget? Was the best day of my life.” She chuckled. “Do you?”

You remembered it perfectly. Well, it was only four months ago, it would be pretty embarrassing if you didn’t. Still, the even the tiniest details were still so crisp in your mind.

The smell of her perfume when she hugged you goodbye at your doorstep.

The feeling of her hand in yours when you held it, keeping her from walking back out. Soft, but clammy.

The crooked, awkward smile she gave you, before she nodded, agreeing to stay a little longer in your room.

The nerves you both felt when you’d realized you’d never outwardly said this was a date, not the movie you both went to see, and not the time you spent in your bedroom. The fear of thinking the other might just see you as a friend, and that this would all be one big gay misunderstanding.

You specifically remember trying to gauge the situation when you were painting her nails for her, and tried to ask her about her type.

You recall how long it took for you to realize she’d been describing you.

You remember her hopeful smile. She remembers your surprised face, and the anticipation for rejection.

Only for you to grab her face and kiss her right then and there, almost knocking her over onto the scruffy carpet.

“I kinda wish I didn’t do it like that.” you confessed, cheeks warm from having just described your first ever kiss with Robin. Or with any girl, for that matter.

“Whaaaat?” Robin sat across you now, elbow leaned on her knees as she sat with her legs crossed. She’d been looking at you with a dreamy smile this entire time, wondering how she got so lucky. “For the record, I thought it was perfect.” She put her hands behind her on the carpet and leaned back, tilting her head slightly. “What would you have done different?”

“Well,” you sat on your knees, hands placed on your lap, “for starters, I would have been way smoother, like—“ You reach for her hand, pretending you’re doing her nails again. You trail your fingers up her arm, moving closer, until your hands settle on her shoulders. You’re looming over her, and she’s holding back from holding your hips for the sake of the scenario.

You flash a teasing smile, and Robin recognises that mischievous glint in your eyes, the one that makes her thighs rub together and her body tingle.

You reach out a hand, gently touching her cheek with the back of your fingers. “I’d ask you if you were into the type of girls that take care of you. That hold you, brush your hair… Do your nails…” You lean in, and whisper breathily over her lips, her eyes watching yours in anticipation. “The ones that…Take charge.” You straddle her hips and seal your lips together, her hands settling onto your hips and squeezing your soft skin there. She lets out what you can only make out to be a whimper into the kiss, her abdomen working hard to sit upright in this position.

That’s why you gently nudge her down onto the floor, hand holding the back of her head so it doesn’t come down with too much of an impact. You pull away from her, and she almost whines at the sudden loss of your lips on hers. You grin, reaching out to gently brush a lock from her face. “That’s how I’d do it.”

She just stares at you for a moment, so completely lovestruck and captivated by your beauty. She couldn’t believe how lucky she was, finding the loveliest, prettiest girl ever in Hawkins of all places. She figured she was going to be alone forever, or at least until she moved to a bigger city. Now she dreams of sharing that future with you instead.

“You okay baby?” You chuckle, a little proud that you’d managed to reduce her to a puddle so easily. You were both each other’s first girlfriends, so every kiss, every hug and every ‘I love you’ felt just a little different. A little better.

“Yeah, just uhm…” She breathed out a laugh, closing her eyes for a moment. “Wow.” She grinned. Sometimes it took a moment to truly take in that it was all real, that it wasn’t like those nights she’d laid awake dreaming of a life like this, no— you were there.

“Yeah,” you smile, full of adoration for the blonde girl beneath you. “Wow indeed.”

[hectic-hector]

I MET BILLY WEST!!!

Collector-Con was on Saturday, August 17th. I was planning to go as Héctor from Coco, but 3 days before the con, I found out that voice actor Billy West was going to be there. I've been a big fan of Futurama ever since its premiere in 1999, and West voices multiple characters in the show: Philip J. Fry, Dr. Zoidberg, Professor Farnsworth, and Zapp Brannigan. I decided to go as Fry, so I hurried to put together a last-minute cosplay. I already had blue jeans and black sneakers, and picked up a plain white t-shirt from Goodwill. I tried to order a red jacket and orange wig that I would style from Amazon, but the earliest they'd arrive would be the day after the con, so I asked around on Facebook and a friend brought me a jacket. The only thing I could think of for the hair was paper and aluminum foil. Fry wore a foil hat in the movie Into the Wild Green Yonder, so that's what I did. It was the best I could do on such short notice. So I got to the con and there was Billy West! He was really nice and complimented my costume. His natural voice sounds a lot like Fry. I was kinda surprised by how short he is. I'm 4'11" for context. He told me Futurama has been his favorite voice work (and he has done a LOT of voice work across dozens of cartoons over the past 40 years), that he's ashamed to say he hasn't watched the new seasons on Hulu yet, and that there will be two more seasons after the one currently airing. Phil LaMarr was also there, in the booth beside West's. He voices Hermes Conrad on Futurama. He was there last year too, where I remember thinking "I wish Billy West would come to one of our cons." And then he did! It was a dream come true!

[cainache]

WE NEED A PART TWO OF THE MUSE OF WHAT’S NEW 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 is amazing

the muse behind what’s new ii ♱ eddie munson (part i)

Home was his first grave, and he’d managed to climb out with dirt and blood clinging to his fare skin.

He never wanted to go back, only forward.

And here he is, nearly drowning in the Hawkins airport. He’s surprised at how alive it is at nine at night.

When he left New York without a heads up to anyone, he hadn’t even had a bag with him. Just a really big hoodie that did good at keeping his face a ghost case. He hadn’t been spotted. He hadn’t realized but the thought had brought a smile to his face. The first one in the last twenty four hours.

Getting off the plane, and landing in the walls of the Hawkins airport—he gets why it’s so lively right now. There’s parents after parents waiting as their college kids come back to them from a break? Eddie’s not sure. He didn’t go to college.

It’s summer break, unknown to him, known to you.

There’s an odd feeling in the pit of his belly, no one waiting for him as he climbed off a plane. It’s been years since that’s happened. He doesn’t know how to feel about it.

He should probably call his uncle, but he still works nights. Despite how much money Eddie sends, Wayne will still work till he can’t.

Eddie will get to Wayne eventually. He should definitely care more but can’t.

He pulls his limbs from the hoodie as he leaves the airport, he ties the material around his slim waist.

New York had been a choker. It normally isn’t. Kinda. He’s only been living there for the last couple of years now. But they’ve, the band, started up another tour. Night one was fucking perfect. Night two was just as good. Night three, not so much. Adonis Mitch, Corroded Coffin’s drummer, he’s quite the catch. But his addiction is probably the worst Eddie’s ever seen. Yeah, whatever, all the scene is drugs, music, and sex. Trust me, he knows. But last night had been too much of that.

Adonis fucked up major during one of their songs because he was so gone, it thrown Gareth and Jeff off, and Eddie hadn’t seem to mind all that much. He’d kept the fuck up alive, and I doubt anyone in the crowd noticed. But when the drum set was kicked over with a yell, and Adonis’ foot was stuck in a drum and he went plummeting off stage—Eddie seemed to care then. It was bad. Blood. Yelling. Crying girls inches away from Adonis’ red head. Medics. Being rushed off stage by team members. Photography flashes.

Eddie couldn’t breathe. And now, he’s in Hawkins after he swore to himself he’d never come back here unless someone died.

He’s walking outside the airport now and he’s not to sure where he’s going but he lets his footwork do it for him. His memory of this town is still sharp as ever.

To make Corroded Coffin matters worse, Cady Lovewell is a fuckin’ sucker. Eddie knows he should be nicer to her. She’s a cool girl. Younger than him. Definitely smarter than him. She works almost harder than him, even though no one will willingly look for that in her. She’s a pretty girl, a model, and everyone knows about her and Eddie’s sex life because he wrote her off like that for the world to hear.

Things had been cool at first. But he hadn’t been in a relationship, like a real relationship, since he left home. So, it was definitely an adjustment from the constant random sex to one single chick—he’s a prick. He knows.

Cady had just been trying to help. To calm Eddie down after Adonis just about killed himself. But he didn’t want to be around him, and her constant grab made him wish he’d been a ghost. He said things he shouldn’t have have. And she doesn’t let his shit slide anymore. She said shit she definitely should’ve, and meant it. He doesn’t really care and he should.

Whatever, Eddie’s home now and walking into Rosie’s Red, White, and Blue’s. It’s a market in Hawkins that’s been around all too long, and he’s surprised it’s still alive.

He just wants a Coke and chocolate bar and cigarettes.

But he finds himself trapped in front of the candy isle, his hazel eyes feel like they’re bleeding.

It’s been four years. Since he’s seen you. And you look the same, yet so much more different. You’re still beautiful and it makes him frown.

You can’t seem to decide between what sour candy is a better pick. Bears or worms? Definitely worms. He’s a worm guy.

He then notices your mother at your side. She looks different, for sure. She’s older and her light brown hair is more grey than brown. She looks thinner too. Sick. Eddie gets the sudden urge to vomit all over his fucking beat up Converse’s.

There’s a magazine in your mother’s hands, he notices the front pages between her fingers. His face is on it. His fucking face is on it. He wants to cry? Your mother’s voice fades in suddenly. “—My god. Do you think he’s going to pull through?” She’s talking about Adonis Mitch, everyone’s talking about him and if he’ll see the next day from a head injury and too much coke.

You don’t seem to be paying attention all that much, though. You’re still staring at different gummies. “What are you talking about?” You say gently and decide on both packs and let them fall into the basket that’s hanging from the crook of your elbow. You look at your mother and briefly see the faces on the magazine. You frown. “What happened?”

You mother shakes her head and reads more. “Drummer had a moment. Hit his head open. Split bad. These photographs are insane to be on paper like this.” You don’t dare look.

Eddie sees you gently roll your eyes as you turn from your mother. You’re looking down at your basket. “I don’t understand why you’re so obsessed with them… They’re boys.”

Your mother scoffs a laugh. “They’re definitely not boys. These are men. Plus, I care because you know this one..” Eddie watches her point down at the paper. You sigh, shoulders drop. “I don’t know him, mom..” She waves a hand at you, “don’t be bitter. You told him to run off. For god sakes, you could’ve been that girl he’s with. Cady Lovewell?”

Eddie’s definitely glad you’re not Cady.

Your nose scrunches up, “alright, enough, please.” You take the magazine from your mother’s hand and shove it into the basket. You’re not sure where she even got it, but it’s definitely not in this isle. Your mother huffs as her arm wraps with your free one.

Eddie watches her as he pretends to look at strawberry flavored candies. You guys are by the chocolate bars. Your mother has a slight limp and doesn’t look easy on her own two feet.

Her loud gasp makes both of you flinch. Eddie and you.

You nearly drop your basket. He’s fucking staring into your eyes. You guys are fucking looking at each other.

Your mother had stopped walking and is staring straight into Eddie’s darkened eyes that are looking at you. His chest pounds and his lips are parted with panic. Your own lips are parted in a softer gasp.

“My god, I was just starin’ at you in the paper!” The woman cries and a smile breaks out onto her aged face. Eddie needs to swallow but he can’t move.

Your mother’s words seem to knock you from your frozen state, your eyes drag from his to her. You wince at your mother, eyes all wide. “Mom, please. Too loud..”

Eddie can finally move. He’s swallows and his cheeks fade a tinge red. You’ve gotten a little taller. Hair lighter and longer. Your face looks more defined. And it looks like you need constant sleep. He’s sure he looks worse.

You wobble a little as your mother pushes from you and makes her own decisions. She walks awfully uneasy to Eddie and his eyes snap to her and he gives her hand. She takes it without a second wasted. She looks like she’s about to collapse. You look terrified still standing without a move closer.

“You rockstar.” Your mother says it so gently. Her hand is still in his, and her other is clutching onto his other arm. His flannel bunched up under her palm. He’s holding her back. He hasn’t seen her in so long.

And he hasn’t felt an ache like this since the last time he was here.

Staring down at your mother’s face she looks even worse than before. The close distant is hurtful. She’s definitely sick and Eddie suddenly hates himself for being away from you. You needed him. Maybe. And he’d been stuck between girls and fame and stomachaches and cigarettes around the world. He wants to fucking cry. And he doesn’t realize, but he does. He’s fucking crying staring down at your dying mother.

She frowns and her hands move up to cup his face. She drags away his tears with shaking fingertips. “Oh, baby..” She whispers to him. His long hair, it’s longer since he’s been here, drags over her hands completely. Your mother drags him down into a hug, it makes him cry harder. His eyes screw shut as he melts into the woman, he holds her so close she won’t go anywhere.

You’re staring, lip stuck between your teeth. Your eyes drag down to the magazine in your basket. The front gives away a lot more than the silence does.

Corroded Coffin’s Drummer, Adonis Mitch Takes A Dip From Hell!

You cringe at the title. It’s brutal and mocking. And the photographs are too mean to be out for the public. The guy could die.

Your gaze pushes back to your mother and the man she’s still holding. He’s staring at your now through tired red eyes. He does look worst than you. He’s fucking miserable. You both are. You gently walk the few steps closer to the two, and you place down the basket.

You tuck a thick strand of hair behind his ear and he sniffles. You gently drag you thumb over his skin, ridding tears. He leans into your touch and his eyes flutter shut.

You’re pulled into the hug with them, and he squeezes you so tightly you cry just the same.

You’re both so miserable.

[jam-jar2]

I HAVE A STORY IDEA BUT I SUCK AT WRITING AND ILL DEFOS FUCK IT UP AND ABANDONE IT HALF WAY.

NIGHTCRAWLER x TWISTED PARTNER

I need someone to write a story about nightcrawler (kurt Wagner) from Xmen. So you know how kurt looks like a “demon” but he’s so sweet, generous and heavily religious too.

Well I always thought about him having a partner that kinda looks like lucifer in that fallen angel paint, basically looks angelic (red hair, pale eyes, blemish free skin, almost a glow to them) but they have a really cruel power, like a matter manipulation or nightmare based abilities? Maybe similar to wandas powers but more on the darker side, Idk.

Their relationship would be rocky, her questioning the world and thinking the worst of everyone because they’ve experienced so much hate and neglect but that’s what almost brought them close, they both experienced negative situations in life and comfort each other through the healing process. She find him to be a safe space and opens up slowly, he find her beauty and her strong will so mesmerising, he shows her in compliments and affection. She finds herself always looking for him, standing by his side when she can, they almost are inseparable.

So it comes to no surprise to their circle of friends when the two take things to the next step and decide to start dating (even tho people already thought yous were a thing, months ago)

Yous would be a slow ride , with her issues with being bare (emotional and physically) and he’s commitment to religion. She respects kurts beliefs and honers his wishes, as does he respect hers.

They are a strange couple visually but when you watch and get to know them, they seem like two pieces of the same puzzle and are perfect for each other.

But my favourite thing about this! Would be the situation of when someone is petrified of kurt purely based on his appearance (even though he’s been nothing but welcoming) and they clearly avoid him, but they find themselves unfortunately in the same room where kurts partner is.

They speak about how kurt freaks them out “his yellow eyes are so fucking weird, he’s the freakiest thing I’ve ever seen” kurts partner is getting pissed but it trying to ignore them, she promised to be better, kurt wants her to do good.

However the person signs their death sentence when they start to make false accusations, bringing up the whole religion thing but adds almost a creep aspect to it all, ranting kurt as some secret predator freak.

The line has been crossed, she snaps and no one can stop her.

Suddenly the room seems to shake or change or maybe the person feels different.

Then there’s kurts partner behind them, gripping their hair and pulling back to her lips are next to their ear “I’d watch what you’re saying or else I’ll cut out your tongue and stitch your mouth closed.” her eyes bloodshot and iris glowing red.

Then the person feels a pain around their mouth and when they go to touch, they feel that it has been stitched shut with thread.

They brush out crying and are trying to scream, but in reality, to everyone else nothing happened, this person just started crying out of the blue and are now scratching at their mouth ( their mouth is perfectly fine)

Then at the other side of the room, there’s kurts partner sipping coffee . Twirling her fingers around as faint smoke slightly radiats off her fingers, she smirks and stops her illusions, bringing the poor soul back to reality.

Of course she gets lectured but the professor and several others about the wrongs she did and how she can’t play judgment as she wishes, that she should’ve just brought this to the professor and he would’ve dealt to it.

She doesn’t seem fazes by any of these words, but when kurt voices his disappointment, oh boy she’s devastated.

She knows she’s a monster and that shes not a good person, but the love of her life might be thinking so too, damn that’s heartbreaking.

She explained that they were making horrible accusations about him and she couldn’t hve someone speak such disgusting word but him, but he explains that people with talk and she can’t stop everyone who doesn’t like him. She tilts her head confused because yes, she thinks she could.

She has to protect him, he was the purest thing in this world and she wishes to keep him like that.

Basically this stories giving “I’d let the world burn for you” angry villain vibes x happy sweetheart hero. But don’t get it twisted, I don’t want. He can fix her, she does better blah blah blah. No

They’d probably break up a lot but they’d still hold torches for each other. They would probably be in a weird cycle of “ I’ll change” messes up “we don’t work” and probably a lot of kurt having to get a reality check of ‘there’s no good guy, bad guy’ it’s not so black and white, he needs to accept that she’s not a hero but she’s not a villain either, that there’s a grey in all this and she is doing her best for what she’s been dealt.

She probably goes through a whole lot with the separation and try’s to flee to end her pain. Maybe she finds something that helps her brain with this idea of nightmare judgement.

She’s obviously come back, and in some way, be that bit wiser and more steady.

Idk if they’d be each other’s end game, but they’d definitely each other’s issues in any other relationships because of how close they are and obviously their past together.

It’s definitely a if one of them gets hurt, the other goes ape shit. If there’s a party and ones get attention off someone else, jealousy.

Maybe a near death experience to final slap these two to get together and stay together. Or a death experience to make it a tragical “the one who got away” and they live one with the other in their memories, never loving again because they’d never find anyone who comes close to their love.

[yangxiaolongstan]

Nick Valentine, the magnificent Nicky V. I like Nick. I've done him once before and I don't remember much but I remember liking him. just the idea of this pre war detective brought back to life by the Institute and lost, stuck out of time like you is brilliant. one of the most genuinely creative and interesting concepts of any Fallout companion. but not perfect. so let's fix him.

I'm actually gonna start before Nick becomes a companion. Vault 114 is fun, I like how it establishes Nick as a brave guy who's willing to charge into a vault full of gangsters after a missing person. although I wish we could talk to Skinny Malone and end things peacefully before turning about a hundred men into carefully modeled red goo. I also think Nick, and all the other companions you get to meet before they become available to travel with, could gain affinity before you start traveling together. if you successfully get Darla to go home without violence and talk down Skinny Malone, that should earn you some credit with him. anyway, since I already killed Kellogg with Codsworth we're picking up Nick in his office afterwards. I like the different detective cases he's got, the mysterious stranger one is especially fun. he has nice insights in the case file quests but I wish he wouldn't just handhold you through them.

his affinity goes up pretty quick as long as you're decent. I think his morals are a good fit for his character as an old private eye. although he should like when you pick locks like Piper does.

first conversation works well. gives us a feel for who Nick is and his history. I think it's better for the first conversation to be exposition than the second. I do think it should tie into his position out of time and his disorientation in the post apocalypse more though.

Nick needs a lot more play with Kellogg. maybe have Kellogg's memories and personality help Nick figure out Eddie Winter, he needed that dangerous merc's brain to understand a vicious bastard like Winter. I'll talk more about the quest when we get there, but for now I just think it needs a connection to Kellogg to help tie Nick together a bit more. as is the Kellogg stuff feels kinda out of place

for the second conversation we get a bit more Nick exposition, he's programed with the original Nick Valentine's memories and doesn't know who he is in the post apocalypse. I really like his backstory like I said before. I might make the conversation more about how disoriented he still is rather than about how people helped him and he's trying to return the favor, but it's pretty good all the same.

I like the conversation between Nick and DiMa a lot. Nick being the start of the replacements, where DiMa is the starting point for synths not based on a person like the Coursers. also the idea that Nick was the first escapee.

75% affinity baby! third conversation. starts on a very strong note, with Nick lamenting his disorientation, and even outright saying he's not a real person. it's interesting he doesn't actually think of himself as being Nick, but I think that needed to be set up a bit more in conversations 1 and 2. and his quest starts right after, kinda weird that it's not really part of the same conversation but it happens right after.

I think Eddie should have already been running his gang. it's just bizarre that he's been alive but doing nothing. I think he could be interesting as a kind of mastermind over the different triggerman gangs in the Commonwealth. the idea that the code to get to him is in all the different police holotapes is a bit contrived but it's also super fun. I might change it but it doesn't really need to be. I like the conversation between Nick and Eddie. it fits the wackier quests from other fallout games. the final meeting between an ancient ghoul crimelord and the robot recreation of his prewar detective nemesis sounds more like something from Old World Blues than Fallout 4. Nick desperately needs better pathfinding on the way to the place Jenny died, but I like what he says when he gets there.

the final conversation is good. Nick finally makes peace with who he is and has been and recommits himself to justice. I don't have much to say about it tbh. It's well done and mostly just the culmination of his quest. I'd include a romance option but that's just because I'm a nasty robotfucker.

all in all Nick was great. probably the best written companion so far. so I probably should do the worst next, fucking Strong. then maybe Preston.

Original fixing Fallout 4 companions post

Piper

Codsworth

MacCready

Strong

Preston