#it might be impossible to match my freak...

[freakyv2]

how 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 art thou? 👁️👁️

Super duper 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 chat... 😱‼️‼️

[triglycercule]

i come up with ideas based on the most random things because wdym i just rambled on about fucking fingers and decided,,,, heh,,,,, yeah. this is a good idea. well i mean i do think it IS a good idea but also like in hindsight and out of context i do think its totally fucking stupid. angel92 ahh post 💀💀💀

anyways i was thinking about mtt and fingers and which ones they would lose as a result of being with eachother but then that also means that i'd have to give specific meanings to the fingers (ughhhh,,,,,) ok lets see. pointer finger would represent precision and clear vision because you literally use it to specifically gesture to things. middle finger is like ughh vulgarity and hatred because its the middle finger. the ring finger (heh! i already spoke about this one because of the myth that its connected to the heart and also holds wedding rings) represents love and the pinkie represent promise (PINKIE PROMISE!) and the thumb represents basic functioning and interpretations (because the thumb helps us literally hold things and also thumbs up and down shows your view on things)

i think if i just tack this idea onto the other post about ring fingers then it would be kinda unrealted + plus too long SO ITS GOING HERE. all the mtt are missing ring fingers because i said so. dust is missing an index finger because if the trio break up he's the only one that wouldnt have anywhere/one to go. also he'd struggle to smoke and i think that horror would always complain about him smoking so it'd be like horror's still kinda there warding him off from smoking even though he's not there anymore. horror would lose his middle finger because he'd probably be the most agressive against kist in mttpoly and now without them there he's kinda chilled out. but also the agression and spark isnt there and now he's stuck in plain old boring regular horrortale again which isnt all that fun,,,, even if dust an killer sucked fighting was a way to pass time. but horror would never admit that. and i think killer could lose a thumb (ill be fr im just running out of fingers to use here. next thing yk i'll start talking about TOES) and then he'd struggle to hold knives normally now. he literally can't hurt others the way he hurt horror and dust (but also that could also mean that killer just has to come up with more creative ways to main. or also his reduced actions could result in him causing less trouble and therefore having less threats. depends on if killer wants to be a bit more knife happy or just chil,,,,,, you KNOW i gotta go with the knife happy idea mtt NEVER get a break and if they do i immediately forget about it)

dude imagine them with all these missing fingers 💀💀💀 that shit would lookd SO weird

[wh1msic4lwasab1]

… 𝙄𝙨 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙗𝙤𝙙𝙮 𝙜𝙤𝙣𝙣𝙖 𝙢𝙖𝙩𝙘𝙝 𝙢𝙮 𝙛𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙠? ᯓ★୭ ˚. l

synopsis: genshin men and some of their kinks that surprised you a bit…but might as well match their freak?

tags: sub!reader, size kink, cum play, orgasm control

a/n: my bestie @astarionapologist helped me make these certified freaky !!!

☆ 𝙕𝙝𝙤𝙣𝙜𝙡𝙞 -> 𝙎𝙞𝙯𝙚 𝙆𝙞𝙣𝙠 ୭ ˚.⁺⊹ .ᐟ

More specifically, Morax, has got to have the biggest size kink. The thought of taking his human and their measly body sent a cold wave through his scales.

Of course he’s impossibly huge, and the thought of trying to take it inside you is both terrifying and exhilarating.

…

'I want to show you what it's like,' Zhongli says, his voice soft and gentle. 'I want to share this part of myself with you.' He says, guiding you into your bedroom as he towers over your frame; forcing you to look up into his lapis eyes.

Before you can answer, he's on you, his massive body pressing you against the wall. His shaft is pressing against your entrance, and you can feel the heat of it radiating through your clothes.

'Are you ready, my love?' he asks, his voice a low growl.

You nod, your heart pounding in your chest. You're not sure if you're ready, but you want this more than anything.

As his single arm is enough to hold your body against the wall, his other is pulling at your robes.

Zhongli enters you slowly at first, his shaft stretching you wider than you've ever been stretched before. You cry out as he fills you, your body trembling with the effort of taking him inside you.

But Zhongli doesn't stop. He keeps pushing, his cock sliding deeper and deeper inside you until you're completely impaled on him. You can feel him pulsing inside you, his energy coursing through your veins and making you feel more alive than you've ever felt before.

'Taking me so well…y/n,' he growls, his voice rough and raw. '… so, so perfect.” he manages to say, feeling your walls practically strangle him.

He starts to move, his shaft sliding in and out of you with rough, powerful strokes. You cry out with each thrust, the pleasure overwhelming you.

' harder,' you gasp, your voice barely above a whisper. 'I can take it.'

Zhongli responds, his thrusts becoming more urgent, more desperate. You can feel him losing control, his massive body trembling with the effort of holding back. Moreso now hearing how much you’re actually enjoying this, something he was so worried about.

'Fuck-,' he growls, his voice barely audible. 'I'm going to come. I can't hold back any longer.' You feel his forked tongue lick your ear, making you groan louder as you feel his hand on your lower stomach, tracing the shape of his cock inside you; getting off to how big he must feel inside your womb.

'Do it,' you gasp, your body quivering with anticipation. 'Please- fill me up. I want to feel it inside me Moraz!-“

With a final, desperate thrust, Zhongli comes, his energy surging through you and making you see stars. You cry out, your body shaking with the force of your own orgasm.

☆ 𝙏𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙖 -> 𝘾𝙪𝙢𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙮 ୭ ˚.⁺⊹ .ᐟ

Something about Tartaglia being such a family man and wanting to 100% breed you makes it way too plausible that he’s into cum, especially on your face.

…

'Come here, baby,' he growls, beckoning you closer.

You eagerly comply, dropping to your knees before him and wrapping your eager hands around his girth. You can feel the heat radiating from his member, and you can't wait to taste him.

'That's it' Tartaglia moans as you begin to stroke him, your fingers slick with his precum. 'Just like that.'

You take the tip of his cock into your mouth, savoring the salty taste of him. He groans, his hands fisting in your hair as you begin to suck him in earnest. You can feel his cock swelling in your mouth, growing harder and hotter as you worship him.

'Fuck,' Tartaglia pants, his hips bucking as you take him deeper. 'Your little mouth feels so good.'

You moan around him, the vibrations sending shivers down his spine. You can feel his balls tightening, and you know he's close. You redouble your efforts, determined to make him cum harder than ever before.

'Y/n, I'm gonna...fuck!-' Tartaglia cries out, his cock twitching as he releases a massive load of cum down your throat. You swallow what you can eagerly, savoring the taste of him and basking in the knowledge that you pleased him so thoroughly.

But Tartaglia isn't done yet. He pulls out of your mouth, his cock still hard and glistening with your saliva. He reaches down, smearing his tip around on your face, leaving a thick, sticky trail of cum across your cheek.

'Look at you, my love,' he growls, his eyes dark with lust. 'So cute with my cum painting your face.'

You blush, but you can't deny the thrill that runs through you at his words.

'You like that huh?' Tartaglia asks, his fingers tracing patterns in the cum on your cheek. 'You like it when I cum on your face?'

You nod, unable to speak as you watch him play with his load. He smears it around your face, coating your cheeks and forehead with his essence.

Tartaglia grins, his eyes shining with excitement.

'Then maybe next time, I'll cum inside you,' he says, pressing another kiss to your lips. 'But for now, my love, I have to go meet with the other harbingers. I'll see you later, okay? He says? Flicking your forehead before zipping up his pants and flashing you a smile.

“Count on it.”

☆ 𝙒𝙧𝙞𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙨𝙡𝙚𝙮 -> 𝙊𝙧𝙜𝙖𝙨𝙢 𝘿𝙚𝙣𝙞𝙖𝙡 ୭ ˚.⁺⊹ .ᐟ

This man will demand respect from you, not because he’s so stern and moralus, but because he finds it so hot to be able to control you in such an intimate way.

You groan as you enter Wriothesley's office, your body already aching for his touch. He looks up from his paperwork, a wicked grin crossing his face as he beckons you over to his desk with a single finer. You waste no time closing the door behind you, locking it tight as you make your way over to him.

'I was beginning to think you'd never get here,' he says, his voice low and husky. He stands up from his chair, towering over you as he pulls you in for a kiss. His tongue probes your mouth, demanding entry as his hands roam your body.

'I've been thinking about you all day,' you admit, your voice breathless as you wrap your arms around his neck.

'Good,' he growls, his fingers finding the hem of your shirt. He pulls it up and over your head, tossing it aside as his lips find your neck. You moan as he nips at your skin, his teeth grazing your sensitive flesh.

'You know I have a meeting in ten minutes,' he says, his voice muffled against your skin.

'Then you better make it quick,' you reply, your voice dripping with desire and eagerness.

He chuckles, his hands working at the button and zipper of your pants. He pushes them down, along with your underwear, leaving you standing in front of him in nothing but your bra. He takes a step back, his eyes raking over your body as he takes in the sight of you.

'Fuck, you're beautiful,' he says, his voice filled with reverence.

You blush at the compliment, but the heat in your cheeks is quickly replaced by a surge of desire as he steps closer to you once again. His hands roam your body, cupping your breasts and pinching your nipples through the fabric of your bra.

'You like that?' he asks, his voice husky.

‘Yes,' you moan, your hips grinding against his as you seek out the friction you crave, getting pushed back into sitting atop his desk as your knees buck.

He chuckles, his fingers finding the clasp of your bra. He unhooks it, letting it fall to the ground.

He reaches for you again, pulling you close as he kisses you deeply. His hands roam your body, grabbing your ass and pulling you closer to him. You can feel his hard cock pressing against your stomach, and you can't help but grind against him.

He breaks the kiss, his lips finding your ear.

‘You really want me to fuck you, don’t you?' he asks, his voice low and husky.

'Yes,' you moan, your voice desperate as you cling onto his collar.

He chuckles, his fingers finding your clit. He starts to rub slow circles around it, his touch light and teasing.

'Beg for it,' he says, his voice commanding.

'Please-' you whisper, your hips grinding against his hand. 'Please fuck me.'

He chuckles, his fingers still circling your clit.

'Beg harder,' he says, his voice low and dangerous, his smirk plastered into his face.

'Please, I need it,' you moan, your voice desperate. 'Please, Wrio….'

He growls, his fingers quickening their pace.

He lets out a deep groan, 'You're so wet for me,' he says, his voice filled with lust.

He slides a finger inside of you, his thumb still rubbing circles around your clit. You moan as he starts to move his finger in and out of you, his pace slow and teasing.

'Did I tell you to stop?,' he says again, his voice low and commanding.

'Please, I need it,' you moan, your voice desperate. 'Please, Wriothesley, I need you…”.

He growls, his finger sliding out of you. He grabs your hips, spinning you around so that your back is facing him. He pushes you down, bending you over his desk as he positions himself behind you.

'You're mine,' he growls, his cock pressed against your entrance.

'Yes-!,' you moan, your body trembling with desire.

He thrusts into you, hard and deep. You moan as he starts to move, his hips slamming against yours as he fucks you rough and raw.

He reaches around, his fingers finding your clit. He starts to rub slow circles around it, his touch light and teasing.

'You're not allowed to cum, got that?,' he says, his voice low and dangerous.

'What…?!’ you moan, your body trembling with desire.

'You heard me,' he says, his voice firm. 'You're not allowed to cum unless I say so.'

'But-' you start to protest, but he cuts you off with a thrust of his hips.

'No,' he growls, his fingers still circling your clit. 'You'll do as you're told.'

You moan, your body trembling with desire as you try to hold back your orgasm. He continues to fuck you rough and raw, his fingers still circling your clit.

'Please,' you moan, your voice desperate. 'Please, I need to cum-“

'Not yet,' he says, his voice firm.

You moan, your body trembling with need as you try to hold back your orgasm. But it's too much, and you can feel it building inside of you.

'Please,' you moan, your voice desperate. 'Please, let me cum.'

He growls, his fingers quickening their pace, tricking you into believing he’d ever let you have your high right now, pulling out completely and giving your ass a heavy smack.

'Good girl,' he says, his voice low and husky.

You blush at the compliment, still angry at the fact he wouldn’t let you finish. But you knew he was in it for the long game, he didn’t need to say it but you knew he was promising to make you finish at least 5 times the next time he gets his hands on you.

'Thank you,' you say, your voice breathless.

He chuckles, pulling out of you and helping you to straighten up.

'Anytime,' he says, his voice filled with lust.

'I'll hold you to that,' you say, your voice playful.

'I have no doubt,' he says, his voice low and husky.

whimsic4alwasab1 ™ - do not copy, translate, modify, or claim any of my work as your own.

[msfantasy-comics]

The Family Meet and Greet

Damian Wayne x Reader

Request/Summary: Hey hun! I wanted to send in a request for Damian Wayne x reader. Maybe reader being introduced to the family/the family finding out about them?

A/n: Honestly I can’t tell if the picture is Tim or Damian.

Masterlist - Tip Jar

Damian is a pretty private person and doesn’t intend to do an awkward meet and greet with his beloved girlfriend.

He knew that all of his family members would find out one way or another anyway.

Dick Grayson:

It wouldn’t take a genius detective to know that Damian is asking for advice for his love life.

Damian sits in his hero costume, hunched over as his legs dangle over the side of the building. His eyes evade Dicks, a red hue spreading across the tips of his ears.

A soft smile embellishes Dicks lips as he sees his younger brother whom is typically egocentric, now looking timid and shy for the first time ever.

“So my friend started seeing someone recently and he had this dilemma on if he should keep seeing her or not because on one hand he has all this baggage he doesn’t want to burden her with and on the other hand he just can’t bring himself to break things off with her.”

“So this girl your seeing-“ Damian’s eyes bulge, snapping his neck towards Dick, acting too defensively.

“Ugh, are you not listening Grayson? I said it’s about my friend.”

“Right, right, I forgot. My bad…” Dick think’s carefully on his words. “Sounds like your friend is a classic over-thinker. Relationships are far from logical, it’s all based on feelings. It might be hard for your friend, but just enjoy it for what it is.” Damian sits and stares off over the Gotham skyline looking unconvinced. “Look Dames, there is no right answer. Just do what feels right.”

Leaning back into his palms he stares in amusement at his beloved younger brother continues pining in anguish.

“So… how long do we keep pretending that we aren’t talking about you? Can I see a picture?” Damian rolls his eyes with a sigh, sliding his phone out of his pocket, he taps on the screen silently before shoving his phone into Dicks hands.

There laid the image a happy couple. Damian’s arms wrapped around your shoulder. The dark city filtering behind the brightly lit couple, forever captured in permanent laughter.

Dick, initially keen to tease the cheesy photo before him, now silent in pure aw to see the genuine smile, Damian’s eyes lit in adoration.

“Do not tell anyone Grayson. I will share the news when I am ready.”

Tim Drake:

The little rat has been acting rather odd.

Tim tried talking about it to Dick but he just kept evading his questions by pathetically redirecting his attention with someone else’s random drama.

They’re both acting weird and secretive, and there is no way Tim is going to be kept out of such an intriguing mystery.

Usually Tim would just stalk his targets, but this is Damian we are talking about. It is incredibly difficult, if not impossible to track Damian without him noticing. Starting with Damian’s social media, Tim pin points all of the photo locations and begins to visit each site one at a time. He hacks the local cameras and reviews the footage from around the date the photo was uploaded.

Low and behold, footage of Damian smooshing his face into another ladies face….

Whelp, Tim was certainly not expecting to see such a DISGUSTING display of affection. YUCK.

He didn’t even know the rat could even feel those types of feelings.

Tim, now laying on his bed cuddled up to a pillow is looking… traumatised.

Sometimes, it’s better just not to know.

Barbara Gordon

No freaking way.

Barbara could not believe her very eyes.

When completing a Internet background check on the Wayne family to scrub any suspicious allegations or accusations, Babs found the Holy Grail of finds.

An account with a mysterious woman with months worth of photos with the Wayne’s local angsty brat, Damian Freaking Wayne.

When completing a generic photo match search. Lovey, dovey poses with Damian and a girl by the name Y/n flashed up on the screen.

This is juicy! To tell Bruce or not to tell Bruce, that is the question.

Jason Todd

Disgusting. Absolutely foul.

It’s a random Tuesday evening when Jason jumps roof tops only to discover a couple making out all hot and heavy.

Their bodies tangling together as the man rips his shirt off. The girl sliding her hands along his abdomen before landing on his belt buckle.

The man then slides his hands from the back of her neck to her ass, giving it a needy grope before sliding his hands to the back of her thighs, lifting the woman with ease and pressing her against the wall.

This is hilarious, they have no idea Gothams most infamous Vigilante has caught them about to get down and dirty on Gothams roof top.

Jason sat down and ate his figurative pop-corn in humourous delight, until his eyes adjust.

“Ain’t no FUCKING way!” Jason yells, humours delight now churning into a disturbed nausea. He swallowed the bile raising up in his throat.

Pulling out his phone he calls Damian. Panting breaths filter through the phone, only furthering Jason’s disgust.

“What?! I’m in the middle of-“

“I know what your in the middle of you sick bastard! Take it indoors!” The line goes quite for just a moment. “Little freak, your family patrols the roof tops you know, ugh, I can’t - I’m having a flash back to Selina and Bru- ugh I’m gonna vomit.”

Duke

“Finally!” Duke announces, hoping over the back of the couch and sprawling out on the soft cushions of the plush couch. Without a second to spare Duke switches the TV on to watch the latest episode of his favourite show.

“Thomas-“

“No talking!” Duke wholesomely announces, crossing his arms over his chest.

“My phone… forget it.” Damian grumbles, seeing Dukes eyes glued to the TV. Squishing further into the cushions, Duke feels the uncomfortable poke of a hard object pressing into his rib.

Wrenching the wretched object from its place, Duke holds a phone. His haphazard fingers pressing into the screen which lights up and shows the text of a person named Y/n.

Y/n: Can’t wait for our date tonight, I miss your handsome face xx

Dukes cheeks heats up, seeing a private message he shouldn’t have seen. Damian is incredibly private and may murder Duke for accidentally learning something he wasn’t suppose to.

Wiping any evidence of his fingers touching the phone Duke places the phone back between the cushions.

Best if he just abandons his show for now for a tactical retreat.

Bruce Wayne

God, why are his kids so weird?

Seriously? Out of all 20 of them, not a single one was normal…

Sitting at the head of the dinner table, he watches his children talk amoungst themselves in weird cryptic speeches.

“Do you know what I know?” Tim asks intensely, the broccoli wedged on his fork, pointing at Dick, who stares back wide-eyed.

“I don’t know anything … why what do you know?” Dick says scanning the rest of the room to see if they somehow knew what Dick was referring to.

“I can’t share what I know, but just know it. Is. Juicy.” Babs announces with a sly and taunting grin.

“I don’t know anything, I didn’t even want to see it. Oh god, I’m feeling queasy.” Jason says crossing his arms over his stomach.

“IDidntSeeAnythingEither.” Duke announces quickly, and begins to quickly Hoover his dinner.

Damian sighs, massaging his temples at his idiotic siblings.

“So I take it that you have all found out about Y/n?” Bruce asks calmly, slowly sawing into the plump steak on his plate.

The room falls dead silent as all heads turn towards Bruce, surprised that he knew and surprised that he had the guts to say what everyone else was thinking.

“Father, how do you know about Y/n?”

“… I’m Batman.”

[igotanidea]

Promotion: Dick Grayson x reader

Request: Established relationship, reader starts calling Dick bestie. At first he thinks it's cute, then gets a little annoyed, then goes semi-hysterical, questioning the whole relationship. As they clear the thing out, he uses it as an excuse to propose.

****

“How’s my bestie doing?” Y/N’s voice came from the side of the door, the use of words so surprising that Dick raised his head from the phone, giving her a little frown.

“Bestie?” he grinned. “Is that what I am to you now?”

“Shall I remind you that we started as friends?” she teased, leaning to peck his cheek.

“Never heard you call me like that when we were friends though.”

“Well, I figured—”

“You figured that after two years of living together and seeing each other in pajamas – or without them-“ he smirked mischievously – “I finally deserve the term, huh?”

“What can I say? You’ve been promoted on my list.”

“Promo- wait, hold that thought. So I wasn’t on top? So I am not on top?”

“Well-“ Y/N started, getting the idea where Dick might be going with this.

“cause I can show that I’m the only one who can be on top.” He muttered and did exactly what Y/N thought he would do.

Not that she complained.

***

It was so cute and sweet and heartwarming and nice.

Being called her bestie.

Though it was a little surprising to be called like that after so much time together and getting used to boyfriend, honey, baby and babe, Y/N was still Dick’s princess and she could call him everything she liked and he would love it as well.

Best example being them going out with Dick’s friends.

“Hey bestie, you ready to go out? Wally keeps blowing off my phone, calling me out on us being late! Can you imagine!? Freaking speedsters, judging everyone by their own lights.” She muttered, fixing her clothes in front of the mirror, being picky with it, as always.

“I guess some people never change even when they travel back and forth in time.” Dick laughed. “Don’t worry about him, gorgeous. We can be as late as we want if that means you'll have the perfect  outfit.”

“Well I was thinking we could match and—WHAT ARE YOU WEARING?” her laughter echoed in the bedroom as she took in the shirt her boyfriend put on.

“Do you like it? It’s custom made, especially for you. And maybe a little to celebrate my promotion, as you called it.”

Y/N was laughing so hard that tears started running down her cheeks, clutching her stomach and unable to tear the gaze from Dick’s shirt proudly announcing he was "Y/n’s bestie" in big thick pink letters.

“I know, I know, it’s amazing and you have no words to describe your gratitude at my thoughtfulness.”

“That’s one way to describe it—”

“And speaking about that matching …” Dick reached to the wardrobe, getting a little parcel and handing it to her.

“What is that?”

“Open up and see for yourself.” He grinned, observing carefully as she unwrapped the paper, retrieving the same style shirt with the only difference being the inscription.

“I’m Y/N.” she read, chuckling at Dick’s antics. “Are you sure about this?”

“Of course I’m sure. I want the whole world to know I am now officially your bestie and no one can even come close to claiming that title and be close to you.”

“You’re impossible.”

“Isn’t that why you love me? Amongst other reasons obviously. I mean, I am handsome and smart and 10/10 and—. Hey, Y/N, where are you going, I’m not done counting!”

“I’m changing and we’re leaving before you start inventing words to describe yourself. And before your superfriends decide to put their skills to use.”

“You know I’ll always protect you right? I am your bestie after all.”

***

It was so cute and sweet and –

A little annoying.

Like that one time at the gala when she was simply beaming amongst all those high-class-big-fish full of themselves. There was no way to deny Y/N was the most beautiful of all the women, and no fancy dress or expensive make up could change that. Dick had eyes only for her, becoming overly protective, gritting teeth and throwing daggers at every guy who dared to ask her to dance.

They weren’t a competition to him, but the male ego and pride was taking control of situations that involved another male putting hands on his girl, even if only in a dance.

And sometimes, a little marking territory was absolutely necessary.

Even if subconsciously she was doing everything to make his efforts go to waste.

At the moment he was observing Y/N conversing with some guests who – for once – happened to be around her age, giggling and acting like only young women can and are allowed to. And her having fun was fine, but the second young men started joining it, Dick had to chime in.

“Y/n.” he came closer, wrapping arm around her waist and kissing her temple, taking in the company.

“Oh, hello Dick. I’m not sure if you’ve met –“

“Caitlin and Sarah Mendoza.” Dick smiled brightly welcoming the young girls so cordially, that for a change Y/N felt a little insecure. “We haven’t had the pleasure of meeting in person but-“

“We’ve heard about you, Mr. Grayson” Sarah reciprocated his smile

“All good things I hope?”

“Of course! Everyone speaks so highly of you and—”

“Especially Y/N here. She said you were her bestie?” a male voice, of a guy that Dick did not recognize cut the sentence in half, causing a bit of confusion on his part.

“I’m sorry, who may you be?” Dick smiled with jaw clenched so hard, it almost hurt.

“Dick, this is-“ Y/N started, blushing a little from embarrassment.

“Colin Crawford. We’ve been friends with Y/N since the first grade. Though she never referred to me as a bestie.” He smirked as if sensing what emotions he was stirring in Dick. Getting enough evidence in the form of visible tightening of the grip on Y/N’s waist and even more blinding smile, becoming a little predatory.

“Well, technically we were friends in second grade—"

“That’s amazing, but I suppose I am the special one to you, right honey?” Dick cut her off, without caring about her correction of facts.  

“Of course. I mean you are –” Y/N started again, but there was no chance for her to mitigate the obvious cockfight already going on.

“Cause you see, Colin, I am not just her bestie.” Dick gritted, though the smile did not falter for even a single second and only the look in his eyes showed the annoyance at the other guy’s impertinence. “I am her boyfriend.”

“Oh, I see.” Colin took a sip of his drink, completely unmoved.

“Everyone sees.” Y/N felt herself being pulled closer to Dick’s side as a sealing of his words. “Because we are an inseparable couple, aren’t we, love?”

“We are.” She cut the sentence short to get as little as a chance to actually finish it without interruptions.

“Why don’t we go dance, baby? I do want to keep you close to me, you know.”

They spend the rest of the night, dancing, and making sure that every guy in the party saw Dick’s hands on Y/n’s waist or arm or around her shoulders or their fingers interlaced.

And for the first time, Dick found himself annoyed at the term of endearment, that was so cute and sweet and heartwarming and nice.

***

It’s been almost two months since the first time she gave him the nickname.

And he was freaking out.

Becoming almost sure she didn’t love him anymore.

That she didn’t want him anymore.

And he was trying so hard.

Buying her flowers to check her reaction.

Bringing home her favorite takeout.

Watching her movies and TV shows with her.

Giving her his time and love and affection and devotion.

And she just stopped loving him? Just like that?

But why? Why? WHY?!

What could he possibly do wrong?

He was her bestie and it made him feel like crying, ripping his hair out, and drinking a poison at the same time.

Funny how the tables have turned since the beginning.

He was now sitting in their living room, watching the pictures of them together in different locations.

Fairground. Kissing at the top of the Ferris wheel.

Holiday. With her hair being a mess from the wind and allergy dots on his face.

At the local café with a milky froth over her lip.

At the gala with them dancing and looking into each other’s eyes. So in love.

And now it was all gone.

Now he was reduced to the form of her bestie.

Despite himself, a few tears started running down his cheeks and in his desperate state of mind he couldn’t even wipe them off. He was alone after all,  no one cared whether he was sad, lonely, bleeding out from the unhappy love and broken heart, losing hope for any change of happiness or-

“Dick, what is wrong?” a warmth spread in his side and it took him a moment to realize that it was Y/N, snuggling into him and wrapping arms around him, trying her best to comfort him in whatever turmoil he was going through. “You can tell me. Or not. But I’m here if—”

“Why don’t you love me anymore?” he asked, his voice breaking a little.

“Wh-what are you --?”

“You keep calling me bestie!” he cried out

“But-“

“You’ve been calling me bestie for like two months now!” he jumped off the couch, starting to pace around the room nervously “it can only mean that you don’t love me anymore!”

“Dick, listen I –”

“Yes, I know, you still kiss me and we are intimate, but maybe it’s just a friends-with-benefits situationship for you?”

“Now that is simply offensive-“

“Is our relationship even real for you anymore? Was it ever real? Maybe we had a different approach to it from the very beginning and I was delusional?”

“How can you even assume-?” she clenched her fists at the accusation, but he barely noticed her vexation.

“I was so stupid, I should have known from the start that a girl like you could never be with a man like me! You want someone who will cherish you and love you and do everything for you and what I had to offer was just not enough!” Dick started to become a little dramatic, acting like he was preparing for a role in a Brazilian soap opera or Shakespeare play, throwing his hands around, spinning on his heels, and touching his forehead and heart. “Oh, Y/N, I am sorry, I could not give you more, but why… WHY DID YOU STOP LOVING ME?! AND WHEN DID IT HAPPEN!? WHAT DID I DO WRONG?!” he fell to her feet, embracing her calves.

“Dick-“ she stuttered, not sure how to calm him in this state. “I’m not—”

“Just tell me the truth my love—” he whispered, raising his glassy eyes onto her.

“I never—”

“YOU NEVER LOVED ME!” he exclaimed, getting even more dramatic.

“I NEVER STOPPED LOVING YOU!”

“Wh-what?”

“When did you even get that silly idea? Who put it into your head? Was it Wally? Jason?”

“n-no.”

“Then who?!” now she was the one getting angry “give me a name and I will-“

“You started calling me bestie.” He explained.

“Yes. And?”

“And I thought we were drifting apart?”

“But- but you liked it. I mean – you got a shirt with that term on it, remember?”

“Well, I don’t like it anymore.” He muttered, pouting like a five year old.

“So you want me to stop?” she smiled in amusement at his behavior.

“YES!”

“Then why didn’t you just tell me? You really thought it was easier to develop a whole theory on a single word?”

He didn’t have any response to that, which only confirmed her conviction that she was right.

“Ok, then, so how do you want me to call you?”

“Your boyfriend, your love, your beloved or honey or sweetheart or –“

“Okay.” She smiled

“Or your husband.”

What?

“Husband?” she repeated with her voice shaky a little “but we are not-“

“But we can be-“ he kneeled in front of her, reaching for her shaking hands. “Y/N Y/L/N-“

“Dick, this is not funny—”

“Good. Because I am most definitely not joking now. Y/N Y/L/N.” their eyes met, conveying pure honesty and love he held for her “will you do me the honor-“

“Of not calling you my bestie?” he chuckled, the tension of the moment making her act like a goof.

“Will you let me finish a sentence?” he laughed and she nodded “Will you make me the happiest man on earth and marry me?”

“Yes.” She sobbed from all the emotions.

“Yes?!”

“YES!”

“Oh my god!” he jumped from the ground, taking her into his embrace, holding tight and spinning around “SHE SAID YES!!”

“I SAID YES!”

“WE’RE GETTING MARRIED!” he exclaimed for one more time before putting her on the ground and kissing deeply for the longest time, suddenly not needing any air to breathe.

“You’re gonna have to get us new tailor-made shirts.” She chuckled, cupping both his cheeks and locking her gaze with his.

“Mr and Mrs Grayson, absolutely.” He nodded. “But I’m not only getting us shirts, honey. From now on all your belongings are going to have a monogram. Cause now? Now I feel like I truly got promoted and everyone’s gonna know it.”

[wolfiesmoon]

But... there's only one bed!

i missed writing cliche fanfiction tropes so here we are (づ￣ 3￣)づ

i am in a very bad mood tonight but it's fine, if i cheer others up with my fics then i'll definitely feel better also silly writing style makes a return

characters featured: bachira, nagi, chigiri, rin

₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚ Bachira Meguru

instead of freaking out like you, he just gets excited in true bachira fashion

you're like a new exciting pillow to try out 🤭

and wouldn't you know it, he is feeling a bit tired right now so that means you're getting dragged to bed by him

he gets very comfortable on your chest straight away, falling asleep almost instantly

you cannot push him off, it is physically impossible

be honest tho, you want to resign to a sleeping Bachira😌maybe being under him isn't so bad

it's like relaxing under a living (and also cute) weighted blanket, if you will

₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚ Nagi Seishiro

he's like... okay with it

as long as you don't bother him he doesn't mind sleeping in the same bed as you

that night he gets enlightened.... about how nice it is to share a bed with you🙏

normally he would be bothered by someone telling him stories when he's trying to catch Z's but he likes your stories

so when you passively mention asking the higher-ups for your own room the next morning he immediately shoots you down

how dare you like actually, leaving him now is unforgivable

"You're really warm." is the only reason he gives you as to why you shouldn't switch rooms... wow🥴

₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚ Chigiri Hyoma

he does not look like he is holding up too well when he sees that the bed is singular but neither are you tbh

you have to ask him "are you really okay with this?" like 10 times because you're so worried he might be uncomfy with this

after the initial shock he feels oddly excited and doesn't really get why he feels so worked up right now

sleeping is like... the opposite of a football match 🤧

(he is in denial about having a big fat crush on you, fyi)

when he wakes up the next morning you're leaning on him and he just kinda... malfunctions for a moment

yikes that cannot be good for his heart

₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚ Itoshi Rin

this dude really just turns around and walks out when he sees that there's only one bed 💀

but the puppy eyes always work and he is sitting down on the bed within 10 minutes

he is oddly smitten for you, and that is bothersome

so bothersome that he instinctively wraps his arms around you as you sleep

"...Rin?" you question the next morning only to get a total of ZERO responses

He did not hug you in his sleep, what on earth do you mean?

also, your sleeping face might or might not be distracting him from football practice a little bit

how troubling😔

[seventeencryinghorses-blog]

Tbh I had this already written. Poll had the shortest time as a day. HELLA warning though, this isn't non or dub con but it IS gorey. I wrote this shit at like 11pm and I was stressed the hell out and kinda pissed. (well the outline of it anyway). I'm a gore enjoyer, not in a weird way I just like the way it's written or drawn i don't like actual gore. Anyway the gore here isn't that bad but there is some so I'll say there is gore as a warning. I also put a small border for the people that don't wanna read the smut since there is some story.

The Cute and Obsessive You

Yandere Shanks x Male reader. Reader matches Shanks's freak. Smut so minors read something else until I write not smut. top male reader. Violence warning. 4,135ish words.

Your boyfriend is very cute, you know that of course, you also know that he gets just a little worried when you’re out of his sight. That’s why when you opened your eyes to an unfamiliar place, tied to a chair, your first thought before worrying for yourself was ‘Oh no, I hope my boyfriend is gonna be okay.’ and you were correct in your worry, because Shanks is not okay.

“(Y/n)!?” Shanks calls out as he searches around for you. “(Y/n)!” He calls out, his heart racing. Where are you? Did you run away? Finally getting tired of him and leaving? How could you do that to him, when he cares about you so so much!? He gave you everything! Something clicks, what if you were gone unwillingly? What if someone took you. Took you from him? “(Y/N)! Sweetie, please come out if you’re somewhere around here!” He’s been searching for a while now, feeling stupid. Of course you wouldn’t leave him, you loved him, but he had thought this island was safe. Shanks had taken his eyes off of you, busy with the townsfolk swarming him. He hadn’t been to this island in a long while so they were excited to see him, and you had told Shanks you were going to explore nearby. Shanks trusted that. Trusted that this island that was friendly to him would be friendly to you, there should’ve been no danger to you. That’s not to mention you weren’t weak either, but people don’t always get what they want by being strong. A pretty looking flower is what it took, you’d been interested in the local flora so you went to check it out. It was only when you took a closer look that you realized it looked unusual, by then it was already too late. The fake flower had let out a gas and knocked you out. Now here you were, in a place unfamiliar to you.

“Hello?” You call out, but there’s no answer. Your weapon has been taken, but they’ve made a mistake, not finding the knife that you keep on you for emergencies. That means you could cut yourself free… but what then? You don’t know where you are and the door is locked, and to be honest.. you’re a little curious. You don’t feel like you’re in any real danger, and Shanks is probably going to find you eventually. The thought of him finding you, desperate to see you with a crazed look, fills you with satisfaction; so you wait. Eventually a woman comes down from the stairs and enters the room holding a long blade.

“Hello.” She greets you. “You’re lucid, good. Do you know why I’m doing this?” You think for a moment, Shanks had said this place was friendly so you’re not sure, but she answers the question for you. “I’ll just answer anyway. I did this because you bother our chief, clinging to him like a leech. You’re not nearly as strong as him or the rest of his crew, I even managed to kidnap you with some fake flower. It’s dangerous for him to have someone by his side, especially someone so weak. He’d be better off without you.” Her words sting a little, she has somewhat of a point. If it weren’t for the fact that it might be impossible to leave Shanks this could’ve even convinced you to.

‘Wow.. my cute and obsessive boyfriend knows some people that act similar to him.’ You think to yourself as she points the knife to your neck, pricking you. ‘Uh oh.’ This got much more dangerous quickly. Meanwhile, Shanks is still searching for you, finally finding flattened grass where it looks like someone was dragged.

‘He didn’t run away!’ Shanks is almost relieved before he realizes you being kidnapped and in danger isn’t much better. He clenches his jaw and quickly follows the flattened grass to a cottage in the woods, entering and looking around. “I don’t have time for this.” He mumbles to himself and decides to destroy everything until he finds you, crashing things to the floor and breaking through walls to find his lover. You hear the sounds above you and try to yell out, but your mouth is quickly covered by the woman. You take a deep breath and instead tip over your own chair and let yourself slam to the ground. The sound alerts Shanks and he looks down, realizing there's a room underneath this cottage. He needs to get to you, that thought sticks to his mind until he breaks a hole into the floor and drops into the room with you and the woman; though there was an entrance he could’ve found had he looked a little longer.

“C-Chief!” The woman stutters, panicked. “You, I-I” She doesn’t know what to say, turning silent when she looks at Shanks and finds someone she doesn’t recognize. Someone unlike the kind person she’s been doing this for. Crazed eyes look from her to your fallen and tied up form.

“Baby, are you okay?” He goes to you, ignoring her.

“I’m alright, just tipped my chair over.” You reassure him and he’s about to sigh in relief when he catches sight of something. Blood on your neck from the prick she had given you earlier. Blood, your blood. His vision quickly goes red and he grabs her, slamming her onto the ground.

“Chief, please let me exp- AAHH!” Her words are interrupted by a scream of pain when he stomps on her arm, shattering it. She starts to cry but it’s too late, he’s seen your injury and the blood you’ve shed is worth more than she could ever be.

“How dare you, how dare you. Mine, You hurt my boyfriend. My boyfriend.” His voice is laced with rage as she cries, screaming as he stomps on her limbs. Hands, arms, legs, it’s not long until they’re reduced to a mess of flesh and bone stuck to her by her skin.

“sorry sorry ‘m sorry it hurts.” She can’t even struggle, having screamed too much already. You stare at this, then try to move out of your restraints. Pain shoots up your leg.

“Ow!” You yelp and Shanks turns to look back at you, anger replaced by worry. “I’m okay! I think I just twisted my ankle a little when I fell.” You explain, feeling a little embarrassed you yelped over such a small injury. He looks back at the woman and she realizes, in her final moments, that you were so much more than she could’ve comprehended. Shanks grabs her by the hair and slams her head into the wall, creating a crater with the impact. What’s left of her head splatters across the concrete, and he drops her crushed corpse to the ground with a thud. He can hear the blood rushing through his ears, only snapping out of it when he hears your voice. “Shanks!” The redhead turns back to you, walking over and crouching down.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I let you out of my sight and doubted you when you were stuck here. This is my fault-” He starts but you interrupt him.

“Shanks you’re very lovely like this but please untie me first.” You ask him and his eyes clear.

“R-Right. Sorry.” He quickly cuts the ropes with his sword and you stand while rubbing your wrists. Once you’re both standing he starts to shake, emotions filling his psyche. Anger for the ones that hurt you, guilt he let this happen, sadness you got hurt, relief you’re still alive. They swim in his head, crowding and messing with his mind. You notice this and pull him into a soft hug

“It’s okay~ It’s okay~” Your fingers run through his red hair, ignoring the blood mixing in. “I’m okay, I’m alive and safe. You didn’t fail me, I’m right here.” He clings to you.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.. I’m so happy you're safe.” He says, burying his face in your shoulder. Shanks still feels guilty, but his emotions calm with you in his grasp. You feel him clutch onto you tighter and you can tell his anger is coming back now that his emotions are more sorted.

“It’s not the townspeople’s fault, honey.” You tell him, sensing his thoughts.

“They let this happen to you.” His voice is cold. This is their fault, they don’t deserve his help or his protection. They don’t even deserve their lives.

“Not all of them could’ve known.” You respond and he doesn’t answer. You sigh and pull him back enough to look into his clouded eyes. “Let's do this, we can go back into town, find out who helped this happen, and you can punish them. Okay?” He stares at you, considering what you said, then nods. “Good, thank you for understanding.” You give him a kiss on the cheek.

You and Shanks walk through the town, ignoring the horrified looks of townspeople seeing him covered in blood. Once you’re to the town square he yells out. “Everyone gather up!” They begin to gather in front of him while the Red Haired crew puts any children inside. They don’t need to see this. Shanks’s eyes scan the crowd until they finally land on a married couple, a wife and husband; they look guilty. Unlike the others who are scared and/or confused they look visibly jittery, as if they’ve done something wrong. What's more, when they meet your eyes they look away, as if from shame. ‘It’s them, they did this, they helped this happen.’ He walks over and stops directly in front of them, staring them down as they start to tremble. “You two have done something.” He says and they flinch. Some townsfolk try to ask Shanks what’s happening but Beckman and the others are smart, quickly leading the rest back inside so they don’t see their chief do this; or get caught in the crossfire. The couple try to deny it at first but eventually the wife breaks and starts to cry.

“Chief I’m sorry, I didn’t know she would go this far. We did this because we were worried about you.” She pleads with him and he stares at her.

“Worry? Worry!? You think your worry for me is enough of an excuse to do this? To harm what’s mine? No no no this isn’t how you’re going to escape responsibility.” Shanks is angry, angry that the town he trusted could do something so deplorable as causing harm to his boyfriend. He looks down at her with disgust and grabs her by the collar of her shirt. “You put your hands, your disgusting hands on my everything while I spent my time entertaining this town.” He moves his hand so it’s wrapped around her neck, gripping it firmly. "Was it amusing seeing me smile with you all, oblivious, while your friend was about to kill the love of my life?" She cries out and tries to struggle but it’s no use, he’s too strong; even as those struggles turn to scratches from his tightening grip, she's unable to make him budge as her vision goes dark.

SNAP

Shanks drops her lifeless body to the ground, red eyes trailing to the husband. He looks at the body of his wife, dead, and tears roll down his cheeks slowly. “Oh gods, please, chief please. I’m sorry.” His pleas are weak and useless as Shanks’s eyes bore into his. This is it, he can’t do anything. Even if he tried to run away he knows it’s futile, he wouldn’t even make it a step. His only hope is you, turning his head to look at you. You meet his eyes and give him a nervous laugh.

“Well it is kinda your fault, right?” You say sheepishly and his hope is gone, looking back to Shanks.

“Don’t look to him for help, you don’t deserve it.” The redhead states coldly and the husband closes his eyes, the world going black as Shanks cuts his head off of his shoulders. It rolls pathetically on the ground, and he stomps on it for good measure. The two previously pleading people full of life now reduced to lumps of soulless flesh. Shanks stares at what’s left of them, emotions still raging. It's unhealthy, you know that. This look of his is dangerous, the proof and symptom of his instability, but to you it's so so beautiful. The eyes of the kind, friendly, and lively red haired captain everyone knows are unlike everything about him. They're obsessive, crazed, uncaring, the light in his irises replaced by the unhealthy darkness you bring out of him. So beautiful.

“Shanks.” You call out and he quickly snaps his head to you, chest heaving with emotion. “You’re so cute like this.” You can’t help it, your crazy yandere boyfriend is so endearing when he’s obsessive like this. His face flushes slightly, caught off guard by the sudden compliment despite the gore around him.

“Really? Cute? N-Now??” He asks, he wouldn’t have been shocked if he turned to see you looking at him with disgust, disappointment, or even fear; but instead you look at him with your cheery and warm expression, nodding.

“Mhm!” You walk over to him and cup his face. “You were worried about me, right? I’m okay now, you saved me and punished the bad guys.” At that his shoulders finally untense, his sanity slowly coming back.

“Of course I was worried, I couldn’t bear the idea of anything happening to you.” Shanks says, letting out a held breath as his expression softens. He leans into your touch and closes his eyes for a moment before opening them to look at you. The brown of his eyes are replaced with red, his pupils dilated. You love it, the unsettling look in his eyes is so nice to see; even when they change back to brown. Like this, the crew in the background see their friendly captain as his yandere self, and his cheerful boyfriend who turned out not normal either. The captain can feel their gazes on him, but it doesn’t matter. All that matters is you, you you you. The you that’s in front of him, touching him, loving him, the you that’s safe.

“Your eyes are creepy like this, y’know.” You say and place a kiss on his forehead, making him sigh in contentment.

“Creepy huh? That’s one way to describe em… Do you like it?” He asks, a bit insecure.

“And if I don’t? What’re you gonna do then?” You respond and Shanks’s heart sinks at the thought of you not liking anything about him. He loves you too much, he wants you to feel the same. He looks into your eyes, trying to gauge how serious you’re being. When he can't tell he speaks with hesitance.

“I’d.. change them.. I don’t want you to dislike any part about me.” Is his respnse. You hum, kissing his cheek.

“Hmm~ How would you change them?” You continue the question and Shanks tries to think through the chaos in his head, almost tempted to say he’d rip them out for you but managing to think more rationally.

“Colored contacts.. or try to appear less obsessive. Tone it down a bit.” He seems a little sullen talking about it, the idea that he would have to change himself for you is bumming him out; even if he would do it. You can tell he's unhappy, letting it go.

“That sounds like a hassle. It’s good I like them then!” You say and a weight is lifted off of his heart, your words always have so much effect on him. “I like everything about my crazy and cute boyfriend.”

“Good, because this crazy and cute boyfriend of yours loves you. A lot.” He speaks with a sigh, wrapping his arm around you to pull you into a tight hug.

“Mhm~ I love you too.” You rub his back as he buries his face into your shoulder and inhales, relishing in your scent.

“I’m so glad you’re okay. I love you. I love you.” He murmurs into your shoulder, muffled by your skin as you soothe him through his love confessions. He doesn’t even notice he’s getting blood on you. "You mean everything to me. You're the light in my darkness, the reason I keep going. I don't know what I would do if anything happened to you, I couldn't bear it. I love you more than anything in the world." His hand moves up to thread through your hair. "I love you so much. Never leave me." His voice is almost pleading at this point.

“Shh.. I’m never gonna leave you. You’re the only one for me, you’re my crazy and cute boyfriend. Look at me.” You tell him and he pulls back enough to look at you. “Hi honey~ I love you~” His expression falters, his heart warming. He’s still affected by what's happened but he’s here looking at you, and that makes everything feel better.

“I love you too.” Shanks kisses your palm. His voice is soft now, but still laced with a possessiveness that makes your own heart feel full “I’m looking at you too and I love you too” So happy, and just from being with you. You run your fingers through his red hair, scratching his scalp lightly, and his eyes close from bliss as he lets out a small content hum. When you use both hands a small shiver runs up his spine from your touch and attention. Can’t help it, too enamored with you.

××××××××××××××

“You’re so adorable.” You say and kiss him, feeling the way he melts into it. So pliable for you, and the slight jolt he gives when you roll your hips against his is satisfying to feel. ‘So reactive too’ you think to yourself as he lets out a small moan, trying to hold in another as you continue. It's to no avail, giving you the chance to slip your tongue into his mouth. Shanks hums, the both of you making out in front of the two corpses of the people Shanks killed for you. Oh and is it all for you, he doesn't even remember them right now. Your hands go to his hips and pick him up, walking a few feet away before laying him gently down onto the grass. He looks up at you, eyes foggy with lust and confusion.

“(Y/n)?” He asks and you wrap his legs around your waist, grinding your dick directly against him, causing him to curse with a moan.

“Sorry, my obsessive boyfriend was too sexy while protecting me.” You say as he pants underneath you, his face flushing. The crew, forgotten, slowly make their leave.

“You think I’m sexy? Even like this?” He asks you, not understanding how you can look at him with such caring lust when he just committed such a vile act. Even if it was for you, he didn’t need to make the deaths as gory as he did.

“Of course! My boyfriend is the cutest and sexiest in the whole world!” You say it as if it’s fact and it sends a shock of happiness and pleasure through Shanks’s body.

“In the world..” He mutters and you nod.

“Yup~” You’re pleased seeing him like this, and your hand goes to slide under his shirt, making him flinch. “The whole world~” Your hand slides up to his chest along with the fabric, showing his bare torso to you as his back arches slightly to follow your touch.

“B-Baby.” He tries to speak but it comes out as a whisper as you run your hand along his chest, stopping at one of his pecs to squeeze. “(Y/N)!” His back arches more and you lovingly circle a finger around his nipple, tapping it with the pad of your finger as he lets out soft gasps. “Fuck...” You’re teasing him, but he’s just too cute not to tease. Alas, you won’t keep him waiting, especially when the captain has been so good for you. You press the pad of your finger onto his nipple and he lets out a breath, your other hand moving to his chest as well as you grope and fondle both of his pecs. He loves it, you can feel it from the way he hardens against you and hear it from the grunts escaping his lips. His chest is nice, big, muscular, reminders of his strength along with the few scars that run along his body. You lean down and kiss one of them before flicking your tongue onto one of his nipples, earning a cuss from above. He grips onto your hair, blood coating your locks as you bite and suck his chest, moving from one pec to another; but never leaving one unattended with the help of your hands. You wonder for a moment if he could cum just from this, but you’ll leave that for another day, taking your mouth off of him with a lewd pop. The sound makes Shanks’s breath shaky. You sit up and look down at him.

‘So beautiful..’ You think to yourself when you see your boyfriend. Covered in the blood of townspeople he slaughtered in your name, eyes cloudy with lust, and shirt lifted up with perked up nipples. “My sexy honey is so sensitive, even when near the corpses of people he’s killed.” You grind against him and he grunts. “Do you care? Should I stop so I can take you somewhere else?” You ask him and Shanks struggles to form a coherent thought, mind clouded by you.

"No.” He starts, his voice shaky. “I don’t care about the bodies, I want you, I need you.” He responds, needy.

“Awweee~” You coo to him and lift his hips up, sliding his pants away enough to expose himself to you. You put your fingers to his mouth and he parts his lips to wet them. “You’re so good for me, my perfect boyfriend~” You praise and he lets out a small happy whimper, his heart racing. He always gets like this when you’re more dominant, sometimes it’s the only way to get him to calm down. Of course, that’s not why you’re doing it right now.

“Hahh.. hahh..” He pants and then gasps when you slip a finger inside him, something about his unstable emotions right now is making him more reactive. Maybe it’s the adrenaline or the relief of knowing you're safe, maybe both.

“I love you Shanks.” You say while putting another inside, relishing in how he squeezes around the digits. “Do you love me too?”

“Yes yes I love you I love you. Please, I need you.” He says, voice strained as you stretch him out.

“Are you sure? I get a little insecure sometimes.” You pull your fingers out and tug down your own bottoms, grabbing your dick to rub the tip around his entrance.

“Fuck.. I-” He’s interrupted by his own long whine as you press into him slowly, his head going foggy until you give him a smooch. “I love you, I love you more than anything, you’re my love- Ah~!” you start to move. “You’re everything to me can’t live without you I love you so much it hurts but feels so goOD~!” You lift his hips up to slam into his prostate, making his eyes roll back as he pants and groans.

“Good boy I love you too, you're doing so good for me~" You praise while bullying his prostate, Shanks’s mind going numb.

“I love you more than anything and everything I love you more than treasures or air or breathing or- ah~! or even myself~! I need you you’re my home and purpose my love and the blood flowing through my veins!” He’s happy, he’s happy you love him and he gets to say everything he wants to without worrying about your disgust. “You’re the reason I get up in the morning and the last thing I think of when I go to sleep-” He rambles as tears prick at his eyes from pleasure “m-my life and my purpose. I want to spend every second with you, I would give up everything for you. I love your voice and your laugh and your skin your hair your fingers and the way you feel i-inside me~!” His back arches, he’s close. “I can’t hold back any- ah~! longer!”

You kiss his neck, sucking marks into the skin. “It’s okay, you don’t have to hold back. Let everything out.” With that, he opens his mouth and lets out a loud keen as he cums.

“You’re all mine you’re m-mine! No- nngh~! one else’s mine mine~!” He rambles absentmindedly as you fuck him through his orgasm, repeating posessive words before you slam into him as much as you can and coat his insides. He whines, aftershocks continuing as your dick throbs inside of him with each burst. Once you've emptied you lean down and nuzzle his cheek affectionately before kissing him.

“You’re right. I’m yours and no one else’s. I’m never gonna leave you, because you’re my boyfriend and I love you.” Your words of confession make his heart feel full. He can’t think about anything other than you, that he’ll never let you go. His legs wrap around you and pull you into another kiss, happy. You’ll clean up in a bit, you’re still in public after all and the townspeople can’t be inside forever; but for you’ll indulge your cute and obsessive honey. Just because you love him so much.

There you have it. As for the Jealous reader x Shanks that's still gonna happen, the poll was just to choose which one I focused on first. I still do whatever by the way, I'm not gonna become smut focused or anything.

[tomomiisasleep]

notes on Harryanthe which I am crazy about, in HtN

this dumb little interaction just stuck with me. I mean they're almost always high-strung in the detailed plot, like in almost every one of the Ianthe-centered scenes one of them is in some kind of pain

but I know they have chill moments. mundane moments. petty arguments, like the one in the post scrips of the letter. And I so badly want to read those!!

anyways. I'm gonna start collecting scraps here.

you might have given Ianthe Tridentarius the pleasure of opening the note labelled Upon the death of Harrowhark Nonagesimus. Your only hope for that note was that it contained a single sentence along the lines of, Get what joy you can from my corpse, you devious bitch, but it was written by a previous self and you could not risk a guess.

Harrow: what if I didnt hate her and that makes me wanna have a lobotomy yeah that makes sense

Once, vilely, from Ianthe; she had ensconced you in fat and rolled you down the hallway out of danger, and still laughed whenever she thought about it.

ok this is just Ianthe being a little pest, but it also means that she talks about this and laughs in Harrow's face, which makes her a little bitch, but also like it means they often chat and Ianthe would be like: Yeah today I tried the theorem on apples again, but I tweaked it by directing the flow of thalergy from- hey Harry do u remember the time I saved your life hahahahahaha

The mockery you endured for needing her proximity was exquisitely painful, but humiliation was steadily becoming your existence whole and entire.

I want to know what exactly this mockery entails

It had been very nicely matched to the original until she had ceased using it altogether, and the difference was more pronounced each day. Unconscious of your critical eye, she scratched fretfully at the line until red hives appeared.

Ianthe squirming under Harrow's gaze for once

She was in a filthy mood, if she was wearing that thing, with her arm exposed.

Harrow has been keeping tabs on the state of her arm problem ever since she first woke up on the Erobos. Same as how Ianthe has been keeping tabs on the results of her lobotomy.

she said, blue eyed, those oily little freckles glittering almost pinkly above the dress. They reflected the red rims of her eyelids. You thought that she had been crying.

yeah stare at her eyelids Harrow, and sniff her discreetly all the time, sweat musk vetiver am I right (also have I expressed how crazy it drives me that she wears masculine perfume??????????? no well IT'S SO *faints*

You got better autopsies of her encounters with Beasts than you did from your own, as Augustine was wont to explain significantly more to her than either he or Mercy did to you.

Ugh why why why in this whole book I have not seen them talk shop with each other even once??? Except Harrow showing off after making the arm. Harrow has discussions with Pal all the time in GtN. clearly she trades notes on necromancy with Ianthe frequently. but no, gloss over Ianthe's intellect and just write her freak(fond) moments

You had once been fool enough to recommend that Ianthe take them down, at which point she had rustled up another from the bathroom and hung it in pride of place above an overpainted dresser.

love her

“Oh, heaps,” said Ianthe, who appeared not to have taken offence at your rejection. It was so impossible to tell, with Ianthe. “I made it. It’s vile.”

Maybe she really doesn't care about the rejection or even likes it, but "so impossible to tell" kinda hints that, well she might be hurt,maybe, there just isn't any proof

It was not a connection formed of any mutual admiration; if anything, the more you saw of Ianthe the less likely you were to mistake her for likeable. She made herself like an overdecorated cake: covered so thickly in icing and fondants and gums that it would take serious excavation to find any bread. As a necromancer she was a genius, though you thought she relied too much on shortcuts and circumventions. She had an exceptionally fine mind. She was not afraid of rigour.

If Harrow doesn't have the hots for her at least I do.

Honestly on my first read I took stuff like "not likeable" and "“Tell me to stop breathing,” she said. (“I have, on multiple occasions,” you said.)" at face value and actually thought Harrow genuinely hates her and is forced to interact with her because there's no one else. Which is true. But she's also very attracted to her and I kinda overlooked it at because I thought those feelings were mutually exclusive. And they're not. which I'm obsessed with.

Or she won't think Ianthe's beautiful and note details about how she dresses all the time.

Seriously Harrow's special fixation on "how Ianthe's clothes make her look" is hard to ignore.

for example:

The mother-of-pearl made Ianthe’s hair a lurid yellow and threw up all the mustard tints of her skin; her face was blotchy, and her eyes were sleepless pits. She looked like shit.

The skirts and waists were all beautifully cut for someone of a different height and body type than Ianthe possessed. They were tight where they should have been loose and loose where they should have been tight. They looked like her burial clothes, and she looked as though she had emerged fifty years after that burial.

she answered after a long, scuffling minute, with sleep in her eyes and her hair in dilute whey tangles over her neck and shoulders, wearing a bewildering short garment of violet chiffon.

The back was open, and you could see the fine dents of her spine—her bleached skin bluer and sweeter against the pallid gossamer—and the twin blades of her shoulder blades looked strangely nude and vulnerable to you.

Ianthe was training in her nightgown—a grisly floor-length concoction of pale golden lace that made her long, limber body look like a green-veined mummy

a lone wax figure in pale purple chiffon, tall and colourless—except in the greasy metal of her bone arm, which the lights rendered all the colours of the rainbow.

Ianthe rose soundlessly to her feet, and the long skirts of her nightgown—a brilliant ruffled canary-yellow silk that made her look like a formal lemon—rustled restively around her calves.

Note that Harrow focuses on Ianthe's clothes for how they shape Ianthe's appearance. in contrast:

she ignored your sister, whose pallid eyebrows had shot up so fast and so far that they were in danger of breaking the atmosphere. Mercymorn wore a long slip of peach-coloured silk, and her white Canaanite robe was tucked over her forearms and had slipped entirely off her slender, aggrieved shoulders. She had scraped her hair into a merciless and shining coil at the back of her head, and she had no eyes for either of you.

Obviously Mercy is SUPER HOT here, if Ianthe's reaction means anything. But Harrow only describes her clothing and not how she looks. Same with Augustine's party outfit.

With Ianthe, it's always: she's wearing ..., which makes her look gross. And I did not understand at first but now I know and feel stongly that Harrow is totally into her gross-hotness. well at least I am. the grosser she's described the hotter she is.

[londonfog-chan]

I Will Not Keep My Mouth Shut About this High School Romance Between Eddie Munson x Reader (Headcanons)

Why lord? Why are we not talking about this?

I’ve dated metalhead guys in the past, and believe in me when I say these fuckers move fast.

Eddie is no exception to this rule. He loves hard and quickly, especially if you’re into the same things he’s into as well.

I’m talking balls to the wall insanity like: the day won’t even be over and he’ll have already asked you out, kissed you, offered you weed, and secretly be planning the names of the four kids he wants with you.

Mans is delulu as fuck for you.

As much as he has his passions there’s just something about the fact that you actually gave the town freak unconditional love that makes him desperate. Corroded Coffin, Hellfire Club, he’d pick you over them any day if it meant he got to keep you.

Guarantee, you’ll already have gone all the way before the weekend is up of that first week of the relationship.

Cherry boy cherry boy cherry boy.

But he knows what he’s doing. It will have been awkward but the best part is now “Rainbow in the Dark” makes you feel all hot under the collar and “Shame on the Night” makes you laugh and reminds you of the awkward panic cleaning up after.

The epitome of live fast die young. He will throw his life away if you ask him to, so make sure you use your powers wisely.

At some point Eddie will ask you to run away with him. He doesn’t give a shit where, so long as it’s with you.

Shared interests are probably how the two of you met in the first place, especially if you’re like me and unable to beat the weird kid allegations. You drifted towards his club because you for whatever reason were an outcast too.

Eddie would probably crush on those who are conventionally pretty, popular, the epitome of the 80’s beauty standards. That’s just human nature. But with you… it’s so much more different.

You’re like his nerdy fantasies come to life, like the princesses he writes about in his campaigns that are a mix of dark, dangerous, able to hold their own and fight for him and with him. Think of if you will a sexy bombshell rotoscoped into those old metal music videos. Facing the world wearing only red lipstick and a cocksure expression.

He would get along so well with someone who wasn’t afraid to let their wild side show, or to express it. But at the same time if you’re more shy and reserved, he is determined to help you come out of that shell and be the best possible version of yourself.

It’s impossible not to match his excitable energy, it’s just so goddamn contagious. It might scare you how far you’re willing to go for Eddie and how quickly you might find yourself changing. Because believe me, you will change, and it will be for the better.

Eddie will always be your number one hype man.

He will literally be so excited about everything you do because it’s you! The person he loves more than anyone in this whole entire world.

Eddie will literally put up with so much for you. Even if you guys fight he will struggle to maintain his composure because he does not want to fuck this beautiful thing up.

Drives himself up the wall with anxiety about it too. But that’s the thing about Eddie’s dynamic with you: is that he will do what it takes to keep his fucking cool around you.

Your fights are infrequent but can get explosive if there are unsaid insecurities. So to avoid this: keep honest with him. About everything. Don’t lie to him, because as fast as he fell for you, lying is the quickest way to break his trust and send him packing.

One of his flaws in the relationship is that his insecurity that this will all go away will make him all that more prepared to leave if you have a massive blow up fight.

Like he’s already preplanned his exit strategy and everything.

But the longer you’re together, the more comfortable he gets and eventually he settles down from jumping the gun into taking things one day at a time.

He’s a fucking keeper. And all I’m gonna say is you better start training with swinging a blunt weapon because once you have him, you’re going to be right there in the Upside Down fucking up some monsters keeping them away from your man.

[blueteller]

Greetings oh wise one! I come asking for advice/analysis.

How would you describe the type of chaos Cale starts? Like, is there a play by play of Cale’s usual migraine inducing shenanigans?

"Oh wise one" - that's a new one haha! I'll try my best for you~! 💖

In the past, I made short joke posts on Cale's typical step-by-step MO, like: "scam, loot, destroy", or "fight with overwhelming advantage, run, smack them in the back". And while those steps are hilarious and quite accurate – since you've asked for an analysis, let's dive a little deeper into the subject.

First of all, why is Cale's personal brand of chaos so enjoyable? Simple; it's because it's always targeted at people who 100% deserve it. Civilian casualties? Not an option with Cale in charge. This man takes his 10+ years zero casualties record completely seriously.

And no, there are no exceptions to this. While at first it might seem impossible – for example there were times when Cale and his group attacked buildings with servants in them or destroyed whole ships with crew on board – and it can make you wonder, weren't any innocent workers there? But no. If you look closely, any time there were any civilians involved (any people who weren't onto the whole murder and torture thing the bad guys were doing), Cale made sure to either capture, evacuate, or leave them alone. From the first heist with Choi Han when they freed Raon, to the Unranked Monster battle at Puzzle City, or heck even robbing the Sekka estate, they always made sure to not kill the civilians. Even with the battle ship, I'm 100% certain there were only armed people on board, prepared to be the ones who would murder civilians without hesitation. Cale left no chances of innocent people getting hurt.

That's what makes his MO so wonderful. Because Cale only screws over those who deserve it. Of course, Cale doesn't see it like that. From his perspective, what he's doing is "vicious", so he must be the bad guy. And while his MO is definitely ruthless… It only matches the weight of the crime of his opponents. Cale only gets involved and makes a s***show when he is really pissed off. And by pissed off, I specifically mean innocent people getting hurt. Because that's what it all comes down to, really. He can delude himself and claim he's doing it for profit, but there's nothing wrong with profiting off well done work. He never cheats his allies off their right rewards, either. Despite him being so chaotic with his actions, he... never actually does anything that crosses the line.

(Yeah you could try and argue that torture crosses the line, but uh… At least Cale never ordered torture for personal pleasure? The first time it was to help a child heal from their trauma, and every other times since it was to extract information from particularly nasty and stubborn murder cultists. It might be morally grey of me, but I don't believe it was wrong of him. That's a matter of personal opinion of course.)

So, the starting point is always Cale facing people who pissed him off through messing with innocents in some way.

It can't be some petty political squabble either, Cale doesn't mess with those – remember how he reacted when the King of Whipper Kingdom wanted to agree and give up 100,000 citizens of his country to Adin, just to save his own skin? Raon offered to loot the king's safe… and Cale totally could have done that out of pettiness? But Cale left it alone, because it never came to that. So yeah, Cale only messes with those who already hurt people on a large scale, not just crooks or cowards. Even the bandits who messed with the Super Rock Villa entrance, he just had the leader beat up and made them work for him – he even had them formally employed and educated. Which honestly, probably improved their living conditions drastically, now that I think about it. …Cale is such a freaking softie, I swear.

But we're going off track – Cale and his specific brand of "migraine inducing chaos", that's the main topic here.

First, Cale always gets information. Who are his opponents? What have they done? What kind of powers they have? What dirt does he have on them? Where is their money located? Stuff like that.

Next, there's the planning & preparation phase. However, we rarely see that part because of the "no repetition rule" of storytelling. The only time we ever see characters make plans and explain them to their allies is when things are about to go south. In case of TCF, we only ever find out what kind of plan Cale has is when either 1) it's already ongoing 2) something went wrong and Cale wonders how it happened, for example when Cale set up the trap for the White Star in the Dark Elf city.

Then, with a solid plan and allies all prepared, Cale infiltrates the combat zone. Be it Real Arm uniform, priest get-up, pretending to work for some unnamed scary higher-up; you get the idea. Even during open-field battles like the Maple Castle, Cale made sure to have multiple hidden assets and key players disguised. It's a very important part of his MO; making sure he and his allies are as safe as they can possibly be.

Once everybody deals with their designated obstacles, be it simple head smashing or straight up scamming his opponents, Cale loots stuff. Sometimes the looting comes before the combat for the element of surprise, but usually combat happens as a distraction for looting anyway. Naturally, this is the part Cale enjoys the most, because according to Cale's logic, nothing feels as good as pissing off the people who pissed you off first. Not to mention how money is extremely useful, and Cale whole deal is that he always makes sure to take full advantage of anything and everything he finds useful – be it people or treasures. Classic Cale behavior, really.

After the looting stage, here comes the destruction! This part gotta be Raon's favorite, as he's usually in charge of it. Considering how his first destruction spree happened without Cale's input – the cave he was trapped in – I think it's a natural draconic trait lol. Everything that cannot be looted and can be still useful to the enemies must be demolished, that's the rule. After all, the revenge can only be complete when the enemies are left totally furious and powerless.

As for clean-up… pfff, what clean-up? Cale doesn't do clean up! That's the job for the janitor- I mean his dear Hyung-nim 🤣 I bet it's Cale second favorite part about making a huge mess; that he doesn't have to clean it up himself thanks to Alberu hahaha

So, a general play-by-play of Cale's chaotic shenanigans goes something like this:

Cale finds out there are troublemakers "messing up his slacker life", aka. people are getting hurt and his soft, squishy heart cannot ignore it

he gathers his team, info and gets down to planning

cue in hilarious scamming and Mission Impossible flavored undercover shenanigans

looting for fun and profit

destruction mostly for fun but also profit

when things go awry, Cale gets to overuse his Ancient Powers and spill blood like chocolate fountain spills chocolate at fancy events, it's just the same never-ending cycle really 🤣

retreat if necessary, but that rarely happens (I think couple of times throughout the whole series, really)

the enemies are left furious and/or utterly defeated

Cale's fam is left generally more worried over Cale being reckless again, than whatever epic chaos is going on around them, causing lots of delightful misunderstandings and comedic moments as a result

Alberu Crossman gets a headache once again

…aaaand that about sums it up! 💖

[delcakoo]

Imagine riki trying to sleep and you guys are cuddling and you js keep chomping on his neck or face ( like a gentle bite ) and he js has enough and freaking showers you with kisses for a good 10 mins

on a cruise rn so this might suck but ur my second req for niki w a biting s/o so i wanted to offer smtn :,) changed it up a bit but hope u still enjoy bae !! <3

10:07PM — riki ignores the sensation of your plush lips pressing right above his collarbone, allowing you to do as you please before flinching in shock as you bite down absentmindedly. pale fingers tighten against his gaming mouse while his eyes wander down to the top of your head, huffing as you continue working up to the mole-covered skin near his adam’s apple.

he knew you were feeling needy and bored whenever this habit in specific kicked in, and while the biting annoyed him at first — constantly calling you a ‘vampire’ along with other nicknames, he’s grown to accept it and even indulge in the fact that you feel comfortable enough to do this to him and him only.

either way, it could be a bit distracting at time’s like this.

in acknowledgement of your blatant demand for him, he takes the time to crane his neck down and peck your scalp gently, the strings of his black hoodie aimlessly dangling by your face. "this game's almost over, then i'm all yours, jagi. promise.”

despite the nod you offer in reply, riki sighs at the feeling of your lips continuing their journey up his neck, now peppering kisses and nibbling by his jaw. your arms that were once gripping onto the sides of his gaming chair in boredom rise up to wrap around the boy's neck, effectively trapping him in with your affection.

riki finds himself getting hopelessly distracted and endeared by you.

“y/n...” he whines, and at the sound of gunshots being heard along with the clear echo of his game's defeat music, you giggle.

"what?" faking innocence, you finally pull away from riki's neck to send him a teasing smirk.

before you can process anything, long fingers wrap around your waist and pull you over to the grey bed in the middle of the room swiftly, all while riki stares down at you with a lighthearted frown.

"you know exactly what, that was my promotion match too, baby," he complains. as you both get comfortable on the bed, riki flips your body around to spoon you, his chest pressing against your back while the warmth of his embrace engulfs you moments later.

"sorry, you're too tempting," you reply dramatically, eliciting a pleased chuckle from your boyfriend's pretty lips.

though you seemingly ruined a rather important game for him, riki didn't seem any less willing to shower you in the attention you craved through an abundance of kisses — the trail his mouth creates beginning from the skin peeking out of your (his) favourite t-shirt, and all the way up to the soft apple of your cheeks.

when he reaches your ear, he bites down before blowing right into it in his playful, riki way. you yelp of course, jumping away only to be tugged right back in by his annoyingly strong arms. “yah,” you bark, “that tickles!”

he lets out a loud laugh that has a smile tugging onto your own lips. “ay, you deserve it after all that biting,” he refutes through giggles. “now stop moving, jagi. i’m not done with you yet.”

before you can come up with a retort, riki’s lips are already on yours while he does his best to hug you impossibly tighter.

again sorry if this isn’t to ur standards i’m on vacation LMAO 💀 reblogs/comments r appreciated as always, and i’ll try to get an actual fic out instead of these short drabbles once i’m home <\3

[ninsletamain]

Fluffbruary Day 6: tie | embarrassment | dessert

My contribution to RebelCaptain Fluffbruary PLUS @quarantineddreamer's super ultra amazing fic addition below the cut!!!

The lines of code on the screen were no longer making sense. Somewhere between coffees 4 and 5 of the day they had slipped from Jyn’s grasp, gone from familiar symbols to something more akin to ancient hieroglyphics–as sure a sign as any that it was long-past time for her to take a break from her assignment. 

Reaching her arms skyward–tight knots in the muscles of her shoulders and along her spine protesting–Jyn glanced blearily at the alarm clock that perched neatly on the corner of the desk. 

Shit. Was that really the time? She scrambled to her feet, socks slipping on the linoleum floor, and threw her hair quickly into a bun. (Or what she hoped would pass for one anyways.)

Pants. I need pants. Jyn cast about the room, throwing the covers of the bed back, checking over the back of the roller-chair she’d spent the day–no, longer than that apparently–glued to, but found nothing. 

She could have sworn she had at least dropped a pair of sweatpants at the end of the bed at some point…

Cassian must have tidied up before he left (the neat freak); she hadn’t even noticed. That happened sometimes: the computer consuming her when she was locked onto a particular idea. But it shouldn’t have happened today. Today she had planned to wrap up her coursework early, surprise him… 

Okay screw the pants, Jyn decided, marching from the room towards the kitchen with all the determination of a soldier approaching the battlefield.

(If a soldier’s uniform was your boyfriend’s oversized, university sweatshirt and the fight ahead was the arduous task of preparing a meal.)

It took her more than a few tries to find everything–despite how organized Cassian kept his kitchen cabinets–but before too long Jyn was staring down at the black, glinting surface of a flawlessly seasoned cast iron pan and the looming depths of a large pot, a box of spaghetti, its matching jar of sauce, and an assortment of meat and vegetables thrown on the counter beside them. 

“I’ve got this,” Jyn muttered to herself, eyeing the recipe she’d taped to the fridge like it might grow fangs and snap at her. (Or catch fire and nearly burn the place down as had happened on her most recent foray into chefdom). “You’ve hacked into government systems before,” she continued. “This will be easy compared to that. A piece of cake, or a pot of pasta.” Hopefully anyways. 

She checked the oven clock. If she stood any chance of getting this done before Cassian (Impossibly-Punctual) Andor came home she had to start now. 

The empty apartment should have been quiet, peaceful. Instead, it suddenly seemed impossibly loud, noises swelling in her ears the longer she stood staring at the array of ingredients and tools––footsteps from the neighbor above, the distant rumble of a washing machine next door, the clicking of the fridge beside her, all clamoring in some insane harmony. 

The longer she stood there waiting (for what, she had no idea) the more power the sounds seemed to hold, quick to dredge up each and every anxious thought she had been so diligently shoving to the furthest corners of her mind since Cassian had told her of his plans to travel to Yavin…

When he cooked, Cassian always had music playing. Maybe that would help. Drown out the worry and the fear.

Jyn pulled her phone from the pocket of the red hoodie and tapped a playlist at random. Something upbeat began playing, muffled through the fabric as she tucked the phone back into the pocket, rolled up the too-long sleeves of the sweatshirt, and drew a deep breath. “Alright, here goes nothing…”

Turning down the hallway that led to his apartment, Cassian smelled something…interesting. 

He tried to pin down what it was. Starch, yes. Tomatoes, yes. Onions and garlic, most likely. But then there were other unexpected notes, the heat of what might have been chili powder tickling at his nostrils, growing stronger with each step closer he got to his door, and maybe the cheese he was smelling was parmesan or pecorino? The combination wasn’t exactly bad, just off–out of balance. 

He thought for sure it was one of the neighbors; maybe Mrs. McCleod experimenting again–after all, she had stopped him just last week to ask him about his favorite market for finding fresh produce.

But as he passed by Mrs. McCleod’s apartment, he noticed the crack under the door was dark, a small pile of mail collecting beneath her welcome mat. She was probably away visiting her niece again. Which meant that the smell was most likely emanating from the door at the end of the hall.

His door. 

Cassian tugged his tie looser, a warmth kindling in his stomach, a smile slowly spreading across his face; Jyn. 

He’d insisted she should stay at his apartment while he was gone–enjoy some solitude away from distracting roommates and loud neighbors–but he hadn’t been entirely certain she would take him up on it. She’d given him a strange look at the suggestion (despite the fact that after nearly a year of dating, she seemed to spend more time in his apartment than her own) and returned to her keyboard, completely absorbed in the endless numbers and symbols flashing wildly across the computer screen at her command.

The reaction hadn’t been a total shock to him. Jyn had been unusually quiet ever since he’d first mentioned his job interview in Yavin. He’d tried to tell himself she was just preoccupied with the workload associated with the final semester before she earned her degree, but deep down he knew that she was likely asking herself the same questions as he was: If I get this job, what happens to us? 

Cassian reached into his suit pocket for his key, twisted it in the lock, and slowly opened the door, his eyes tearing up at the overwhelming burn of capsaicin in the air. Dropping his backpack by the door, he followed the sound of hissing steam, music, and occasional cursing into the kitchen. 

It had been just over a day since he’d seen her, but even so, Cassian had spent the plane ride home longing for the moment when he could wrap his arms tight around her again, kiss her until they were both oxygen deprived and gasping for air. 

He’d envisioned a quick, eager reunion. Unable to hold himself back from rushing towards her; clumsy, grabbing hands and awkward clashing of teeth. 

But then he saw her: standing in his kitchen with her hair wild atop her head, dancing from the stovetop to a nearby drawer; humming along to the song playing faintly in the background as she poked uncertainly at a pan of sauteed vegetables and shot a quick glance at a boiling pot of water–and all he could think to do was lean his shoulder into the doorframe and stare, his breath catching in his chest with a fierce and sudden ache. 

Cassian knew he was helplessly, hopelessly lost–had known it for a while–but it had never been more apparent to him than in that moment, hovering at the threshold. He was certain that if he did nothing else for the rest of life but watch her, he’d still die the happiest man on earth. 

She’d decided to borrow his favorite sweatshirt while he was away–red, well-worn, with Ferrix University emblazoned across the front. As she rose on her tiptoes to reach into the spice cabinet, the bottom of the sweatshirt rose too, revealing the faintest glimpse of black panties, serving in sharp contrast to the perfect, pale curve of her ass. 

The sight inspired a different kind of ache. Cassian made his way across the kitchen, and placed his hands on Jyn’s shoulders. Somehow, the only words he could seem to find were, “You’re cooking.”

A string of swear words fell out of her mouth in quick succession. “I could’ve stabbed you,” she grumbled, even as she set down the knife she was holding to lean backwards into him. “You shouldn’t sneak up on me like that.”

“I’m surprised I managed to.”

He felt her shoulders rise and fall against him. “I was distracted.” 

“I can see that,” he mused. “You’re cooking. You hate cooking.”

He could just make out the faint flush that rose in Jyn’s cheeks as she glanced back at him, her hair tickling his chin. “I do hate it,” she agreed, “but I figured you’d be hungry and…well, I don’t hate you.” 

A soft laugh escaped him, “What a relief.”

“Shut up.”

“No really,” he said, pulling her closer. “I was beginning to wonder.”

“Do you want food or not?” Her scowl was made significantly less believable by the smile catching quickly at the corners of her mouth. 

Cassian gave a considerate hum. His stomach had been rumbling as he stepped off the plane, but now a different kind of hunger was taking hold. His skin was hot beneath his suit where Jyn’s body pressed against his own; all he could seem to think of was her in his sweatshirt–in only his sweatshirt. 

But Jyn seized his brief lapse of silence as an opportunity to change subjects. “So…How’d the interview go?” she asked lightly, though her muscles went tight as she dipped a wooden spoon in the red liquid that bubbled on the stove in front of her.

He watched as she blew steam away from the spoon before bringing it to her mouth to taste and wincing. “The interview was fine,” he murmured, pressing (what he hoped she would as) a reassuring kiss to the top of her head.

The smile had already vanished from Jyn’s face. “You think you got the job then?”

Cassian moved his hand slowly up and down her arm, earlier ideas already forgotten. “They made me an offer,” he admitted quietly. 

“They did…” The energy seemed to have drained straight out of her–the dancing, humming, swearing woman from moments ago turned to shadow. 

Like she didn’t know. Like she couldn’t feel the frantic stuttering of his heart where his chest pressed between her shoulders blades. Like she couldn’t sense him, standing right here beside her on the knife’s edge. 

“I told them I couldn’t give them an answer yet,” he told her. Of course I did. As though there had been anything else he could do…

“You did what?” Jyn twisted in his arms. “That is your dream job. You know you want to go, so just go. Why would you–”

“Jyn,” he cut in, and she went still–let him hold her in place for at least a moment longer while he continued. “I said yet. I told them I couldn’t give them an answer yet.”

Her knuckles were white, wrapped tight around the wooden spoon. He reached past her and switched off the burners before anything could start smoking or boil over.

Cassian’s own nerves were starting to take hold. He gave a hard swallow, trying to clear the tightness from his throat. “I don’t want to go to Yavin. Not without you… I don’t want to go anywhere without you.”

“What are you saying?”

“Come with me. After you graduate in the spring, come with me.”

“Cass…”

He was about to tell her she didn’t have to answer right now–to delay whatever pain he sensed was coming from inevitable rejection–when she closed her hand around his tie and tugged him closer, tilting her head back to press her lips to his. 

Beneath his mouth, he could feel her smile forming, but it still took his breath away to see it when they broke apart. “Is that a yes, then?”

Jyn wound his tie tighter around her hand. “I like this suit,” she commented, eyes sweeping across the blue fabric and back to the black silk of the tie. 

“I’m taking that as a yes…” Cassian told her, his attention splitting as she began to playfully undo the top buttons of his shirt. 

“I cooked for you…” Her lips passed over his throat, her voice muffled. 

Heat was racing up Cassian’s spine, his thoughts going increasingly hazy. “You did…” he replied, inhaling sharply as the hand not wrapped in his tie found the back of his head, fingers tugging lightly at his hair. 

“I’m a terrible cook, but I cooked. For you.”

She still hadn’t answered him. Not really. He wanted an answer, a definitive answer. “What does this have to do with–”

“Are you still hungry?” 

“Jyn–” he pleaded.

“Because I was thinking we should forget about the food,” she continued, her mouth brushing over his ear–words like sparks to his skin. “I changed my mind. There’s something else I want to do for you instead. Something I’m much, much better at…”

He relented slightly, instinct shoving reason aside as he tugged at the hem of the sweatshirt, her skin soft against his fingertips. “What did you have in mind?” 

“You mean, aside from moving to Yavin?” she murmured with a teasing grin, pressing even closer, tips of their noses brushing, her breath warm against his cheeks.

“So that was a yes earlier…”

Jyn rolled her eyes at him. “What do you think?”

He lifted her off her feet, and she laughed, wrapping her legs tight around his torso. “I think you’re coming to Yavin with me,” he said, slightly breathless, not quite daring to believe it. 

“I’m coming to Yavin with you,” she echoed, delivering a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Welcome home, Cassian.”

[str4ngergirlw0rld]

you loved and cared for eddie munson when you were 12 , now he hates you.

wc-2300 ish

pt 2 to bully eddie

Hawkins High School was far from picturesque. In your humble opinion, you despised it. At the age of 12, you had high hopes for high school - thinking it would be your golden age, your stepping stone to greatness. However, from freshman year onwards, you were miserable. Eddie Munson, two years your senior, made sure of that. He flunked his senior year not once, but twice, leaving you as his target for six long years. Eddie, the dungeon master of the hellfire club, was no stranger to bullying himself, but he took pleasure in tormenting you, the shy girl at Hawkins High. It was a shame that not even Eddie Munson would befriend you - you must have been a terrible person to be around.

"Peppy, please just consider this," Nancy pleaded. "It's your senior year, and we only have two weeks left of school. That's 10 days, 10 whole days you can really cherish." Peppy was your nickname, given to you because of your love for Dr. Pepper. You always had a can in hand, and Nancy and Robin couldn't resist calling you that. Despite your reluctance, Nancy had a way of convincing you to do things. She was like literal sunshine, impossible to resist. "Let me think about it, Nance. I can't afford to be humiliated again. Last year was miserable." Of course, you would think about it. Nancy's infectious energy always made you want to join in. "Nancy, can you please come over after school? Bring Robs, and we can discuss this. If I do decide to go, we'll have lots of planning to do." "Of course, see you later, Peppy."

"Rob's, guess what?!" you yell excitedly. "Please tell me you have amazing, awesome news like 'oh my god, the upside down caved in and disappeared,' that would heal me."

"Robin, no, shut up, someone's gonna hear you," you said, glancing around cautiously, hoping no one had heard what she said. Luckily, the halls were empty.

"What's the good news, Peppy?" Andy asked me to prom. Can you believe that? I mean, Robin, I am a freak. I'm a freak at heart. Eddie Munson won't even let me live it down. Robin, do you know how amazing this is?"

"Peppy, really? You're going with Andy? Like, Andy Andy?" Robin's mood matched yours.

"Yeah, Robbie, I'm so excited. I have my dress picked out and everything. It's pink with hints of red and red hearts embroidered on the sleeves," you explained.

"Oh my god, Peppy, that's so good! I'm so happy for you. This will be so, so, so fun. I can't wait. Make sure you let Nancy know. Oh my god, she's gonna be so happy we all get to go together. She's been begging and begging me to find a date," Robin told you.

"Okay, Rob, I'll see you after English. I'll give you a ride home. Love you."

"Love you too, Peppy."

Unbeknownst to you, Eddie Munson lurked around the corner, a scowl etched onto his face, his dark intentions hidden beneath a facade of resentment. He was determined to ensure you wouldn't have a good time at prom, hell-bent on sabotaging any joy you might find. For him, your happiness was an affront he couldn't tolerate, and he was prepared to do whatever it took to ensure your night ended in misery.

"Heeey, Andy. I heard you're going to prom with Y/N," Eddie slyly interjected, his voice dripping with malice.

"Who?" Andy asked, seemingly oblivious to the tension brewing.

"Peppy... the freakazoid. Dude, you know who I'm talking about," Eddie replied, his tone laced with disdain.

"What's it to you, Munson? It's none of your business," Andy retorted, his confusion evident.

"No, it's not, but I'm just warning you to stay away. She's a weirdo," Eddie sneered, his words dripping with venom as he poisoned Andy's perception of you.

Draped in a delicate shade of light pink, you sat in your living room, the soft glow of the evening sun casting a warm hue over everything. Your mom fussed over you, capturing every angle with her camera, her voice filled with pride as she complimented how beautiful you looked. It was a moment of rare confidence, happiness, and contentment that you hadn't experienced in a long time.

As the clock inched closer to 6 PM, the anticipation grew palpable. Andy, your prom date, was scheduled to pick you up at 8, and you couldn't help but nervously glance at the clock every few minutes. You had carefully chosen his pink tie with heart motifs, hoping he wouldn't be too embarrassed to wear it.

Meanwhile, Andy sat on his bed, staring blankly at the baggie of weed in his hand. Eddie's words echoed in his mind, poisoning his thoughts. "She's a freak, stay away from her unless you want to look like a freak too." The fear of being associated with you gnawed at him, and he made the cowardly decision to stay home, drowning his insecurities in drugs instead of facing you.

As the minutes ticked by and the clock struck 9 PM, doubt began to creep into your mind. Was Andy just running late, or was this all a cruel joke? You hesitantly dialed his number, your fingertips trembling with uncertainty. "Yello," Andy's voice crackled through the phone. "Hey Andy, it's me. I was just wondering when you're coming. You're still planning to come, right?" you asked, the hope evident in your voice. His response shattered your heart into a million pieces. "Yeah, no sorry. Munson got to me. You really are a freak," he muttered, his words like a knife through your heart. With tears welling up in your eyes, you hung up the phone, devastated by the realization that Eddie hates you , he hated you. silly you for thinking he’d let you have this one night to be happy.

as you sat in your last class of the day, a sense of relief washed over you knowing you didn't have a date for prom. The thought of spending the night with friends instead of navigating the awkwardness of a date brought a sense of calm.

But as you squirmed in your seat, eager to leave, Eddie's bitter tone shattered your moment of peace. "Could you stop fucking moving like that? I'm trying to write," he snapped, his words cutting through your thoughts like a knife.

Feeling a pang of anxiety, you stammered out an apology, your voice wavering with uncertainty. "Sorry, I'm just feeling anxious. Do you want me to move?" you offered, hoping to diffuse the tension.

"fuck yes, you annoy me anyway," Eddie retorted, his hostility palpable. "It's making me sick having to sit next to you."

Feeling a surge of humiliation, you quickly gathered your things and made your way across the classroom, retreating to the back in a desperate attempt to escape Eddie's ire.

Meanwhile, Eddie's heart pounded in his chest as he watched you move away. Memories of his behavior flooded his mind, the guilt weighing heavily on his conscience. He hadn't spoken to you since he was 14.

But despite the remorse gnawing at him, Eddie couldn't bring himself to stop. His hatred for you, fueled by years of resentment and pain, consumed him. He needed to push you away, to make you feel the same hurt he had felt. It was a vicious cycle of pain and retribution, hes only protecting himself from getting hurt again. he wont let you hurt him again.

gloomy days at Hawkins Middle School were oddly your favorite. The prospect of spending time indoors with Eddie, playing music together in the classroom, always fueled your happiness. You dashed eagerly to the music room, eager to retrieve your guitars and dive into another session of music-making with Eddie.

As you approached the closet where your instruments were stored, your eyes fell upon your beloved pink guitar, perfectly sized and customized for you. Next to it lay Eddie's red guitar, adorned with hateful words spray-painted across its surface: "freak," "loser," "trailer trash," "ugly." Anger surged within you at the sight of Eddie's defaced instrument.

In a moment of impulsive fury, you reached for Eddie's guitar, lifting it from its confines and slamming it onto the floor with all your strength, over and over again until it lay shattered into pieces. Eddie had just entered the room, tears streaming down his face as he witnessed the destruction of the one thing he cared for deeply.

Despite your attempts to explain, Eddie refused to listen. He turned his back on you, shutting you out completely. From that day forward, Eddie remained a distant figure, a silent specter haunting the halls of your memories. he never spoke to you again. opting to make your life miserable instead

Underneath your bed sat the replica of the guitar you had painstakingly saved up for, a reminder of your failed attempt to mend your friendship with Eddie. It was too big for him, collecting dust as it remained untouched. You couldn't bring yourself to throw it away or return it, holding onto the hope that one day Eddie would open his heart and listen to your side of the story.

You were pretty sure you reeked of shitty spiked punch and pepperoni oil, a combination that only added to the cynicism creeping into your thoughts. Watching Robin dance with Vicky, the girl she'd been crushing on all year, should have filled you with happiness, but instead, you couldn't shake the feeling of dread as Eddie Munson sauntered up to them. Why was he even here? Didn't he have better things to do?

"Peppy, you look so down. Can we get you anything?" Nancy's caring voice broke through your reverie, her concern evident in her gaze. "You know, I'll ask Jon to go to the diner right now to get you a burger. You look miserable, babe." Her offer was sweet, but you couldn't bring yourself to accept it, not when you caught sight of Eddie flaunting his presence with a bright flask, momentarily blinding you with its shine.

"No, Nance, I'm good. Please, just have fun," you managed to reply, mustering a weak smile as she ran off with Jonathan when "Time After Time" started playing.

The grunts and groans behind you drew your attention, and you turned to see Eddie being bombarded by school security. Curiosity getting the better of you, you intervened, asking shyly, "What's going on here?" while avoiding Eddie's gaze.

"Mr. Munson here attempted to steal school property, miss," the security guard explained. Eddie rolled his eyes and dismissed you, but you couldn't ignore the pang in your chest at the mention of a guitar. Despite his protests, you watched as they escorted him away.

Feeling foolish yet determined, you knew you had to do something for him. Maybe this would finally make him leave you alone, or perhaps even apologize. Being in student council had its perks, including a set of keys with your name on them. In the darkness of the hallway, you located the guitar and grabbed it, hoping no one would see you as you made your way to the parking lot.

You approached Eddie with a heavy heart, a dusty guitar clutched in your trembling hands. "I know they kicked you out, and I'm assuming it's because of this, but I thought you'd want to play, you know? Before leaving and everything," you murmured softly, offering him the instrument.

"Whatever," Eddie replied curtly, his tone dripping with disdain. Your heart sank as you struggled to understand his animosity. "Why do you hate me so much? I've done nothing but be nice to you. I love your uncle, I loved you. You were my best friend, Eddie, and you started treating me like shit for no reason. Really, what is it?" Tears streamed down your face, smudging your makeup as you poured your heart out to him.

Eddie felt a pang of guilt tug at his heartstrings, a sudden urge to console you rising within him. He wanted to tell you that he was sorry, that he never hated you, that you looked beautiful even with tear-streaked cheeks. But his pride and guarded heart held him back. "You're a bitch, Y/N. You're a piece of shit, and you ruined the one good thing I loved, the one thing I had left of my mom. And you had no remorse when you did it. You did it with pride, and you looked at me like I was a monster. It's not my fault you deserved to be treated like shit, Y/N. Really, I fucking hate you. This whole fucking town hates you, and I understand because you ruined my life," he spat out bitterly, his anger palpable as his nostrils flared.

"I really don't know what I did. If I knew, I would apologize. I've only ever done things to protect you, Eddie," you sobbed, your heart breaking with every word.

"So breaking my shit is protecting me? Ruining my shit is protecting me, Y/N? That's an excuse, and it's a shitty one. You know I loved that guitar," Eddie yelled, his voice raw with emotion as he fought to contain his turmoil.

"I did it to protect you, Eddie. You never let me explain. They did it, Eddie. They spray-painted your guitar. They wrote mean things on it. So I got angry, and I broke it. I shattered it because I didn't want you to see that. They were so wrong, Eddie. They still are wrong. Even after you treated me like shit, I still want you to know that you are none of those things," you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper as you stared at the ground, your chest heaving with sobs.

Eddie's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, his anger waning as he processed your words. Unable to resist any longer, he reached forward and pulled you into his arms, his own tears mingling with yours. "Shh, baby, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I thought you did it just to spite me. Baby, I'm sorry. Please forgive me. I love you. Please, I love you," he whispered brokenly, his bloodshot eyes pleading for forgiveness as you looked up at him, your heart heavy yet hopeful

I love you too, I really do, even after everything," you sighed into his shoulder, your words muffled by the fabric of his shirt. Eddie gently grasped the back of your head, tilting it back so you could meet his gaze. He pressed his nose to yours, his forehead resting against yours, as his hand traced your jawline with tender care. With a lightness that belied the weight of your emotions, he placed the gentlest of pecks on your lips.

"I love you, baby. I'm sorry," Eddie murmured softly, his voice laced with sincerity.

"It's okay. I really love you too," you replied, your heart swelling with love and forgiveness as you melted into his embrace.

“lets go”

taglist

@ali-r3n @tlclick73 @m0llygunn @bimbobaggins69 @impmunson @mmunson86 @stveharringtn @kingstevesgf @skrzydlak

[withacapitalp]

On the first day of school, Eddie had stood on their table in the cafeteria and declared that this was going to be his year. 

Well, ‘86 was going to be his year. Technically it was still ‘85 for three more months, but semantics semantics.  The rest of the club was confused, not exactly sure why he felt like this year was going to be different to the years of torture and mayhem that had proceeded it, but they appreciated Eddie’s insane amounts of optimism. 

Then two weeks later, Eddie spotted a group of lost little freshmen sheep. The one wearing a Weird Al t-shirt introduced himself as Dustin Henderson when Eddie came over to offer them refuge amongst the freaks of the school, and there was no doubt in the world that Eddie had been right. 

‘86 was going to be his year. 

Because it wasn’t like Dustin was a super rare name, but Eddie had never met a Dustin in Hawkins before that day. Meeting Dustin Henderson wasn’t just a fantastic coincidence, it was fate in action. 

Because Dustin Henderson was going to be the reason Eddie met his soulmate. 

Eddie had never shown anyone but Wayne his words. They had always been something sacred, special, no one else needed to know. There were people who showed everyone in the world, always looking for the person that might be the one to complete them, the one who would have words that matched their own. Eddie wasn’t one of those people. 

Even Gareth didn’t know.  

But, every night before bed, Eddie would carefully unwrap the bandage he always kept wound around his upper arm, looking down at the words and carefully tracing them with a single fingertip. 

Yeah. On Dust-Dustin’s mother. 

Dustin’s mother. They were so distinctive, so unique. It wasn’t the thing everyone dreaded- ‘How are you?’, ‘How can I help you?’, or even the worst, ‘Hi’. Eddie’s words were special, and that meant his soulmate was special too. 

Eddie had no idea what to expect from that first conversation, but he knew it was going to be wild. Probably some long winded crazy debate with laughter and sharp quips, and finally those words pushed out between giggles, which was the reason they would be shuttered. 

What Eddie never would have expected was to hear those words come out of Steve’s Harrington’s mouth. 

He never even thought that the words might be stuttered in fear, not laughter. Fear because of Eddie. Fear because of the broken bottle being held against his neck by his own damn soulmate.

Except no. No it couldn’t be him. Steve Harrington was not his soulmate. Steve Harrington was a jock douchebag, the kind of person Eddie had spent his entire life campaigning against. Steve Harrington was the epitome of everything Eddie wasn’t, and there was no way the universe or fate or god meant for them to be together. 

There had to be someone else in the room, someone he hadn’t seen who was going to appear out of the darkness and repeat exactly what Steve said.  

“Did you just say the words Dustin’s fucking mother to me?” Eddie growled out, desperate to be wrong, watching as Steve’s face grew impossibly whiter. There was a sharp burn on his upper arm, and he shakily dropped the bottle, hearing it shatter on the ground between the two of them. 

No doubt about it. Steve Harrington was his fucking soulmate. 

“Oh my god,” Robin Buckley said faintly from the background, but Eddie didn’t turn to face her. He couldn’t turn away from Steve, who was staring at him with the widest, most beautiful set of brown eyes Eddie had ever seen. 

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” Steve offered, his voice barely more than a whisper. 

Eddie stumbled backward, the back of his thighs hitting up against the boat he had been hiding in. He roughly jerked at the right sleeve of his shirt, pulling it upward until the deep black words were visible, standing out against his pale skin. 

Steve fell back against the side of the boat house with a shaking sigh, slowly pulling off his jacket and peeling back one side of his stupid button down polo. He had left the top three buttons undone which made it easy for Steve to expose his soulmark to the rest of them. 

And there, sitting right over Steve’s heart, were the words he had just said.

Did you just say the words Dustin's fucking mother to me?

The first words Eddie Munson had ever directly said to Steve Harrington. 

[terrence-silver]

how do you think what Larusso's relationship would be like! beloved (daniel's oldest daughter in her twenties) and old man! Terry during the Cobra Kai timeline, especially if beloved, was extremely morally similar to Terry? let's say, they "match each others freak." ❤️ I love your blog, especially because I'm also a writer and I love your take on Terry, your in-depth character study of him is terrific, sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language, I'm Brazilian, lots of love from here!

Hello, Brazil! ❤️

---

Frankly, I think Daniel would just feel downright haunted by one of his kid's proclivities and her character long before Terry ever returns into the picture --- years and years before he does, actually. This is an ongoing process that stems back to the time Mr. Miyagi was still alive; it's like Terry Silver never went away in the first place, notwithstanding the lingering trauma and bad memories that Daniel would have to live with on a daily basis, but that his own daughter is starting to resemble one of his demons from the past in worldviews, personality and behavior now too; it is literally the worst development imaginable. Nothing and nobody in his life is safe. Moving on is impossible when the battlefield is happening under your own roof. This whole city, the passing decades, The Valley itself as a whole and each passing generation feels like it has something of Terry Silver's in them and he's never truly gone. His darkness is stubbornly ever-present.

It's like Terry infected everything, even things and people he never actually touched.

Never came in contact with.

Never interacted with.

Nonetheless, it is there, finding ways to seep into every pore of his existence like an infection, possibly leading to Daniel being strictest precisely with his oldest daughter in the hopes that he'd steer her away from becoming the way she's becoming to overcompensate for her shortcomings and all the things he's expected of her but that she didn't live up to from his point of view. Something she might take to heart, because what child of their parent's wouldn't? Cause her to feel like she's far from her father's favorite. Like he cares for Sam, Antony and Louie a lot more and that he sees them as 'the good children he can feel proud of' because they're incarnations of everything Mr. Miyagi espoused...unlike her', which couldn't be further from the truth because Daniel would adore his estranged daughter too, but still, his stance towards her would be here causing her to wish to rebel, go against the mold even more and willfully embrace every bad impulse she has even more than ever before because it's hard to reconcile the fact that she's incompatible to her family. That she's distinct. Daniel takes a different approach with his problematic older daughter because he loves her and doesn't want her to grow into a morally questionable person, but is simply so afraid of what he's witnessing in her that his methods might be unbalanced, their root found in fear --- infinite parental concern. Meaning, he might snap, he might yell, he might be judgmental and not always be an exemplary, patient parent, because validly, it's hard to be exemplary when your own kid reminds you so much of a past abuser who messed you up for life. He might take some draconic measures with her too. His belief in pacifism and 'letting go' might just vane as well. What choice does he have? She's starting to resemble...someone he knew a long time ago. Someone he'd rather not speak of anymore. Jesus! He doesn't even want to think about it ever again! Hard not to! When she's right there, at the dinner table, in his own house, his own flesh and blood, someone he adores, someone he would do anything in the world for --- anything but accept that she's going down a negative path. What parent worth his penny would? Should he just allow that without doing anything?

So, when she befriends Terry, of all people?

Becomes a little too close for comfort with him?

It's a nightmare.

It's like watching his life's work and efforts at setting a good example literally collapse and history repeat itself except in an infinitely worse way than could ever be anticipated. Daniel would be convinced Terry Silver has perversely planned this for god knows how long and that getting under the skin of his daughter was premeditated, and heck, knowing Terry, maybe it was too and that this is revenge. Some sort of sick scheme. Grooming. The desire to continue ruining his life by hitting Daniel where it hurts most, even decades after everything that's went down and for the longest time, Daniel would feel like he's the only one who understands the unhinged gravitas of the situation, causing him to feel crazy and all alone in the world, with nobody to get his point of view and how eerie and harrowing Terry being with his daughter actually is, whereas Amanda, for example, wouldn't see the full picture for a good while, her concerns being limited solely to the age difference, but not the actual context under which any of this is happening seeing as how she's not entirely aware of what went down between Terry and Daniel because Daniel didn't tell her. In fact, she might even understand why their daughter likes Terry Silver. He's rich, he's handsome, he's charming, sure, a little sleazy, perhaps, but ultimately the harmless, inoffensive kind of sleazy (ultimately being too old for their daughter). She might even see Daniel freaking out as slightly overblown. He's overreacting. Of course, man's old enough to be her grandfather and it's a reason for concern and intervention but surely, not the amount of panic and crisis Daniel's exhibiting --- except, it makes the whole situation only feel the more dizzyingly infuriating, because that, that guy, right there, is also simultaneously the worst person Daniel knows and he knew quite a lot of those. And now, his own daughter is consorting with him. How does Amanda...just not get it!? He would feel like he's losing his damn mind. Terry Silver ruined so much of his late teenage years and the years that followed, influenced by the lingering trauma and trust issues; the last thing Daniel would allow for him to have his daughter's soul too. This whole discourse might just lead to the Larusso's marriage encountering shaky grounds.

Amanda could easily be taking her daughter's side, because ultimately, she'd see her daughter as a free person (and she'd critically misunderstand how awful this whole thing) is and Daniel would become more and more volatile seeing as how he wouldn't feel empathized with in the least bit. ''It's the man who tortured me when I was just eighteen!'' he'd yearn to scream out. ''He made me believe he was my friend. That he had his best intentions at heart. And then he tortured me and I trusted him, Amanda! He and John Kreese! They did it together! And now, Terry Silver's got his hooks in our daughter and she's letting him! You're telling me to calm down!? I can't calm down!''

Daniel would fight against the situation with all his might.

He'd argue.

He'd get his hands dirty.

He'd ironically show that bit of Cobra Kai he had in him all along.

He'd do things he'd do in no other situation if it meant changing his kid's perspective.

But, he'd under no circumstance accept his daughter being the way she is.

Just like he wouldn't accept her being with the enemy.

Terry Silver can't have his family.

Terry Silver, though? He'd manipulatively and very sweetly expertly exploit this pre-existing rift in the family to masterfully to divide the Larussos even further and get exactly what he wants by being the (seemingly) understanding, concerned supportive shoulder for Daniel's daughter and offering the camaraderie she doesn't feel she ever had at home. He becomes her support network. Her only support network, eliminating everyone else who isn't him because there's 'no matching the freak' of someone who has a couple of decades of experience in malice ahead of you, who fought in a war and who could, effectively, push came to shove, kill and die with relish. Daniel's daughter might think she can go toe to toe with Terry where being chaotic is concerned (and he'd fuel and enable her belief that this is true) but is there really anyone who actually can? Heck, he might even encourage her to keep a good relationship intact with her folks all while effectively sabotaging said relationship purely so he'd seem guiltless in the matter, playing good cop, bad cop accordingly. But, ultimately he's cool! He's awesome! He lovebombs! He lavishes! He's generous! He's seductive! He can give the spoiled Italian princess the life she's used to and so, so, so much more. He takes on whatever mask and personality is best suited for the situation to draw people in! He's older and by extension, probably makes a younger woman feel more mature and 'cool' by comparison too, appealing to whatever mommy and daddy issues are present! He's all about embracing instincts, impulses, holding nothing back which feels liberating to the otherwise Zen and possibly stifling teachings of Mr. Miyagi! He's rich! He's knowledgeable! And he's Terry Silver, which automatically could mean a world of damage. Never doubt the man's an influence that would entirely destroy what little stability's left in this family and turn Daniel's daughter against her father, mom, brothers, her sister and literally everyone she ever knew. In the end, she'd get more than she's ever bargained for. She thought she had control over the situation. She didn't, though.

Her dad would've been correct all along.

Terry Silver corrupts and devours.

Nothing's for free.

[yenqa]

the line in between

synopsis — in which it’s new year’s eve, 1999. and jay finds you on his doorstep right before midnight.

warnings — lots of mentions of dying (no one actually is but they think they’re going to + no violence), i think that’s it lmk

pairing — jay x gn!reader (i think)

wordcount — 1053

a/n — this is kind of like apple cider au + that one scene of 25/21 combined but also ignore how this is lowkey my fic “smart” in a different font erm

“What are you doing here?”

“Can I come in?”

You let out a nervous smile trying to convince him to let you in. Though he has no idea what you’re doing at his house on New Year's and minutes to midnight, he lets you in. Deciding to push aside the question looking at your anxious expression.

He moves aside, inviting you in. You thank him, hastily taking your shoes off and taking off your jacket. Jay notice’s the matching sweaters you’re wearing, both navy blue though yours looks much more warm than his.

You sit down on the couch, tapping on the cushion next for him to sit down. He takes the seat happily, you sit in silence, both awkwardly watching the new year’s show playing on the tv.

He decides that he’s prolonged the question enough, asking again with a slightly quieter voice, “What are you doing here?”

Chuckling, you answer. “My parents aren’t back from their vacation yet, their plane got delayed. And I got kinda scared for the new year.”

“Scared? You’ve been through it hundreds of times.”

You nod, the situation almost feels too vulnerable. As if you moved a single inch the room would crumble in pieces.

“I heard someone say the world was going to end or go into chaos, I didn’t want to be alone if it was.”

He laughs. And you crack a smile hearing yourself.

You’re not usually one to believe superstitions or conspiracy theories. But so many were freaking out for the end of the century and you can’t say you weren’t either. The silly theories had gone to your head this time, leading you to where you were five minutes earlier, knocking on Jay’s door.

“You believe that?”

Shrugging, you say, “Anything could happen.”

Jay isn’t the kind to believe in that stuff, he finds it interesting but never enough to be scared of anything. Though he finds your gullibleness funny, he finds it cute how you balance eachother out, You’re usually energetic, and he’s always calm and laid back. You like romance books, he likes thriller and horror books. Even though you’re much better at not being nervous when reading those kinds of things—except for situations like now.

To put it simply, you perfectly balance eachother out, like yin and yang. You’re the perfect pair. The perfect pair of friends.

Though you wouldn’t say you’re friends. If anything your relationship is closer to a couple than anything. He’s never mentioned it, and you were still wondering about it yourself.

Is the line between friends and lovers supposed to be harsh? Should it be clear as day in the end or should it sneak up to you before you even know it? The line seems to blur every time your hands linger near each other, or the stares from afar seem to be too frequent to be an accident.

You find it stupid how a stupid line can define your relationship. But it really does. The blurred line makes it impossible for you two to be anything. On top of the line is fear. You don’t want to lose him because you were being too quick to do anything. You don’t want to lose him because he might not be the same way if anything did happen. You just didn’t want to lose the bond you had.

He snaps you out of your thoughts, asking, “Do you want something to drink, apple? I think we have apple cider, your favorite.”

His nickname for you had been there for years. Since he first saw you chug down a cup of apple cider on the New year’s you met, when you were both ten. You’re still surprised when he pulls that nickname out for you, sometimes it’s every day, sometimes you don’t hear it for weeks.

“No it’s okay, I’m too tired to have any.”

He raises an eyebrow, “It could wake you up?”

You stop to think about it for a few seconds, I mean nothing bad could happen while he’s away right? “Fine, but only if you have some. Be quick though! I don’t want to be alone when midnight strikes.”

He salutes, rushing to his kitchen. You sit in silence, zoning out you stare at the plant right next to his tv. Snapping out of it when fans start cheering on the tv. you’re quick to look around when the thirty second timer starts ticking down.

“Jay, hurry up! You’re going to miss it and die alone!” You call, he rushed back, stomping on the floor loudly to get back to the living room.

Just in time he hands you your drink, sitting down just where he was earlier. Taking a few sips and turning to him, you smile, “You made it.”

He grins, “Of course I did.”

You turn away, watching as the timer ticks down somehow so slowly but too fast for you. Your heart starts racing and you’re not sure whether it’s for the new year or the eyes next to you staring at you with a soft smile.

The timer gets to ten and your heart starts beating out of your chest, trying to calm down you turn to Jay, asking , “Can I hold onto your arm? I’m nervous.”

Jay laughs quietly, gently pushing your head on his shoulder so you can comfortably wrap your arm around his, squeezing it gently. You watch as the numbers sum down to 5, quietly counting down the numbers just so the other can hear.

You look back up with him, letting out a breathy laugh, “Happy New Year, Jay”

“Happy New Year, Y/n.”

You try to stay awake with all your might, hoping that if the night ends now you’ll at least have some last words, but your drowsiness takes over, and you’re asleep before you know it.

Jay looks down at your calm state, the squeeze you once had on his arm had been completely abandoned, leaving his arm cold and lonely. He watches as your chest rises and falls with every breath, he lets out a lovesick smile. One he would never let anyone see.

Though tonight everyone he knows and loves—including himself, might die or go into chaos just as you said. He decides he wouldn’t mind this being his last view before it all ends.

taglist : @jwnghyuns @ja4hyvn @trsrina @redm4ri @badmuni @yeokii @enhastolemyheart @softpia @s00buwu @ox1-lovesick @boyfhee

yenqa © please do not copy, steal or translate.