#last day of work tomorrow before the break!!

[moonstruckme]

hi mae!!! i absolutely love your writing and am evidently irrevocably in love with wolfstar. i just got my wisdom teeth taken out, and i know you already wrote something for poly!marauders with that, but could i request something for poly!wolfstar taking care of reader a few days after? so less loopy and more pain with lots of fluff and cuddles! feel free to ignore, love you darling!

Thanks for requesting lovely! Hope you feel better soon <3

cw: allusion to chronic pain

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 627 words

“Hello,” Sirius says when the front door shushes open. He starts to fold over the page of his magazine. He hardly catches a bit of motion from the corner of his eye before you’re flopping down on top of him, forcing a soft oof from his sternum. “Oh, hello. Everything okay?”

You make a tortured groaning sound, forehead pushing into his neck.

“You’re alright, sweetheart.” Remus passes a loving hand over Sirius’ head in greeting, en route to the kitchen. “I’ll get your ice.”

“Aw,” Sirius tuts, letting his magazine lay tented over your back. He palms the back of your head gently. “Hard first day back at work?”

“It feels like it hurts worse,” you mumble into the space below his throat. The tip of your nose is cool where it presses to his skin. “I’m so tired.”

“Oh, I know, baby.” Sirius kisses the top of your head. “It’s not very fair, is it?”

“Pain is tiring,” Remus agrees. He passes Sirius an ice pack to settle against your cheek, holding onto another while he leans on the back of the couch. “It’ll get better over the next few days. Tomorrow should be easier.”

“I can’t think about tomorrow.” Your voice is softer, lips barely moving as Sirius holds the ice to your jaw. You shift your face from his neck, turning your eyes up to his. “Keep me here forever?”

Sirius feels his mouth spread in a grin. “You know I will, gorgeous. And I’ll do you one better, lift your head and I’ll put two ice packs on your cheeks.”

You pick your head up as directed. Remus passes Sirius the other ice pack, and he sandwiches your face between the two with a smile. Your poor cheeks are swollen and bruised, but Sirius thinks you look lovely despite it, even pouting the way you are. You look between your boyfriends as though waiting for them to do something about it.

Remus breaks first. “Oh, my love.” He gives a pitying laugh, folding over the back of the couch to hug your shoulders. “I’m sorry. The pain won’t last much longer, though. Just give yourself some time to heal.”

“Count yourself lucky you had wisdom to take,” Sirius says. “I didn’t have anything they wanted at all.”

“I’m so tired of this,” you sigh, leaning into Remus. “Sorry, I know it’s only been a couple of days, just. It’s just constant, you know?”

Remus hums. He knows better than most, better than Sirius for sure. Sirius feels overcome by a fond protectiveness for you both.

He touches a pinkie to Remus’ forearm where it’s wrapped around your clavicle. “Alright, that’s enough,” he says, rubbing. “It’s cruel and unjust to have either of you ever work again. I won’t entertain it.”

“Oh, you’re going to be our sole breadwinner now?” Remus asks, smiling.

“Quite right. I’ll need the two of you to carry your weight in homemaking, of course, but I’ll manage the rest.”

“And you reckon your income can cover our portions of the rent and groceries and all that?”

“Don’t worry your pretty head over it, darling. It’s well in hand.”

“Let me lie about for the rest of the week,” you sigh. “Then I’ll go back to work and you can stay here, Rem.”

Remus turns his smile into the top of your head, nose denting into your hair. “Yeah? You sure?”

“M’sure.” You shut your eyes. Sirius grins at Remus, thinking that he has about thirty seconds to change positions before you fall asleep and he has to hold you this way all night. “Just need a few days.”

But Remus will indulge you in anything; he stays perfectly still. “Sure, sweetheart,” he murmurs, kissing your head. “Whatever you need.”

[b3ach-bunn7]

NONSENSE

You're horrible at technology, and find yourself fliriting with you university's IT customer service.

University!au, noquirk!au, fluff

(side note i love shinsou hitoshi)

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You’re sure your stupid shitty laptop could break world records with how useless and slow it is.

You don’t think you’re much better. You study veterinary medicine so you can name every bone in a cat's ass but it would take you ten years to figure out how to send a Word document to somebody. The only up to being so horrible at technology, is your university has an IT customer service. 

It’s weird and you don’t really understand how it works, but according to the front page, you can call anytime from 10am to 3am. With the clock ticking minutes before your submission date, and with an essay due tomorrow, you decide it will be less embarrassing to confess you have no idea how to work the university’s submission system, than not submit at all. You dial the number quickly, biting your thumbnail as it rings a couple times before it picks up. The person on the other line barely said their hellos before you started rambling.

“Okay, I know this is really stupid, but I cannot figure out how to attach my submission to this stupid fucking- I mean, this stupid system. And I have like, twenty minutes before my submission date, so I’d really appreciate any help you can give me.”

“Why would you leave your submission so last minute?” 

You frown. You’re unaware that customer support could be so sassy. And also attractive. At least his voice is. It’s smooth and soft, and you press your phone closer to your ear to hear him better. 

“Uhm. I don’t need the sass, thank you, I need the help.” You drawl, clicking at your laptop aggressively.

There’s a little chuckle of amusement on the other end of the line. “Apologies, ma’am.”

“Ma’am?”

“Would you prefer sir?”

Your face twists in annoyance. “I’d prefer you to help me.”

“Alright, alright. Okay, so enter the module the work is for, scroll to the bottom.” He pauses slightly so you can follow his instructions.

“Okay.”

“Then click the three dots on the top left. Where it says enter, click that and select your file, then submit.”

“Oh. Why doesn’t the button say submit. Instead of fucking enter.” You grumble, quickly attaching your work and handing it in.

“Not sure. I’ll let the university know.” He says, faux sympathy coating his voice.

“That’d be nice.” You glanced at your phone. You’re not sure what exactly happens now.

“So. Is that it?”

“Is what it?”

“Do I just. Hang up? Now that you’ve helped me?”

You can hear the smirk in his voice when he speaks again. “Unless you wanna keep me company for the rest of my shift?”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

You hang up, trying to ignore the small smile on your own face as you do it. You don't have to miss him for long though, because you find yourself calling them back only a few days later after the wifi in your room refuses to work. 

You turn it off, then on. You carry your laptop all around your flat and hold it up to the ceiling knowing it won’t make a single difference. You ask your roommate and she is having no issue. It’s only when you’re about two seconds from snapping your laptop in half before you realise you’re not even connected. And after you find out your roommate is fine once more, you find yourself scrolling through your call history to find the IT number.

“UA University IT Services, how can I help?”

 You gape. “It’s you again!”

“Hey, it’s submission girl.” He grins. “You forget it’s called enter again?”

You roll your eyes. “Ha ha. I’m not calling for your horrible comedy, I'm calling because my WiFi isn’t working. You can help me with that, right?”

He groans into the phone. “Do I have to?”

“Yes you have to. It’s your job, IT guy.”

“I suppose. Since you asked me so nicely.”

You sit up in your bed. “Okay. What should I do?”

“Are you sure it’s not just the WiFi being shitty?” He asks.

You hum questionably. “No, I don’t think so. I asked my roommate and she said that hers is fine. And it’s also saying disconnected.”

You pause for a minute. “Wait, how do you know the WiFi is shitty?”

He snorts a laugh. “I’m a student too, idiot. I have to deal with shitty wifi as well.”

“Oh.”

You’re not shocked per say. He certainly doesn’t sound like a middle aged man you’d imagine working in IT. It’s nice to confirm though. And the fact that he is probably around your age means you can keep finding his voice hot.

“What, do I sound that old?”

Definitely not. “Yeah.”

“Shut up. You sound worse.” He mumbles and you tut. 

“Horrible customer service. I’m filing a complaint.”

A small laugh is heard from the other line. “I’d rather you didn’t. Rent is not cheap here.”

You lay back on your bed, dragging your laptop up on your knees. “You live in the student dorms?”

“Well, duh. I am a student, after all.” 

You roll your eyes. “What year are you?” “Second.”

“Hey, me too! How old are you?” “Should I be concerned by these questions?”

“Not if you answer.”

He replies that he’s nineteen, just like you. You wonder if you’ve seen him around before. Maybe he’s even in the same course as you. You could ask for his name, but you think that might be a little weird. That, and you sort of love the mystery around the man. Who knew being so useless at technology would lead to such great things?

Your laptop flickers off, and it’s only then you remember that you called him for a reason. You tap the keyboard and it lights back up, and your anger flares up once more. You huff, and IT guy seems to remember why you called too.

“Right, your wifi. You said it’s working for your roommate?” He asks.

“Yeah. And it’s working on my phone, it’s just my laptop.”

He hums, and you can hear the faint sound of clicking on the other line. “What building are you in?” You raise an eyebrow. “Should I be concerned by these questions?”

“Not if you answer.”

You smile. “I’m in 4A.”

He takes another few seconds, and you lean your head back on your bed as you wait for him to say something. 

“Alright. Your password should be, ‘uab4a’. You wanna try type that in?”

You groan, sitting up again. “I have, like six hundred times. But okay.” You huff, doing it once more.

Nothing. You sigh, defeated. All you want to do is watch some Netflix. 

It takes about five tries before IT guy finally starts to get stressed out with you. He tells you to click different things, turn your laptop on and off, restart it. You follow all his instructions to no avail, and you shake your head.

“You know what, maybe I’ll just watch Netflix on my phone.” You sigh, said phone now on speaker and thrown on your bedsheets.

IT guy tuts. “None of that talk. I just don’t understand. We’ve tried literally everything. The only way I-”

Suddenly the other line goes quiet. You grab your phone to check he didn’t hang up and you see that it’s now been 18 minutes of you two on the phone together. 

“Why have you gone all quiet?”

“Is your caps lock on?”

You bark a laugh. “Right. Like I’m that stupid to-”

You look down. The little light next to your capslock button is flashing, and your face heats red and IT guy starts cackling down the other line. You write the password once more, in lower case this time, and you let your face fall in your hands at the sign of four wifi bars flashing back at you.

“Oh my god.” You mumble, and IT guy just keeps laughing.

“Oh- Oh my god, you idiot.”

“Shut up! I dont- How did I not realise?” You cry, slamming your laptop shut.

IT guy takes a deep breath. “I really don’t know.”

You shake your head, putting the phone back up to your ear. “I’m sorry for wasting your time.” You mumble.

“Aw, don’t worry about it, sweetheart. I think you’re the only person that calls this line, anyway.”

You decide to ignore the nickname, and the tingle it leaves in your gut, and nod. “Good, then. I’m keeping your job for you.”

“So kind. Alright, go watch your show.”

“Night, IT guy.”

“Goodnight.”

Over the next two weeks, you end up calling a handful of times. Your password needs resetting, you accidentally deleted a file. Each inane task ends up with the two of you sitting on the phone for ages afterwards. You learn that he’s an insomniac, and that’s why he always works the night shift. He also lives in building 5B, which is about a ten minute walk from your place. The fact he’s so close, that you could go see him right now, taunts you in the back of your mind everyday. The fact that he was in your university, that he could be your classmate or someone walking around campus. 

But, like all things, your horrible internet habits mellow out. After a few days of no problems, you find yourself missing him. You’ve only spoken a handful of times, but he’s funny. He’s sarcastic and a little mean, but in a good way, a way that makes you a little giddy. And of course, now that you want issues, it’s so much harder for you to find some.

Over wine poured in mugs and reruns of you confess to your roommate your situation. She’s a little skeptical of the lack of identity, but she thinks you should just call him again. It couldn’t hurt, right? Worse case scenario, you hang up and the two of you never have to speak again. But best case scenario, you can have a conversation that’s actually about something meaningful. And you can get called sweetheart again.

It takes another two days for you to build up the courage, despite your friend’s support. You wait until it’s late, remembering that he told you he works the night shift, and anxiously dial the number.

“UA University IT Services, how can I help?” His voice sounds bored, automated, but you recognise it immediately.

“Hey, IT guy.” 

You hear a shuffle on the other end. “Hey, it’s my favourite customer.”

“It’s me.” You say nervously.

“So, what is it today? WiFi on the fritz again?” He teases. 

It takes a second for the words to get out. “Uh, no, I. I actually don’t need help with anything today.”

“Okay. So what’s the call for?”

“I just wanted to talk to you.”

Silence. Oh god. You immediately cringe, and you are never listening to your roommate again, because she’s always wrong and stupid.

“Really?” He says quietly.

You swallow. “Really really. Don’t sound too excited.” You joke and he laughs.

“Trust me, I am. I wanted to talk to you again too, but I had no way to. The numbers on our end don’t get saved after every call, so. I was waiting for you.”

You perk up at his words. “Really?” “Really really. I also couldn't ask around. I doubt you go by submission girl in your everyday.”

You walk into your room, hopping into bed. You lay down on your stomach, and place your phone in front of you, resting your face on your arms.

“No, not particularly. Wouldn’t it be weird, though? If we actually knew each other in person this whole time and we never knew?” “Nah, I doubt it. Think I’d remember a pretty voice like yours.”

Your face flushes. “Shut up. ” You say, pressing your palms to your cheeks to cool you down.

He snorts a laugh. “What do you study?”

“Veterinary medicine.”

“Wait, that’s sick. Do you get to see cats?”

You grin. “Yes! I volunteered at a shelter last summer, they were so cute.” 

He hums. “I love cats. I have one, you know.”

You eyebrows furrow in confusion. “Here? On campus? Isn’t that against the rules?”

“Nobody knows about her. We won’t get caught/ She's a good girl, she isn't loud or anything. And my roommate in under sworn secrecy.” He says.

Good girl. There's no way he isn’t talking like that on purpose. You nod your head even though he can’t see you.

“Okay, and what if she came to live with me?” You ponder, and he scoffs.

“I’m not co-parenting my cat with you.”

You’re lucky enough that your room faces the setting sun and now, a soft orange glow covers your room. It’s just cold enough that you’re wearing a hoodie and your fluffiest socks, but your window is still open to freshen the air. There’s a vanilla scented candle on its last life on your bedside table, and you prop your phone up against it and lean back in your bed.

“I could report you, you know. They’ll kick you out the uni.”

IT guy pouts. “You don’t want that to happen. Then you’ll never see how beautiful I am in real life.”

You snort a laugh. “Well, what do you look like? So I know what to avoid on campus.”

He hums thoughtfully for a moment. You yourself have spent countless minutes wondering. Is he tall? Short? Blonde, or brunette, or maybe he’s bald. You have no idea. 

“Well. I’m like, 6’1.”

“Yum.”

“Shut up.” He chides, but you can hear the smile in his voice. “And I have like. Kind of long hair. And I always look sleep-deprived, 24/7.”

“Night shifts will do that to you. What colours your hair?”

“Hm. No.”

You protest. “What do you mean no?”

“It’s a dead giveaway! I want to keep some of my mystery.”

He asks you what you look like. You give him the same cryptic descriptions he gave you. 

“Wow. I can find you easily now.” He drawls and you grin.

“No matter. We’ll meet one day.” You say.

The two of you end up staying on the phone for hours. It’s unfair how easily you find things to talk about. He tells you about his course, Psychology, and you listen as he rambles in your ear about studies and experiments. As it gets later his voice gets deeper, lacing deliciously with sleep as his voice rumbles in your ears. The time wears on and your eyes start to blink heavily. You look at the time and it’s been three hours.  Unfortunately, you are not like IT guy, and not only do you have classes tomorrow, but you need sleep to function. 

You yawn heavily. “Look, I hate to be a buzzkill but I gotta sleep. I’ve got a ten am tomorrow.” 

“Boring. But fine. I’ll, uh. Talk to you later.”

You nod sleepily. “Night.”

You reach your phone over to hang up but IT guy’s voice rings out, scratchy through the speaker.

“Wait! I- Can I give you my number?”

That’s enough to wake you up.

You sit up on one elbow, rubbing at your eyes. “Your what?”

“Phone number? It’s those numbers you dial in when you wanna call me.”

“It’s too late for sarcasm.” You scowl.

“Sorry, sweetheart. It’s just I’d like to have a way to communicate with you. And call you. And text, or whatever.”

You smile slightly. “Okay. Yeah, of course you can.”

He reads out his number and you jot it down. He hangs up soon after and you send him a quick text.

September 17th 

01:20 am

You: goodnight IT guy 😁

IT guy: Goodnight  💜

Life gets much easier with his phone number. Now you can text him during your lectures, during the walk to and from your work. He calls you during his shifts and you keep him company for as long as you can before you fall asleep. Which you have embarrassingly done a few times.

He sends you pictures of his cat. A cute black one called Pesto. You ask for the meaning behind that and he said he was eating pesto pasta when he got her. There’s one picture where you can see his hands in the corner, fingers long and slender and you have to stop looking before your thoughts take a dangerous turn.

Theres a time, maybe a week in, that things between you shift. The playful flirting is upped, and the conversations between you become more meaningful. You start anxiously awaiting a text back, face flushing at the stuff he says sometimes. Maybe it isn’t the smartest idea to fall for a guy who you don’t really know, but you don't care.

He knows Denki, for one. You’d mentioned the name and he’d perked up. Denki was an energetic guy you met at a house party once. And if IT guy is friends with him then that's more than enough confirmation for you that he isn’t a freak.

You tell him more about what you look like. You haven’t sent a picture, but you think he might know enough to catch you on campus. He still hasn’t told you much else, and he confesses to you one night that he’s nervous about it.

IT guy: I don’t wanna be a buzz kill but I’m scared ur gonna be disappointed

You: literlaly shut up

You: idc if u look like a troll

IT guy: right

You: or an ogre

IT guy: is this supposed to make me feel better

You: YES

You: look what im trying to say that i genuinely don’t care because i like u regardless of all that

You: ur smart and ur funny and ur mean but ina good way

You: and u hace a cute cat called pesto

IT guy: so ur using me for my cat?

You: duh..

It’s been two days since that conversation, and IT guy has been much more active ever since. You’d like to think you’ve given him a little boost of confidence, but you don’t care why it’s happening. You’re just happy that it is. 

You wish you could reply to whatever he’s sent you right now, but your boss might fire you if he catches you on your phone again.

You like the coffee shop you work at. It’s a quaint little hippy spot that’s a ten minute walk from your place. The pay is good enough, and you like your coworkers. Specifically Tokoyami. He’s quiet and keeps to himself, but he lets you chatter away to him every time you’re on shift together, and he always has good music recommendations for you.

Today, it’s the both of you on shift. You’re wiping down the coffee machines in the back and you can see him talking to someone at the counter. You can’t hear what they’re saying, but it’s rare you see him talking so animatedly. So you try to get a closer look. And wow.

You don’t know who he’s talking to but you’d like to. His hair is purple. That’s the first thing you notice. It’s a lavender and it looks so soft and fluffy you want to reach out and touch it. His eyes are a deep brown, and there’s heavy bags under them, but they somehow make him look even more beautiful. He’s got a lazy smirk on his face as he says something to Tokoyami and you’re itching to reach forward and eavesdrop. But you can’t. You’re on cleaning duty. Of course you are when a cute guy comes in.

You feel a pang of guilt suddenly, when you remember IT guy. You don’t think you should be thinking about any other guys. Even really cute ones. You get your head down and keep wiping. It’s only a moment later when you hear a crash and your head shoots up. Something happened out in the shop, and a moment later Tokoyami pops his head in the kitchen.

“Someone spilled some shit on the floor. Can you take Shinsou?” 

Shinsou. Tokoyamis told you about him before. A friend from university, or something like that.

“The purple haired guy?”

“Yep.”

“Gosh, the famous friend I’ve heard so much about. You never mentioned he’s so cute.” You wiggle your eyebrows and he rolls his eyes at you.

“Yeah, sorry but. He’s got a little girlfriend texting thing going on.”

You tell him you were only joking and he just pushes you out to the front. You peek a look at Shinsou and he’s looking off into the distance. Deliciously so.

You check his order and it’s just a black coffee. Simple enough. You make quick work of the drink, humming something under your breath as the machine whirls to life. You write his name on the cup in sharpie, and fill it up, pressing the lid and slipping on a cover so he doesn’t burn his hands.

You walk up to the counter. “Hiya. You’re Shinsou? Tokoyami’s friend? He’s mentioned you before. All good things.” You smile as you slide the drink over.

And Shinsou looks back at you like you’ve got two heads. Or like you’re the most shocking thing he’s ever seen in your life. You step back a bit, slightly nervous at the shocked expression on his face.

“Is everything okay?” You ask, your smile falling a little.

“No. I mean yes! It’s-“ 

And it’s as he’s stuttering through his words you hear it. That voice. That same deep, smooth voice you’ve been flirting with over the phone. And you’re sure your face now looks like Shinsou is the most shocking thing you’ve ever seen in your life. Your face heats up and he doesn’t look shocked for much longer because that same unfairly attractive smirk graces his face.

He leans forward slightly. “Is this submission girl in the flesh?”

“Oh my god. IT guy?” 

His smirk widens into a grin. “I go by Shinsou, but. You can call me that too.” 

You roll your eyes to the side but you can’t help but keep them on him, an incredulous look on your face. “You were worried for us to meet? You’re fucking hot.” You say.

And he looks even better when the tops of his cheeks dust the slightest red. You smile, leaning forward on the counter. 

“Thank you. And you’re beautiful.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Even in my gross work apron?”

“Especially in your gross apron, sweetheart.” 

You feel like giggling like you’re fourteen with a crush again. You brush a lock of hair behind your ear. 

“You’re not working tonight, right?” You ask.

He shakes his head and purple locks of hair dance around his face. Slender fingers grab the cup and take a sip. 

“Perfect. We’re going out.”

Shinsou tilts his head to the side. “Shouldn’t I be asking you out? Seems much more traditional that way.”

“We met on our uni's customer service number. I don’t think anything about this is traditional.”

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guys i LAAAAUUUVVVVV shinsou and like he does not get enough attention or love or fics....... it makes me wanna scream

also this nearly took a steamy turn... with that cellular device.... but i did not because i cba

also i noticed that jason todd fics do so wel compared to my other stuff?? maybe cause hes not as popular but i will keep that in mind my people.

i hope u all enjoyed this! <3

[beersangel]

The silver lining ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

pairing: quiteguy!matt x overachiever reader.

content warnings: angst !

summary: Aven Brooks, a driven overachiever, and Matt Sturniolo, a quiet, reserved guy with a reputation for being rude, are paired for a school project. While Aven is open to working together, Matt is reluctant, but their forced partnership begins to reveal there's more to each of them than meets the eye.

click here for the previous part.

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————

The night before, Aven had been buried in her usual routine: debate practice with Dakota and Courtney, a project session with Matt, and a late-night cram for her math quiz. It was close to midnight when Dakota came over, flopping onto Aven’s bed with all the energy of someone who hadn’t spent the day juggling back-to-back responsibilities.

“So, there’s a party tomorrow night,” Dakota said, scrolling through her phone.

“Cool. Have fun,” Aven replied without looking up from her notes.

“No, no,” Dakota said, sitting up. “You’re coming too.”

Aven sighed, not pausing her writing. “Dakota, I’m swamped. I’ve got a quiz to prepare for, a debate to rehearse, and—”

“Aven,” Dakota interrupted, her tone firm. “You need a break. When’s the last time you did something fun?”

Aven finally glanced up, giving her friend a flat look. “I don’t think standing in a crowded room full of sweaty strangers counts as ‘fun.’”

Dakota wasn’t deterred. “Courtney and I already decided. You’re coming with us, even if I have to drag you there myself. You’ll survive one night.”

After a few more rounds of Dakota’s relentless persuasion, Aven gave in, more out of exhaustion than agreement.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

The bass thumped through the walls, vibrating the floor beneath Aven’s feet. She stood in the crowded living room, her shoulders brushing against strangers as voices rose and fell around her. Dakota and Courtney were somewhere in the chaos, probably on the makeshift dance floor near the speakers.

Aven sighed. She hated parties. The heat, the noise, the sheer overwhelming crush of people—it wasn’t her scene. She scanned the room for an exit, her eyes landing on a sliding glass door that led to the backyard. Without thinking twice, she made her way towards it, weaving through the crowd.

The cool night air greeted her as she stepped outside, instantly calming her nerves. She exhaled deeply, relishing the quiet compared to the noise inside. It was then she noticed someone sitting on the grass, their back turned to her.

Matt.

He sat cross-legged, his elbows resting on his knees, looking down at something in his hands. Aven hesitated for a moment before stepping closer.

“Can I sit here?” she asked softly.

Matt’s head jerked up, his eyes briefly meeting hers before he nodded. “Sure,” he said, his voice low, before looking back down.

Aven lowered herself onto the grass next to him, pulling her knees to her chest and resting her arms on top. The silence between them was neither awkward nor comfortable—it was just… there.

“Why are you out here?” she asked after a few beats, her voice breaking the stillness.

“It’s loud in there,” he replied simply, still not looking at her. He paused, then added, “You?”

“Same reason, I guess. I didn’t even want to come,” she admitted, shrugging. “My friends dragged me here.”

Matt let out a small, almost imperceptible chuckle. “You’d rather be at home studying, huh?”

Aven blinked, surprised. She turned her head to look at him, only to find him already watching her. His gaze was steady, unreadable. She wasn’t sure what to say.

Matt tilted his head, pausing for a moment before asking, “Why do you do it?”

“Do what?” Aven asked, frowning slightly.

“Overwork yourself,” he said, his voice calm but cutting in its directness.

Her defenses went up instantly. “I don’t overwork myself,” she replied, her tone sharper than she intended.

“Yes, you do,” he said, his voice quieter this time, almost as if he wasn’t sure if he should be saying it at all. “Why?”

Aven’s jaw tightened. “Why do you never talk to anyone?” She shot back, her words defensive and pointed.

Matt didn’t respond. He just sat there, his eyes dropping back to the ground.

The silence stretched between them, heavy and thick. After a moment, Aven exhaled, the fight leaving her body. “Because I have to,” she said softly, her voice almost lost in the night air.

Matt looked up, his gaze curious but not pressing.

“I want to get into my dream school,” she continued, her voice steady now, like she was reciting a fact.

Matt stayed quiet for a few seconds, then asked, “And what if you don’t get in?”

The question hit her like a slap. Aven frowned, the thought piercing her like a needle. “Why would you say that?” she asked, her voice tinged with disbelief.

“It’s a possibility,” Matt said with a shrug, his tone casual.

Aven’s stomach tightened, the weight of his words sinking in. She had never considered it—not really. Her dream school wasn’t just a goal; it was the only option, the plan she had clung to for years.

Matt watched her reaction, his sharp eyes analyzing the way her expression shifted. After a beat, he spoke again. “You know, for someone who thinks they’re so smart, it’s kind of pathetic how you’ve pinned your entire future on one thing.”

Aven froze, her breath hitching as his words sank in. She turned to him slowly, her eyes narrowing, a mix of disbelief and hurt flashing across her face. After a tense pause, she spoke, her voice quiet but cutting “You know, I didn’t want to believe the rumors,” she said, her voice trembling slightly but firm. “I thought, maybe—maybe he’s not as bad as everyone says. But you know what? They’re right. You are rude.”

She pushed herself off the ground, dusting her jeans off before walking towards the house without another glance at him.

Matt stayed frozen in place for a moment, his thoughts swirling. Then, with a sharp inhale, he pushed himself off the grass. He caught sight of Aven slipping through the sliding door and into the crowded living room. His jaw tightened as he followed after her, weaving through the party.

The noise inside hit him like a wave, but he didn’t slow down. His eyes stayed locked on her as she moved through the crowd, her shoulders stiff, her head down. She didn’t stop, didn’t look back, just kept walking like she couldn’t get out of there fast enough. Matt muttered a quick “sorry” as he bumped into someone holding a red cup, but he barely broke stride.

By the time he reached the door, Aven was already stepping outside. He hesitated for half a second, then pushed it open, the cool night air hitting him as he spotted her heading down the street.

“Brooks,” he called out, but she didn’t stop, her pace quickening as she walked down the dimly lit street. “Brooks, wait up,” he said again, louder this time as he walked after her, but she kept moving, her shoulders stiff and head down.

“Aven,” he said finally, his voice softer but firm as he closed the distance between them.

She stopped abruptly, spinning around to face him. “What?” she snapped, her voice trembling with emotion. Her expression was a mix of anger and pain, but it was the hurt in her eyes that made Matt’s throat tighten.

“I—” He started but faltered, the words catching in his throat. He didn’t know what to say, and for a moment, all he could do was stare at her.

“What, Matt?” she repeated, her voice cracking now. “What do you want to say? That I’m stupid for wanting something? That it’s pathetic to care about my future?”

She could feel the tightness in her chest, the weight of his words pressing down on her, and suddenly, all the doubts she’d buried deep inside began to surface. What if she didn’t get in? What if all her hard work wasn’t enough? The thought of not walking in her father’s footsteps—of falling short—was a fear she had never fully allowed herself to confront. But now, hearing Matt’s words, it felt too real, too possible.

Her words cut deep, sharper than he expected. “Aven, I didn’t mean it like that,” he said quickly, his tone softening, almost pleading.

“Then what did you mean?” she shot back, her eyes narrowing, though the hurt still shone through. “Do you think before you speak? Or do you just say things without caring how they’ll affect people?”

Matt opened his mouth, but no words came. He didn’t have an answer—not one that would fix this, at least.

Aven sighed, her shoulders sagging as she looked away, her jaw clenching. “Forget it,” she muttered, shaking her head. “I should’ve known better.”

She turned away from him and started walking again, her pace brisk. Matt stood there, rooted to the spot, watching her retreating figure until she disappeared into the night. The weight of his own words hung heavy in the air around him, and for the first time in a long while, Matt felt something he rarely allowed himself to feel.

Regret.

ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐

author’s note: their first fight lol 💗 I love writing angst! also I’m thinking of making tag list so if you want to be added reply to this post <3!

- 💌

[angel-dustspo]

Daily check in – Day 55!!

Last day of winter break😞😞

Workouts:

sprinted for 1km (5.07, working to get it under 4.30 sometime)

night walk (like 4 km) with a friend

some yoga before bed

Steps: 15 433

Eating:

breakfast - 2 boiled eggs, some cucumber, a lot of broccoli and some almonds

lunch (bday party!!) - lots of appetizers, vegetables, cabbage salad, chicken breast, some avo toast,a lot of cheese mushrooms + 2 slices of berry cake, some wafer and some type of lidl chocolate cake

dinner - hot ginger tea with turmeric and a lot of lemonnn

Water intake: 2.5 liters

Sleep: 8.5 hours

Studying:

spent 4 hours on forest

did most of my math homework in 3 hours

did some hw for other subjects too

Screen time: no time for that

Self care:

everything shower, getting ready for school again

PAINTED MY NAILS THIS TRANSPARENT PASTEL PINK SJKSJS I LOVE IT SO MUCH!!!!!!

Emotion log:

I'm so happy and I'm glad I ate all I did today, I'm guilt free and I'm so happy I finally ran and hung out with my friend!!

Thoughts for tomorrow:

I think I'll wake up pretty puffy tomorrow bcs I couldn't/didn't want to limit my carbs and I wanted to enjoy the bday party, it's gonna be okay thoughhhh

Okay the plan for tomorrow is starbucks coffee, toast with idk but I need warm carbs, yoga, gua sha, icing my face and painting my nails + some math homework if I have the time

[loves-alibi]

say it

mdni

or: how you find out about vampire!soap (or x2: why you kick Johnny out)

tw: blood (duh, he's a vampire), dry-heaving, references to sex

vampire!soap masterlist

***** Johnny never breaks a sweat. It drives you crazy. You'll give the performance of your life, teasing him, sucking him, riding him, getting absolutely pounded by him, and Johnny doesn't have the decency to even pretend to be winded.

You're laying in bed, sweating like a pig after being stuffed like one for what felt like hours (because it was). Johnny's there too, covering your face in kisses and neck and shoulders with love bites.

"Do you have work tomorrow?" You ask, already knowing the answer.

"I'm sorry, lass."

"It's alright," you hum.

It's really not, but there's nothing you can do about it. Johnny made it clear from the start that he was SAS and that his job meant he kept a very particular schedule. He has to be on his way to base in the wee hours of the morning, and can’t make his way to your flat until past sunset. And that's not considering missions, when you can't see him for days or weeks at a time.

You make it work, though. So it means you have to go out together only at night and miss mornings in bed with him. For Johnny, it's worth it.

"I have holiday soon," he says, "No more leaving you." Johnny presses a kiss to your lips before settling himself on your chest.

"Promise?"

"I pr–"

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

"Fuck," you groan, rolling out of bed. You begin to dress yourself as Johnny watches with sad eyes.

"I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME!" Comes a muffled scream. "OPEN UP!"

"Who's that?"

"The guy across the hall."

Somehow by moving into your flat, you throughly pissed off your neighbor– a sour fellow who drives a e-bike like it's a motorcycle. Every other day, he's knocking on your door with a complaint– turn that music down (you weren't listening to music), your cooking is stinking up the hallway (it was the lady down the hall– and it smelled delicious), tell your cat to stop meowing so damn loud (you don't own a cat, but that kinda was your fault. That complaint came after a night spent teasing Johnny, and you fear that the meowing might have been Johnny's crooning).

You throw on Johnny's shirt, but he stops you before you can pull on your sweatpants. He's pulling on his boxers, a sheepish grin on his face, "Let me take care of it, Bonnie. You need to rest up." Johnny sends you to bed with a kiss on the cheek and a tap on your ass.

You lean against the pillows, "I'm not done with you yet."

"Oh I didn't think you were," and with that, Johnny leaves you with a wink.

You hear the door open on the other end of your flat, followed by some choice words from your neighbor. You grab your phone to check the time– 8:39 PM –and roll your eyes.

You scroll through your phone as minutes tick by. 8:40. 8:41. 8:42. 8:43... By 8:50, you're pulling on your sweatpants and heading to the front door. It's closed.

"Johnny?" You whisper, creeping closer to the door. There's no response. You try again, louder, "Johnny."

Something big thuds on the other side of your door. You lurch for it, pressing your eye against the peep hole. There's... nothing. You're staring at the open door of the flat across the hall. No Johnny. No neighbor.

Your fingers brush against the cool metal of the doorknob. The door creaks as you open it. The hallway is empty.

"Johnny," you try one last time, trying to peer inside the dark flat. You creep closer, but a slurping and a groan cuts through the air. Not just any groan. Johnny's groan. Your feet just carry you into the flat without thought.

It's pitch black. You stick your hands out as you blindly move about. There's another groan to your right. The source of the noise is behind a couch. You move quickly, too quickly, and slip, landing on your ass with a fuck.

There’s a small puddle of something wet and sticky underneath you. It must be what you slipped on. You collect come with your pointer finger. It’s dark, thick, and red.

Three things happen at once. The first is the smell of iron assaulting your nose— nauseating you. This first realization is what leads to the second thing— that puddle is made up of blood. These first two events quickly become inconsequential at the third: Johnny, your Johnny, is huddled over your neighbor’s body, blood dripping down his mouth.

Before you can scream, a hand fixes itself over your mouth. Much like everything else in the dark flat, the hand is covered in blood. You press your mouth shut in a desperate attempt to stop it from entering your mouth.

“Bonnie, bonnie, bonnie,” says Johnny, panicked. “Please don’t scream. If I take my hand away will you scream?” You shake your head. “Will you run away?” You hesitate, and Johnny sighs. “I’m not going to hurt you, I promise.” You nod this time, and Johnny smiles. Had his canines always been that long? Sure, they were always a bit longer than average, but now they look freakish, monstrous.

Johnny takes his hand away and you scramble back. He lurches forward and grabs your ankle. His grip doesn’t hurt, but it’s strong and enough to keep you rooted. Your heart is pounding in your chest. You’re sure Johnny feels it by the way his pupils dilate.

“You— you killed him—“

“Listen to me—“

“You ate him—“

“I fed from him,” Johnny whispers harshly, and you freeze.

“Fed?”

What the hell are you dating?

“I’m going to let go of you so I can clean this up, and you’re not going to run, are you?” Johnny’s voice is so calm. You nod your head. Something tells you that even if you tried to run, it wouldn’t get you very far. “Good.”

Johnny navigates cleanup more comfortably than you’d like. Your neighbor looks almost entirely untouched, with the exception of the two mosquito bite-esque marks on his neck. Johnny lays him gently on the couch, draping a blanket over his body. Johnny offers for you to feel your neighbor’s pulse, you decline. He nods and turns to fix the coffee table, which had been overturned at some point.

“He’ll wake up fine,” Johnny explains, “With a headache maybe, but…”

He leaves the puddle for last. His eyes flicker between you and the blood, a sheepish expression coming over him, “I don’t know where the paper towels are…” He’s asking for permission to… oh God.

“Just do it.”

You turn away, shutting your eyes to avoid seeing the depravities Johnny’s going to indulge in. It’s not enough. The sound of slurping fills your ears. You’re going to be sick. A dry-heave makes its way up from your stomach.

“Please don’t throw up,” Johnny says, “I wasn’t lying about the paper towels.”

You start crying at that, sobbing uncontrollably. Images of Johnny over that unconscious body blind you. What the fuck have you been doing for all these months? How haven’t you noticed whatever the fuck this is? What’s stopping him from doing it to you?

Two strong arms wrap around you, hoisting you up and into Johnny’s hold. “I’m going to bring you back yo your flat. Is that alright?” You nod, unable to get a word out through your sobbing.

In your flat, you’re set down on the couch. Johnny sits on the far end, observing as you curl in on yourself. He hasn’t got blood on his face anymore. There’s still some clumped on the hair of his bare chest, but at least you can look him in the eyes without seeing the evidence of his massacre.

“I’m sure you have questions,” he says, eerily calm, like he hadn’t just drank the blood of a human. “And I’ll answer them, but I want you to know that I love you, and I wasn’t planning on keeping this from you forever. This is just…” He trails off, waiting for the words to come to him. “This isn’t how I wanted you to find out.”

You gasp, “Find out what? That you’re a fucking psycho? That you’ve been lying to me for months?”

“I haven’t lied to you, bonnie. Not once.”

You scoff, “Then what the fuck is that?”

“What do you think it is?”

You pause. Part of you wants to slap Johnny just for asking you that, but it doesn’t stop you for actually reflecting on his question. What do you think it is? As much as you’re scared shitless, you’d like to believe that there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for why your boyfriend is drinking human blood.

Except there’s not. Because despite how unusual Johnny is, you’d never thought that he was that usual. He’s practically nocturnal, but that’s for work. And has long canines, but that’s genetic— plenty of people do. And he doesn’t like Italian food, but really it can be a lot sometimes, and with his garlic allergy? It’s—

Come to think of it, you’ve never heard of a garlic allergy before dating Johnny. And he’s awfully pale. And you’ve never seen him in daylight. And—

Holy shit.

For the first time in the last half an hour, a sense of calm washes over you. You smile at Johnny, and he mimics it, albeit confused.

“Johnny, dear, I need you to leave.”

Johnny stiffens, “What? I haven’t explained—“

“You’re a vampire,” you say, and Johnny gulps. You pause, allowing a moment for him to deny it. He doesn’t. “You’re a vampire, and retroactively, it’s quite obvious, I suppose. Though, that doesn’t change the fact that I want you to get the fuck out of my flat.”

“Oh—“

“Please get out.”

Johnny stands and slowly makes his way to the door. You see him out, smiling at him each time he turns back and gives you a questioning look. Eventually, he stands in the hallway of your flat, staring at you with those puppy eyes.

“I need time to think. Maybe when I’m done you can come back in, okay?”

Johnny nods, finally out of things to say. “Okay.”

With that, you slam the door in his face.

[expelliarmus]

[soggy-fishsticks]

I CANT DECIDE WHICH ONE I LIKE MORE

ALSO!!!!! Thank you @caprart1 for being some of the inspiration for this 😭🫶 Go check out their art!!!!

Speedpaint below cut :D

the song used is called beleza pula by masayoshi takanaka :)

[xxplastic-cubexx]

Kinda forgot i let him hang there for the day but fuck it he can stay…. Why not…. Theyre friends now…

[raineandsky]

The Villain's Housekeeper

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5) (part 6) (part 7) (part 8) (part 9) (part 10) (part 11)

tw: implied torture

“[Hero], I– I’m so sorry…”

The hero doesn’t even look at the villain. Their head is bent, staring distantly at a crack in the concrete floor. “It’s okay.”

The villain had called the superhero’s bluff. Tried to, at least. They never thought a superhero could be so cruel to one of their own. But the superhero had been more than happy to prove them wrong, to make the villain watch him inflict nothing but agony on the hero until they’d finally spat out exactly what the superhero wanted.

The supervillain probably doesn't stand a chance now. They don’t care.

Even from their own dingy cell the villain can see the blood seeping mockingly through the hero’s shirt. Their palms rub together mindlessly like that’ll erase the crimson nightmare from their hands. They seem like they’re barely conscious, blankly honed into the tiny blemish on the floor like it’s a portal they’re waiting to open.

None of this is okay. The hero’s just saying that. The villain kind of wishes they’d just gone and died in the street like the supervillain had intended. At least that would’ve saved them both from this.

The hero is sitting on the floor, not moving except to scrub at their hands, but the villain is restlessly pacing back and forth. They have so much pent up energy from the last hour—it has to go somewhere.

“We’re gonna get out,” they say into the silence.

“We’re not.”

The villain turns to the hero a little harsher than they meant to. The hero flinches even from several metres away, and the villain’s heart crushes just that little bit more. “We are, [Hero]. We’re gonna get out and [Superhero] is never gonna touch you again.”

The hero makes some noise that is clearly meant to be a scoff but comes out as more of a broken sob. “Big dreams.”

The villain doesn’t bother commenting on that. “No window, no lockpicking.” They glance around for ideas. “No bribery, I’d assume. No help.”

“How long were you here before… we spoke?”

The villain pauses. “In prison? I don’t know, a few days.”

The hero frowns. The villain doesn’t like it. “Have you not tried breaking out before?”

“I didn’t think I had anything to live for before.” The villain carries on glancing around to avoid looking at the way the hero’s face twists like they don’t believe them.

-

“There you are, you little shit,” is the greeting the superhero gives the villain. “Your codes were bullshit, weren’t they?”

He glares at them expectantly. There’s a lump in the villain’s throat that words seem to be stuck behind. “I– I gave you what you wanted.”

“Like hell you did.” The superhero throws an aimless hand over his desk. The villain’s papers are all over the place, various scrawls across their pages in a clear attempt to figure them out. “Your so-called codes didn’t work.”

The villain’s mind is blank. That can’t be right. They gave him the fucking codes. He should be descending on the supervillain this very moment, but instead he’s here, claiming they don’t work—

“Wouldn’t want your special sweetheart to feel the consequences of this, would we?”

The villain’s gaze snaps back to where the superhero’s smirking at them knowingly. They want to smack that look clean off his face. He knows too much, and now he’s using it all against them. The hero is back here, suffering the fate they fell into the villain’s grasp trying to escape, and they’re back here because of them. The villain feels sick at the thought.

“I gave you the fucking codes,” the villain spits. “It’s not my fault if you’re too thick to use them.”

The superhero’s face momentarily twitches in hatred, but it doesn’t last long. “Not to worry,” he says smoothly. He waves a hand for the security guard at the door to step forward. “I’m sure I can get an answer out of you pretty easily, hm?”

For a moment the villain can feel the burn of rope on their wrists, their throat sore, their eyes hot with tears of sickness and horror and guilt.

The security guard touches a hand to their arm, and before they can think about what they’re doing they turn around and punch him in the face.

The superhero’s on his feet immediately but the villain’s already moving. A quick boot to the middle keeps the security guard on the floor, and they meet the superhero at the desk without a thought. He tries to point a pistol at them but they butt it out of his hand, kicking it across the floor for good measure.

The superhero throws a fist at them and connects with their shoulder with the fury of the sun. The villain stumbles and the superhero’s confidence throws him in for a second blow. They dodge back, just, jabbing an elbow into the side of his face. The superhero staggers with an enraged cry and the villain leaps the desk to make for the gun.

It’s in their hand before either of the two can realise what’s happened. “Okay,” the villain says slowly. Their shoulder is throbbing but they have no time to think about it right now. “I’m gonna leave, and you’re not gonna say jackshit when I do.”

The superhero laughs, the sound wet with blood. “You won’t get far without death following you.”

“My paperwork’s still encoded. I’m not too worried.”

And with that they’re out into the corridor, more than happy to spend the superhero’s bullets on anyone stupid enough to come near them.

An alarm whirrs, drooping the halls in flashing red light. They’re lost, unaccustomed to wandering the corridors alone, but it doesn’t matter. They’ll get to where they need to be. They just have to survive first.

“Don’t worry, [Hero],” the villain whispers, like saying it outloud is a promise. “I’m coming.”

(next part)

Taglist:

@runarelle @thiefofthecrowns @morning-star-whump @epiclamer

[bendoodle]

If one more man in my workplace tries to ask me out i will set the whole place on fire, i don't care anymore. I can't keep doing this over and over. These fucking idiots want to get into the pants of a fucking NPC, the person they work with isn't REAL! THAT'S A MIRROR MADE TO BOUNCE BACK WHATEVER YOU THROW AT IT IN HOPE TO END THE INTERACTION SWIFTLY AND WITHOUT ANY ISSUE. THAT SIMULACRUM OF ME IS THERE TO MAKE MONEY AND THAT'S ALL! NO friendship! NO relationship! You DON'T get to know anything about me! you get a COWORKER! and that's IT!

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[tiredmetalenthusiast]

Employee Christmas party dress!! I'd say it's too much but I also can't bring myself to care🤷🏻‍♀️🤣!

[botanikos]

I got my coworker a big soft peacock stuffed animal from the store and am giving it to her tomorrow when we exchange gifts!! Literally only grabbed that thing coz of Andrealphus being a peacock and it made me giggle. Just like how the gift bag I'm using is PENGUINS. -- I should clarify that she ALSO is obsessed with Helluva Boss and we got each other Helluva merch for Christmas ASHDJFKGLH

[corcnaiism]

;-- and NOW i wanna add caryn pines to the roster dsfnksjnfsdsds

[wenchtoast]

finally melted my hair off with bleach as was bound to happen at some point. I've been thinking about shaving my head for a while and never had the courage to go ahead with it but now there's no choice so buzzcut era incoming.

[asfdhgsdkjhgb]

staying up as late as possible tipsy playing bg3 because thats just the sort of week I've had i cannot even lie rn