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steddielations · 1 year ago

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Steve walks into utter chaos.

He was stopping by just to see Max, but all the increasingly concerning noise coming from the Munson’s trailer drew him over there instead. Worried that all the cursing and clattering would drown out any chance of a knock being heard, Steve lets himself in.

Eddie doesn’t even notice him come inside, too busy scrambling around the complete wreck of a kitchen.

“Dude, are you cooking or just banging pots and pans together? I thought you were dying in here.”

Eddie squawks and jumps about a foot in the air. His hair is even more disheveled than usual, barely tied down with a bandana. He’s got flour splotches on his face and all over the frilly grandma apron he’s wearing (which Steve is definitely getting a photo of and showing Dustin later) along with a suspiciously sticky goo on his fingers.

“Stop laughing at me,” Eddie groans.

“I’m not laughing,” Steve laughs, going to join him in the kitchen, “What are you doing, man?”

“Well, I’m trying to bake Wayne a cake, but at this point, I might as well give him a frosting covered rock for his birthday,” Eddie sighs, frustrated hands scrubbing the flour off his apron, “I don’t know, man, usually I just get him another mug and a pack of smokes, and he’s never asked me for anything, but I’ve put him through hell this year I just wanted— I don’t know like, to do something special but I can’t even—”

“Alright, take it off.”

Steve folds his arms and waits while Eddie just gawks at him for a moment, cheeks reddening under the patches of flour.

“What?”

“You heard me. Take. It. Off.”

Eddie scoffs, starts muttering like he does when he’s nervous and Steve cracks a smile when he realizes why.

“The apron, Eddie,” he gestures, “Hand it over.”

Another moment of confused staring and Eddie slowly gives it to him.

Steve wastes no time shaking out the flour and tying it around himself. He moves past Eddie, gets right to work clearing the mess and salvaging what ingredients he can.

“You…” Eddie peeks over Steve’s shoulder, “You know how to bake?”

“I can make a cake,” Steve shrugs, “Robin obsesses over shit sometimes, calls them her “little brain worms” or whatever. She couldn’t stop thinking about this cake she swore she had for her 5th birthday but couldn’t remember the flavor. So we made every cake recipe in her mom’s cookbook until we found the right one.”

“So Harrington’s got a secret Betty Crocker power-up, impressive.”

“Nah, just small stuff. I help Claudia with Dustin’s birthday cakes. Little shit is very particular about his red velvet.”

Eddie snorts and Steve waves him over to start washing the dishes. He does so with a small salute that smears more flour on his forehead. The word cute comes to Steve’s mind but he just rolls his eyes.

“So you dusted off your oven mitts for little old me, hm? I’m flattered.”

“Only because I like Wayne and I’d prefer if you didn’t give him food poisoning,” Steve teases, dumping out Eddie’s abomination of batter into the trash. Though he softens when he sees the way Eddie winces at it. “And I think it’s nice, you know, you doing this for him. I wanna help.”

Eddie clearly holds back a smile, looking down at the bubbles in the sink, and the cute word comes back to Steve’s mind.

“Okay well, take it easy on me. Not everyone has a bunch of mom friends teaching them to bake.”

“Oh yeah, then where’d you get this grandma apron? You just had this little number in the closet with your leather and chains?”

“No, it’s Mrs. Bennet’s and she’s not my friend,” Eddie bristles and Steve senses a hell of a backstory there, “I stole it off her clothesline.”

Steve laughs and makes Eddie tell him the whole story, all the inner workings of Forest Hills feuds. It’s nice, Steve’s been spending more time here since everything, listening to Eddie’s stories and sharing his own. It’s easy to be around Eddie, even though that pesky word won’t get out of Steve’s head.

Once the batter is finished, Steve dips a finger in to test.

“How does it taste?” Eddie asks, “Better than mine I hope.”

Steve hums around his finger, “So good, here taste,” he meant to slide Eddie the bowl, but the wires must’ve gotten crossed somewhere, because now he’s holding out a dollop of cake batter on the tip of his finger to Eddie’s mouth.

They both look down at it, then at each other again. Steve knows he should apologize, drop his hand and say it was a mistake but there’s something about the way Eddie’s looking at him, the way he subtly licks his lips is almost like— He wants this.

So Steve lets him have it.

Eddie leans in, keeps his hands at his sides and slowly guides himself down on Steve’s finger. His eyes fall shut as his mouth closes around it, like it’s too much, watching Steve watching him. It’s a lot for Steve too, the wet warmth of Eddie’s mouth, one swirl of his tongue almost makes Steve’s knees buckle.

Something comes over him, he presses his finger down just slightly, feeling Eddie’s tongue curl around the tip. It elicits a soft noise from Eddie that sends heat thrumming all through Steve. Eddie’s eyes flutter open, brows turned upwards and mouth in a plush little O around Steve’s finger, looking up at him through dark lashes, a dot of flour on his nose. The sight makes Steve’s breath catch in his throat. It’s fucking cute and hot.

Steve has to swallow his own noise when Eddie pulls off.

“Yeah,” he breathes out, a slight grin on his lips, “Really good.”

Steve’s about to do something crazy, put his finger back in Eddie’s mouth, maybe more than one this time, or just his lips on Eddie's, maybe even slip his tongue inside instead of his fingers, lick all that sweetness away until he just tastes Eddie, something— but a sudden loud knock on the door has him dropping his hand like it’s made of cement.

It’s Max, wanting to know why Steve ditched her for Eddie. She comes inside to ‘help’ which means she leans against the counter, talks about her day, complains, teases Steve and makes fun of Eddie for being demoted to dish duty.

Steve puts the cake in the oven and focuses on cleaning and composing himself. He can feel Eddie trying to meet his gaze, trying to see if Steve's going to freak out on him after that. Once Steve can look at him without feeling like he’s going to burst into flames, he gives Eddie a small reassuring smile, even throws him a wink when Max isn’t looking. Eddie gives him a smile back.

And later, after Wayne comes home and they sing happy birthday and eat the cake that Steve insists Eddie helped him with— Just the tasting part, Steve says and revels in how Eddie covers a blush with his hair— and after they walk Max home, Steve pulls Eddie behind the trailer and kisses him until he doesn’t taste like cake anymore.

for the prompts "You heard me. Take. It. Off." and "Stop laughing at me" for @highkingpenny and anon, thank you and I hope you enjoy this!!

#behave boys taste testing is a Very Important job #steddie #steddie ficlet #rueswriting #steddie fic #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie fluff

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aumarias · 1 month ago

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haikyu!! headcanons - seijoh main four

slight suggestive themes in matsukawa's

iwaizumi hajime

100% without a doubt, works out to relieve stress. it's an escape from his problems (oikawa) and helps him take out his anger in a healthy way.

his favorite color is definitely red. i don't know why he just seems like a red guy.

literally gets SO pouty when he's surprised with something. it could be a gift or a party and he'll get so pouty. he's so emotional i love him

he loves LOVES when you grab his bicep. it makes him feel so strong and manly and proud it's so cute his face lights up.

contrary to popular opinion, he LOVES physical touch, but only with specific people. he just loves feeling loved.

whatever you cook for him, he'll DEVOUR it. he'll literally eat it up he loves food especially if you're the one who made it.

oikawa tooru

he has major separation anxiety. when he's in argentina you know damn well he's spamming the group chat with messages and calls.

his friends mean everything to him. he'd abandon volleyball for them anyday. he'd never admit it though...

a horrible, terrible liar. cannot lie to save his life, he'll start laughing or smiling. his voice cracks if he tries to drag it on too long.

when he falls in love, he's in LOVE. the gc is spammed with messages about how much he loves his gf and pictures of her followed by long ass paragraphs.

if he ever catches you in his jersey, oh honey... you're never gonna hear the end of it. he'll do a whole photoshoot of you in it, it doesn't matter if you just woke up. he thinks you look stunning and now it's his lockscreen wallpaper.

the SASSIEST man alive. he'll give you so much attitude if he's pissed off. you gotta sit his ass down and tell him to cut it out cause it gets BAD.

matsukawa issei

i don't see him as a smoker honestly. however...he is a big drinker. beer, whiskey, rum and coke, you name it, he'll have it.

super handsy. can't keep him hands off you, he needs to be touching you at all times. whether it be a hand on your hip, waist, thigh, head, or an arm around your shoulder, he's always touching you.

working in a funeral home, he sees a lot of grieving families yk.. he has nightmares that one day he'll be the one grieving you. please hold him tight at night!!

king of midnight snack runs! it's 4am and you're hungry? no problem! let's do a cvs run. oh you want taco bell? it closes soon better hurry!

has the LONGEST eyelashes you've ever seen. it's not even funny how are they so long. he looks great with mascara, he'll even beg you to put it on him so he can show off to oikawa. (he does, in fact, get jealous)

jams out with hanamaki to 2000's white girl songs. i'm talking christina aguilera, britney spears, natasha bedingfield, etc. it's their favorite way to mess with hajime. (he secretly loves it though)

hanamaki takahiro

matsukawa might not be a smoker, but hanamaki totally is. he doesn't smoke often, but when he does he comes back higher than a kite. he only smokes to relieve stress.

our dear boy is unemployed, but he still tries to spoil you as much as he can. you want that swimsuit? you'd look so hot babe of course he's buying it for you.

not a very touchy person, but he tries to make it up to you by spending time with you. he'll stand by you in the kitchen while you're whipping up some coffee for yourself. he sees you on the couch? now you guys are watching a movie together. he just loves being with you.

late night drives with takahiro are to die for. you've never had this much fun in your life. the city lights and the music blasting from the radio lifts you to a high you've never felt before.

uses hot cocoa flavored chapstick. he stocks up during the winter since it's a seasonal flavor (which he thinks is super annoying) but you complimented him on it once and now it's the only one he uses.

on twitter nearly 24/7. he posts his every thought and somehow they go viral. he prides himself on that and comes to you every time his tweet blows up. "look babe! my tweet hit 100k retweets."

#haikyuu #haikyu x reader #hq x reader #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime #hq iwaizumi #haikyuu iwaizumi #oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru #haikyuu oikawa #hq oikawa #matsukawa x reader #matsukawa issei #haikyuu matsukawa #hq matsukawa #hanamaki x reader #hanamaki takahiro #haikyuu hanamaki #hq hanamaki

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moonpascal · 2 months ago

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IN THE SHADOW OF MEMORY

CHAPTER THREE I series masterlist WC: 5.6k

WARNINGS:

angst, language, nose bleed, headaches, asshole parents, pov switch, smoking, ron’s mean, roommate oc, flashback is italicized, let me know if i missed any

AUTHORS NOTE:

big thanks to the amazing @amiableness and @mischievousmoony for reading and helping me with this chapter! i love you both so much! couldn’t do it without you both!

hopefully this answers some questions you guys had! i had fun writing this!

After a restless night, you wake up feeling somewhat refreshed, though a faint unease still lingers, like a shadow just out of sight. You push the feeling aside, blaming it on the inevitable tension of the upcoming war. No one could expect to feel fully relaxed until it’s all over.

Determined to shake off the dread, you pull on your house uniform and head out to meet the trio in your usual spot, hoping the familiar routine will help steady your nerves.

As you fumble with your crooked tie, cursing under your breath at its refusal to cooperate, you’re so absorbed in the task that you don’t notice someone approaching until it’s almost too late. You barely manage to stop yourself from crashing into them. When you look up, it’s Luna, her eyes twinkling with amusement as she watches you wrestle with the stubborn knot.

“Morning,” she says softly, her voice like a gentle breeze. “Your tie seems to be having a bit of a rebellion.”

You let out a frustrated sigh, “It’s not the only thing,” you mutter, but you can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips.

Luna steps closer, her fingers brushing against yours as she takes over the task of fixing your tie. “There,” she says, her touch light but sure. “Sometimes, things just need a little extra patience.”

You’re about to thank her when she suddenly tilts her head, looking at you with that faraway gaze she’s known for.

“I think today will be important,” she muses, as if she’s sharing a secret with the universe.

You blink, caught off guard. “What makes you say that?”

Luna smiles, a soft, knowing smile. “Just a feeling,” she replies, before turning and drifting away as if pulled by some unseen force, leaving you standing there, tie now perfectly straight, and the uneasy feeling from before somehow softened by her presence.

Reeling from your conversation with Luna, you continue walking through the castle until you spot Hermione and Ron waiting at your usual spot. But there’s no sign of Harry, which is strange—he’s always the first to arrive.

“Where’s Harry?” you ask, looking around.

“Forgot something in the library,” Ron replies, rolling his eyes. “Said he’d meet us there.”

You nod, though Ron’s irritation catches you off guard. He must’ve had a rough morning already.

The three of you head to the Great Hall and find your seats. As soon as you sit down, you start piling food onto your plate. After missing lunch and dinner yesterday, you’re starving.

The chatter of the hall is a welcome distraction, and as you bite into a piece of bacon, the savory flavor makes you sigh in contentment.

As you chew, you turn to Hermione, eager to share something that’s been on your mind. “Guess what weird piece of clothing I found in my dorm last night?” you ask, a mischievous grin spreading across your face.

Hermione raises an eyebrow, already playing along. “Don’t tell me it was Grace again?”

“It was Grace!” you laugh, enjoying how well she knows your roommate’s antics. “I found a Slytherin tie and a couple of jumpers by my bed. Honestly, I hope they didn’t do anything on my bed,” you add, making a face.

Hermione’s eyes widen, but before she can respond, you remember something else. “Oh, and I’ve been meaning to ask you guys,” you say, pulling a small locket from under your shirt.

You fumble with the chain a bit, trying to unsnag it from the loose thread on your tie. “Do you remember where I got this locket?”

You hold it up, letting the gold catch the light as you rotate it in your fingers. Ron opens his mouth to say something, but before he can get a word out, Harry suddenly appears at your side, his expression tense.

“Ron, Hermione, I need to talk to you—now,” Harry says, his voice urgent. He grabs both of them by the shoulders, startling all three of you.

“What’s going on?” you ask, but Harry’s already pulling them to their feet.

“Sorry, Trouble. We’ll be right back,” he says quickly before dragging them out of the hall, leaving you behind.

You watch them go, feeling a pang of exclusion. They’ve always had their secrets, but it still stings to be left out. You poke at your food, appetite waning, and glance around the Great Hall at the other students, all absorbed in their own lives. The noise that was comforting a moment ago now feels distant and hollow.

As you finish what you can manage, the morning owl post arrives, letters and packages dropping onto the tables. You’re surprised when two letters land in front of you instead of the usual one. You pick up the one from your parents first, already bracing yourself for the sharp words you know are coming. Carefully, you break the seal and unfold the letter.

“We heard you had an accident and fell. That is no excuse to fall behind in your studies. Make sure you catch up on any missed work immediately and seek extra credit if possible. You need to follow in your sister’s footsteps or you’ll never amount to anything—”

The words blur as a sharp pain stabs through your head. Your vision swims, and the hall around you seems to tilt.

You blink, trying to clear your head, when you see Theodore standing a few feet away, his gaze fixed on you.

“What are you doing out here?” you mutter, your voice thick with the remnants of the pain.

“I could ask you the same, Tesoro,” he replies, stepping closer. His voice is calm, but there’s an edge of concern in it. The moonlight filters through the trees, casting long shadows across the courtyard.

You turn away, wiping at your eyes with the back of your hand. “I’m not in the mood, Nott.”

He doesn’t back off. Instead, he reaches out, gently catching your arm as you start to move away. “Hey, I’m not here to cause trouble,” he says softly. “Just wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

For a moment, you consider brushing him off, but something in his voice makes you pause. You sigh, the fight draining out of you as you sink back down onto the bench.

He sits beside you, keeping a respectful distance. The silence stretches between you, but it doesn’t feel as awkward as you expected. After a while, you pull the crumpled letter from your pocket and hand it to him without a word.

He takes it, glancing at you before he starts reading. You watch his expression harden as he scans the lines, his jaw tightening with each word. When he’s finished, he folds the letter neatly and hands it back to you.

“They’re wrong, you know,” he says quietly. “You’re worth more than that.”

You look at him, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. “Thanks,” you whisper, though the words feel inadequate.

Theodore leans back, looking up at the sky. “You know, sometimes burning things like that helps,” he says casually, as if suggesting the most normal thing in the world. “It’s like telling them to go to hell.”

You blink, caught off guard by the suggestion. “Burn it?”

He nods. “Yeah. Why keep something that only hurts you?”

You consider his words for a moment, then slowly nod. “Yeah, okay. Let’s burn it.”

A small smile tugs at his lips as you take your wand out, feeling a little lighter. “Incendio,” you whisper, and the letter catches fire, the flames consuming the harsh words. You watch as the paper crumples and turns to ash, a strange sense of relief washing over you.

“Thanks, Theodore,” you say, glancing at him with a genuine smile. Somehow, he’s made the weight on your chest feel a little lighter.

“Trouble! Trouble!” Harry’s urgent voice pulls you back to reality. You’re still in the Great Hall, with Harry gripping your shoulders, his face etched with concern.

“What… what happened?” you ask, feeling disoriented. Your hand instinctively moves to your face, where you feel the warm, sticky sensation of blood trickling from your nose.

“You’re bleeding,” Harry says, his eyes wide. “We need to get you to Madam Pomfrey, now.”

“No, it’s fine,” you say, pulling away slightly. “I can go on my own. You should get to class.”

Harry hesitates, worry etched on his face, but Hermione steps in, gently pushing him aside. “I’ll stay with her,” she says, giving Harry a reassuring nod.

As you wipe the blood from your nose, Hermione takes you by the arm and guides you out of the Great Hall. You can feel the weight of curious stares from your classmates, but you focus on Hermione’s calm presence beside you.

“I don’t want to see Madam Pomfrey,” you start to protest, a hint of anxiety creeping into your voice. You know you should go, but something inside you resists. That vivid memory from earlier—it felt so real. But why was Theodore Nott, of all people, in it?

“I know,” Hermione replies softly, her voice soothing. “We’ll go to your dorm instead. You can rest there.”

Her understanding surprises you, as if she knows exactly what’s weighing on your mind. You try to piece together the memory. It lingers, just out of reach, teasing you with its importance.

You’re lost in thought, your surroundings blurring into insignificance until Hermione pulls you into your dorm room. She sits you down on your rumpled bed, her face etched with concern.

“Hermione, what’s going on?” you ask, trying to steady your racing thoughts as you notice the tension in her posture.

Hermione takes a deep breath, clearly struggling with how to begin.

“Something happened… something we didn’t want you to find out like this.”

A cold knot forms in your stomach. “What do you mean?”

She hesitates, then says carefully, “The fall you think you had… it wasn’t a fall. You were hit by a spell—by accident.”

Your mind races, trying to make sense of her words. “A spell? What kind of spell?”

“A memory charm,” Hermione says quietly, her eyes locking onto yours. “It was meant to erase specific memories. But it didn’t go as planned, and you were caught in the crossfire.”

You feel the blood drain from your face. “A memory charm… but I remember everything, don’t I?”

Hermione shakes her head slightly. “Not everything. We think it’s caused gaps, places where something important used to be but isn’t anymore.”

Your heart pounds as you try to wrap your mind around what she’s saying. “What did I forget? How much have I lost?”

“That’s the problem,” Hermione says, her voice gentle. “We can’t exactly tell you what’s missing. We’re trying to figure it out, but it’s tricky. We didn’t want to tell you until we had more answers.”

You feel a mix of fear and anger rising. “So, you were just going to let me walk around not knowing?”

“No!” Hermione says quickly. “We were going to tell you, we just needed time to understand it ourselves. But we found you unresponsive and bleeding…”

You sit in stunned silence, the weight of her words pressing down on you. “What now?” you finally ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“We’ll work through this together,” Hermione promises. “We’ll do everything we can to help you recover what you’ve lost, or at least figure out what happened.”

Her words are meant to comfort you, but the reality of missing pieces of your life—of not knowing what’s been taken—leaves you feeling detached. Hermione remains by your side, her presence a steady source of reassurance as you struggle to process this overwhelming revelation.

Theos pov: prior day

Theo hadn’t had much time to process the chaos Potter had unleashed. The shock of learning that you no longer remembered him, followed by the sting of your angry outburst, had left him feeling numb, as if he were moving through the day in a fog. He wasn’t even sure how he had made it back to the dorm. Everything felt surreal, as if he were watching someone else’s life unravel before his eyes.

He barely registered walking into the common room. Even Mattheo’s attempts to get his attention seemed distant and muted, like he was hearing them through water. It wasn’t until Mattheo physically grabbed him by the shoulder and gave him a shake that Theo snapped back to reality.

“Salazar, Theo, you really zoned out there,” Mattheo said with a hint of concern, though he tried to keep it light. His eyes scanned the room. “Where’s Trouble?”

The question hit Theo like a punch to the gut. His body tensed, and the words he needed to say seemed to lodge in his throat. How could he possibly explain what had happened? How could he tell his best mate that he’d been secretly fighting against everything their house stood for, and that you—his girlfriend—had been caught in the crossfire?

Mattheo would probably tell him that he deserved it, that this was the price of betraying his house. Or worse, he might report it to his father, who would ensure that Voldemort dealt with Theo personally.

“She… she had a nasty fall yesterday,” Theo forced the words out, his voice strained. He hoped it would be enough to satisfy Mattheo, but his friend wasn’t so easily convinced.

“That why you disappeared last night? Is she okay?” Mattheo asked, his tone more serious now, his earlier humor fading.

“She doesn’t remember me,” Theo muttered, the words barely audible. It was the first time he’d spoken them aloud, and doing so made it all feel too real, too painful.

“What do you mean?” Mattheo asked, his expression hardening as the gravity of the situation began to dawn on him. Trouble who had been a pain in his ass and was finally tolerating you. Theo didn’t want to say it again, didn’t want to feel that same stabbing pain in his chest. But Mattheo wasn’t letting it go.

“Theo, what do you mean?” he pressed, his voice sharp and demanding.

“She remembers everything but me! Our entire relationship—gone!” Theo snapped, the frustration and despair that had been building up since the incident finally boiling over. He shoved Mattheo back, his fists clenched tightly as if ready for a fight.

The anger, the helplessness, the grief—they all mingled together, pushing him to the brink. Tears threatened to spill, but he refused to break down, not in front of Mattheo, not in front of anyone but you.

“Hey, don’t take it out on me! I’m trying to help,” Mattheo shot back, stepping closer as if to challenge him, his tone now serious and firm. Theo scoffed in response, rolling his eyes as he pushed past him, desperate to reach the solitude of his room.

Theo slammed the door behind him with a force that reverberated through the room, but he barely noticed the sound. He couldn’t breathe; it felt like the walls were closing in on him, suffocating him.

Everything he cared about—everything that mattered—had been ripped away, and he had no idea how to get it back.

His gaze swept across the room, taking in the chaotic disarray of his belongings, though none of it seemed to register fully. His bed, unmade from where you had slept just the night before, looked like a mocking reminder of what he had lost.

Your tie, casually draped over his desk, next to the book you two had been reading together every night, felt like a relic of a time that had suddenly been erased. Little parchment notes, filled with love and encouragement, were scattered across the surfaces, each one a painful echo of a relationship that now existed only in his memory.

It was unbearable.

Desperate for an outlet, Theo grabbed the nearest object—a chair—and hurled it at the floor with all his strength. The wood splintered and cracked, pieces flying in every direction. A sharp shard sliced across his cheek, but the pain was a mere blip against the emotions raging inside him. It wasn’t enough; the destruction did nothing to quell the storm.

His eyes locked onto the fire poker resting by the fireplace, an innocent object that suddenly felt like the perfect instrument for his fury. He seized it, gripping it with both hands, and began to swing wildly at his bed.

The metal struck the wooden pillars with a resounding crash, splintering the supports, shattering the structure into ruins. His yells filled the room, raw and primal, as he tore through the space, obliterating everything within reach.

When there was nothing left to destroy, when the room was nothing but a mess of shattered wood, glass shards, and torn fabric, Theo collapsed against what remained of his bed. His back slid down the broken frame until he was sitting on the floor, surrounded by the debris of his breakdown.

The numbness crept in, dulling the edges of his anger and grief, leaving him feeling hollow and lost. He stared blankly at the wall, his mind on the brink of spiraling again, unable to grasp what he was supposed to do next. How could he fix something so deeply broken?

His gaze shifted, and something caught his eye—a flash of color peeking out from under the bed. It was your jumper, partially hidden but unmistakable. He reached for it quickly, almost desperately, and when his fingers closed around the familiar fabric, he pulled it close. Dusting it off, he clutched it to his chest, his breath hitching as he buried his face in the soft material. Your scent lingered faintly, a comforting trace of you that seemed to cut through the haze of despair.

As he inhaled deeply, the tears finally came, silent and unchecked, sliding down his face as he held your jumper tighter. It was the first real release he’d allowed himself, the first moment he’d let the weight of everything truly hit him.

He had to find a way to fix this, to make things right. After his first class, he’d start working on a plan. He had to see you, make sure you were okay—and selfishly, because he couldn’t stand being apart from you any longer.

Theo rushed to class, almost knocking over several students in his haste. He didn’t bother apologizing; his mind was fixated solely on seeing you.

As he burst through the door, earning a few glances from his peers, his eyes immediately sought you out. There you were, sitting in your usual spot, and for a brief moment, Theo allowed himself to hope that maybe everything would be normal again. But as he approached and took the seat beside you, the tension in your posture made it clear he had been too optimistic.

He tensed in response, trying to keep himself together, even as the nausea of your apparent discomfort around him threatened to overwhelm him. Maybe it was a mistake to come to class instead of diving straight into research. He wasn’t sure he could handle seeing you like this, not in his current fragile state. But what about you? Were you alright?

Lavender’s voice suddenly cut through his thoughts as she asked how you were doing. Theo’s heart raced, dreading what you might say, what Lavender might tell you.

This wasn’t how you should find out—not after everything that happened this morning. So he quickly cleared his throat, giving Lavender a sharp look that silently begged her to drop the subject.

Luckily, the professor began the lesson before anyone could say more. But Theo wasn’t paying attention; his focus was entirely on you. He watched as you suddenly winced, shutting your eyes tightly and massaging your temples. His heart clenched in his chest. He knew you suffered from migraines, but this one seemed different, more intense.

Normally, Theo would offer comfort, holding your hand or rubbing your back—anything to help ease the pain. You had always said his touch brought you relief, that his warmth helped you get through the worst of it.

But now, how could he offer that comfort when you seemed so distant? The image you had of him now wasn’t the same as it was yesterday. Still, he couldn’t just sit there and do nothing.

He leaned over, pretending to need more ink, subtly brushing against you. To his relief, he noticed your body relax slightly, and he felt a small surge of pride. It seemed your body still recognized him, even if your mind was struggling.

He stayed close for the rest of the class, finding some solace in being near you, even if it wasn’t the same. When the lesson finally ended, you remained seated, your breathing shaky. Theo wrestled with himself before finally finding the courage to speak.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly.

His voice seemed to pull you from whatever trance you were in, and you answered him hesitantly, clearly torn between confiding in him and holding back. Theo could see the conflict in your eyes, mirroring the turmoil in his own heart. To be so close to you yet feel so distant was a cruel irony.

Tentatively, he reached out, resting his hand on yours. The familiar softness of your skin was almost too much for him to bear. The urge to pull you into his arms was overwhelming, but he resisted. And then, to his dismay, you apologized.

Of course, you would apologize. Theo deflated, disappointment crashing over him. For a fleeting moment, it had felt like everything was normal again, like this was just the aftermath of a minor argument. But reality was far harsher.

This wasn’t a simple fix, and Theo wasn’t going to get an easy resolution.

Accepting your apology was a small hurdle, but saying your name instead of the endearing terms he used to call you—amore, tesoro—hurt the most. It felt foreign, like a painful reminder of how deeply the spell had affected you.

He could see that you wanted to say more, but then you recoiled, almost tipping backward in your chair. Instinctively, Theo reached out and caught you before you could hurt yourself further.

“Whoa, easy there. What’s happening?” he nearly let amore slip out, but caught himself just in time. Before he could say anything else, you excused yourself and hurried out of the classroom. Theo watched you go, his eyes never leaving your retreating figure, wishing he could take away whatever pain you were feeling.

Determined, Theo hastily grabbed his bag and decided to skip the rest of his classes. He needed to get to the library. Madam Pince could take all the points from Slytherin for all he cared. He was going to get to the bottom of this.

Theo stood frozen in the library, staring at the seemingly endless shelves of books. He didn’t know where to start, and the thought of asking Madam Pince for help made him grimace. He didn’t have the time or patience to search the entire library by himself. With a frustrated huff, he yanked off his robe, tossed his bag onto a nearby table, and ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm his nerves before reluctantly seeking out Pince.

“Mr. Nott, shouldn’t you be in class?” Irma Pince’s voice cut through his thoughts, her arms crossed and an eyebrow raised in disapproval.

“What are the call numbers for any information on the Obliviate spell?” Theo snapped, too agitated to explain himself.

Her eyes widened slightly at his sharp tone, clearly displeased with his lack of manners. “Ten points from Slytherin, Nott,” she replied icily, before guiding him to the section he needed.

After a short walk, she pointed to the relevant shelves. “This better be for research only and not some mischief you boys are planning,” she warned, her gaze stern and unyielding.

Theo barely concealed his irritation, rolling his eyes in blatant annoyance. “Yeah, whatever,” he muttered, brushing past her to scan the shelves for useful books.

Pince stalked off, leaving him to his task. He gathered a few books and an old Daily Prophet article, his arms heavy with the weight of them. He dropped the books onto the table, pulled out some parchment, and prepared to take notes—anything that might help fix the mess he was in.

Starting with The Standard Book of Spells, Theo flipped through the pages until he found the section on the Memory Charm.

“The Memory Charm (Obliviate), also known as the Forgetfulness Charm, was a charm that could be used to erase specific memories from an individual’s mind. It was different from the spell that created false memories.”

Theo sighed, rubbing his eyes in frustration. This wasn’t new information—it was basic knowledge. Moving on, he opened the Daily Prophet article, hoping for something more useful.

“Obliviate is the incantation for a Memory Charm, a spell that erases specific memories from an individual’s mind. It is one of the most potent and potentially dangerous spells, as it can lead to severe and permanent memory loss if used incorrectly.”

His stomach churned as he read on, the words making his anxiety worse.

“The strength of the Obliviate spell depends on the caster, and in some cases, it can destroy memory so thoroughly that a witch or wizard may lose their sense of identity.”

Theo’s heart pounded in his chest. The thought of you losing yourself completely was unbearable. He couldn’t let that happen. For both your sakes—and Harry’s—this had to be fixable.

After jotting down some notes, Theo grabbed the next book, A History of Magic, and started skimming through it. Most of the information was redundant, but then his eyes caught something that made his blood run cold.

“Reversing the effects of Obliviate is extremely difficult, if not impossible in some cases. Restoration of memories may require highly specialized magical treatment and is not always successful. Memory Charms could be broken through torture.”

Theo nearly gagged. The mere thought of you being hurt, let alone tortured, was more than he could bear. He forced himself to push those dark thoughts aside, continuing to scan the text. His eyes widened as he came across a bold warning.

“Caution: If the spell is carelessly cast, the brain will be in a delicate state. If you stress this person too much or aren’t careful when trying to restore their mind/memories, the results could be unpredictable, even leading to a complete breakdown of the mind.”

“Side effects may include headaches, fainting, vomiting, bloody noses, and/or completely losing themselves. Keep the person calm, distract them, or give them a Sleeping Draught.”

Theo’s heart seemed to stop. He’d seen you suffer from a headache earlier, and now he was certain that the spell had left you in this delicate state. Despair gnawed at him as he realized how little progress he was making. The hope of finding a safe way to restore your memories was slipping through his fingers.

Reluctantly, Theo acknowledged that he needed to tell Harry what he’d found. Your friends might make things worse if they tried to help without knowing the risks. Gathering his things, Theo abruptly stood up, leaving the mess on the table behind as he hurried out of the library. He needed to find those blithering idiots—your friends—before they unintentionally made things worse.

But as Theo stepped into the hallway, he was surprised to find the castle cloaked in darkness. Hours had slipped away unnoticed, swallowed by his mounting anxiety and frantic search for answers. The realization hit him hard—he’d spent the entire day buried in books with nothing to show for it but a sense of helplessness.

He leaned against the cold stone wall, closing his eyes for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts. The weight of his failure pressed down on him, but he knew he couldn’t afford to crumble now. Tomorrow, he’d have to face them—your friends. They’d have to work together, whether he liked it or not.

Theo took a deep breath, the resolve hardening within him. First thing tomorrow, Theo vowed, he’d get them involved. No matter what it took, he wouldn’t stop until everything was set right.

Morning couldn’t come soon enough. Theo barely slept, his mind too consumed with worry about you. The absence of your familiar presence beside him made the night feel endless—he longed to wake up and see your peaceful face, to trace the contours of your features like he used to. What he wouldn’t give to have that back.

He needed to reach Harry quickly; there was no time to waste. Theo jumped out of bed and dressed hurriedly, ignoring the curious glances from his dorm mates—he was never up this early.

Bounding up the stairs to the Gryffindor entrance, he didn’t care that he irritated the portrait lady as she reluctantly let him in. Thankfully, he found Harry’s dorm room without much trouble, and quietly crept inside. Theo moved to Harry’s bed, clamping a hand over his mouth, startling him awake.

Harry jolted, wide-eyed and reaching for his wand before realizing it was Theo, which did little to ease his nerves. Theo, unbothered by Harry’s panic, rolled his eyes and pressed a finger to his lips, signaling for silence. He motioned for Harry to follow, stepping back toward the door and waiting for him to get dressed.

Once Harry left a note for Ron, the two headed out, Harry nervously trailing behind Theo. They made their way to a secluded corner of the library, where Theo suddenly stopped, causing Harry to nearly bump into him. Theo turned to face him, arms crossed, expression unreadable.

“Things are worse than I thought, Potter,” Theo began, his tone cold. “Her condition is more fragile than we realized.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked, trying to keep his voice steady, though the guilt of what he had done was eating away at him. You had always been there for him, and now, because of him, you were suffering.

“Because you didn’t mean to cast the spell on her, it left her mind in a delicate state,” Theo explained, barely containing his frustration. “We can’t let anything stress her out. The side effects could be devastating, and we could lose her completely if we don’t handle this right.”

Harry nodded, already sensing where this conversation was headed. Despite the tension between them, he knew they had no choice but to work together. “What do we do?”

Theo sighed, shaking his head. “I don’t know yet, but what I do know is that I’m the only thing missing from her memories. We need to keep researching.”

“We should tell the others too,” Harry suggested, realizing the importance of getting everyone on the same page.

Theo agreed, though with a note of urgency. “You go get them. I needed to talk to you first before they start interrupting.”

As Harry left to gather Ron and Hermione, Theo stepped out into the corridor, his nerves on edge. It had been two days since he last had a cigarette, and the stress was getting to him. He pulled one out, lit it, and inhaled deeply, letting the familiar sensation calm him as the cool morning air brushed against his face.

His thoughts drifted to you—how you’d always hold your breath when he smoked, jokingly scolding him but never actually asking him to quit. You hated the smell, but you’d still kiss him if he asked. The memory brought a small, bittersweet smile to his face.

As he spotted the trio approaching out of the corner of his eye, Theo sighed and flicked the cigarette out the window.

“So, what does this tosser want?” Ron muttered as they neared. Ron had never liked Theo, always suspecting he had ulterior motives with you.

Theo rolled his eyes. “I’m here to make sure you lot don’t make things worse,” he retorted.

Ron glared at him, ready to snap back, but Hermione quickly intervened. “You mean Trouble?” she asked, concern clear in her voice.

Theo bristled at the nickname—he always found it annoying and unoriginal. “Who else?” he replied, irritation seeping into his tone. “You have to keep her calm. There are too many risks involved, and we can’t afford to make her condition worse.”

“How do we fix it?” Hermione asked, her worry for you evident.

“We don’t know yet,” Harry admitted, “but we can’t stress Trouble out, while we figure it out.”

Theo added, his voice firm, “If she starts to realize she’s lost memories, don’t tell her what they are—especially not about me. She doesn’t remember anything about us, only what came before. If you spring it on her, it could be catastrophic.”

“Why should she remember you anyway? I’d say that’s a win, don’t you think?” Ron sneered, a smirk playing on his lips.

Harry’s eyes widened in alarm, and he quickly stepped in front of Ron, blocking Theo from moving closer. “He’s joking! We’re going to fix this,” Harry assured, trying to defuse the situation.

Theo’s jaw clenched as he struggled to keep his temper in check. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to stay calm, and rolled his head to the side before continuing.

He explained the potential side effects, what to watch out for, and how to keep you calm if a situation arose. They agreed to meet regularly throughout the week to share their findings and come up with a plan.

With everything said, the trio left Theo standing in the hallway as they headed back to the Great Hall—and to you.

Theo watched them go, the weight of the situation pressing down on him like a stone. As much as he disliked relying on Harry and his friends, he knew they were all you had now. And if they didn’t handle this right, it could ruin everything.

He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling slowly as he tried to clear his thoughts. He needed to stay focused, to keep his head straight if they were going to find a solution. There was no room for mistakes, no second chances. They had to get this right or lose you forever.

If you enjoyed, please reblog or comment! Your words keep me motivated to write.

dividers by @saradika-graphics

#theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theo nott #theo nott x reader #slytherin boys #theodore nott fanfic #theo nott x you #theodore nott x you #theo nott x y/n #theo nott imagine #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott angst #theo nott angst #theo nott series #moons writing

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ashdreams2023 · 2 months ago

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Loki things part idk:

He thinks smoking is absolutely disgusting, like he treats his body like a temple so never to something so disgusting and tasteless

He likes sweeter drinks, asgard didn’t serve them much and he relish in them when he’s on earth

He studies religions, all types, finds it fascinating what mere humans put their faith and hopes for, something to believe in

Can’t sleep in complete darkness, as silly as it may sound he actually needs some sort of light in the place he’s sleeping in (gets a mini night lamp later)

Goes to thrift stores, doesn’t buy anything because he thinks he’s better than wearing used stuff but likes to browse through the different pieces and maybe try to recreate them with his magic

Cuts his hair himself, no one is allowed to touch it unless it’s someone very close to

His eyelashes are naturally long and they get in his eye sometimes so he gets them trimmed every few weeks

Makes his own perfume, as in he makes his own scent, it’s like a hobby of his to go into the frosts and gather ingredients and turn them into something inching

His favorite vegetable is pumpkin and you can imagine his surprise when he discovered pumpkin flavored things exist other then pie

He gets the worst sunburns if he’s not careful, literally fries up like a dead fish

Speaking of fish he actually doesn’t like fish, never found it appealing, the only sea food he would eat though is shrimp

He doesn’t have bad body odor, so when he sweats it’s not that strong disgusting smell but something faint and manageable

His favorite animals are {cats- sheep- goats}

He got so excited when he found out bucky raised goats back in wakanda

Likes to go to different candy stores and tries everything covered in sugar (his favorites are those strawberry gummies covered in sugar)

Loki naturally is a brilliant dancer and offer out of pity to teach anyone how to ballroom dance in exchange for some favors

Dense bones, he’s very VERY heavy, to a normal human being obviously and if he lets say falls of top of you full force you might lose breath and pass out immediately

Finds graveyards oddly sentimental since back in asgard they don’t berry the bodies, he sometimes finds himself going and watching people visit their loved ones

Keeps all his gifts, it doesn’t matter if they are garbage he still keeps it because it still means a big deal to him

Hates crocks so much, would rather flip flops and his toes out in the open than wear those hideous things

#imagine #mcu #loki laufeyson #loki #loki imagine #fanfic #mcu loki #loki/y/n #loki x reader #loki headcanon #loki friggachild #loki friggason #loki layfeyson x reader #loki laufesyon x reader #loki fluff

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dinodaweeb · 4 months ago

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Chimmy those Changas | One Shot

Deadpool x M!Reader (can be a continuation of deadly indifference)

The two of you found a nearby food truck, the enticing aroma of freshly cooked food wafting through the air. You stood in line, Deadpool tapping his foot impatiently.

“Hurry up, people! I’ve got a captive here,” he called out, earning confused looks from the other customers.

Finally, it was your turn. You both ordered chimichangas and found a nearby bench to sit on while you waited for your food.

Deadpool unwrapped his chimichanga with reverence. He eyed as if it was the Holy Virgin herself. He took a big bite and sighed in contentment. Or maybe he just horny for the food.

“Nothing like a good chimichanga to make a shitty day better.”

You took a bite of yours, the flavors exploding in your mouth. “Not bad.”

“Not bad?” Deadpool exclaimed, bits of food flying from his mouth. “These are the best chimichangas in the city! Show some respect.”

Before you could respond, there was a loud bang, and the food truck exploded in a ball of fire. You and Deadpool were thrown from the bench, landing hard on the pavement.

“What the hell?” you muttered, trying to catch your breath.

Deadpool jumped to his feet, scanning the area. “Looks like someone’s trying to kill you again. And I don’t like it.”

From the smoke and debris, a group of heavily armed mercenaries emerged, their weapons trained on you and Deadpool.

“Great,” you sighed, picking up your chimichanga and taking another bite. “I just wanted to eat in peace.”

Deadpool drew his katanas, a manic grin on his face. “Guess it’s showtime. Stay close, buddy.”

You rolled your eyes but continued munching on your chimichanga, barely paying attention to the chaos unfolding around you.

Deadpool launched into action, dodging bullets and slicing through the mercenaries with efficiency. Making their bodies squirt blood all over your shoes.

You sat back down on the bench, taking another bite of your chimichanga. Despite the explosions and gunfire, you couldn’t help but appreciate the flavors. “Not bad at all,” you mumbled to yourself.

It kinda sucked that the truck exploded but it is what it is.

One of the mercenaries approached you, weapon raised. You glanced up briefly, sighed, and went back to your food. Deadpool, noticing the danger, threw a knife with pinpoint accuracy, taking the mercenary down before he could get a shot off.

“Jerk,” you said around a mouthful of food, not looking up.

“No problem, sugarplum,” Deadpool called back, his voice cheerful as he disarmed another attacker. He cackled at your disgust for the pet name. “Enjoying your chimichanga?”

“It’s good,” you replied. “Though I can feel the spice crawling up my ass crack.”

Deadpool laughed, slicing through two more mercenaries. “I’ll see what I can do about that. Are your testicles tingling?”

As the fight continued, you found yourself almost enjoying the absurdity of the situation. Despite the chaos around you, you felt strangely calm. Maybe it was the good food or Deadpool’s relentless banter, but for the first time in a while, you weren’t complaining.

A mercenary lunged at you, and Deadpool quickly intervened, dispatching the attacker with a swift move. He then plopped down next to you, breathing heavily but grinning, his mask showing his lower face.

“You know, for someone who’s sucidal as fuck you have been having multiple opportunities in the past… ten minutes.”

You shrugged, taking another bite. “I’ve decided.” Your eyes locking with his.

“I want you to kill me.”

Deadpool chuckled, leaning back on the bench. “Rightttt.” He quickly took a bite of your lunch making you scrunch your face.

“Good luck with that.”

“For real” you admitted. “You’re a dick.”

Deadpool nodded sagely. “A wise man once told me. ‘You are what you eat’.”

You rolled your eyes. “How inspirational.”

As the last of the mercenaries were dealt with, Deadpool stood up, offering you a hand. “Alright, pal, let’s get out of here before more show up.”

You took his hand, finishing the last of your chimichanga. “Lead the way, piss boy.”

“Piss boy?”

“It’s your pet name .”

#dino’s blurbs #dino writesss #deadpool x male reader #deadpool x reader #deadpool #x reader #male reader #deadpool x y/n #deadpool x you #i have not seen the movie #do Deadpool and Wolverine make out??.#Don’t tell me actually

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sapphicantics · 5 months ago

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Two Sides of the Same Coin | Chapter One

Pairing: Regina George x fem!reader

Summary: After a nobody destroys the Jocks and insults the Queen Bee without a care or an apology, you get catapulted to the top of the social food chain next to aforementioned Queen Bee, Regina George, who now has to learn to share the spotlight with North Shore’s new bad girl. | Or alternatively, your ‘don’t give a fuck’ attitude sucks you and Regina into each other’s worlds sending you down a path you never expected.

Chapter word count: 1.7k

Contents: vaping, underage drinking, mentions of weed, threats of violence, mentions of broken bones, shitty comebacks - I think that’s it, lemme know if I missed any

Note: Alright, I’m finally here with the first official chapter of Same Coin. Now I don’t know how often updates are gonna be for this fic but they will be coming, I’ve got so many ideas for it.

Intro - Chapter 2

— — — —

Menace is a bit of a crazy term to use to describe someone who sticks up for themself, but this is high school and everyone loves to exaggerate, especially boys with fragile egos who can’t stand the school knowing they got their asses kicked by a girl.

And when the girl is you — a girl who keeps to herself and minds her own fucking business like people should do any-fucking-way — oh, there’s bound to be countless descriptors thrown onto you to help rebuild their fragile masculinity.

Volatile, temperamental, crazy, psycho just to name a few.

You’re not sure how those are supposed to rebuild their masculinity, especially when you can just kick their asses and knock it right back down again. Despite those seemingly negative connotations that come with your new title, it does, admittedly, have a rather nice ring to it.

Anyways, nice ring or not, negative connotations or not, title or not, you’ve got far more important things to focus on instead.

Like why the fuck Charlie Hudson is in front of you right now.

It’s lunch and you’re under the bleachers with a strawberry flavored vape pen in hand. You take a hit and blow a cloud of smoke past your lips, raising a brow at him.

He doesn’t speak for a while probably assuming you’ll do so first, but you just take more hits from your vape and continue to stare at him. He approached you, he came over here to you, he’s interrupting your time so he must want something from you and he either tells you on his own or he doesn’t tell you at all. It makes no difference to you, but you’re definitely not gonna ask what he wants.

It’s only when you check your watch does he remember he’s on a time crunch and finally opens his mouth to speak. “I’m having a party tonight. I was thinking you could swing by for a bit.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Well, it’s gonna be a whole thing, you know?” No you don’t know, and that really doesn’t answer the question on why he’s inviting you or why he thinks you’d even want to go, but thankfully he continues. “Real big, real fun, real cool…” he reaches into his pocket, pulling his hand out and passing some cash over to you. “…really need someone to bring the Mary Jane.”

You tilt your head at him, looking between him and the cash before sliding your vape into your jacket pocket. You pluck the cash from his hands and flick through the stack. There’s a couple thousand dollars here — broken up into smaller bills because why not — a little over a thousand by your count, sixteen hundred to be exact, which is far more than you usually charge to supply a party, but if the rich boy wants to give you all his money then you’re not gonna stop him.

Perhaps, this might make you a thief to some, but really, what’s one more negative connotation added to your name?

You slip the cash in your pocket and nod. “I’ll be there at ten.”

He flashes you a smile as you walk past him and brush your shoulder against his. There’s no force behind it — okay there’s a little force behind it, not a lot though — but still he flinches at the pressure and you don’t miss the way he reaches up to rub at his shoulder out of your peripherals.

That reminds you that you need to make a few things clear. Well, one thing, specifically.

“Oh, and Charles?” He hates that name, thinks it makes him seem like an old man and what better way to ensure he knows you’re serious than calling him by his government. He seems to understand this as his eyes snap to yours and he tenses. “If North Shore wants a chance at making it to state this year, it’d be in your best interest to ensure your brother is on his best behavior tonight. Unless, of course, Lucas wants more broken bones. You got me?”

The bell rings behind you then, a seemingly ominous warning to the boy whose face is now alight with fear. You don’t bother waiting on a response, you know he’ll obey your wishes. You smirk and turn on your heels, disappearing into the school.

— — — —

You show up at 9:45.

Fifteen minutes before the agreed upon time, a rather gracious compromise in your opinion.

One you’re already starting to regret as you walk into the house.

The music is blasting so loud you can barely hear yourself think. The house stinks of sweat from the hundreds of people crowded around each other, dancing, singing, laughing, and making out.

Everyone is drunk — some way more wasted than others — but somehow they all seem to sense your presence and part for you like the Red Sea. Some of them even turn their heads to see if it’s really you before quickly looking away and whispering to their friends.

You roll your eyes at that and Charlie takes this moment to finally make his appearance, trudging his way out of the kitchen. He makes a detour once he spots you and after a quick greeting, he leads you out to the backyard. “You got the stuff?”

“What a stupid question,” you scoff. “You think I’d take your money and then show up to this party empty handed with this duffle just for fun?”

You shrug the bag off and place it on the ground between the two of you, unzipping it as you do so. Inside is a bunch of pre-rolled joints and plenty of bags of weed for those who prefer to use a bong. There’s some rolling papers in there so people can roll their own joints, but you’re pretty sure if anyone does rolls their own joints tonight they are not using the weed you bought — because they don’t trust you so they won’t trust the weed you bought, and also no one goes to a party without their own weed. On the off chance that they do use yours, however, the necessary supplies are there.

Charlie whistles at the haul, eyes wide, clearly not having expected this much from you, but that’s not really surprising.

“Damn, I knew you were a pothead but that’s pathetic even for you.”

It is surprising, however, that Charlie took time out of his day to summon an actual demon from hell to this party.

You say this out loud. On purpose. Because it’s your mouth and you’ll say whatever you want.

“What the fuck did you just say?”

You turn your head to see none other than the devil herself, Regina George, glaring at you.

“You fucking heard me, Regina. You’re a demon and you should go crawl back into whatever fiery pit of hell you came out of.”

“Yikes, someone’s feeling dramatic today. But if I left, who would teach you how to dress?”

You chuckle and shove your hands into your pants pockets. “Rather presumptuous of you to assume I would want fashion advice from someone who looks like a copy and paste Barbie doll.”

“Oh, sweetie, it’s adorable that you think your opinion matters-,”

You hold your hand up to stop any further comments and start talking over Regina, effectively cutting her off and shutting her up. “I’m so glad you said that because your opinion does not matter at all, not to me especially when I didn’t even ask, and acting like it does is only going to do you a disservice so I’m gonna go ahead and let you know - I don’t care and you can keep the rest of your shitty opinions to yourself.”

Regina scowls and steps into your personal space, pointing her finger at you, inches away from jabbing into your skin. She’s towering over you slightly and now that she’s so close, you have to tilt your head up to hold eye contact with her. “Listen here you little bitch-,”

For the second time in less than a minute, you cut Regina off, smirking at the little vein that bulges on her forehead. “No, I don’t think I will, actually.”

Regina is about to blow. You can see it in her eyes, in the way her shoulders are so tense, and if you can see it so can anyone else in the vicinity. You lean closer, lowering your voice to a whisper so only she can hear. “Be honest, are you just mad this shirt got to come out of the closet, and you didn’t?”

Regina’s hands are fast.

SMACK!

But so are yours.

You catch her wrist in your hand before her open palm can collide with your cheek, the sound echoing like a gunshot in the backyard. A hush falls around those outside and you feel dozens of eyes lock on the two of you.

Regina tries to pull her hand away and you tighten your grip in response - not enough to leave marks or to cause pain, just enough so she’s forced to stay where she is.

She glares at you, her eyes alight with fury and jaw tense. The air crackles with the intensity of her anger, and you can feel the heat of her rage radiating towards you. But there’s no backing down now.

“Enough, Regina!” you snap, your voice firm and unyielding. “This isn’t the time or place for this!”

Her eyes narrow, and for a moment, it seems like she might explode again. But you hold your ground, your own anger flaring to match hers.

“We’re not doing this,” you continue, your tone brooking no argument. “Not here, not now.”

She looks ready to argue, but you cut her off, stepping forward with a fierce determination. “Back off, Regina. We’ll settle this later.”

The tension hangs thick in the air, but she finally takes a step back and you release her, her jaw still clenched. Without waiting for her to respond, you turn on your heel and stride away, your heart pounding with the adrenaline of the confrontation.

You venture inside and slip into the kitchen, grabbing a beer. You down it in one go and grab another one for the road before leaving out the front door.

It’s gonna be a hell of a day tomorrow.

#regina george x reader #regina george #mean girls 2024 #regina george x fem!reader #regina x fem!reader #regina george 2024 #regina george x female reader

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archangeldyke-all · 6 months ago

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can we plssss get more details about plug!Sevika & reader fucking in the backseat 👁️👁️

eheheheheheheheheehheh

men and minors dni

you sigh happily, reaching across the center console to start scratching at sevika's scalp. she hums, melting against her chair and smiling as her eyes droop closed.

you just had a nice little date night at a local mexican place both of you've been dying to try out. the food was delicious, almost as good as the frozen drinks.

now, you're in your little spot, listening to the rain pitter-patter all around sevika's car as you pass a joint back and forth. the windows are cracked, but only barely, so the whole car is filled with smoke and steam.

"this might be our best date night yet." you mumble around the joint in your mouth. sevika cracks her eye open to smile at you.

"you're kinda easy if some tacos and weed is all it takes, babe." she mumbles. you gasp in faux-offense, and pull your hand away from her scalp.

"sevika! rude! there were drinks involved too!" you defend yourself. she bursts into laughter, then snatches the joint from your lips to take her own hit.

"you really think this is our best one? what about that picnic we went on?" she asks. you hum, considering it.

"it was so hot that day. i was all sweaty and gross." you stick your tongue out in disgust. sevika chuckles. "plus, we couldn't fuck in the park, it was so crowded."

sevika snorts. "remember when those kids almost caught you tryna shove your hands down my pants?" she teases. you groan, mortified at the reminder. "you looked so stupid!" she giggled.

the second you had seen the kids you panicked, and pretended that there was a bug on sevika's crotch that you had been trying to shoo away from her. you quickly pivoted from feeling her up to smacking her clothed crotch and screaming 'there's a bug! there's a bug!'

"ugh, shut up!" you groan, smacking your girlfriend across the car where she cackles. sevika catches your hand and presses a kiss to your knuckles. you huff.

"i love you, dumbass." she chuckles. you smile shyly at her.

"love you too, asshole." you mumble. she grins.

"you know, we haven't fucked on this date yet." she says. you giggle.

"we should change that."

sevika laughs, then nods toward the backseat of her car. "shall we?" she asks.

you burst into giggles and then start clambering into the back seat. sevika laughs and smacks your ass as you crawl past her, and you squeal and flail against the back seat. she chuckles as she crawls back after you.

with a few awkward fumbles and some grunts, you and sevika manage to collapse the backseat so it's flat with the trunk, giving you guys space to spread out. sevika's too big to fit in the backseat-- she's gotten way too many cramps and pains from trying to shove herself in the backseat after you in the past.

you've learned from your mistakes, and now you guys always take the time to spread out. it's nice. now, sevika always carries a few blankets and pillows around in the trunk for these moments. you watch as she spreads one out over the surface, then holds an arm out for you. "m'lady." she giggles as she helps you crawl on the blanket. you snort.

sevika lays you down, presses a kiss to your lips, and holds her finger up. "where're you goin'?" you whine as sevika reaches back up to the front seat. she chuckles at your neediness, and you hear the click of the car locks. "oh." you mumble, slightly embarrased. she giggles, then turns back around with a blunt between her lips, flicking a lighter. you laugh. "where'd you even get that!?"

"c'mon babe, you know me. i got stashes everywhere." she laughs as she takes the first puff, then passes it down to you. you take a deep breath, moaning a bit when you realize sevika's bought your favorite wrap flavor.

"'s like candy." you grin as you exhale. sevika takes the blunt from your hands, takes a quick hit, then swoops down to kiss you. you moan against her lips.

you guys get lost in each other. the pitterpatter of the rain outside, the hazy atmosphere of the car, the addictive feeling of her lips on yours-- it isn't until you smell burning that you both pull away with a gasp and start smacking the blanket beneath you where the cherry of sevika's blunt had fallen and started a tiny fire.

"shit!" sevika curses as she giggles and smacks the blanket. "shit. sorry baby." she basfully looks back up at you. you giggle.

"thank fuck you noticed. no more making out while smoking." you decide, for the fifth time this month. sevika nods.

"here." she says, passing you the blunt. "take care of this for me." she whispers, pressing one more kiss to your lips. you take a hit, sighing as sevika starts trailing kisses down your chest. she pushes your shirt up under your armpits, quickly unfastening your bra and pushing it up along with it. you giggle as she starts nipping at your tits, and she smirks up at you. "make sure you don't start a fire with that thing, baby." she mumbles.

it's all the warning you get before she's pushing your miniskirt up your hips and your panties to the side, ducking between your legs to shove her nose right against your cunt and take a deep inhale.

you squeak. "sev!" sevika pulls away with a grin.

"you smell so fuckin' good. god, wish i could just keep my face buried in your cunt all the time. need a perfume of it or something." she mumbles. you giggle, flicking her forehead.

"gross." you laugh. she nips your thigh.

"you're the one who sucks my fingers after i finger myself." she mumbles.

"well! that's 'cause i got the long nails 'n i can't do it myself!" you whine.

sevika licks a stripe up your cunt, and you squeak. the blunt ashes a bit, and you carefully take another hit, sure to hold the cherry over the cupholder instead of the blanket when you pull your hand away. "'m gonna eat you out, then take you home 'n sit on your face." she mumbles.

you nod. then blink in confusion. "wait, why do we have to go home?"

"i'm not hunching over in this tiny ass car, babe."

"just lemme eat you out like this!" you laugh, pointing at the position she's got you in now. she huffs.

"nah. i wanna fuck up all the makeup on that pretty face of yours all myself." she mumbles. the words make you shiver, and you shove your free hand into her hair, pulling her toward your cunt. she chuckles against you for a second, the vibrations making you crazy, and then she gets to work.

when she's sober, sevika eats you out with the single-minded focus of getting you to cum as hard as you can. but when she's high, you think she's in it more for her own pleasure than yours.

she takes her time, licking, sucking, sniffing, nibbling-- she giggles sweetly at each of your reactions and mumbled curses.

the way she moans against you is the same way she hums happily when she's snacking while she's got the munchies. it makes you giggle a bit.

you take another hit and sigh. "i love you, baby." you mumble. sevika shoves her tongue up your cunt as far as she can in response, and you gasp and moan, shivering against the blankets. "fuck, keep doin' that." you whine.

she growls in response. you can feel her drool and your cum pooling under your ass, and even though the car is dark, when she comes up for air you can see the slick shine of your cum covering half of her face. she dives back down with her tongue hanging out of her mouth, panting like a dog. she's so hot you don't know what to do with yourself.

"sevika-- i'm close." you whine. she pulls up, and makes grabby hands for a hit of the blunt. you scoff. "now!?" you ask. she giggles and plucks the blunt out of your finger, takes a hit, and passes it back to you.

"open." she chokes out. you quickly follow her instructions, parting your lips and inhaling as she leans over you, exhaling against your mouth. you sigh the smoke out of your lungs, grin up at her, then giggle when she bites your bottom lip. "okay." she whispers, seemingly satisfied, as she darts back down between your legs.

she picks up right back where she left off, and you're even closer than you were before. "fuck, fuck, fuck." you whimper as you start grinding against her lips. you can feel the curl of her smile pressed against you. "sevika, fuck!" you cry.

she groans as you cum all over her face, licking you up tenderly as you shake through your aftershocks, then sits up with a proud, happy smile when she's done. you giggle.

"so?" she asks. you blink.

"what?" you ask. she chuckles.

"how's this date compare to the others now that you got your rocks off?" she asks. you burst into giggles, pulling her down for a kiss.

"best we've had yet, baby." you mumble.

sevika grins. then, "how long until you're gonna be able to crawl to the front seat so i can take you home and fuck your face?"

you burst into giggles and take a long drag off the blunt, blowing the smoke in her smirking face as your response.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @vikasub @glass-apothecary @m0numents @macaroni676 @vixel352

#sevika #sevika imagine #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika #sevika smut

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wooahaes · 6 months ago

Text

up in smoke

pairing: non-idol!vernon x fem!reader

genre: fluff. established relationship au.

warnings: food. burnt food. vernon is trying his best.

word count: ~1.1k

daisy's notes: ive said this before but he is simply sooo <3

Vernon remembered when he went bungee-jumping with his friends years ago, before he ever met you. They had done rounds of rock, paper, scissors on the bus ride there, and he had ended up losing, which meant he had to go first. He remembered how it felt to get on the edge, the worker walking him through it while his stomach was twisting itself into knots. Bend his knees, hold his arms out as he falls, and enjoy the thrill. If he wanted to be poetic, he could say that falling in love felt a lot like that: a blind jump toward a joy he could see in you. Both had been worth it. He’d gained a sick video of him bungee jumping, courtesy of his friends, and the leap into love had given him a relationship he felt so entirely safe in.

Baking cupcakes should not be harder than bungee jumping. Why the fuck was this harder than bungee jumping?

He coughed as he opened up the oven for the second time today, smoking plumbing out of it and setting off the alarm. Shit. Fuck. This shouldn’t be this hard. He ripped the cupcake tray out of the oven, tossing it onto the smooth stovetop before cracking a window and then going for the alarm. With the apartment silent, he let out a heavy sigh before leaning against the counter again. Vanilla cupcakes had no right being this hard to bake. Why was baking harder than normal cooking? He’d learned normal cooking! But every time he swore the batter tasted okay when he did a tiny taste test, something went wrong with the actual baking half of things. The picture on his laptop was taunting him now, all perfectly baked with perfectly placed buttercream on top of it…

He let out a sigh, shutting his eyes. Okay. He could work with this. As much as he hated to admit it, maybe it was a good thing that you were stuck at work today. Originally, it was a good way for him to surprise you with cupcakes. He pulled at the loose bow tying his apron around him, throwing it onto the counter before heading straight to the bedroom to strip off his shirt and change into something that he didn’t accidentally get flour on.

Fine. He couldn’t bake you cupcakes. That didn’t mean shit when he had a car and money and the ability to just go buy the damn things. Easy solution.

He picked out yours and his favorite flavors for the larger box… Only to check his phone and see where you had texted him three times in a row. Oh shit.

baby???

what did you burn?????

omg wait are you okay??? did you burn yourself??? i tried calling seungkwan and he didn’t know where you were 😭

Shit. Not what he meant to happen on your birthday. He dropped a tip into the tip jar, thanking the worker as he took off back to his car. When did you get off early? Shit, he thought he’d know—but you never mentioned anything today. He fought the urge to drive a little over the speed limit to get home to you, just shooting off one quick text to say ‘omw’ as he hoped that would calm your fears. The moment he parked, he took off running as fast he could without damaging the cupcakes to get back into the building. It was a weird half-jog that would definitely earn him some strange looks, but it was far from the first time he’d done something foolish while thinking of you. The elevator swiftly brought him up to his floor, and he rushed to get back into the apartment.

And there you were, dumping out the burnt cupcakes as you tried to deal with the still-lingering burnt smell in the apartment. When you looked up, relief flooded your eyes as you saw him.

“Oh my god, Vernon, I was terrified you’d burnt yourself—” You rushed over to him, only to stop short as he held up a pastel pink box of cupcakes. “... What did you—”

“I wanted to bake you those funfetti cupcakes you were talking about,” he said. “But, uh… You can probably figure out what happened.”

You took the box from him, only to immediately set it aside in favor of kissing him. He’d stiffened up in surprise, but relaxed a moment later as his hands fell to your hips. When you drew away, you just gave him a shy smile.

“I was worried,” you said. “I thought you’d hurt yourself.” You brushed his hair back from his eyes, frowning at him a little. “But… You were gonna bake me cupcakes?”

“I tried,” he admitted. “But, uh… I think baking was a little ambitious.” He drew you closer, body pressing against yours. “The first time, the oven was too hot, aaand the second time I took ‘em out too early… and then put them back in for too long.”

With a pout, you squished his cheeks. “You’re so sweet. You didn’t have to do any of that.”

He drew your hands away from his face, letting them drop onto his shoulders. “You literally made me a cake this year, babe. I wanted to do something nice.” He nodded toward the box you set aside. “I just got us a half dozen. Didn’t get to pick up candles since you came home early.”

With a giggle, you pressed a clumsy kiss against the corner of his mouth. “Guilty,” you said before drawing away from him. You picked up the box of cupcakes and started to make your way over to the dinner table. “I was only working a half day today. I tried to get the full day, but I kinda had a major meeting this morning, so…”

Vernon followed you into the apartment soon enough, wrapping his arms around you and drawing you in. “It’s all good,” he said. “You wanna go out, or—”

“God, no.” You turned around to face him. “I’m going out with friends this weekend instead. I just thought,” you draped your arms around his neck, “we could have a nice night in. Movies, dinner…” You looked at the box behind you. “And dessert.”

He nuzzled his nose against your cheek, pressing a soft kiss against it a moment later. “Sounds like a plan,” he said, squeezing you once. “Happy birthday, baby.”

taglist: @twancingyunhao@synthetickitsune@wonuziex@porridgesblog@staranghae @weird-bookworm @bangchansbae @laylasbunbunny @bewoyewo

#wooahaes.fic #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagine #svt x reader #svt imagine #seventeen x you #svt x you #vernon fluff #vernon x reader #vernon x you #chwe vernon x reader #wooahaes.24

162 notes · View notes

darkbluekies · 1 year ago

Note

ooohoooh do a oneshot jerry x sensitive male reader, plot depends on you

Uncanny connection

Mafia!female!yandere x male!reader

Summary: going out for ice cream with Jerry ends in one of the most grotesque scenes you've been in

Warnings: gore, torture, knocking someone unconscious

Word count: 3k

A/N: I don't know how "sensitive" the reader got because i think he got pretty tough, but I hope it's enjoyable anyway♡

"Do you know what I'm craving?" Jerry asks.

"What?" you answer.

"Ice cream."

You look up from your book. Jerry lies on the other side of the couch, bored out of her mind. Her boss is in the room next to you, pressing an enemy on information — an enemy which Jerry brought to him. It's revolting.

"How can you even think about food now?" you mutter, face leaning in your hand.

"Because I'm hungry?" Jerry replies snarkily and throws the tv remote at your head.

You grimace, but realize that you'll get out of the house if you decide to listen to her upset stomach.

"Should we get some ice cream then?"

Jerry shines up. "Yes!"

She stands up and grabs your arm, pulling you up from the couch. You wince. You're taller than her, but there's no debate on who's stronger. Jerry takes you out to the garage.

"Choose", she says and points, "car or motorcycle? Pick the motorcycle."

"Okay? The motorcycle."

Jerry smirks and hands you a black helmet. "Do you know why I want you to pick the motorcycle? Because then you'll have to hug me all the way to the ice cream place. Unless you want to die, of course."

"Childish", you mumble teasingly.

Jerry hits your stomach with the back of her hand. You huff and stumble backwards.

"Careful, buddy", she says coldly, giving you a glare. "Wouldn't want you to get hurt. Put on the helmet now so we can leave."

Although Jerry scares you, there's something about her black motorcycle armor that makes you drool. You place the helmet over your head and sit down behind her. Jerry grabs your arms and wraps them around her slim waist. If she wasn't wearing her armor, you'd feel her sixpack through her shirt.

You reach the ice cream shop in less than twenty minutes. Jerry takes care of your helmet while promptly warning (threatening) you not to wander off.

You walk inside with her while she orders the two of you ice cream. You stand behind her with your hands in your pockets, looking around.

"Hey, stare-eye, do you want sprinkles?" Jerry asks over her shoulder.

"Yes, please", you answer.

You're soon given an ice cream, surprisingly in your favorite flavor. You didn't think Jerry paid attention to such things. You walk out to her motorcycle and sit down on the asphalt in the empty parking lot. Not a lot of people seem to go for ice cream at nine at night.

"This hits the spot", Jerry smiles.

You nod.

"Did you see the girl behind the counter, though?" Jerry asks and scoffs. "She was staring at you."

"I didn't notice", you reply.

"Of course you didn't. If I didn't know better, I'd think you had smoked something with the way you were looking around. Speaking of that, do you want to smoke? The boss has a cupboard full of-"

"No, I don't think that's for me."

"Oh, come on. How are you going to know if you haven't tried?"

"I don't want that. Alcohol is enough for me."

"Yeah, yeah, okay. If you don't want to, I'm not going to force you." She licks her ice cream and sighs dreamily. "Oh, to be high right now though."

You snort out a laugh. For a moment, you start to believe that you'll finally have a somewhat normal moment with Jerry, until she starts to look around with furrowed brows.

"What's wrong?" you ask.

"Give me your ice cream", she says quietly, in that hissing tone you hate.

You do without questioning. Jerry gathers them both in one hand and grabs your arm with the other.

"Pretend to talk to me", she tells you while forcing a half smile while fiddling with her phone in her hands. "Like we haven't noticed anything."

"Noticed what?" you ask in confusion.

"Keep talking or I'm selling you on eBay!" she hisses through the plastered smile.

You start to mumble a chain of "blah blah blah" while Jerry pretends to be interested. She throws the ice creams away and gives you your helmet.

"We're going to have to go fast as Hell, be prepared", she says, still wearing that smile. "Someone has followed us."

"Are we in danger?" you ask.

"Probably. But I’ve alerted my men, they should come quickly."

You put on your helmet and get on the motorcycle behind you. Jerry tightens your arms around her before blasting off. You're sure that your soul leaves your body when the speed accelerates. Everything around you turns into a blurry mess. Streetlights become long lines of light.

It doesn't take long before Jerry slows down.

"What are you doing?" you ask quickly.

"Something isn't right", she says. "They've fiddled with the bike. Motherfuckers wanted us dead. Get off."

You jump off and remove your helmet. Jerry grabs your hand and pulls you into the nearest alleyway. She slaps her hand over your mouth, hushing aggressively.

"Be fucking silent", she whispers.

You've been afraid in Jerry’s company before, it's only natural for her occupation, but this is something completely different. You have never been this close to her enemies before.

"Wait here", she whispers and brings out her gun. "I swear, if you move I'll kill you myself."

Which in Jerry terms translates to something along the lines of "whatever you do, stay hidden so you don't get harmed".

She disappears, leaving you all alone in the dark alleyway. You want nothing more than to sink into the wall and disappear. The minutes seem to pass by like hours. Everything is too silent. The only thing you can hear (beside your own heart beating loudly in your ears) are the sound of the city, sounding as noisy as it usually does. No indication that anything bad is happening. You gulp. Did she get taken? You fear the worst.

You take a stap forward to peek out of the alleyway when you feel someone grab you from behind. Before you have the time to shout, a hand is clasped over your mouth and something sharp points into your throat. Your entire body freezes.

“Jerry!” a voice shouts to your left. “I think you want to come look at this.”

You see a man in the corner of your eyes. He smiles widely and turns to you. You look at him with wide eyes. On the wall in Jerry’s headquarters, you’ve seen a picture of this unpleasant man.

“Oh, Jerry!” he sing-songs.

Jerry appears at the end of the alleyway with her gun in her hand. You can see her physically backing a step upon seeing the sight, her eyes widening slightly.

“My man here seems to have found … well, your man”, the unpleasant leader chuckles.

“Let him go”, Jerry warns, raising her gun.

“Or what? You’re going to kill me?” His smile widens when noticing Jerry’s hesitation. “If you shoot me, Jerry, my man will kill your boytoy. Do you really want to take that risk?”

“What do you want? You’re obviously talking a crap lot, just get to the point.”

The leader chuckles and nods. “Alright. I’m not going to sugarcoat it, I’m going to kill you.”

“Shocker.”

You don’t understand how Jerry can be so calm in this situation, you think you’re going to shit yourself.

“But”, the man continues and turns to you, “now I think that I have another idea.” He turns back to Jerry.

Tears well up in your eyes and spill over. You let your head fall down to avoid Jerry seeing you cry, but the leader grabs your hair, ripping it up again. Jerry flinches.

“What a man you’ve gotten yourself, Jerry”, he laughs. “Crying like a baby.”

“You’re half the man he is”, Jerry scoffs back angrily. “My boyfriend might be crying, but at least he knows that it’s cowardly to take on people who stand no chance. You’ll never be like him.”

“Put the gun down and come over here like a good little girl and I won’t have your brave, heroic boyfriend killed.”

Jerry glances at you and sighs heavily before throwing the gun to the side. Slowly, she walks over to the man with dark, glaring eyes until she’s right in front of him.

“Call me a good little girl again and I’m going to knock your teeth out”, she says through gritted teeth.

The man only smiles before knocking Jerry’s head into the brick wall surrounding you. You swallow your scream while watching Jerry’s body slump together on the ground. The leader turns to you and again, the knife against your throat presses against the skin. He collects one of your tears with his hand and licks it. You’re surrounded by maniacs.

"Please don't kill me", you cry.

"Not yet", the man replies. "I have plans for you. Get him in the car. Don't worry about bruising him, we'll roughen him up later anyways."

You're thrown into the back seat of a car while Jerry’s unconscious body is shoved into the trunk.

After a very unpleasant car ride, you find yourself in a warehouse. Jerry’s thrown onto the stone floor in front of you. They tie her to one of the pillars holding the structure of the building up, while you’re put in a chair. And then, nothing happens. You sit there, trembling like a leaf in the wind, waiting for something — anything — to happen. You want everything to start so it can be over quicker.

“What are we waiting for?” you whisper.

"For Jerry to wake up from her little nap", the leader says and gives Jerry's body a faint kick. "Until then, why don't you and I have a little chat, hm? Man to man?"

Rather not.

"How could someone like Jerry choose … someone like you?" he asks, gesticulating at you with his hand as if you are nothing more than filth. "When I think of Jerry's partner, I think of someone equally fucked. You look almost … normal!"

Thank you …?

"Tell me, why you?"

"I don't know", you answer breathlessly. "I have no idea."

"Really? Hm, that doesn't feel very detailed. Try to think."

"I-I guess that …" You gulp, lightheaded, " … that she just wanted someone outside of her … uh, her world."

The leader picks up a knife from a table dimmed in darkness. You watch it with wide eyes.

"Interesting", the leader says and points at you with the knife. "Then why did you accept her?" He starts to smile. "Or did you?"

"Not really …"

"That's what I thought. Jerry takes what she wants. Wouldn't surprise me if she decided to kidnap you. Does she treat you differently than others? I can't see that."

You figure that if you answer all if his questions, you will be somewhat spared.

"She does", you answer quietly and glance at Jerry's unconscious body. "Compared to others she treats me … uh, rather … well."

The leader laughs. "That's interesting."

You can hear Jerry moan quietly. It sounds painful. You can't help but feel sorry for her.

"Oh!" the leader smirks. "She's awake. Time for the fun to begin."

"Jerry!" you gasp and are about to run over to her, but the man who had held you back before steps I and does it again.

"Behave yourself", he tells you and pushes you back down.

Jerry has noticed the ropes keeping her to the pillar and lifts her head.

"What the fuck are you doing?" she spits. The man grabbed one of the tools.

"I want to play a little", he says, spinning the knife around his fingers. "But not with you. No, not you. With him."

"What?" Jerry asks and turns to look at you.

You've left your body. Your soul is flying around, trying to escape.

"Do not fucking touch him", Jerry warns and fights against the ropes.

You could feel a hand on your shoulder.

"What are you going to do about it, Jerry?" the leader smirks. "You can't move, now can you?"

She glares at him. You can tell how fear and realization starts to set in by the way she curls up.

"Sometimes, Jerry, I could actually find you cute", the man laughs and suits your arm.

You scream out in surprise and pain. Jerry flinches.

"Fine, fine!" she shouts. "Just tell me what you want, okay?"

"I want to hurt you", the man replies.

"Then do it?!"

"Hurting him hurts you more than if I ever used physical harm on you directly."

The knife cuts your shoulder. You swallow your scream and force your eyes shut. Feeling how tears start to bubble in your chest, you breathe heavily.

"Cut me instead!" Jerry shouts, now sounding both furious and frightened. "Leave him alone!"

The man chuckles and grabs a new tool. A potato peeler.

"No, no, please-", you cry.

The potato peeler hovers above your arm. The man holds your hand down to secure your arm in position. You try to wiggle, terrified.

"No!" Jerry screams. "Do that to me! Leave him alone! Are you a coward, or what?!”

“How dare you call me a coward?” he asks.

“Because you pick on someone that would never be able to defend themself against you! Peel my fucking skin! Do it! I give you the permission to do it!”

The man seems to think about it for a second before smiling.

“I think I’m good”, he says and hovers the potato peeler above your arm. “I don’t want to give you what you want, Jerry. Simple as that.”

“You have the fucking mentality of a three year old!”

The man smiles and pretends that he hasn't heard anything. The coming hour, Jerry’s forced to watch how the man strips you down, layer by layer, breaking you down into a sobbing mess, blood covering all visible parts of your skin — or more like, what's left of your skin. Through your blurred vision, you can tell that she's crying too. You've never witnessed her cry, or at least not like this. Her body is shaking with sobs.

Pain is thumping in your ears and your conscious nearly leaving you, but you can still hear her, still see her.

"Stop doing that!" she screams. "Please!"

The ropes have cut into her skin, causing her to bleed. The sight of her is horrifying. You’ve never seen her this pale before, she's almost taken on a green hue.

"Please stop", she begs and screams once the man picks up a gun. She starts to frantically fight against the ropes again. "Please, I need him! Don't kill him! He's all I have!"

The man stops to look at her and smirks, lowering the gun.

"Oh, right, your dear family", he purrs. "Your poor, little, unsuspecting family. Where are they now, Jerry? Tell me."

Jerry squeezes her eyes tightly shut. You can feel the gaping hole of the gun press against your temple.

"Tell me or I'll fucking kill him", he growls.

"They're fucking dead!" she shouts through broken sobs, glaring at him. "Someone fucking murdered them, okay?!"

"Mhm, and they didn't suspect a thing!"

Jerry’s eyes widen as she puts things together. Your messed up head can also understand the uncanny connection.

"Did you …?"

"It was so satisfying, seeing the scums who gave birth to you disappear from this earth. That’s what they deserved — for giving birth to someone like you.” He turned back to you, rising the gun towards you again. “And now, I’m going to get rid of the last one you care about.”

You shut your eyes, preparing yourself to die. Your body is exhausted. You don’t want anymore pain, better to put you out of your misery.

“No, please”, Jerry shakes her head. “Please, let him live. I will do anything if you let us leave.”

“As tempting as that is, I rather want you dead.”

He hovers his fingers on the trigger. His body suddenly jolts to the side, falling down. The gun clinks against the stone floor. You look up in horror. The door opens and black dressed men run in. They’ll kill you, you think. On the contrary, they untie Jerry who flies up from the floor to get over to you. You fall into her arms, sinking down on your knees. Jerry hugs you tightly, holding your head down in her shoulder.

“My poor baby”, she sobs, running her hands over your back — the only place where you’re still unharmed. “I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

Too exhausted to cry, you just sit in her embrace. You’re not even sure if you’re happy that her men came in time to save you. You’re still in excruciating pain … and you’ll have to live with this memory for the rest of your life.

“It’s okay, baby boy”, she whispers in your ear and sobs. “You’re safe now. Don’t cry. I’ll patch you up, I’ll take care of you, I promise.”

Weirdly enough, her being nice makes you feel even worse. You’d rather have her joke about your pain and tell you to ‘man up’ instead of her babying you. You can feel her lips press against your forehead.

“Don’t cry”, she whispers, hugging you tighter. “My beautiful boy.”

One of her men carries you out to a black van where they patch you and Jerry up to their best ability. Every move hurts, everything burns.

The second you get home, you’re tucked in bed together with Jerry. She holds your body close to hers.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N”, she whispers. “I really am. I’m sorry that you had to experience so much. I really, really am.”

“I’m so tired”, you whisper monotonically.

“It’s okay, baby boy. Just sleep. Nothing will ever hurt you again. I will never let anything come close to you again. From now on, I’ll never let you out of this room. I will take any repercussions to keep you safe.” She cups your cheeks. “I did mean that — that you’re all I have. And I will keep you by my side.”

“I want to sleep.”

“Sleep. Sleep for as long as you want, I will be here and I will kill anyone that tries to disturb you, I fucking swear on that.”

She kisses your forehead and rests your head on her chest. You drift of to sleep immediately, hoping that all the pain will be gone once you wake up. Somewhere in the distance, you think you hear Jerry cry softly.

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