#literally where was all this creative juice at when I had time

[acadieum]

getting an amazing art idea that you can visualize in great detail - but ONLY with the most inconvenient timing, like right before heading to bed or when you have a million things to prioritize on your to-do list

[ghostfacesvalentine]

Princess treatment only - MultiMuse x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Multimuse x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Not many, some mentions of killing, but nothing graphic. Kind of fluffy

Type: HC’s

Request: N/A

Word Count: N/A

Prompt: Some HC’s as to how the muses would give the reader the princess treatment.

Notes: I don’t know where I was going with this, but this is mainly fluff, maybe sometime I’ll spice it up. I just had to get my writing juice brewing. Not proofread at all just go.

Jason Voorhees: Honestly, would treat you like a princess regardless. Will pick flowers for you when he’s outside. Always lets you borrow his flannels. Always walks in front of you to make sure there’s no danger, but looks back constantly to make sure there’s no danger behind you?? lmao. You won’t ever have to lift a finger when you’re with him. Literally at your beck and call. Will try his best not to kill in front of you, but sometimes it just ?? happens lol. Tries to be soft when touching you because you’re literally the most perfect thing that has ever crossed his path.

Michael Myers: Is your literal bodyguard. Will follow you anywhere and everywhere, you might as well call him your shadow. Lets you hug him and climb onto his lap whenever. Won’t hug you back yet, working on it. Nobody comes near you, no exceptions. Sorry. Stares at you most of the time. Can’t say it, but you’re literally flawless to him. Will use his body as a shield for you. Would kill anything for you. Eventually learns to put his palm against your cheek and that’s his second greatest accomplishment, the first being bagging you, literally and figuratively.

Tiffany Valentine: You won’t ever have to worry about a thing when you’re with her. Always gets her hands dirty for you. Lots of cheek and neck kisses. Praises your looks all the time. She will always brag about you whether it’s what you do, how you look, anything and everything. She would always make sure you have the latest clothes. She’d make sure you always had your staple make up pieces available. When it comes to killing, she’d get creative, that way you guys will never have literal blood on your hands, especially you, never you.

Billy Loomis: Lots of nicknames. Kinda only has a soft spot for you. Can never ever tell you no and stick to it. Won’t hesitate to kill anyone who makes fun of him for this. Drives you everywhere. Ties your shoes. Always makes time for you. Will help you pick out your outfits and tell you which one he likes and which one he doesn’t. Will wear the bracelets you make him. Anything in his closet is yours, help yourself. Always touching you, holding your hand, holding your waist, you’ve infatuated him enough to have him carelessly cover you in soft kisses, laying his head on your shoulder. Kinda creative with dates tbh.

Stu Macher: You will forever be his princess. Will carry you across puddles. Lots of cheek and forehead kisses. Would learn how to paint your nails for you during class. Always makes sure you have a good grade on your exam, whether he has to swap out the papers after class or make sure you get the right answers, you can absolutely count on him. You don’t have to use your brain around him, no worries. Thinks you look adorable in his sweaters, especially oversized. Loves when you sit on his lap. Prioritizes you over anything and everything. Even if you don’t like horror movies, Stu would absolutely find something else for you to watch.

Patrick Bateman: Honestly, when he falls in love with you, it’s princess treatment only. Will give you a skin care routine and help you follow through with it. Kind of makes you feel dumb, but not like a stupid dumb, more like a ‘oh dear sweet baby you are a little dumb but pretty, but dumb, let me help you’ Same thing if you fall asleep with your makeup on, Patricks on the way with the micellar makeup remover. Will speak up for you if you don’t like a service, he won’t be mean about it unless he has to. Always makes sure you’re hydrated (also part of your skin care routine). You will be a housewife/girlfriend. Feel free to splurge, you are his trophy princess after all. Will take you anywhere you want. Will make things up for you if he has to be at work late.

Leatherface: I don’t ever see a scenario where Bubba does not treat his s/o like a princess. It’s like part of the deal. Either way, expect wild flowers all the time. It’s his favorite thing to do for you. He even makes you a vase and makes sure your flowers are always fresh. Will literally die and kill for you without any hesitation. At his knees for you. Bubba will crawl to you across pins and needles if you asked him to. He’s always making sure you’re comfortable and safe, never hungry or in your mind for too long. Melts at your touch. Would learn how to dance just to dance to your favorite songs. Always gets awestruck with you.

Harley Quinn: Will absolutely take you anywhere you want, no matter how random it is. Always dazed when looking at you. Keeps pictures of you all dressed up in her bag or car or wherever she goes. Selina gave her a heart shaped locket once and yeah, you guessed it, the cutest picture of you is in there. Doesn’t hesitate to shoot any man for you. Leaves your face covered in red kisses. She would do anything to make you laugh. Anything you want, it’s yours! Just point at it.

Poison Ivy: Pamela will always spoil you, regardless of how you act. You’ve heard of people growing gardens for their s/o, she would grow forests for you. She’s the most gentle with you, gentle caresses and soft kisses. Paints your nails, brushes your hair while adding flowers into the locks. Always admires dressing you up and putting make up on you. Almost never wants you to leave. Slow dances with you. She’d do anything to keep you out of danger. You think Michael is a good bodyguard? Pamela is the bodyguard.

Bruce Wayne: hhnnnngh. Ok. No but you are the Princess Wayne. Spoiling you rotten goes without saying. Anything your little heart desires is yours. Helps you get dressed. His favorite is helping you with your stockings. Gentle kisses everywhere. Brushes your hair. Lifting you up constantly when there’s a crack in the pavement. Always the driver. Your safety is always first, always. No because whatever you want means whatever you want, which is why there are hello kitty plushies scattered across the Wayne manor. You’ve somehow managed to get your own cozy theater in there too. Princess treatment also means Bruce having to lay back just a teeny bit on Batman just to guard you too while you sleep.

Jason Todd: nmmnnmf YES. I don’t see him treating his s/o any other way. Lots of pet names. Loooves to help you get dressed. Sits you on the counter as he cooks. Never lets you out of his sight. Anything you want it’s yours. Always buying you cute socks and letting you wear his clothes. Forehead kisses. Oh man it’s so disgusting how much Jason loves his princess. Always taking pictures of you, no matter the angle. Would 1000000% tie bows into your hair if you asked.

Billy Hargrove: Honestly if he’s in love with you, princess treatment is granted. Always giving you his jackets, especially when you wear skirts or dresses out. Lifting you over mud and puddles. Subtle kisses on the head while you’re out. Body guard mode activated. He kinda becomes your shadow, appearing out of nowhere and greeting you with a kiss on the forehead. Ties your shoes without asking. Wiping any tears or smeared makeup off your face. Winks at you all the timeee.

Steve Harrington: Kind of similar to Stu, he always makes sure you pass your class. Poor princess doesn’t use her brain in school, too busy trying to stay awake. Always gives you his jacket, even if you don’t want to wear it, he’ll wrap it around you. Finds any excuse to carry you or pick you up. So affectionate. Kisses on the cheek, lips, forehead. Sometimes he will miss and kiss your eye but ugh it’s so fucking cute. Only has eyes for you. Tying your shoes, putting your socks on, literally just dressing you in general is a must. Literally will take you wherever you want, whenever. Drops everything when you call. Such a sucker with the nicknames for you.

Steve Rogers: Ugh another one. Think of him as a body guard who you get to kiss and sit on his lap. Always drops everything to make sure you’re okay. Cannot take his eyes off of you. So smooth with the reassurance. Kisses on the forehead constantly. Always tucks you in. Would help you bathe if you asked. Pulls you onto his lap every time you both sit down. Whatever you want, you’ll get. If he can’t do it, he’ll find a way. Cups your face in his hands when you cry, kisses your tears away. Ugh he’s your literal teddy bear, if you don’t like to be smothered? Pick another muse.

Bucky Barnes: Similar to Steve, he’s your shadow, but he’s a little more … upfront with it. He’s constantly wrapping an arm around you, eyeing anyone who’s eyeing you. He’s so gentle if you’re sensitive. Kissing your cheek is his favorite. Always lingering his fingertips around your crevices. Makes sure you’re never hungry. Always up before you are. Lets you sleep in. If you fight, he will never raise his voice at you. Ready to carry you if you’re too tired to keep walking around. Slow dances with you just because. He’s always worried for you, making sure you’re okay, you’re not sick or hungry. Pet names with him are a must.

Loki Laufeyson: Okkkk and in what situation did you ever think loki was not going to give you the princess treatment??? You are literal Princess Laufeyson. Though he, and Sebastian maybe, are the only ones who can probably, maybe, say no to you, if you pout enough maybe he’ll come to a compromise with you. He never wants to upset you though. Would literally wipe out a small world for you. Or a few. Ok even betray anyone for you. Always cleaning your smeared makeup, fixing your hair, wiping you because you spilled your drink. He’s so devoted to you, im going to throw up. He devours you with his eyes from a distance, you’re never leaving his sight.

Cloud Strife: Ugh ok. Literal bodyguard, as he’s hired to be at times. At your beck and call, though he’d never admit it. Such a sucker and can never say no to you. Though it may take time, he can start calling you ‘baby’ ‘sweet girl’ ‘love’ he’s so infatuated with you and doesn’t know how to handle it. Your safety is his priority. Always listens to you ramble on and on. Brings you flowers for no reason other than he was thinking of you. He’s such a sucker for you. Follows you everywhere.

Sebastian Michaelis: He’s probably the most tame out of everyone but that doesn’t mean he’s not a sucker. There are rules he’s willing to bend for you, literally willing to kill anyone that has the slightest interest in hurting you. Always makes sure you’re fed and if you want a sweet treat, he’s on it. Listens to you talk, even if it’s silly. Dances with you almost every night. He’s so graceful with it. Dressing you and feeding you is his favorite but he might throw in a few teases “poor sweet baby, you haven’t woken up yet to tell your left foot from your right” as you rub your eyes with the wrong shoes on. Of course he’s willing to help, even if he has the idea that you do this on purpose, he's more than happy to oblige.

Spencer Reid: Though his job wouldn’t encourage it, he still drops almost everything to answer you. Always finds a way to share time with his job and his attention to you. Reads to you all the time, whether in person or over the phone. He’s always making comparisons of you being the princess in most fictional stories that you both come across. He’s so gentle with you. Caresses your face all the time. You lay your head on his lap or sit on his lap as he reads away. Always making sure to keep up with your well-being before his own. Would 10000% pick up a habit of writing you little notes or picking flowers for you or taking Polaroids or something to remind you of your everlasting presence in his mind.

[signedkoko]

Could I get a Mammon, Vox and Husk with a S/O who gets harassed on the street and their reaction? You can have full creative control over what type of harassment!

I love your fics- if this isn’t getting the creative juices flowing just let me know and I’ll request something different <3

🦷 anon

Husk | Mammon | Vox [Romantic]

In which some loathsome idiot thinks they'll get away with harassing their beloved s/o.

One of your favourite date nights is spent bar hopping

Pop a drink or two in each one, sometimes sharing one cocktail, his wing draped around you, your head leant on his shoulder, humming to the music surrounding you

Both of you had a preference for the less popular spots, the kinds of places you got the weirdest combinations, where he could be inspired and you could give him thoughts

The plus side of the smaller joints was that the music was never too loud, drinks were cheaper, and there was always a few spots free at the bar

Downside was that most places had their regulars, the kind of people who couldn't get in anywhere else

The kind of desperation that builds and spreads like mold in the corner of a dark room next to a leaky pipe

On a few occasions, someone would harmlessly ask to buy you a drink and would turn tail when Husk gave them his usually 'fuck off' look

But this time, the guy would just not get the hint

" What? Already claimed dibs on the bitch? "

Yeah- no, that attitude towards you is not going to fly

Not even three seconds and there's a bottle smashed on the drunk demons head, and three cards flying back into Husk's hand

That's when the bleeding starts

You slap a 20 down for your bill and jump straight up, already being dragged by Husk out the door

Insists if he stayed there you would have both gotten banned anyways, and he likes that spot

You guys don't really go out so casually without a good reason, or just for old times sake

A sin and his spouse on a city street in greed was just asking for bad things to happen

But still, if you asked and he had nothing that day, Mammon would always rather get quality time with you and people watch

Thats most of your conversation, pointing out demons and joking about what you think they are like, what the do, how they speak

It's always a fun game, until some newcomer saw you laughing at him and marched right up, clearly on something and clearly ready to have a go at someone

The moment he reaches for your wrist, his thumb falls to the floor, a messy and jagged cut the only sign of attack besides one of Mammons spider legs now revealed

Before he can even realize the pain or what's happened, Mammon lets out a menacing laugh

" Every extra inch towards my broad is another finger. "

That demon was already screaming and running away, most the crowd on the street that was watching now hurrying in any direction opposite of you and Mammon

" I'm only worth one finger? "

" Nah. Just being generous for once. "

Not really a street guy, but unfortunately some press conferences and events require mingling and interacting with others, which he never liked

Thankfully, with you he has an excuse to stay away from others, or show you off

He usually goes for the latter

He's all 'Have you met my wife?' 'My wife loves x and y!' 'Isn't my wife absolutely gorgeous?'

You are the first topic he speaks of after his company; you'd be the first if he didn't have to waste so much time being a salesman, but that is how the cookie crumbles

Sometimes when there's specific press releases, he has to send you off for a moment, where you usually go and mingle with some of the others in his industry you befriended

During one such interview, he couldn't help but spot out the corner of his eye, some lousy business woman drape her arm around your waist and grab at your hip

" Sorry yeah, this interview is over. "

Literally shoves his way over, sparks and electricity flying, to rip you out of her arms

" Baaabe, is this a friend? Whatever the case, we really gotta get going! "

Jealousy 3000

He's glad he stepped in after he overhears that lady had a habit of harassing other attendees

New clause in every interview; they have to include you or provide security over you while he is busy

Author's Note - Tooth anon comes in for another PIPIN HOT request!! I actually feel so bad because every time I take a break form writing is on yoru request and that really makes it look bad I am so sorry 😩

[purplecoffee13]

NFWMB - part 4

Summary: “Y/N and Harry both attend Sophie’s party, and it doesn’t exactly pan out how Y/N thought it would.”

Wc: 5.6k

Tropes: boxer!harry x innocent!reader

Warnings: physical violence, verbal threats, angst, mention of SA, fluff, jealousy.

A/N: tell a friend to tell a friend… SHE’S BAAACCCKKK!!!! Hi guys, thank you for being so patient. I was literally unable to write for weeks and they were the worst weeks of my life, but I’m finally doing better and my creative juices are flowing! Pray with me that it’ll last🙏

Also THIS IS NOT PROOFREAD sorry I was just too excited to get this out🤭😋

P.S. I recommend you listen to ‘Ice Cream Man’ by RAYE. Not only does it apply to the sorry (warning: SA) but RAYE is also an incredible artist!!

General Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Y/N had never observed herself in the mirror for this long. She was certain that at one point she was going to start to look disfigured to herself, but she just needed to make sure that everything was right.

During her childhood, and especially her adolescent years, Y/N had always been told not to be too vain, but to always look good. There were contradictory balances that she's had to sit in the middle of for as long as she could remember, and she was good at it, until tonight.

For some reason, this burgundy dress she was wearing had to be matched perfectly with her shoes, bag and make-up, and right now she was absolutely sure that it didn't.

Instead of throwing her blow dryer at the mirror like she wanted to, Y/N took a deep breath and closed her eyes, hoping her mind would occupy her with a distraction good enough to give a refreshed perspective when she'd open her eyes again. Of course it was him that flashed through her mind the second her eyelids fluttered shut. She should not have been surprised, because wasn't that what this was all about?

Y/N hadn't been able to stop thinking about Harry since... well, actually she couldn't exactly remember since when because that's how long he's been floating around her head for. Seeing him multiple times a week wasn't helping much either, it gave her new material to think about whenever she had a second to spare. It was like a disease, spreading through her entire body, except she didn't mind and the symptoms made her feel more alive than ever.

Just the sole touch of fingers on her waist, or shoulders was worth replaying a million times in her head, as were all the times he'd say something that could even remotely be said in another, less appropriate context. Y/N felt like she had to visit a confessional or something, because it was getting out of hand. But she knew this wasn't bad, and the only thing she was doing by fighting this was stopping herself from getting something she—deep down—felt she didn't deserve.

Despite these pitiful revelations, Y/N still found herself nitpicking at every single aspect of her appearance as she got ready for Sophie's birthday party.

With only five minutes on the clock until her Uber driver would be outside, Y/N decided to accept the black heels she'd put on and the small shoulder bag she'd settled on. A final look in the mirror indeed gave her an epiphany: brown lip liner.

After darkening her lips with the pencil, at last it felt like everything had fallen into place— with the exception of the nerves dwarreling around her lower stomach of course. Even as she sat in the Uber with the nice woman who was talking about her kids as she drove her to the party didn't do one thing to take her mind off the excitement she was feeling.

Y/N tipped her driver before she got out of the car and made her way inside, where she was greeted by an elated—and perhaps already slightly intoxicated—Sophie. The long, dark green dress she wore complimented the blonde shade of her hair, and her make-up was out of this world. Y/N made sure to note that when she congratulated her friend.

It only took five seconds of scanning the room before she spotted him, standing by the bar as he—Y/N could only assume—waited to be served his drink. It felt much like being a magnet to a whiteboard, the way she was so drawn to him. Y/N knew she should've considered herself lucky that another couple came into greeting Sophie, because otherwise she wouldn't have been let off the hook so easily, but that gratefulness was far down on the list of things that took up her thoughts as she made her way to the man at the bar. And when he turned around, she may as well have punched herself then and there, because Harry looked breathtaking.

He always did, of course, but seeing him in a dark grey suit with a soft pink dress shirt, his hair pushed back and all clean shaven... it did something to her.

From the looks of it, Y/N took the guess that her appearance also threw Harry off in some kind of way, since the stutter in his greeting was too apparent to ignore.

"H— hi." He said, mouth slightly agape as his widened eyes took in Y/N. "You look beautiful."

She could have sworn her intestines were being swapped all around inside her because those nerves in her stomach tripled in size as she eyed the floor for a second while heat rose to her cheeks. Y/N had never been good at receiving compliments, mostly because she had been taught that not immediately accepting them was the only way to be worthy of them. Besides, it would make her conceited and rude to just agree.

And yet, all those rules on how to behave flew out the window the second those green eyes were on her, and she didn't care that she jeopardized her worthiness. She just wanted to soak in the words he deliberately told her, and feel good about them. So she didn't argue him on anything, and instead responded:

"Thank you. You clean up good yourself."

The lopsided smirk on Harry's face made Y/N want to jump up and down, for no other reason than that the sight of it just made her really happy. And for a moment she wondered if it couldn't just stay like this forever? Pure, sincere, and not strong enough to be soul crushingly destroyed by anyone, including her own self sabotaging tendencies.

"Oh, this old thing? Just threw it on." Harry shrugged, his eyes fixated on Y/N. She laughed at his ridiculous attempt to be cool. He leaned against the bar, his head tilting a bit. "What are you having?"

His head nodded towards the bar, and Y/N took it as an invitation to get closer to Harry. She stood next to him, just a little closer than necessary, as she hummed and thought about the hundreds of drinks she could possibly order, and totally didn't settle on the same one she always gets.

"I think I'm going to get a cosmopolitan." She answered, and surprised her smile as much as she could as she watched Harry flag down the waiter and order the drink for her. She quite liked this gentleman-like treatment.

"Very fitting, angel." He said lowly as the waiter put down the drink in front of her.

Y/N turned her head to him, a raised brow challenging him slightly. "And why is that?"

Harry moved to lean his entire back against the bar instead of just one side, and shrugged his shoulders as he observed the room before locking his eyes onto her again.

"Because you're just as sweet as that cocktail." The grin that his comment was accompanied by would have been enough to make Y/N's knees buckle right then and there, but the fact that she was holding onto a bar helped a great deal.

The sight of Oscar talking to some other colleagues of hers also helped with that. She could quite literally feel the color drain from her face as she took him in.

It wasn't like it was unexpected; she knew there was a big chance he'd be there. But between Harry, the amount of work she had to do, and all of her self-defense training, she hadn't had much time to think about hypothetical confrontations with Oscar.

"Are you okay?" Harry's gaze darted from the direction in which you were staring back to Y/N. Only when her eyes settled on him again, a part of the worry in his eyes slightly faded. She mustered a smile, nodding her head and hoping it would be enough to convince him. From the look on his face she knew that he wasn't convinced in even the slightest, but she was surprised to hear him switch the topic of the conversation.

"I want you to meet Greg." He said, and Y/N hummed in agreement, grabbing her glasses and following as Harry lead them to her colleague's boyfriend.

"I've already met Greg." She noted, still walking closely next to Harry, whose hand was ghosting over the small of her back.

"Yeah, but I want you to meet him as my best friend."

Y/N was sure that whatever was rattling in her stomach was doing cartwheels as she took in the determination on Harry's face. It didn't seem like he was shying away from what he was implying, and yet she wasn't certain. Because what if he didn't mean it like that at all? Y/N needed to be 100% sure that her suspicions were correct, because the weight of the humiliation that hung over the risk she could take was too great to bear. Besides, she didn't want to jeopardize the self-defense classes. It was a place of safety for her now, she couldn't lose it.

She didn't have much time to dwell on it given that she found herself in front of Greg. Quickly shoving her thoughts away, she conjured a smile and gave the man in front of her a hug.

"How have you been?" Greg asked, grinning widely as he waited on an answer. "Heard you've been taking self-defense classes."

The way he eyed his friend, and the manner in which Harry's eyes glared at Greg, caused a wave of of giddiness to flood over her. This had to mean something, right? Or was she just fishing now?

"Uh, yes, I have. It has helped me a lot." She  answered with rosy cheeks. Greg nodded his head.

"That's great, Y/N. I mean, Harold here is a great teacher, isn't he?"

She snickered, turning to Harry. "That's your full name?"

"No, Greg just likes to be an asshole from time to time." The agonizing smile on his face told her that Harry was a bit on edge, nervous almost? Y/N focused on Greg again.

"Yes, he's amazing." She said, and could feel the blood rush to her ears as she took in her own words. Instead of throwing out a bunch of excuses and rectifications on the construction of her sentence, she zipped her mouth shut, and let the compliment hang in the air. Her heart was racing, and she didn't dare look Harry in the eye, but from the small glance that Greg threw his way, she knew that he'd had some sort of reaction to the compliment.

"Well, stick around and soon you'll be strong enough to take out any man. My Sophie could knock me the fuck out of she needed to, and I'm glad she can." Greg beamed as he mentioned his girlfriend. Y/N was filled with a warm feeling in her chest as she observed Sophie's boyfriend. Her friend was a boss of a woman and to know she was getting the love she deserved was most heartwarming.

The moment was cut short, though, when another person entered the conversation. 

"Harry Styles?!" A joyous shriek—for lack of a more polite word—came from a short blonde woman to Y/N's left. The woman didn't pay any mind to Greg nor her as she headed for Harry, giving him a long, very very long hug. Y/N swallowed.

"Lindsay, I haven't seen you in ages." Harry's voice was kind, he sounded excited even. Maybe it was an old friend, or classmate, or—

"That's because the last time you saw me you broke my heart, hon." She giggled. Harry's brows raised ever so slightly.

An old girlfriend. Right, Y/N should've known that. That just made this entire situation a whole lot more awkward, and if there was one thing Y/N didn't care for it was unpleasantries like these.

So, she decided to do the one thing she was best at: escape. Downing her drink in one go, she wiggled her glass, catching Harry's attention.

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom and then get another drink, see you later." Y/N's smile was sweet and full of sincerity, but her legs were heavy as she made her way to the bathroom, as if carrying an invisible ball and chain around each leg. She didn't want to be away from Harry, she wanted to snarl at that ex-girlfriend of his and tell her to back off.

But it was irrational and petty, and not to mention totally inappropriate, so she distanced herself instead. Y/N felt a headache looming, her body fighting her mind for the cowardly attitude it encouraged. She spent way longer in the bathroom than she needed to, eventually only going back after a minute long silent peptalk that she performed to herself in the mirror.

When she returned to the room she saw Harry still talking to his ex, only Greg had now left them and was dancing with Sophie and some others. Y/N thought over her options, and decided to join her friend.

She tried her hardest not to look for Harry in the crowded room, letting the music capture all of her attention. Sophie and Greg were performing all kinds of dance moves that had Y/N throw her head back in laughter, and in that moment everything felt so good.

Simple and good, that was joy. She hadn’t felt that in a long time.

After countless of songs and dance battles on the lit up floor, Y/N decided to take a break and treat herself to another drink. Sauntering over to the bar, she waited her turn order another cosmopolitan, and took a step to the side to let other people order as well.

Y/N was still looking at her fidgeting hands, lost in deep thought, when a familiar scent roamed through her nostrils and stiffened her entire body.

"A Long Island ice tea, please." Oscar's voice sounded from beside her. Y/N didn't dare to look up and stayed focused on her hands instead. She could see his hands from the corner of her eyes, they were desperately clamping onto the bar, knuckles  white.

Without even touching her, Oscar had managed to put a tightening strain on Y/N's chest that felt too uncomfortable to make her move. She was glad to see her cosmopolitan arrive, and was quick to move to the other side of the bar. In the quick second that she glanced at Oscar, she noticed his eyes were following her.

When he started moving closer to where Y/N was standing, the tenseness in her body began to develop into a full-blown panic, and when a set of hands settled on her waist, she couldn't help the hasty gasp that left her mouth before she turned around.

Harry looked surprised when she met his eyes, and she let out a sigh of relief to see that it was only him. Y/N let out a breathy chuckle as she slowly shook her head.

"Gosh, you scared me." It was noticeable in the strain of her voice that the stress hadn't left her body entirely, and Harry seemed to notice that. He raised a brow.

"Are you okay?"

She nodded eagerly, not wanting to steer the conversation this way. "'M fine. What about you?"

"Frankly, I'm a bit disappointed." Harry admitted, and Y/N frowned at the confession. Her head tilted, she asked:

"Why?"

"You told me I wasn't going to get rid of you so easily the other day." He noted, the memory of your conversation brought a smile to your face. "And yet I lost you after about ten minutes."

Y/N chuckled. "I was giving you some space. I didn't want to be rude."

"Angel... in any case, when it comes to Lindsay Holloway, please be rude." The sincerity in Harry's voice made her burst out into giggle.

"I take it you weren't planning on rekindling old flames then." Y/N said, and when Harry confirmed it with a firm nod, she grimaced. "And here I thought I was being a good sport, leaving you alone with her."

"Trust me, angel. She is not the woman I would like be alone with." He leaned forward, his face way too close to Y/N for her to function normally because of it. The overwhelming urge to just— kiss him was almost too great to resist. The way his eyes took her in was so exhilarating, and it didn't make her insecure because she didn't need wonder what he was thinking; it was written all over his face.

"Oh." Was the only sound that Y/N could utter as she processed Harry's words. His eyes flicked from hers to her mouth as he softly pushed her back against the bar, grinning at how her doe-like eyes were observing his every move.

"Aren't you going to ask me who I would like to be alone with?" Harry asked, and it was clear that he was taunting her. But it didn't occur to Y/N to mind, as she immediately obeyed him.

"Who would you like to be alone with, Harry?" She posed the question, watching his jaw clench at his name falling from her lips.

"Y/N!"

Both Y/N and Harry's head whipped to the side where Sophie was standing with a slightly distressed look on her face. Almost out of instinct, it seemed, Harry took a step back. A pang boomed through Y/N's chest.

"I need to talk to you, now." She demanded, not even a hint of a questioning tone in her voice. She meant business. Y/N nodded and slid past Harry, grabbing Sophie's hand and letting her friend lead the both of them outside.

There were some other people outside, smoking cigarettes as they chatted with each other. Every person stopped to greet Sophie with a smile or another 'congratulations' as they walked more towards the alley, where there were less people. Y/N's heart was racing from both the encounter with Harry and the nervousness that had built up thinking of the possible ways that this talk with Sophie could go.

She hadn't expected Sophie to start squealing in excitement, but it was better than anything she could've imagined.

"Oh my god! You and Harry?! For how long has this been going on?" She asked, and Y/N swiftly shook her head.

"There is nothing going on." She replied, the monotony in her voice doing little to hide the frustrations about the truth of that sentence. "I mean, there might have been a start of something going on before we went outside."

Sophie winced. "I'm sorry, I cockblocked you. I just wanted to make sure you knew what you were doing."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that you don't seem like someone who is into casual hook-ups."

Y/N's face twisted in discomfort, and Sophie panicked at the sight of it.

"Not that Harry only does hook-ups! I didn't mean it like that. I just— I hadn't heard you mention him before and I didn't realize you were so close until last week." She instantly began to rant, and Y/N grew defense from her words.

"He offered me some extra training to build more muscle." She shrugged.

“Hmm, sure he is.” Sophie hummed playfully, wiggling her eyebrows and causing a snort to fall from Y/N’s lips. It took a few moments to control their schoolgirl-like giggles, but when they’d managed to pipe down, Sophie’s face turned a bit more serious.

“I just wanted to assure you that Harry is a good guy. You can trust him, you don’t have to hold yourself back.” Her eyes were soft as Sophie spoke, both her hands wrapped around Y/N’s right one. There was a stinging sensation in Y/N’s chest at the mention of the tendencies she thought she concealed quite well, but she was far from offended by it. On the contrary; she was relieved that Sophie could see right through her regarding this topic, because without this confirmation, Y/N would’ve doubted this situation for too long, probably causing Harry to grow bored and leave.

“Soph, we’ve been looking all over for you! We need to do the Photo Booth!” Stacy, another lawyer from the firm suddenly appeared and interrupted the conversation, shrieking in excitement as she hurried over to Sophie and grabbed her arm. She barely paid any mind to Y/N, at least not until Sophie gave her a guilty glance. Stacy conjured a confused smile of her own, her mind clearly battling about the fact that she seemed to recognize Y/N, only she had no idea where from.

“I’m going to borrow her for a little while.” She said, and it was only now that Y/N realized how nasal this Stacy sounded. Sophie had complained about it a dozen times, and now she finally understood the issue.

“Go ahead, have fun, I’ll find you later Soph.” Y/N said, smiling as she watched Stacy and Sophie walk back inside. She took the moment alone outside as an opportunity to clear her mind. To assure herself, that she had the confirmation that Harry liked her as well, and to just take the leap.

“Cigarette?”

Y/N’s head snapped towards Oscar, who was standing only standing a few feet away from her. She glanced at the other people smoking outside; at least she wasn’t alone. She turned her attention back to Oscar, and shook her head.

It stayed silent between the two, and since Y/N didn’t want anything to do with Oscar, she slowly started to walk away. But then, a sentence left Oscar’s mouth that had her frozen where she stood.

“Are you going to accuse him of assaulting you too?”

Y/N lost her breath. Did he really just say that? She pressed down the immense wave of nausea that threatened her to puke all over her pretty dress, and focused on her breathing before she turned around to face him.

“What did you just say to me?” Her tone was sharp, laced with a feeling of injustice. She tried to steady herself as much as she could, but she could feel her hands trembling from the adrenaline.

“I should probably warn him. Who knows what you’ll do to his life.” He sneered, his tone smothered in resentment. Y/N hadn’t even told anyone about what Oscar had done to her, and here he was, accusing her of ruining people’s lives.

“You need to leave me alone…” She growled, balling up her fists to channel her frustration into anything else than the wall or his face.

“Or what? You’re going to tell on me? Seriously, you don’t think that two men with a stellar reputation would make for a more believable story than a self-pitying gold digger?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“What? Mad I’m right? You do only target successful men right, don’t you?” He asked. The amusement in his eyes was disgusting and it made Y/N take a step back. She was seething with rage over Oscar’s words.

“Stay the hell away from me, Oscar.” Y/N fumed, turning around to walk inside, and when she felt a hand around her wrist, she couldn’t help the instinct that caused her to plant her fist in Oscar’s face. Just the way she had been taught.

It was with way more force than she’d ever managed to do before, and she was pretty sure she heard something crack—although she couldn’t make out whether that was Oscar’s nose or his knees as he fell to the ground.

It was like she could finally breathe, seeing him lay on the floor, groaning in pain. She’d been strong enough to defend herself from danger. Pride filled her chest, although it was vague in comparison to the rage that had overtaken the rest of her body.

Y/N flinched when she felt a pair of hands on her shoulders, but calmed down at the sight of Lindsay, Harry’s old girlfriend, standing beside her. She looked quite worried as Y/N let her guide her to the rest of the people who were still smoking outside. They all began to ask variations of the same questions: ‘are you okay?’ ‘Did he hurt you?’. Y/N frowned upon noticing Lindsay hurry back inside, but she didn’t pay much mind to it anymore when the guy next to her offered a cigarette. She shook her head, a bit taken aback by the timing of the action, and was just about to answer the question of the woman in front of her, when the huddled up group opened up and Harry appeared in front of her.

Crouching down, his eyes roamed over her entire body before settling on her knuckles that had already begun to turn red. His gaze met Y/N’s.

“Are you okay?”

She nodded.

“What happened?”

It only then occurred to Y/N that Oscar was probably still laying there, and the quick glance she shot to her left was enough for Harry to know what was going on. He stood up and walked over to Oscar, who had gotten up himself and met him in the middle.

“What the fuck did you do to her?” Harry asked. His voice was stone cold, everything about him was, actually. Not one hint of emotion could be traced in his tone, posture or really anything else. It would’ve been scary, had Y/N had the ability to feel scared of Harry. But she just couldn’t; he made her feel safe.

“Listen man, you need to avoid that girl. She’s fucking crazy. She already tried to ruin my life, don’t let her threaten you to ruin yours.”

All the pent up anger that had seemed to subside slightly once having socked Oscar in the face raced back all at once as the words registered in Y/N’s brain. But before she could get back up to her feet, Harry struck a punch, bringing Oscar to the ground once again.

Leaning forward, he grabbed him by his collar and pulled him up far enough so he could hear him when he said:

“If I ever hear you talking about her like that— better yet, if you come near her again I swear to god I’ll kick out every last one of your teeth… to start with.” Harry warned before letting go of Oscar’s collar with a shove that made a couple of people take a physical step back, and even made one person behind her gasp. Harry didn’t seem to care about any of that as he turned around; he just headed straight for Y/N.

Nor did he didn’t even so much as acknowledge Lindsay, who thanked him, but Y/N made sure to send a grateful smile her way as Harry wrapped his arm around her and led her inside. He didn’t say a word as they entered the room again and walked towards Sophie and Greg.

At first, Sophie was smiling at the sight of Y/N and Harry, but upon spotting her friend’s pale face, the corners of her mouth lowered into a thin line.

“What’s going on? Are you okay?” Her hands were on Y/N immediately, fixing her hair and brushing her fingers against her pale cheek. Y/N knew that she probably looked like she had seen a ghost.

“I’m going to take her home.” Harry announced, and relief washed over Y/N because she didn’t really know what to say right now. Faking a smile, she tried to assure Sophie that it was alright, but her friend was already nodding before Harry had finished speaking.

Throwing her arms around her, Sophie hugged Y/N so tightly that she nearly lost her breath. When she finally let go, the look on her face was determined.

“I love you, have a good night. If you need anything, call me.” She said. Y/N nodded.

“I love you, have a great night.” She turned to Greg. “Watch her.”

The weak joke still managed to make the couple chuckle—probably out of pity—and Greg nodded dutifully, wishing her a good night with that playful wink of his. When Y/N turned back to Harry, he held out her jacket. Her face settled into a confused frown; how did he manage to get their coats so quickly. Was he a wizard or something?

Harry bid the couple farewell as well and soon they were on their way back to the car. Y/N was tense about going outside again, but her shoulders relaxed upon seeing an empty street. Oscar had left, thank god.

The car ride was mostly silent, aside from a few questions about the AC, and an attempt of Harry’s to casually ask for her address again, only to have it at the top of his search list on Google Maps. Y/N had to hold back her giggle.

The rest of it consisted of listening and moving their heads along to whatever song was on. It was mainly rap songs, and Harry knew them all, which was logical considering it was his playlist. There was something attractive about Harry knowing all these songs, it made him look a bit more… intimidating.

Y/N really needed to figure out what deep rooted issue caused her to like that.

She had to admit she was slightly disappointed when he pulled up in front of her apartment complex, so she took her time to turn her head to him, the hint of a smile on her face still. Y/N couldn’t help it; he just made her comfortable. She unbuckled her seatbelt and leaned towards the middle of the vehicle, closer to Harry.

“Thank you, for dropping me off.” She said in a near whisper. The corners of Harry’s mouth tugged up, and he—in turn—closed the distance between even more, their faces only a few inches apart now. Y/N’s hands began to sweat.

“Anything for you, angel.” His voice was raspy, and despite the cockiness he radiated, there was still concern behind it.

But it was over— for Y/N it was over. Her self-control, an entity of its own, seemed to exit her body leaving her with nothing but him. All that adrenaline had channeled into a pressing urge to put her lips on his, to touch him, feel him all around. It was over.

Nothing held her back, not even her own stubborn mind, as she leaped forward and kissed Harry.

While she had expected him to maybe be surprised about her action, the way his mouth welcomed her—invited her, even—was enough proof that he had been ready for her.

Kissing Harry was like jumping off a cliff and diving deeper into the ocean. For once, she didn’t feel like to love was to drown. No, she submerged herself into the water and felt more at home than she had ever felt at the surface. Was it possible to feel at home in someone’s arms?

With a hand on her jaw, Harry lured Y/N forward further, challenging her by pulling back a bit. Needing his lips like it was her own source of oxygen, Y/N didn’t hesitate to lean further, and in all her desperation, climbed right onto his lap.

The short dress didn’t leave much restrictions for her heat as she automatically began to grind her hips. Only when Harry let out a pained groan that shot straight to her core, she’d realized what she was doing— what they were doing.

Pulling away in a flash, a gasp left Y/N. Her lips felt all puffy, much like Harry’s looked.

“S— sorry, I didn’t know what came over me.” Y/N shot in her defensive mode, but Harry only shook his head.

“Don’t say sorry, angel. I—” he cut himself off, and met her eyes. “I don’t think we should do this right now, because—”

Shit, no, shit, shit!

“Oh, yeah, no of course, no problem. I mean, you’re right.” Y/N began to rant, cheeks heating up in embarrassment. How could she ever do such a stupid thing. She was quick to lean over and grab her bag. “But thank you, for bringing me home, and I’ll see you Tuesday.”

Before Harry could even get a word in, she opened the door on the driver’s seat and climbed out of the car, smashing the door shut harsher than she intended to. She winced at the sound, but kept walking. This rejection was humiliating enough as it was, she didn’t need Harry to elaborate on all the reasons he didn’t want her.

She heard the car door open, but by then, Y/N had already entered her building. In the chaos of it all, she decided to sprint up the stairs, wanting to get away from the situation as fast as possible, and in that process forgetting that she lived on the sixth floor.

She was out of breath when she finally reached her apartment, but not as out of breath as she would have been a month ago. Damn Harry, those classes were really working.

Once inside, Y/N leaned against the door, dramatically letting herself slip to the ground as she buried her head in her arms and let out a frustrated groan. Why was every next step she took on the aspect of love always destined to be her most embarrassing one yet?

She huffed, massaging her temples as she soaked in the shame and slowly felt it wither away. She knew the mortification would wane, but the sudden awareness of that ache between her legs, she knew that wouldn’t just go away. With a sigh, Y/N hoisted herself up and got ready for bed before lying down and digging into her nightstand’s drawer to grab the only thing that could cure the ache down there.

Her racing mind was a reminder that getting this out of her system wasn’t going to be done very easily…

Taglist: @meetmeatyourworst @mema10 @seafoamwhispers @namoreno @inkedskin @fangirl509east @mellamolayla @lizsogolden @prettydelilah @harry2121 @babegoals @hermionelove @kierramcduffie

[bunji-enthusiast]

Hope you're doing well!! Please take however long you need to get your creative juices flowing <333 may I order a Dogday recognizing Poppy's Angel is actually the former Playtime Co. employee he and many others came to love and cherish due to their kindness? The reader is THAT employee that others envy, many of the toys LOVES them and prefer to be taken care of by them.

Maybe the reader had found out the sinister nature of the company but is understandably afraid to speak up about it as they realized their old co-workers maybe weren't just fired or " quit " out of thin air after all... Perhaps something happened behind the scenes that made the reader " quits " ( Maybe they could be threatened but by a lot of pleading and bargaining, they're spared but has to keep their mouth shut and never come back, otherwise... )

The toys are devastated, angry and just lots of mixed emotions. The reader feeling more and more guilty as they venture through their once happy place and having to harm the ones they once swore to care for.

The rest is up to you! Please again, take care and take your time, all the best in everything <333

I'm So Sorry

Note || oh my hearttt the angstttt, lovely to write this as always. In the form of head canons if that is alright? ^^

WC || 1,035

Sypnosis || you knew otherwise, presumably what went on. You just didn’t mean to harm those around you.

Being aware of something most employees where not had dug you a thorough grave, you didn’t want to leave your beloved friends in the toy factory. A factory misconstrued on a basement of lies and futility you may as well be well over with, and bury it in the ground. Yet, bury in the ground they did. 

Your superiors had learned of your knowledge of these things, and began sending letters. Bit by bit, they had only started off by threatening you; telling you to keep quiet. They didn’t want their precious reputation to be ruined by the likes of you. Still, you continued to stay, you didn’t want to leave your loved ones. All the friends you’ve come to love, eventually becoming like family for you.

You weren’t deaf nor blind to what the superiors at Playtime Co. do, quite literally you’d have to bandage your eyes or plug your ears to ignore all that was happening behind the scenes, you didn’t let it fall on deaf ears however. Eventually soon enough it was eating away at you to actually just quit, just straight up disappear from Playtime Co.’s eyes. 

Among the many toys; Huggy, Kissy, Mommy, and Poppy, hell even CatNap began to wonder where you went. Why did you flat-out depart from working at the Factory so suddenly? One day you were visible and present, the next you had not shown up. Oddly enough they soon had gotten their answer when the Hour Of Joy had occurred, Huggy Wuggy had come across your paper of termination when he had taken upon himself in the act.

So long ago, that was a decade past you left that life behind. You really wished you would have granted them goodbyes before you had gone, yet it seemed you got that chance to do so when you received a paper in the mail that had appeared to be from your co-workers. Word for word you could remember reading, everyone thinks the staff disappeared ten years ago, we’re still here. Find the flower.

The only reason you even had to come back to the factory in the first place was because of the guilt easily overwhelming your logic, you needed answers. You needed to know what happened to your co-workers and all the toys you cared deeply for, yet you had an overwhelming suspicion you really knew what happened to all the staff in Playtime Co. you simply just weren’t present for it. Having technically already left. 

Seeing Huggy Wuggy on the pedestal again brought back some memories for you, he was certainly a hoot. In a way, you really liked him along with the rest of the toys. He was certainly a unique one out of the few–especially along with Kissy Missy. You thought they were a cute pair together, Kissy always managed to calm his murderous tendencies and Huggy was always someone you can count on for a good hug if you ever had a bad day.

Killing is not something you would ever dare think of doing, it was simply not in your mind or blood to do so. So why did you have to resort to killing Huggy? You silently wept, having no time to grieve for him properly as you had to trudge on along to the flower.

Poppy was the last person (or toy, ahem) you expected to find in that case you came across. Now you find yourself in the game station, seeing her get pulled away like that right after she offered to give the code to you had you on the steels of your nerves, you were immediately very close to being in an angry mood. 

Now you had to deal with Mommy’s antics, you felt for her, but you certainly wouldn’t want to go through the trouble of trying to get the code from Mommy. Least of all having to resort to killing her, as she would not listen to your words. Convincing her was impossible to do, trying to make her remember you was a whole different story.

Crap.

Why’d she have to go in a rage? Now she’s dead too, and what in the seven circles of hell did she mean by “HE’LL MAKE ME PART OF HIM! YOU CAN’T DO THIS TO ME!” You shudder when a mechanical hand comes to pull away Mommy’s corpse, you mentally make a note that is the Prototype. As you’ve come to learn the name after you had scavenged Elliot’s office. 

Soon you learn what Mommy had meant, arguably enough you were angry that Poppy had derailed your only train to get out of Playtime Co. but your heart had ached too much to not finish what you started. Now CatNap was hunting you while you ran around in Playcare, you just never expected to see such an untimely sight that nobody should be put in.

DogDay was hurt, real bad. His legs were severed, he wasn’t long and limber like you remember him to be. His life seemed to be completely drained and sucked away from him, you wince when he moved, movement appeared to be harsh to even put energy into. Your heart bleeds for him, yet you are surprised when he actually recognizes you from before, all those years ago. 

“Angel, you! Y-You're the one that cared for so many of us.” You nod, parental instinct already kicking in to free him from his belts from which he hung from. DogDay doesn’t deserve a fate like this, not then and especially not now. “You don’t need to, leave me here.”

“Oh hell no, you need to live.” You refute, shushing him before DogDay begins to protest. You sigh in relief once he finally is free, as selfish as it may be, he hadn’t ever attempted to kill you. You wanted someone with you that actually remembers you and doesn’t try to gun for you the moment you even step into the vicinity.

Gosh, you really hoped to get this over with. Guilt weighing heavily in mind as you had to kill so many toys, so many that you cared for. 

At Least it meant to be in the name of self defense.

Right?

[lixies-favorite-cookie]

doomsday ◦ h.j

—Sometimes doomsday wasn't the crumbling of a city; doomsday was an apocalypse of the mind

@anon im so glad you requested this bc I literally loved writing it so much like it fr had my creative juices FLOWING so feel free to request anytime babes

Paring ◦ Han x reader

Words ◦ 5231

Genre ◦ Hurt and comfort, ngl this angsty asf

Warnings ◦ han is a dick at the beginning but he is redeemed, panic attacks, language (like fr so many fucks in this its wild), talk about wasting your life, anxiety, fear, han is such a cunt at first its insane, not edited, uhhh I think that's it.

A/N ◦ This one is chaotic asf so if you don't like my chaotic writing this is definitely where you might wanna click off 💀ALSO IF YOU LIKED THIS PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE TELL ME like it literally doesn't have to be much you can just be like it was pretty cool

~CookieCreates🍪

Sometimes it felt like Han gave away the numbers of the clock like dollar bills, bartering off a life that only ever seemed to be rushing away like a river roaring down the rocks too fast. He scoops little moments out from the shimmering rapids, but time still trickles between his fingers; the hours melting together like wax dripping down the spindly hands, its bony fingers-

reaching

reaching

r e a c h i n g

out to him, pulling him into a pool at the bottom of his feet, a pool of glittering, glowing memories.

Is this all life is?

Working

Stressing

Never sleeping

Never eating

Is the praise worth it?

Those hopeless nights, endless days, tired eyes, and a mind made of mush—was it all worth it?

Was any of it worth it?

The roar of the crowds drowning out the sound of the seconds-

tick

tick

ticking away, the shuffle of the sand seeping into the bottom of the hourglass—he taps the crystal dome, wondering how much of it is left—wondering when it all will stop.

When he can stop.

Han was a fizzing bottle of soda—shook for too long—today was hard; every day before a comeback is: producing, singing, dancing, learning, watching, waiting-

Checking off boxes on a list that never ended, so when he finally walks into the door of your shared apartment, a room he feels like he hasn't seen in weeks, he doesn't really notice you anxiously sitting on the couch, your knees bouncing on the floor mindlessly-

snapping

snapping

snapping

on the linoleum, something so simple shouldn't set him off, sure, but the sound was so familiar—so scary—it vibrated in his head, booming in his brain seconds-

ticking

ticking

ticking away

your feet

snapping

snapping

snapping on the ground.

He comes home to get away from the world rushing out from under him, so why were you sitting there being so fucking-

“Hannie!” You beam, sprinting over to throw your arms around his neck, breathing his scent in. It feels like centuries since you've seen him last. You vibrate with nervous, excited energy, practically bouncing up and down; but the thing was, right now he didn't want to be touched.

He didn't want to be held

He didn't want to have to talk

He didn't want to have to remember he had a life outside of the bubble that was his work. It felt like he was tending to gardens he didn't know how to grow. Your relationship had already sprouted; the seed planted a while ago, but even though the delicate stages of its development had passed, that didn't mean that it still didn't have to be cared for, and right now, he didn't care about anything. 

It was selfish, sure, but when you've spent your whole life giving parts of yourself away, selfishness seems so easy, at least while you still have small slivers of your soul left. 

He grates his teeth, everything seeming so wholly overwhelming, the walls encapsulating him in an unbreakable hourglass. He was so stressed, so tired, so done, so trapped. His breath stutters when you squeeze him tighter, nuzzling your nose against his shirt, staring up at him expectantly, eyes shimmering. 

"I haven't hugged you in forever I missed your face" you giggle voice like clouds of cotton candy but not quite sweet enough to dull the sour feeling settling in his stomach

He knows that love should never feel this hard, but right now everything he did felt hard, and the way you stare at him so longingly like you're going to combust if he doesn't perform, put on a fake smile, and act like everything is okay makes him feel like a fizzing bottle of soda with a lid screwed on too tight, and when you grip him tighter, trying to push an answer out of him

He flips his lid. 

"Holy shit, y/n, do you have to be so bombarding?" He snaps, pushing your arms away from him, almost looking disgusted. Your smile slips, staring at him in shock, still not really registering what he said. 

He doesn't know what feels worse—the way your features tremble with hurt or the way he knows he doesn't care. 

"I'm tired; I just want to go to bed, okay, and you are immediately rushing me; every day as soon as I get through the door, it's exhausting."

"You can't be serious," you whisper, genuinely believing what you said. He couldn't be serious. There was no way in hell he really believed that, but it didn't matter if he believed it or not; it all still hurt the same.

He wishes he could overlook the flames that flare in your eyes, consuming the stars that always seemed to shimmer.

What did he just do?

He sighs, collapsing onto the couch, digging the palms of his hands into his drooping eyes. He was so scared; the fear loosing his lips and everybody knows words of fear are the greatest lies. 

"Yes, I'm serious. Do you know how much work you are? I work all day, work, work, work, work everybody needs me always wanting, always needing something, something, fucking something," he growls, smacking his hands against his thighs, thrown into an unexplainable rage. "And as soon as I get home, you need me too; everybody is so fucking needy." The next words he says feel like an earthquake erupted in your soul, splitting your heart in two. 

"Your so fuckin' needy."

You flutter your eyelashes shut, pushing back emotions that boil in your brain. There are so many feelings fighting for the light, but instead of screaming, crying, or lashing out, you take a deep breath and fold your arms, calmly asking 

"Then why don't you just break up with me then?" There is nothing more terrifying than a woman whose fire rages behind a veil of ice, but when he looks up, watching the flames wrap around your posture, wisping around every edge of your bones, and even with the ashes of the love you once had for him fluttering in the wind, he still opens his big, fat, fucking mouth. 

"Or maybe I should have just never asked you out in the first place." No sooner did he spit the sentence out, did he want to shove it right back in his mouth. Your shoulders droop, eyes filling with an almost impossible amount of pain.

The earth crumbles, the walls of your shared home collapsing around you, rubble lost in all the memories that flicker away like embers floating from the burning configuration that was your relationship. It was ironic how the world worked; it took years to build up the love you felt and only a single sentence to wash it all away. You never thought you would see armageddon, but when those letters left his lips, you quickly realized sometimes doomsday wasn't the crumbling of a city; doomsday was an apocalypse of the mind. 

"Okay," you croak, hot tears streaming down your face; a wobbly smile pulls at your lips almost out of habit, facial muscles forced out of memory. 

You have never once imagined yourself drowning under so many words left unsaid, sinking in the waves of tears you fought back, and as you trudged up the stairs, sinking into your bed, you wondered when you would hear the begrudging footsteps—the hesitant knocks. Wondered when you'd hear his soft apology—a voice racked with guilt—but your fantasy never came.

All you heard was the clicking of the clock behind you, counting down the hours where he disappointed you again and again

You don't know what got to you first—the peirce of realization that he didn't regret the bitter insults that left his lips so easily or when you saw the calendar that peaked from the corner of your closet-

5 days

5 days left unmarked

5 days left blank

5 days until you celebrated your 3 year anniversary

Han Jisung would never know you were counting down the days

Han should have runned after you, and in perspective, after a good night's sleep and a nice warm meal, he has never felt so completely stupid for not, but after you trudged up the stairs with a pained smile and glassy eyes, he was so starkly shocked he had said something so disgustingly distasteful his feet stuck to the ground, and finally, after hours of staring at the pool of time bubbling by his shoes, he drifted into a restless sleep. 

It was as though his terror tainted him, making the glassy parts of his heart dirty, and when he took the edge off, it was like a harsh wipe away at all the murk, revealing his jarring reflection in the pearly mirror.

He was such a jerk

He whimpers, running anxious fingers through his hair. He has no viable excuse, no good reason why he treated you so poorly—for someone so obsessed with time, he should know that you can't get your life back—can't turn the hands of the clock 

Push rewind

Hit replay

For what value would life be if you could just start it all over again? The impossibility made all the precious moments sweeter, but like every good thing, it made memories like these all the more foul.

You didn't deserve that

He didn't deserve you

and as you slink down the stairs, eyes red-rimmed and puffy. He can't stop that booming voice biting at the back of his brain.

How long will it take you before you realize that too?

You flick your gaze to him, burning with loathing cloaked behind layers of indifference. It floors him—those subtle signs of hatred that swim in the back of your eyelids, hidden in small twitches of your features, your almost tangibly cut off, throwing up your walls, shutting him out in more ways than one.

He had always worried about the gardens he was growing; flowers that sprung around him rapidly, fighting to figure out which one to water first, and all while your petals wilted and your roots curled up-

You waited

You watched as he bled himself dry. He shutters, everything bursting before his eyes—the love you once had for him flickering like the last flashes of a dying star. You're a million miles away, dancing on the craters of the moon, fluttering around the twinkling rings of Saturn. He folds himself deeper into the couch, almost hoping it will swallow him whole—pull him into the burning inferno beneath—even hell would be cooler than the fire that was your gaze.  Han Jisung never thought he'd see the day when the galaxy would collapse, but staring at you, flaring your final goodbyes, he realizes that doomsday was closer than he thought. 

"Baby," he whispers, his voice heavy with guilt, how easy it is to start a fire when you don't care about putting it out, but now that the wisps of flame consume you, he wishes he had never given you the kindling. 

You don't look at him as you walk around the kitchen, pouring a bowl of cereal. He stands up hesitantly, anguish feeling like an iron rod through his chest. He creeps into the kitchen, stepping lightly into the room like it's laced with landmines. 

"Please." His voice cracks—splits right down the middle, a perfect reflection of the cleave that was his soul. "I'm so sorry."

You place the cereal back in the cabinet and open the fridge to retrieve the milk.

The silence is deafening.

The all too familiar-

tick

tick

tick

of time trickling away rings in his ears

How much more of it does he have left?

How much more of this silence can he take?

You ignore him, strolling right past his trembling frame, racked with regret. It pulsates off his in palpable waves. You're so nonchalant so careless. He almost wants you to turn around and smack him, throw that stupid bowl of cereal in his face. Instead, you jog up the stairs, slamming the door behind you.

Is that the only door you shut?

Han had always thought of the apocalypse as an idea only found in novels, tucked away behind the pages of a book, hidden in the comfortable corner of science fiction, because that's all it was, right— fiction? But as your dead eyes scrape his figure up and down, he realizes that Doomsday wasn't really fiction at all. Just like the world wasn't always a place, sometimes the world was a person, and right now his world was ravaged by a deadly disease, an illness that only infected the soul, an illness only transferred through the careless bitter words found in the English language. Fire was nature's greatest purifier, and sure, the walls of the home he lived in weren't warped with flames of your fury, but the home he had made in your heart was 

It's been 3 days

3 days since he's felt the touch of another human. 

3 days since he made the biggest mistake of his lifetime.

3 days since he dropped a devasting bomb on your relationship, and the shrapnel was finally hitting him; curled pieces of cold metal lodged somewhere in between the folds of his soul. 

3 brutal bone-crushing days of pure ear-splitting silence—It was almost scientifically impossible, just how quiet you were. It was an art really, every brush of anguish accurately painted on—every ignored apology, every piercing glare, every single star that flickered out in your eyes. You were strategic, meticulous, you were plain vicious-

and you had every right to be.

You were fully justified in your actions, and yet he felt like he was still teetering over the edge of madness. The thought of losing you like a noose snaking around his neck, choking him in an unadulterated form of terror 

He has been stricken by anxiety his whole life, but the thought of a world without you filled him with an inexplicable amount of fear—the kind that burrows in your bones, decaying in your soul—the kind of terror that your still stuck digging from your skin for centuries to come—the kind of fear that makes you simply

panic.

His hands shake as he pushes the door open, feeling like he's walking into an open war. The pages of a dystopia form walls around him, caging him inside a bombarding capsule of storming English. 

The harsh contrast of the hurricane in his mind and the indifference in your eyes sends him reeling. You were lying on the couch, mindlessly flipping through the channels, not sparing him a glance.

You were so beautiful so breathtaking, but for once, he wasn't admiring your beauty.

He was

falling

apart. 

Oh, fuck, he was freaking out. 

He had finally caved under the pressure of always having to perform a false, flimsy smile, wobbling on his lips, pretending to be okay as he watched the life drain out of your eyes; the passion seeping from his songs.

He loved making music, but what is art without chaos?

What is beauty without love?

What is the world without you?

He always had to be perfect; he always had to be put together. He was always running on all cylinders, always hanging on by a fraying straining thread, and finally, it snapped. 

The earth is

t i l t i n g,

flipping around,

turning upside down, and

i n s i d e o u t.

Guilt rips through his chest, yanking out harsh bouts of oxygen from his constricting lungs. 

He can't breathe

He can't breathe

He can't breathe

He can't fucking

b

r

e

a

t

h

e

He was going to die-

He was going to collapse into himself, busting into a flaring supernova. 

He was going to be his own demise-

Forming his own doomsday-

He has never thought of himself as an author, but before he could stop his mouth from moving, he was already caged between the sentences of his own personal apocalypse, living a waking nightmare.

He created a story with his stupidity, and now he has to pay the price. 

He was the end of your relationship-

what has he done?

He can't b r e a t h e

"Y-Y/n I can't," he choked on his words, watching the walls wash away like watercolor dripping down the page. 

He can't lose you

He can't lose you

He can't lose you

He's going to die

He stumbles into the living room, tripping over his feet, his breath staggering in his throat. He catches himself on the arm of the couch, digging his nails into the soft leather, gripping it like it was his tether, keeping him from floating into space—burning up in the atmosphere, his body bouncing around the icy rocks. 

"Fuck," he gasps, squeezing his eyes shut and clawing at his chest, almost as if he scratches his skin hard enough, he can finally pull out the hourglass that keeps ticking his time away. His heart pounded wildly, almost begging to be free from the confines of his ribcage. The fact that it was still beating was beyond him. 

His heart only beats for you.

His heart will only ever beat for you.

How was he alive when you were drifting away? moon dust dancing in your lungs, would you become a ruler of the skies, while he was still stood still? 

"Han," your voice sounds like cotton candy kisses and honey dribbles. He never thought he would ever be so happy to hear somebody so alarmed, but right now that was the only thing keeping him from shattering. 

You jump up from the couch, your face pulled in concern. 

He doesn't deserve it

Doesn't deserve it

Doesn't deserve it

He's drowning in a pool of his self-inflicted sorrows. He's sinking, and the only thing that could save him was you. 

How do you save a man who won't take your hand?

"N-No, im okay," he barley pushes the words out, weaving between the thick lump that's forming in his throat. 

It was a lie

Everything was a lie

That's all he was

a liar

"Han," your voice is warm and inviting, sucking him in, wrapping around him like a blanket in the cold, a bowl of soup to a sick stomach. You healed him even when he was the one who created the wound. You pull him in, taking his trembling frame into your arms. Gentle fingers thread through his hair as soft lullabied wispers float through the air.

He feels so safe

So secure-

So loved-

He never thought he would feel the tenderness of your touch again, so when your comforting arms squeeze him right off the edge of destruction, 

He

c o l l a p s e s

crumbling into a million sobbing, sniveling pieces before you, he sinks to the ground, dragging you along with him. 

He always brought you down-

Always took you with him-

He was a disease-

An infection-

He was your armageddon

He sags against your body, limply moving like a rag doll. You let him curl into your chest, holding him like pieces of pierced punctuation. 

You guys were a shattered semicolon inverted and upside down. 

There was so much he wanted to say—so many apologies, so many explanations, so many different synonyms for sorry—but you didn't need them; you never needed them; you needed him, and there was nothing he could ever say that would change that. 

You hum, rubbing soothing circles on his back. You were always the perfect metaphor, a marveling form of pristine poetry. Your touch was like fleeting promises on the skin, the delicate tickle of a blooming flower, the comfortable heat of a burning star. You weren't just his world; you were his universe.

He pulls you closer to him, clinging like a desperate dying animal, nuzzling his face in your neck. 

"I'm so sorry, baby, I'm so fucking sorry!" He blubbers the sentences onto your skin, as though the deeper he burrows into your body, the faster they can travel to your heart. 

"Han," you lull, a small smile grazing your face, physically having to claw him off of you. He does begrudgingly, a minuscule whimper tumbling out of his throat from the lack of contact; he doesn't meet your eyes. He can't—not when the clock still ticks your time away, not when he's still not fully sure that you're willing to turn the hands back. 

He's devastated, his eyes red and puffy with tears that cascade down his cheeks, shining in the overhead light. 

"Please don't leave me." He sniffles, rubbing his nose against the fabric of his shirt, bottom lip trembling. "I don't want our time to run out. All my time is running out. Everything is running out. I can't, I-" he stutters, tripping over letters that latch onto his teeth like cactuses digging into his lips. 

You furrow your brows, tilting your head in sympathetic confusion. "What do you mean, baby?"

He screws his eyes shut, his hands shaking almost aggressively on his thighs. Why did he say anything? How does he explain something like that? He tries to form the words on his tongue, but they stick to the roof of his mouth like glue. Speaking it into the universe makes it so much more real, so much more raw, because now it isn't a metaphor, a fictional little whisper that fucks with his mind. 

The earth quivers in its orbit as he opens his mouth-

Was he really going to admit this?

Was he even ready to admit this?

"It feels like my life is running out," he stammers, the words tasting so sour on his tongue. "My life is so stressful; everybody always needs something from me, and sometimes it feels like I'm dishing out so many slivers of my soul that I don't even have any of it left." He lets out a shaky breath, attempting to get his heart rate somewhere that resembles normal. 

"I'm always up, always working, always doing something, and it's scary to think while I'm wasting my life working so hard doing something I don't really love." He aggressively wipes the tear that drops down his cheek with the palm of his hand. "It's so scary wondering if I'm ever making the right decisions." 

He feels so small under your gaze.

"A-And the other day was so hard," he cries, fresh waves of tears blurring his vision as he reminisces on the events. 

"Everybody was yelling at me, always needing something demanding so fucking much; they were playing puppet, forcing my hands in a way they didn't want to move; everybody was so just so needy-"

"And so was I," you whisper, filled with guilt. It breaks him. Your so understanding, so loving, so forgiving, so perfect. 

How did he even get you?

His heart wrenches as he dives into your arms-

"No, no, no, no," he shouts, shaking his head against your shirt. "No, love, you didn't do anything wrong; it was me. Me and my shitty mood—it was all my fault. I blew up at you. You were trying to be the amazing, loving girlfriend you are, and what I said was solely because of my fear. The exhaustion and anger didn't exactly help either"

"But there are no more buts," he pulls away, catching your eyes burning with sincerity. "There is no excuse for the way I treated you; there is no justification, just explanation."

You smile, tilting your head in adoration. You would be lying if you didn't say you were relieved, because you were.  You thought he believed the words he said—what feels like forever ago—that you were the annoying, needy girlfriend that only ever bugged him, but he didn't believe what he said. No, he was just a ticking time bomb waiting to blow—a ball of stressed and nervous energy channeled into the wrong source. 

"It's okay, Hannie, really, we're okay"

He was a supernova—a burning, bursting flame of bright, beautiful colors 

Han had once thought that the stars in your eyes had flickered away, but now he knows even the most enchanting things have to die before they can transform. 

He loves you.

He has loved you for 2 years and 363 days.

He will love you until the world goes up in flames. 

He will love you until the planet bleeds with the wounds of armageddon. 

"Does this mean we can still celebrate our 3-year anniversary?" He asks sheepishly, looking up at you through fluttering eyelashes. You perk up, visibly brightening. 

"You remembered!"

"I never forgot." he smiles, eyes shimmering with hope.

"I've been counting down the days," you grin.

"So have I," but he hasn't been counting down the days until you celebrate 3 beautiful years on this planet together. No, he's been counting down the days until his body slips into the grave, but as he presses his ear to your heart, it feels like the steady beats were a swelling symphony orchestrated just for him. He sighs contently, nuzzling deeper into your chest. The terrifying tick of the clock faded away, drowned out by the song of your soul whispering sweet promises into his ear. Sure, the fear still tickled the back of his brain, but instead of worrying that time was trickling away, he pulls you closer because with you, there was never a wasted moment. 

©CookieCreates (posted: July, 9th 2024) All rights reserved. Do not translate, copy, or claim my works as yours! I only post on this platform so if any of my works are elsewhere, report and notify me immediately

~cookie🍪

[soft-mafia]

Buggy Headcanons (NSFW + SFW)

warnings: mentions of female reader, the NSFW isn’t separated from the SFW it’s kind of mixed in

a/n: I wanted to do some more Buggy headcanons to get my creative juices flowing loool

• The man stress eats(and drinks), when he’s frustrated over another encounter with straw hat, or a failed treasure hunt, he’ll sit on his throne or in his quarters and shovel food into his mouth. Whenever you’re sitting on his lap he can accidentally get a whole lot of crumbs on you.

• He’ll have days when all he wants to do is fuck. He’ll have sex with you for hours, until the room smelled like sweat and raw sex. His hairy torso pressed up against your back while he’s holding you down, grunting like a bull as he cums in you for what feels like the millionth time. Of course he takes breaks after every round, giving himself a breather while he either holds you close to him, or plays with your sopping pussy.

• The most annoying thing about sleeping with him at night is when he’s spooning you, he sometimes snores right into your ear. And it’s loud, especially when he gets choked on his own mucus and goes into a loud coughing fit.

• As soon as he gets into his quarters after a long day of pillaging and pirating— his clothes as off. As soon as that door closes he’s already in his underwear flopped onto the bed.

• He always makes sure that you’re eating. Even when you’re full or not hungry he’ll shove some food into your mouth or hand feed you a fruit or something. And he’d always do it at the worst times too, whenever you’re talking to one of his pirates about something, or if you’re talking to him, he’ll his hold a piece of food up to your mouth like you’re an animal(or his floating hand will just show up beside you) and he’ll expect you to take it, and if you don’t he’ll just shove it into your face again.

• Buggy loves grabbing your ass, especially when you least expect it, he’ll pull you into a firm embrace, and when you think he’s just being all lovey dovey— your eyes go wide when you feel his strong hands gripping your ass, your face going red as you feel his deep laughter rumble in his chest.

• He goes crazy over chin scratches, will literally go loopy when you scritch him.

• It’s hard getting all of his thick cock to properly fit into your mouth in one go, so he takes his time easing your lips around him. His muscled thighs twitching in his pants, grunts escaping him as he guides you through it. “Yeah.. that’s it, all the way down that pretty throat.” He chuckles gravely behind grit teeth, “You’d think you’d get used to it by now!” He laughs. Gently holding your head while watching your cheeks puff out with his cock is one of his favorite things about blowjobs.

• Gets jealous and protective whenever he’s around someone he sees as a threat to your relationship. It’s kind of a similar situation to his nose, where he’s so insecure he thinks everybody is out to steal you from him. You’re with him while he’s talking to somebody he sees as stronger and more attractive than he is(impossible), they’re speaking to him about something but he’s not listening to because he’s thinking about them stealing you and you running off with them. Buggy growls and randomly blurts out, “HANDS OFF MY GIRL, SHE’S MINE!” Which leads you, and the person in question confused.

• There was an incident where Mr. 3 sarcastically asked Buggy if he had to choose between Y/n and the one piece, Buggy just stood there with his mouth open, looking between you and 3, genuinely torn between the two options. You were rightfully pissed and didn’t speak to him for the rest of the day. While you were giving him the silent treatment, he was an emotional rollercoaster, going from whining, to straight up shouting at you. “Come on baby it was hypotheticalllll!!” “STOP BEING DRAMATIC!!” “At least look at me when I’m talking to you!!!” “LOOK AT ME Y/N!!!”

• Sometimes he does things to try and get you to laugh, and every time he does something that unintentionally makes a fool out of himself, and usually it always gets you to break and burst out into laughter.

• Buggy is by no means a 5 star chef but one time he tried to do something nice and surprise you with breakfast in bed. The typical bacon and egg smiley face breakfast. It was so adorable that you didn’t even complain about the burnt to a crisp, tasteless bacon.

• He lets you deal with his hair because it’s too much of a hassle for him, you have the honor of washing it, deep conditioning it, brushing all of the knots out of his hair(with the plus of him shouting and complaining at you during the entire process), and styling it into his hat.

• Buggy loves neck kisses, as if his neck isn’t just begging to be kissed. He’s a sucker for when you hold his jaw and lean in, then gently brush your lips over his thick, muscled neck before pressing a soft kiss to it, it makes him shiver and blush every time.

• You’re the only one who he has ever let touch his nose It’s a privilege you get from being his. He obviously doesn’t like it, and he never lets it go as far as a typical kiss or nose boop, he’ll turn away to grumble and frown about it, but it always leaves him flustered every time. It gets him to shut up as well, it’s like an off button, if you’re having a heated discussion with him and you know you’re right— just boop the snoot and he backs down.

[phoenixtakaramono]

I swear to god you were on demon mode when you wrote the multiverse conclusion. My jaw is literally on the floor. I have to compose myself otherwise I’ll just keyboard smash my phone in hysteria.

The way you write makes it so easy to envision the scene in my head, like word for word you set it up so perfectly that I’m like oh okay so I’m really seeing all these Butchers take on one Homelander. That’s ace, that’s juice, that’s every single compliment I can think of.

I can’t wait for the sequel oh my god oh my GOD. All those HLs with one Butcher? HL on HL? The possibilities are endless. Thank you again for sharing this with us!!

This Ask is regarding this 🔞 butchlander multiverse oneshot threadfic on twitter (tumblr read version: parts 1, 2)

Thank you very much for reading! I had The Name of the Game (AO3) thoughts in my brain that are unrelated to the main story so, whilst that 135ch monstrosity is gonna take its time, I might as well offer some unofficial post-main story or during-main story spin-offs—but as threadfic oneshots so they won’t clutter AO3 and/or taint the reading experience when more chapters are added. The brainworms were strong this time, so I might as well tap into that creative surge of inspiration instead of letting it gather dust and maybe never see the light of day.

Re: the threadfic ending. I’d always planned to have the vice versa switcheroo in this threadfic (where it turns from 7 Butchers + 1 TNotG HL into 7 Homelanders + 1 TNotG Billy 😉) but I had initially been uncertain whether to include it in this threadfic itself or allocate it to a separate sequel threadfic. I saw how long this oneshot threadfic was becoming and, well, after having to essentially retype 60% of what I could recall from memory after the last unsaved 58 tweets were lost to the void, I guess you can say the universe helped make my decision, hahaha.

Fun fact: I’d mentioned this in Part II’s comments, but making it the 5 HLs from 5 of my threadfics + the 1 HL from the Truce universe transmigrated into the TNotG universe is us having mercy on Billy. Because, imagine, you’re the scummy Male Lead who has quick transmigrated (world hopped) into 6 parallel universes, and had a relationship with each parallel dimension’s version of Homelander. And upon returning to your own world, you schemed to to get together with your own world’s destined lover Homelander—and it happened, although probably not how Billy had envisioned it with HL taking initiative into his own hands drugging him and making him participate in a seven-way 0rgy to seduce him. But bam! Murphy’s Law struck, and now Billy has to contend with seven jealous Homelanders. They’re the prideful trophy wives who are reunited with the husband they’d thought they’d lost, but he’s alive, and in their eyes they equate it as him “cheating” on them with a new hot floozy (TNotG’s HL). *laughs*

It’s a lot more dramatic if I made it a reunion, so instead I decided to be merciful on our Male Lead service top and instead make 6 of those Homelanders from my other fics, so the narrative is easier to handle not that TNotG HL wouldn’t also be down for a fun time with TNotG 6 other HLs.

Essentially I am willing to serve y’all the Homelander f*cking doppelgänger Homelander scene that we never got to see, Amazon you cowards. But ramp it up a notch, and toss our somewhat nicer to HL TNotG Billy Prime into the sweaty pile of clingy, needy, h0rny affection-craving Homelanders (but ofc Billy has to pay TNotG Homelander the most loving attention and endearments to smooth his ruffled feathers because hoo boooooy, imagine the cocktail of jealousy, insecurity, entitlement, and competitiveness in that one room alone y’all this is a grownass man who’d canonically gotten jealous and had a one-sided beef with a baby).

Like^^^ tell me this man wouldn’t enjoy a seven-way selfcest g@ngb@ng 0rgy session with himself, and with a very willing diabolically handsome V-ed up British Supe patiently servicing them in that pile. TELL ME IT WOULDN’T BE ONE OF HOMELANDER’S WET DREAMS.

[magicxc]

Square Up

Pairings: Survey Corps x Reader - things they do that annoy you

Word Count: 1029

Warnings: none

A/N: You know what really grinds my gears? When people are cruising on the road at 8am. Bitch move over, I’m literally late for work 😭 

Lol that being said, here’s some everyday routines where I think the guys would be most annoying. 

Headcannons Masterlist

Eren - leaves the big pot to soak.

You’re thankful for the help you really are, but you’d be even more thankful if Eren didn’t half ass the job. Albeit some of those food stains are really stubborn and just refuse to move, but every time? Not even! One day you had put on a pot of water to bring some potatoes to a boil, eager to stuff your face with the fluffy goodness of your handmade garlic mashed potatoes. And sure enough when dinner was long gone there the pot sat atop the stove, unwashed, because it needed “to soak.” You get it, Eren hates doing the dishes but you might actually cry the day you walk into the kitchen and meet the sink empty. You've complained about it on occasion but truth be told it doesn't bother you as much as it used to. He's even gotten creative and started hiding the pots in the oven and you can't help but giggle, closing the door so as to keep his "secrets" hidden.

Levi - adds water to the empty soap bottle to make it last longer.

Levi lives a somewhat frugal lifestyle and it has everything to do with his upbringing. Thankfully he’s a lot less stingy than he used to be, but this habit in particular has been the hardest to kick; and you just about pull your hair out every time. It's not even like there's not enough soap to spare. It's mostly him getting the most use out of the lingering soapy particles as he can. Surely it no longer serves its protective purposes, no matter how sudsy the results are? You've  since learned to keep an extra bottle of personal soap in the cabinets for such a time, bringing it to the countertops once Levi has exhausted all efforts with the previous one. 

Erwin - loud eater.

It’s not even an Erwin thing to be honest, it’s a people thing. Slurpers, suckers, gulpers, they can all get it. Cause why? The only people who can actively change the way they eat are the open mouthers, so you don't even waste your time with the Commander. Some background noise on the tv or radio can help you through most meals, but it doesn't stop your skin from crawling at the idea or pause in noise volume. 

Connie - leaves a swig of juice left in the carton. 

This one blows literal steam out of your ears because what was even the point. If an 8 ounce glass of orange juice was just poured and there’s 2 ounces left, just finish the damn thing. You’ve heard excuses ranging from he didn’t want to because then he’d feel bad for not leaving you any to he simply wasn't thirsty enough the last gulp; but none of those ever make it better. Connie still does this but makes an extra effort to hide the carton in the deepest part of the fridge for when he’s ready to finish its contents. 

Jean - revs his engine loud as hell.

At first you thought it couldn't be helped until one day you had to borrow Jeans car to run a few errands. Then it all clicked. This mf wants to be seen. He wants people to know it's his engine with all that horsepower beneath the hood. He wants any chance he has to show off his sleek ride that he’s worked so hard for. Unfortunately it's all at the expense of your eardrums and now you only ride with Jean out of necessity. When you do ride with him, however, you make sure to roll all the windows up, not that it helps much.

Onyankopon - uses all the hot water after a shower. 

While it is annoying you don't mind this one so much during the summer time or the night time. But it just about drives you nuts in the morning and during the winter months because not only are you now running late for work waiting for some hot water to kick in but if it doesn't in time, now you have to suffer through a cold and uncomfortable shower. You've since started looking up the benefits of a cold shower but none of them has outweighed your comfort. So you've started showering before him, dashing into the bathroom as soon as you even think he's about to get in there.

Reiner - sets his alarm but never hears it. 

This one really does you in. You're not the lightest sleeper but you can definitely hear when an alarm is non stop ringing. You sometimes envy the deep sleep that Reiner manages to engulf himself in but then slowly remember that it's borderline dangerous. The only reason you don't throw a bitch fit is because y’all have similar work schedules, so the alarm also works in your favor. But he's definitely gotten the occasional pillow to the face or slap to the arm; not that he ever feels it.

Armin - gotta take a pic of every meal.

It's all about presentation with Armin. You can cook a pot of ramen noodles and he’d grab his camera if you fixed it up nice. Y'all are at dinner and the waiter brings the food by? Can't dig in until he has the perfect shot. Usually you don't mind, but his perfect shot takes at least four different angles and your stomach gets louder by the minute. You haven't found a way around this one just yet, so you instead endure the torture.

Floch - watches his tv with the volume level on ignorant. 

Why must the house sound like a surround sound movie theater you’ll never know. Action movies you understand. You'll even bite for thrillers. But anything else? It’s definitely up for debate. You can literally step outside on the curb of the street and still hear the entirety of the movie playing. You assume the loud noise is so he can submerge himself in the plot of the film but you’re running out of different ways to tell him to turn that shit down. The new rule now is nothing on the screens past 7pm if he can't watch it at regular volume.

Tags - @eveningatthemoviesnetwork

[the-guilty-writer]

Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

Request from @steveharringtonsgirl04: Hey! I have a request you can totally say not to it but it just keeps coming back in my head lol  soo dad hotch x teen reader where she just wants her dad to hold her :( like all the hotch hugs so he takes her to the BAU and nobody knows he has a daughter btw I absolutely adore your writing it’s literally my favorite!

Aaron Hotchner x daughter!reader

Summary: Hard days are always made better by Hotchner hugs.

A/N: I fully admit that I am lacking in creativity at the moment and I don’t love the “secret family” trope, so this is just short and fluffy Hotch being the best dad

CW: reader gets her period, mentions of vomiting, suggestion that reader’s mother is Haley but could always be adopted or from another relationship

---

“Everyone has his day and some last longer than others.”

Well, you were having your day. And it was bad. Before the lunch bell rang for the day you’d already gotten a terrible night sleep, had Jack spill juice on your favorite top, been late for class, gotten locked out of your locker, tripped over your own feet causing you to face plant in front of the upperclassmen, and gotten your period.

It was safe to say that you were having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

You riffled through your backpack, looking for the bottle of Advil to ease the cramps, but when you found it, it was empty. You cursed under your breath.

Terrible. Horrible. No Good. Very Very Bad Day.

With the knowledge that you’d be unable to get through the rest of the day without being in pain, you swallowed your pride and went to the nurse’s office.

“I’m going to have to call a parent or guardian to bring you something,” the older lady told you. “It’s against school policy for me to give students medication without a doctor's note. Is there someone I can call?”

Usually the answer would have been Jessica, but for once she was the guardian who was out of town.

“Yeah, um, my dad,” you said.

The nurse gave you a sympathetic look and left. She came back a few minutes later. “He’s on his way,” she informed you.

Feeling exhausted and uncomfortable, all you could do was nod.

---

When Hotch walked into the nurse’s office an hour later, he thought you might be on the verge of vomiting. While you tried to look as stoic as him, the paleness of your face gave away how you were actually feeling, and the guilt that he couldn’t get there sooner made his heart sink.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he greeted you, sitting next to you on the cot. He pulled a bottle of Advil from his pocket and handed it to you.

“Thanks.” Your hands were slow but your voice was grateful. “Sorry you had to drive all the way here.”

“No need to apologize.” He kissed your forehead before you downed the pills. You leaned into him slightly and he wrapped his arms around you. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get here sooner.”

“‘S not your fault,” your voice was muffled by his suit. You leaned into him and he held you gladly. Just like your mom, you’d always liked hugs, even more so when you hurt.

“Do you want to come to work with me?” he asked. “You can come lay on the couch in my office for the rest of the day.”

You didn’t even question it. “Yes, please."

He signed you out at the front desk. You got a few funny looks, probably doubts that your cramps were really bad enough that you needed the rest of the day off school, but nobody was going to question the glock on your dad's hip or the ID on his shirt.

He helped you into the car, always showing you how any future partner you have should treat you. By the time he climbed into the drivers side, you were already slumped against the door, fast asleep. A gentle smile crept over Hotch’s face as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, careful not to wake you, and then began driving to the office at Quantico.

---

“Do you need anything?” Your dad asked before he sat down at his desk.

You were curled up on the couch in his office, a warm cup of tea on the small table in front of you and a fuzzy blanket. Halfway through the drive, your dad had stopped to get your favorite food. You had your laptop out so you could relax and watch your favorite movies. Really, you had everything.

“A hug?” you requested. That was the one thing he’d never say no to. He sat beside you on the couch and pulled you into a hug- the safest feeling in the world. As he let go, he kissed your forehead and then pulled the blanket tighter around your shoulders.

You put the headphones on and turned on the movie. Your dad began his paperwork.

It was no longer a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

Omg i just read all of the angel and devil steddie au things you wrote and I AM OBSESSED! Literally you are so good at writing and I am so jealous that I’ll never experience this irl lol. Anyway thank you for making so many amazing pieces of writing!! :)

Could you write something where Eddie makes Steve watch him slowly tease and finger the reader, using his tendrils to keep Steve against the wall in a chokehold when he tries to come over and touch you? You get a bit worried, but Eddie says that he’ll let go of his grip on Steve once the reader cums a few times, so he makes the reader squirt and then Steve joins them and plays with her boobs and kisses her, then they fuck her until she’s overstimulated? Eddie’s degrading her and Steve’s praising her?

(Sorry if that didn’t make sense, also feel free to write it however you want, whatever sparks your creativity!)

Thanks! :)

a/n: oh my gooooddd I cannot tell you how hard it was not to write this into a whole, huge fic! if only I had all the time in the world...

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist | devil & angel AU masterlist 

“Come on, baby,” Steve attempted a slow exhale to calm the throbbing within his jeans, staring at you intently from his restrained spot across the room, “please cum. Do it for me. Let go so that I can come over there and have a taste, please.”

“Eddie,” you whined shakily in protest of the devil’s purposely feathery light touch over your still panty-clad cunt, tickling your throbbing clit so rudely that your whole body trembled in need of more. 

Settled comfortably behind you, the doe eyes you tilted your head to flash the creature didn’t sway him one bit as his tongue simply flickered across his smirk, “what?” a condescending chuckle rippling through him, “what is it?”

“M-more Eds, please,” you whimpered in his arms, “I wanna cum so bad.” 

“Oh yeah? You wanna cum, do you?” he taunted, not changing his teasing touch in the slightest, his stubby nails drawing slow circles over the agonisingly thin barrier covering you up, tickling the obvious wet spot to grow as he further drew your body into madness, “you wanna get off so that your precious little angel can get what he wants, huh?”

“Yes,” you nearly cried. 

“You know what I think? I think you can cum from just this,” he purred, sucking your earlobe in past his lips, “hell, I think you could even squirt for me, soak those pretty little panties and show Steve just how much you want him inside of you,” you felt like clawing up the walls from just how intense and overwhelming the lightness of his touch felt, “come on, cum for him,” he breathed, his fluttering caress steady on your mess of a trembling form, “come on, you can do it,” not even truly realising how far his teasing had pushed you, your desperate moans didn’t register in your own ears as his airy petting conjured a warm trickle to slowly darken the cotton between your quivering thighs, “there you go, honey,” he chuckled as the gush itself had flown completely over your own head, “fuck…” he suddenly gave the sodden gusset a sharp tap, the clear contrast to the previous rude butterfly that had been his touch caused your whole body to jolt and additional squirt to sputter out, your whole centre literally dripping from your juices, “such a pretty fucking mess…” 

Dazed, you peeked out of the crook of Eddie’s frame that had become your hiding spot, “c-can you let go of him now?”

His eyes briefly flickering up towards the angel enveloped in the familiar forceful and inky tentacles, his smirk then redirected to you, “if you cum for him twice in the next 5 minutes,” you felt his long fingers finally breach the waistband of your underwear, your teeth clamping down on your bottom lip as you caught sight of the vision of his hand bulging underneath the drenched cotton, “then I’ll maybe consider it.”

© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble

[scarlettsandmaroons]

midnight rain | n. romanoff

about me | series masterlist | natasha romanoff masterlist

pairing: professor!natasha romanoff x collegestudent!reader

chapter eleven | chapter twelve: it came like a postcard

chapter summary: sometimes, weather forecasts can be wrong; yours said it would be sunny yet a storm came. the same way the bestest days can take a turn for the worst. you'd never choose rain. you did it once and now you're lost. but when you are, the sun always comes. and it envelops you in its warmth. it finds you, it makes you follow it, and you're secure. you'd must always choose the sun.

warnings: angst; non-aggressive fighting, guilt.

a/n: i know it took so long, but im too busy!!! i barely have time for anything so please understand! this took so little time actually, i wrote this in class for 30 minutes, and while i do hate the way i wrote it (for some reason i could never write proper angst?) my creative juices won't allow me for more. so please bear with me. ALSO, LITERALLY ONE CHAPTER AWAY FROM THE ENDING, YAY US.

a few months ago, you attended a sophomore party around the first few days of your sophomore year. it was at the university, in the event hall which happened past midnight where none of the teachers would have known the drinking, the dancing, and the sex on each corner of the space. 

of course, natasha knew about it. she always knew everything. more so if it's something about you. you weren't supposed to go. but you and natasha had a small argument the day before the party—something about the way she so boldly touches you even when people were around. so to get your mind of it, you went; to get back at her, you didn't tell her and planned on going home drunk; and to taunt her, you wore the most absurdly revealing outfit in your dresser. 

you were expecting to go home to her waiting for you in a robe and red wine, as she usually does when you come home past midnight. but she didn't. a few shots, and some minutes of dirty dancing later, you were pulled off the dance floor but her harsh grip, and everyone stunned at the professor's actions. 

she pulled you in her office, trapped you between her and the desk, and when you thought she'd lecture you, she didn't. she dropped her forehead on your shoulder, and she bathed you in her warmth. 

she told you she loved you. that she loved you so much. that she loved you dearly, sincerely, desperately. and the next day, you woke up with flowers and a bottle of her perfume on your bed. you need not a note to know what she was implying—you can try to grind on every person you want, but they'd know. 

that's been your routine after every fight. 

flowers, and a present. 

today was undeniably one of the best days ever. granted, you and natasha had a little argument the night before, but that's what led you to the flower shop for the first time. you spent an hour smelling every plant; feeling the difference between the patterns of every petal; basking in the colors of the life the surrounds you. 

and then you rode a bike to the mall. it wasn't your bike, it was wanda's old one from when she and vision had just moved to westview. but you found it in the shed. and with the flowers you bought in its little brown basket, you went toe to toe with the massive cars driving right next to you. and somehow, you felt like you were saving the world. 

wanda, that morning, cooked you breakfast. and then she gave you ice cream in a bowl as dessert which doesn't happen at all. wanda can be a nag about health, and you often find the domesticity of having a mother nag you for eating junk very endearing, but it never hurts to have ice cream. and did you jump out in joy when she handed you a bowl. 

billy wasn't home. wanda sent him to an errand outside westview. but he left you a sweet note and a sandwich on your bedside table before he left, and before you woke up. he should be home long past 12pm though, which would give you the very opportunity to make it right with your girlfriend before he comes back. 

she wasn't here. 

she's never here when she gets into a fight with you. she cools off her head, gives you your space, then she comes back to talk. 

you assume that's how she'd always been, even with wanda given that she did use to live away from her family that you assume is because of a blowout. you never asked. and you knew she didn't want you to.

you bought her flowers and a scented candle that smelled like your favorite perfume. something that she can put in the office that's been home to too much of your sins, and overflowing with so much of your love. 

the sun was out, and for the first time, it didn't seem to burn. it was just... warm. no chance of rain, said the weather forecast. 

but of course, sometimes, they're wrong. 

"do you know i cheated on natasha with vision?" 

and it rained. 

"sorry, what?" 

the moment you closed the door behind you, and right after wanda called for you in the kitchen, it poured. harsh, angry rain. 

"it was over a year ago," wanda clarifies. "natasha was getting too busy with work, and vision happens to drop by." 

"wanda, i don't—"

"and i slept with him." 

you stiffed. your chest tightened, and the grip you had on the bouquet you couldn't be bothered to hide behind you became strained.

you weren't sure why wanda was telling you. neither did you want her to. but suddenly you feel for natasha. like that very thing wanda did was enough to justify and save natasha from every argument, every fight, every bad thing between you two. 

"wanda, i really don't know why you're telling me this," you whisper, voice shaking, resisting. "i think it's none of my business." 

you didn't know what to do, what to feel. wanda cheated on natasha. and natasha is cheating right back. should it be called even? you couldn't say. the anger of knowing what natasha had to go through, vs wanda... your mother. sweet sweet wanda. you justified wanda in your heart. 

she was standing behind the kitchen island, looking at the yard over the floor to ceiling windows. and then she turns to you, pauses when she sees the flowers and paper bag in your hands. 

she smiles, tiredly. "is that for her?" 

you didn't have to be asked twice. your mind didn't scramble for an excuse either. surprisingly, no "for who?" or "it's for billy". just silence. 

she looks at you. 

she knew. 

her eyes stayed the exact same green shade as they were earlier. or yesterday. or the many days before that. there was nothing different. she looked the same. but she knew. 

you'd already betrayed her, you couldn't lie to her. and your mind didn't allow you to even dig through your raging thoughts for an apology. 

and she beats you to it. "i'm sorry," she tells you; her voice raspy, coated in what pain you could feel her hide. 

all thoughts left your body. and you weren't sure why it was only now that guilt surged through your every vein, every muscle. 

you might have not chosen natasha, but a part of you knew that she would choose you. that she would always choose you. and somehow, that was able to keep you in your bubble. to spare you the guilt. to keep you safe. knowing that while you would choose wanda, that you would do what's right; she wouldn't. she would choose you. even if it's wrong. and that makes the weight of your sin much much lighter. 

"wanda i—" she gave you the chance. she stayed silent. she waited, she hoped, she looked at you with eager eyes. but you couldn't say anything. you didn't say anything. 

she walked closer to you. you could tell her knees were weak, barely carrying the weight of her body. then she smiled, a sad comforting smile. like when she told you what she'd done to your mother. like when she offered you a way out. 

you yelled in your mind. screamed. the voice begged to be ousted; 

don't touch me. 

don't touch me, wanda. 

please, it's my fault. 

don't smile at me. 

slap me. curse me. swear at me. 

throw me away.

force me to go. 

don't... 

please don't be nice. 

please don't smile. 

please... 

don't make it harder for me...

you stayed silent. 

something about the way her eyes sparkled with threatening tears made you feel a sense of home and longing. like the feeling you get when you know you'd have to travel the next day so you clean your home, and enjoy the few hours you have in your room. and you feel at peace. the dread, the excitement, and the longing. you feel everything all at once. 

"i'm sorry," she tells you again. raising her visibly shaking hand to caress your cheek. you didn't know what to do. you froze. "i was supposed to protect you, i was supposed to be your mother," her voice decreased to a whisper. but you still heard the way it cracked. the way it got stuck in her throat. "it's all my fault." 

and your heart broke. your heart broke for her. your heart broke for the crying eyes staring into you—the same ones the would shine when seeing her wife, or would sparkle when billy gives her a hug. your heart broke for the hurting mother. for your hurting mother. for the mother you hurt. 

"wanda, it's not...," you whisper.

she stuttered for words. avoiding your eyes, struggling to keep her composure, "i really love her," she cries. "and i needed her. and she wasn't here. and i was desperate."

she was defending herself for a crime she didn't commit. you're supposed to be the one justifying. you're supposed to be the one crying—looking at her with grieving eyes. 

but how could you? what could you say? 

i didn't love her, wanda. but i would long for her touch, crave for her lips, burn for her warmth the same way i long for air, and crave for love, and burn for every bit of earth that falls on my skin.  

i didn't love her, wanda. but when i go to heaven, and god tells me that this very sin is what would send me to hell, i'll tell him how ironic it was to have the only heaven i'd ever known be what would send me to burn down in hell. 

i didn't love her, wanda. 

but i did. 

oh how i did. 

"i'm sorry....," you finally say. you finally gathered the courage, the words, the thoughts to apologize. may it be the wrong ones, for the wrong person, but you were sorry for tolerating natasha. you were sorry for the indulgence. you were sorry for granting yourself the heaven when you were only meant to stay on earth. 

you were sorry for natasha. for everything that you did. but not for loving her. never for loving her. 

"no, darling i...," how could she call me that? "it's my fault. i should've—i should've known. i should've realized. you should have never been in that situation if i—"

"wanda what are you—"

"she wouldn't have used you."

she wouldn't have used you. 

she wouldn't have used you. 

she wouldn't have used you. 

she wouldn't have used you. 

but she loved me...

"at least it—it wouldn't have...," she choked. "it wouldn't have gotten this far, i—" 

she told me she loved me. she whispered it to me in bed, she wrote it to me in class, she moaned it in my ear. she loved me. 

"you were a kid, i—"

she wasn't looking at you. she was avoiding your eyes, guilt surging through her body, and pain glinting her eyes. she was shaken up, she was confused. and you... you were lost. 

"i married a beautiful woman. she is kind, she is thoughtful, she is caring," and she loved her deeply. you could hear it from her voice. and see it with the way a smile crept her face through her tears. the thought of her alone is enough to put her in a trance, in her own little bubble. 

and then the bubble pops. and she looks back at you, unaware that she'd been looking away. "i...," she searches for words, looking in your soul; holding it, hugging it through the windows of your eyes. "i didn't think she'd be the kind to... take advantage of a child so she could get back at me." 

i didnt think she'd be the kind to take advantage of a child so she could get back at me.

i didn't think she'd be the kind to take advantage of a child so she could get back at me.

i didn't think she'd be the kind to take advantage of a child so she could get back at me.

suddenly the memory of her touch burns your skin. the memory of her kisses slices you. the memory of her, and everyday of the past year, and you, and the both of you—suddenly, everything was hell. and you were on fire. 

your ear rings. 

she used you.

she loved me. 

she was using you for revenge.

she loved me. 

she took advantage of you. 

she loved me. 

she pretended. 

she asked me to run away. she loved me.

she's taking it too far. 

she told me she loved me. 

did she really?

no. 

"she loved me," you resisted her touch. you moved away from her. you insisted, you screamed, you cried. "she loved me wanda." 

you saw pain through the wrinkles on her face. you saw pain for the family she's losing, and pity for the daughter she'd come to love as her own. she grieved for her family. and mourned for your innocence in your place. 

you saw it overtake her—the broken woman whose family's at loss overtake the sweet mother who'd cared for you for over a year. and more as a child. you saw it glint her eyes, the change from pity to anger. 

"she loved me...," you cried, dropping to the floor. 

you knew she was torn. should it be pity that you loved her wife, or anger that you loved her wife. she was fighting in her head. you can see the way she defended you in her own mind. you were just a kid that her wife took advantage of. but also, you were the stain in the family that she's been trying to fix.  

you didn't know which one won, which side of her. the subtle cruelty of the way she dropped an envelope on the floor to your knees, and the love that it was to crouch to your level and look at you. 

"you're breaking my family...," she told you. "i can't let you do that anymore." 

you wonder which wanda your talking to. while her words were thorned, her voice was coated with the love of a mother. 

"this is enough to get your mother out of the hospital, and last you until you graduate."

she had kept a distance between you two, especially when she stood up. she's calmer now as if she'd already decided. 

"for what it's worth...," she trailed off. "i wish you never had to hurt billy."

the fight is over. you were the kid who her wife took advantage of, and let it happen. you were the woman who betrayed her son. and she hates you. like a mother who hates her child: forever.

just like that, you were out of the house you'd called your home for the last year, and under the blazing storm. you were lost. 

"y/n!" 

until your beacon shines again. 

"oh my lord, what are you doing outside!" 

billy runs over you from his car with an umbrella. he hadn't heard. but he takes you in his arms, and wraps you around his coat. "i left early," he whispers. "what happened?"

you were lost. you always had been. but billy always found you. and you always followed him. you were lost as a child, and followed billy to his home. you were lost after graduation, and followed him to university. you're lost now. and you knew you'd chosen well. because he always found you. 

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

ari i’m curious do u have kenny hcs

RIKO U HAVE NO IDEA THE MONSTER UVE UNLEASHED.....

i do have some kenny hcs <333 take a seat here's a snack we’re gonna be here for a while 🧁🧃 (THANK YOU FOR INDULGING ME <3 this man genuinely makes me feel ill im sooo delusional abt him)

okok so first of all; general hcs !!

he likes art!! loves art!! this one is canon to me i just think he is so interested in any and all of humanity’s creative outlets and ofc art is the most prominent one. he loves all different forms of art — from sculptures to paintings to writing to video games (HEAVY on the latter btw i think he's so entranced by new technology) and so on.

and on that note!! i think he paints and writes himself :3 hes been alive for so long, learned so many languages, there's no way he didn't have time to pick up a paint brush. i think he paints to release stress!! and his styles vary but there's something mildly macabre abt all of his pieces. tends to gravitate towards expressionism above all else, especially the abstract kind.

i also feel like he sincerely enjoys ”bad” art like low budget movies and modern romance fiction and goofy video games…… he just thinks they're fun. def gets a good laugh out of them (this man canonically had a whole comedy phase he just wants to have fun!!)

and and and!! this is self indulgent as hell but i also think he cooks. there's just so much to learn when it comes to different cultures and their cuisine and i think they all interest him. but i hesitate to say that he's a good cook bc i feel like he’d make really weird fucked up food combinations just for the hell of it…. he's a freak. 100% the type to mix orange juice w black coffee just to see how it tastes.

i also hc that he has a soft spot for children, seeing as he literally carried and birthed one of his own LMAO... i just think he admires the innocence of childhood !! that childish and simple hope that adults tend to lose. he's very good w them too!! gentle and patient. and in geto’s body he has the softest nicest voice so i feel like kids gravitate towards him (i'm just thinking abt that One scene where he blows bubbles at a playground and all the kids chase them… they love him i just know he's a regular at that park)

OH AND……. idk if i’d call this a hc exactly but i just wanna see kenny in more feminine clothing. he literally has All the genders i don't think for a second that he cares abt gender norms. one moment he's in that tacky middle aged divorced father core hawaiian tshirt (he's so Me), the next he's wearing a purple floral dress or a puffy turtleneck <33 i just think he could pull anything off.

NOW FOR THE GOOD STUFF……. relationship hcs <33333 hes a whole red flag but hes also my silly pookie bear just trust me on this

FIRST OF ALL he's huge on quality time. if he's in a relationship w u then that means he sincerely enjoys ur company and therefore has a tendency to just bring u with him wherever he goes. otherwise he gets bored and starts whining abt it (silly silly man) hes a lonely guy ok </3 i feel like he gets very sudden urges to explore new places / do new things and he’ll make sure you’re right there w him !! you’ll wake up in his arms only to find you're in a snowy forest or some shit and he just WILL not tell u where he's taken u bc its ”a surprise ^_^” LMAOO

he also takes on a teaching role in the relationship and i think that's where hes happiest !! gets a kick out of it but it's also kind of special to him. especially if you haven't seen much of the world, or if you're just a naturally curious person — preferably both. he just enjoys teaching you new things, leading you towards new sights, drinking in your expressions and reactions. it's precious to him. something to cherish.

ON THAT NOTE i think he has this unquenchable curiosity that gets temporarily sated when he tries to like . Dissect you. see inside your mind. it's like hes solving a puzzle that never runs out of pieces. hear me out riko but i see him as somewhat similar to makima, he's detached and has trouble connecting w people and handles you almost like a math equation….. but since he unlike makima is a human being, i think he still has the capacity to grow to care for you and treat you like an equal (or something close to an equal). he genuinely does love you, but he's rusty. kenjaku just wants to know all there is to know about you — every single thing. he’d dig into your brain if he could, but he’ll settle on just brewing you tea, listening to you speak about your fears, hoping it’ll give him the same insight.

he's a little possessive . kind of a Lot. idk i just think he feels a pang of jealousy when he sees u laugh and have fun w someone else (he's like a preschooler getting pouty bc his bestie is playing w someone else LOL) and that makes him Uncomfortable so he just waltzes in and steals u away w a smooth smile and a hand on ur waist. pretends like it doesn't bother him in the slightest but if u tease him too much he drops the smile and gives u a Look (it's scary as hell so u immediately shut up LMAOO) and god forbid someone else is like… teaching u something… a subject they're knowledgeable abt while u sit there listening happily to their rambling……..... ohhh he gets so jealous it's funny. researches that particular subject in frightening detail JUST so he can correct your little friend and teach u abt it himself <33 weirdo. freak.

also (this is extremely important to understanding kenny's character) he's both mother coded and father coded but in the worst possible ways.

he's mother coded in the sense that he's a smidge controlling, good at coaxing you into doing things outside your comfort zone, an expert at making you feel guilty by acting especially sweet and gentle, has the ability to make you cry w one disappointed look etc etc

and he's father coded in the sense that he's easily offended but pretends not to be, wants to see you succeed so bad that it's almost more for him than you, forces you to have really deep onesided philosophical talks at 2am when you just want to sleep, sucks at voicing his love for you out loud so he just buys a bag of your favorite fruit, cuts them into slices and calls it a day. etc etc. he's awful actually. i need him

but !!! as for more soft hcs i think he's honestly an affectionate guy deep down… like deep deep down but it's there. he just likes having u close. preferably touching him. not constantly bc that’ll annoy him but he wants you to stay near so he can pull u into his lap whenever. loves reading to u while u rest ur head on his thigh, playing w ur hair and lulling u softly to sleep <3333 (it's the geto kinnie in him) AND idk why this came into my mind but i think he likes nose kisses. just bc ur face scrunches up and he thinks it's cute. he can be sweet !! probably.

OHHH AND he loves playing board games w u <33 everything from chess to monopoly. he thinks it's fun + a good bonding activity but it's only fun in the beginning. he's condescending if u lose and petty if u win but he’ll still ask u to stay up w him all night just so u can finish the game (he's insufferable actually) if u decline he’ll huff and play by himself while shooting u petty glares until u feel bad and join him. then he's back to being all suave and calm and mature ohhhh i hate him

he wants to be the mature stoic indulgent person in the relationship sooooo fucking bad but he’s plagued by silly impulses day and night. he’s just good at hiding it. but deep down he is and always will be a silly nerd <33

and finally; i think that in a no curses au he's significantly less of a freak but still weird and obsessive and a lil mean. bullies u just a tinyyy bit and acts condescendingly sweet but he cares for u a whole bunch. probably struggles w showing it in a way that isn't too overbearing or mildly alarming… maybe through writing. poems and paintings of u… sculptures…. just wants to portray the beauty he sees in u (can u tell artist!kenny makes me go a little crazy)

overall hes a weirdo hes a freak (def wants u to kiss his brain just to see how it feels) and he may or may not be a bundle of red flags but i love him dearly <333 hes a silly goose. i want to study him in a lab

[readychilledwine]

Hi girl!! I don't know how to say this, but I love your writing and your sooo creative. I just wanted to say, im giving birth in a couple of weeks and it just hit me that I'm going to have a KID, LIKE WTH??? I did my research so there's nothing to worry about and I'm financially stable, its just, WEIRD??? I'm going to pop a baby out??please give some advice bc my hubby seems really cool about it and I'm just WHAT??😭

Trigger warnings- baby, mom life, and labor talk. Super long post 💕

✨️Congratulations to both of you and welcome to the hot moms club✨️

I went through an induction that turned into an emergency c section, so keep that in mind when reading my advice since I am not sure what form of labor you are opting for.

During Labor/Your hospital stay:

Bring a comfort idea to the hospital for before "active" labor and after. I brought my own pillow, and that made a world of difference. It was nice having something so familiar afterwards.

Don't eat anything you don't want to risk coming back up. Some hospitals will allow you to eat. Try to stick to the ice, juice, jello, or pudding. Italian shaved ice was also an option for me. And do bring snackies for after. You deserve it.

Don't panic if your birth plan does not turn out to be how birthing goes. I had planned on natural labor, no pain medication. I went in to be induced at 9pm December 13, by 2am I was in a lot of pain, by 7am I had an epidural.

Not to scare you, but the epidural can cause a few different reactions. Don't let that stop you from getting it. You HAVE to allow yourself to be as comfortable as possible, and your birth team will handle whatever curves are thrown their way.

If you are physically able to, do golden hour. In case it is called something different for you, golden hour is a full hour where the nursing staff leaves you and baby alone for skin to skin and nursing time. Tell your man I'm sorry, but he can wait. That hour is essential for building breastmilk supply if you're going to be EBF or EP. He can have baby after.

And let him have baby after. Daddy needs his own hour where baby is getting skin to skin with him.

It's going to be hard, but try not be mad if baby daddy sleeps after labor. He's going to have spent the last how ever long you were in labor in a heightened state of fight or flight because the woman he loves is in pain and there is nothing he can do for you. It's painful and all the exhausting for us. It's mentally and emotionally exhausting for them.

Do not (under any circumstances) let them force you into handling feedings one way or the other. Fed is best. Period.

Do not allow them to force you to have a nurse who makes you uncomfortable in any way. I know it's hard, but if a nurse is making you feel like you aren't doing enough, aren't listening to them, are making a wrong choice, ASK FOR A NEW NURSE. They should be supporting you.

If you're at a hospital where mom and baby sleep in one room, don't hesitate to say yes if a nurse asks if you want baby to go to nursery for a little bit. You both will need sleep. You deserve sleep. That nap will be precious. Trust me.

For home:

During bathing, try a swaddle method. It uses two towels, but it helps baby feel safe and secure. Here's a little link to an article about them

Take. Time. With. No. Visitors. You and baby daddy deserve time to adapt to your LO. It's a totally different ball game. We had 2 weeks alone. 2 weeks with just our parents. 2 weeks with our siblings. Then we opened the house to visitors who messaged us first.

Establish boundaries from jump. I made a post about on SM with a picture of our boundaries. Baby daddy enforced it.

Enjoy those 2am cuddles. They go away so fast 🥺

If you do not mentally feel okay, tell people you trust. Immediately. PPD/PPA can quickly become postpartum psychosis when left untreated.

Remember you're gorgeous. Even if you don't feel that way. You literally grew a human. It is the most selfless thing you could do for your family, and in my opinion, the closest thing to magic.

Remember to be kind to yourself and baby daddy. You're both learning. It's hard. So hard.

Never feel guilty for a few minutes of screen time. Sophia gets about 30 minutes a week spread out throughout the week. Ms. Rachel is a great help.

From my baby daddy to yours

Get her the food she's been craving that she "can't have" which also meant you couldn't have it for her first post labor meal. Lizzy wanted sushi. Baby momma got her sushi.

Take pictures of her with your kid. Constantly without her knowing. Those pictures will get you through the work day.

Get up with her at night. We helped make the baby. We help with the baby.

No yelling. No fighting. I said one thing to Lizzy I regret deeply, and I don't know if she's genuinely forgiven me for it. This is hard on your baby momma. If she needs to vent. Let her. Don't fight her. Just get her down for a nap, man. That's all you can do sometimes.

Never tell her to sleep when the munchkin sleeps. That statement is the most unhelpful thing anyone said to Lizzy. Tell her instead to lay down and try to get some sleep, and you will listen for crying. She needs the comfort of knowing someone else is there.

Don't allow anyone to shame her for anything. I learned I will throw hands over someone shaming Lizzy. Luckily, it was with my brother. We're good now.

Make sure she gets to shower every day.

Love her. Love her and look out for any signs of her not being okay. Lizzy's was staring off into nothing and crying way too much.

Make sure you schedule time for both of you to get away and let her enjoy said time.

Skin to skin. Daily.

Lastly, get her a pump if she's breastfeeding. Trust me. It will help build supply, and it allows you to feed the little one.

If you two need ANYTHING, message me. I don't have all the answers, but I might have advice. 💕

Here's a few products we love for Sophia, too. Some of them are pricy. We apologize.

Dreamland weighted Swaddle

Diaper cream spatula

Calmoseptine Ointment

Bums and Roses - softest pj's ever and you can get matching ones.

Momcozy nail file

Lizzy's favorite stationary pump*

Lizzys favorite on the go/work pump*

The bottles baby daddy uses to feed Sophia sometimes

*check to see if insurance will help*

Overall, just enjoy your time together and your sweet little baby.💕💕

Ps- thank you for the compliments! I was so excited to give advice I almost brushed over them 🥺

[bbgem329]

Things Are Never As They Seem—Chapter Twenty

Pairings—Sebastian Stan x Actess!Reader, Sebastian Stan x OFC (PR relationship)

Summary

You and Sebastian Stan have been dating privately for over two years. Everything is perfect until he is coerced into a PR relationship when he signed with a new agency to advance his career. Trouble ensues…

Warnings

MINORS DNI. 18+++. Language. Smut. PIV sex. Soft!Seb. Long-distance relationships. Dark side of Hollywood. Snobby rich girls. Fluff. Angst. Mentions of drugs and overdose. PR relationships. Did I miss anything?

Notes

The creative juices are flowing. I definitely didn’t expect to have another chapter up tonight but here we are! Thanks for the support and love! Readers, you see the reason I keep doing what I do.

Series Masterlist

—————

March 25, 2020

“Baby.”

Your eyes fluttered, fighting sleep, at the sound of your name being called. The soft voice, so familiar–so warm.

You let out a long sigh and rolled over, burrowing yourself deeper in the bed, half there, half not.

Your name again followed by a gentle touch to your face, your hair, your back.

“Sweetheart.” You knew that voice, “Come on, let me see those gorgeous eyes.”

You shot up, tossing the covers off as fast you could before throwing yourself at the man standing beside the bed. He was ready for you, because of course he was, and caught you effortlessly, hosting your legs around his waist with a boisterous laugh.

“You’re here.” Your voice was muffled against the skin on his neck, “How?” You pulled back just slightly when he tugged at the hair at the nape of your neck, just in time for him to dip down and press a quick soft kiss to your lips, “Why do you never tell me when you’re coming home?”

Sebastian just laughed, stealing another quick kiss, “I love surprising you.”

“But…” You tried to hide your smile with a pout, “What if I wanted to pick you up from the airport?”

“Babe.” Sebastian glanced over your shoulder, “I’m not going to let you pick me up from the airport at two in the morning.”

“Well, maybe if you took a later flight-”

“Why are we even talking about this right now?” He chuckled, “I hopped on the first flight once we’d finished filming. Aren’t you happy to see me?”

“Of course-”

“Then you should be naked and beneath me in this big comfy bed.”

You didn’t even have time to react before you found yourself on your back, watching the ceiling fan turn slowly above you. It didn’t keep your attention long. Not even a second later and your shirtless boyfriend was crawling up your body with a dopey smile.

You had so many questions–How did you get in? Where was Bentley? Was the flight okay? But all of that could wait. You wanted to be right here, in the right now.

You lifted yourself up on your elbows, one hand reaching out to run along his chest and shoulders. “You lost so much weight.”

His face fell for half a second and then he shook it off, plastering on that half smile. It happened so fast, if you hadn’t known him like you did then you would’ve missed it. You knew how hard it was over the past few months, to see his body change. He worked so hard to gain the muscle and strength he’d had before, you couldn’t even begin to imagine how hard it was for him to lose it. He’s always been very open about his body dysmorphia and insecurities, especially with you.

And the fact he was giving it all up–putting it aside for a role–that… that was true dedication.

He was so beautiful, inside and out.

You wanted–needed him to know that no matter the shape and size, you’d love him regardless.

“You look good, Sebastian.” You wrapped your arms over his shoulders and your legs around his waist before you pulled him down on top of you. “Do you know how beautiful you are? How with just one look–one thought of this beautiful body of yours, has me melting into a literal puddle?”

He looked down at you with dark, hungry eyes, his plump bottom lip rolling between his teeth. You were sure he didn’t believe you. You understood that. He could tell you a million times every day for the rest of your lives that you were the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on and you still wouldn’t believe him.

Words were words. People could tell you anything these days and not mean it.

Yeah, he might not believe that you mean it with words, so you’d just have to show him instead.

Your fingers trailed up his neck, burrowing deep and tangling in the thick, tousled hair at the nape of his neck. You tugged him down, forcing him closer, his lips just barely brushing against yours.

“You don’t believe me?”

He shook his head lightly, his dark blue gaze avoiding yours as the hand not holding himself over you trailed down your side and up your left thigh.

“Feel me.” You flexed your hips up as you tighten your legs around his waist, “Feel what you do to me.”

He let out a soft groan, eyes squeezed shut as his hips involuntary bucked forward, grinding himself against the growing damp patch in your thin gray panties.

“There’s no denying that.” You were struggling to keep your eyes open as your lips skimmed along his jaw and your fingers dug into his bare back, “Do you feel what you do to me? How wet I am for you?”

He called your name, sounding pained, “You’re so wet.”

“That’s what you do to me.” You were breathless, practically gasping for air. “You are the only one that can turn me on with just one look. It doesn’t take much as long as you're near my body just,” You moaned softly as his hips rolled perfectly against yours, “lights up. Always ready to go.”

“I need you.” With a groan he pulled back, leaving just enough space to whip his old t-shirt over your head and then he was on you again, pushing you further back into the bed with his weight. “I need to feel you.”

“Please.” Your hands trailed over his shoulders and down his back, fingers pulling at the band of his boxer briefs. “Sebastian.”

You wanted them off, you wanted to feel him against, on you, inside of you.

He connected your lips in a desperate kiss lifting his own hips enough to pull your panties effortlessly down your leg, followed quickly by his own.

“I missed you so much.” He mumbled against your lips, fitting himself back between your legs and spreading you wider.

You broke the kiss, head tipped back with a loud moan when finally he jutted his hips forward, the round tip of his cock brushing over your soaked slit. You dug your nails harder into his back, clinging tightly to him with a soft cry as he rocked himself over you, wetting himself with your slick.

“Sebastian.” You could cry–you would if he didn’t get inside of you in the next three seconds. “Please. Don’t tease me. It’s been so long.”

A resounding chuckle was the only response you got as he continued teasing you with the tip–notching himself at your entrance, hardly pushing in before pulling out altogether to rub against your clit.

Your body was practically shaking with need.

It had been months–three, to be exact, and you were so wound up, there was no doubt in your mind you were going to combust the moment he got inside of you.

Not with this teasing–this build up.

“God.” Your legs trembled around his waist as he found rhythm, his hard cock thrusting perfectly though your slit, bumping your sensitive little bud with each deliberate rock of his hips. “You’re gonna make me cum. I fucking love when you do this.”

“I know.” He sounded out of breath, like he was struggling to hang on as he kissed and sucked at the skin along your throat and collarbones. “I had this whole plan–was going to eat you and then fuck you nice and slow.” He chuckled, his breath hot against your neck, “But I can’t bring myself to move. I need my body on yours just like this—needed to kiss your lips and feel your heart racing against my chest.”

“Sebastian.”

The build up in your belly was growing, swirling deep and tingling just below your naval. You were almost there, so damn close.

“I’m trying to be so good.” He gritted out, teeth sinking lightly into your shoulder, “I’m trying to get you off first before I fucking snap and absolutely rail you into this matress.”

And there it was.

One more deliberate grind of his hips and a harsher bite to the skin below your ear and you were falling right over the edge.

No.

Not falling, but careening, over the edge and into bliss.

You threw your head back with a loud cry, vision tunneling in and out as your body trembled with nothing but pure pleasure.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous. Gotta feel this.”

Your gasps were simultaneous as he notched himself at your entrance and pushed in with drawn out thrust. Your body reacted immediately, tightening around him in pulses.

“Fuck.” He groaned, head dropping to your shoulder, his own body trembling with restraint. “Fuck. I almost forgot how good you feel.”

You loved this part.

The part where he lost himself completely in your body–accumulated himself with everything that is you after so much time away.

“You’re…oh my fucking God!” He was quick to find a rhythm, hips rolling steadily, cock sliding all the way to the hilt and then all the way out with each and every thrust. He was holding himself back, trying to keep his cool. “You feel so, so good. Could live in this pussy forever. Fuck.”

“Sebastian.” You breathed out, “Faster.”

He needed to let go. To give into the pleasure and lose himself.

“Harder.” You gasped out, nails digging into his shoulders. He drew back, changed the angle and shoved forward again.”Oh..Oh. There.” You nearly sobbed when he tilted his hips forward as he thrust in, the trimmed curls at the base of his cock brushing perfectly against your clit, sending sparks of pleasure bursting through your already wired body. “Oh. Right there. Please.”

“Please tell me you’re almost there.” He sounded absolutely wrecked and when he lifted his head from the crook of your neck you found that he looked absolutely wrecked too. His hair was a mess, sticking up in every direction from all your tugging, his pupils were blown wide making his like darker than ever before, and his face was completely flushed.

Gorgeous.

Always.

He called your name, and it almost sounded like a whine.

“Baby.” He gasped out, “I need you to be there.”

“I’m almost there.” You yanked him closer, your own hips lifting to meet him thrust for thrust, “Just keep going exactly as you are. Feel so good.”

Sebastian dipped his head down, connecting your lips in a hard kiss, tongue darting along your lips until you opened up from him, allowing it to slip in and tangle with your own. All you could do was hold on tight, arms wrapped around his beck, legs around his waist as he picked up the pace, cocking pistoning in and out of your pulsing hole. The build up in your belly had returned at full force, every thrust and grind pulling the coil tighter and tighter.

All that could be heard throughout the room was the sound of skin slapping loudly–obscenly throughout the mostly quiet room and your breathless moans and groans shared between your open mouths.

You find your mind wandering, picturing what the two of you looked like in this very moment if someone where to look in—Sebastian’s strong body covering yours completely, the low sway of his hips as he fucked you harshly into the matress, your legs wrapped over his hips, ankles locked over his ass, and your hands trailing up and down his toned back, nails biting into his skin and leaving a mark.

The image alone paired with the sounds echoing throughout the quiet and dimly lit room was enough to send you over the edge.

“Yes. Yes. There we go.” Sebastian gasped into your open mouth, pulling away to drop his head to your chest, mouthing at one of your breasts as his hips picked up speed. “Fuck it feels so fucking good when you come on my cock. God. I’m gonna cum. Gonna cum inside you, baby.” He thrust harder, deeper, body beginning to tremble, “It’s been so long. Need to fill you up.”

“Oh, God.” You cried out, body shaking and pulsing with the aftershocks of your drawn out orgasm, “Fill me up, Seb. Please.”

A call of your name and he collapsed on top of you, thrusting his cock as deep as possible before letting go, painting your walls with his spend. “Fuck. Fuck, I love you so much.” He rocked his hips forward lightly, milking his pleasure completely, “I fucking missed you. Needed you so much.”

“I love you.” You were practically floating, body buzzing contently, “I missed you so much.”

You didn’t think you’d ever felt this good–this comfortable in your life.

If it were up to you, you’d never leave this bed. You’d stay right here, with him just like this.

“I’m so happy to be here.” It was as if he read your mind. You couldn’t help the smile that grew across your face when he shifted his weight slightly to one side and nuzzled your bare breast, “I missed my pillows.”

You scoffed to hide your laugh, smacking lightly at his shoulder, “You’re a pig.”

“But I’m your pig.”

You laughed, your body shaking his own. You wrapped your arms back around his shoulders, giving him a squeeze, “You’re my pig, Sebastian Stan.”

“Damn straight.”

“You know, I fucking hate surprises,” You sighed, fingers lifting to comb through Sebastian’s hair. “But in this case it’s okay. I don’t know how you always manage to get me but…” You leaned forward, kissing the top of his head, “Best surprise ever.”

“I knew you would like it.” You could feel his grin against your breast, “And I do it because I like your reaction and it makes our reunions all the sweeter.”

“You’re such a softy.” He tilted his head up to look at you just in time to see your beaming smile, “Who knew?”

He leaned up slightly to peck your lips, “Only for you.”

You stole a few more soft kisses before settling back, this time with the covers pulled over the pair of you and the bedside lamp off for the night.

And for the first time in months, you slept perfectly content though the rest of the night.

—————

You stirred to a phone ringing loudly throughout the room.

“Turn that off.” A grumpy mumble came from behind you. “So fucking loud.”

When you moved, half awake, to grab your phone from the side table next to the bed, your lovers arms tightened around you, pulling you back with a groan.

“Sebastian.” You chided softly, wiggling out of his grip, “Let me just turn it off.”

You managed to snatch it between the tips of your fingers and nestled back into his awaiting arms, his warm body pressing into you from behind, his limbs wrapping you in a cuddle cocoon.

“It’s your publicit.” Your brows furrowed as you swiped to answer the call and putting it on speaker.

“Hello?”

“Hey, sorry to bother you. It’ll only be a second.” A sigh, “I’m assuming Seb is with you?”

“Affirmative.” He responded, tone short.

You nudged into him with a pointed look.

He rolled his eyes playfully, “What’s up, Elaine?”

“I’m sorry, Seb. I know it's… early.” You could practically hear the grimace on her face, “I just wanted to let you know that Catalina threw an absolute fit over the birthday post you made for Jessica Chastin yesterday and is demanding something be done.”

You didn’t miss the way his body tensed against your own and the sigh that left him was practically felt in his soul. The way he reacted, to literally anything and everything she did, be it bad or good, made you hate her.

Hate was a strong word, you were aware, but who could blame you?

This rich, little spoiled girl had forced herself into your lives by essentially renting your boyfriend and controlling his every movement–his entire life.

“I know.” Elaine sighed again, “I’m so tired of making these calls. We will handle it. I just need your permission to log into your account and comment on a picture she just posted. I know it’s not ideal but it keeps her happy and that's all we can try to do at the moment. She’s not been very happy or cooperative lately.”

“Whatever.”

You tried to steal a peak at him over you shoulder but he pressed himself closer, burying his face in your hair.

“Thank you.” Elaine responded and you could tell from her tone alone how sorry she was. And how fed up too. “I’ll try to leave you be for the next few days at least. And Sebastian, I hate to tell you this but maybe you should reconsider posting for other… female friends birthday-”

“Not gonna happen.” He interjected, tone final and harsh. “I won’t let her control my life, Elaine. I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be sorry.” She sighed again, sounding more resigned. “You’re right. Forget I mentioned it. You guys have a great day and just call if you need anything.”

With that she hung up.

And Sebastian shoved his head into your back, face pressed between your shoulder blade and let out a loud groan.

“Sebastian.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Before you could argue, your phone rang again.

You laughed a little, wiggling away from him as his grip tightened on you again, “Saved by the bell.”

“You don’t need to answer it.” He whined, arms banding around your middle, drawing you back against his chest, “You can turn it off and we can hide from the world.”

Your smile dimmed a little when you took in the familiar number lit across your screen.

The hospital. In New York.

You knew what that meant and you were surprised your heart didn’t pick up like it usually did when they called.

Sebastian called your name, a warning. He knew damn well who–or more like, what it was too.

Just as you moved to answer it Sebastian snatched it from between your fingers and answered it himself.

“Hello?”

You watched his expression closely, more than a little relief that this burden has been lifted from your shoulders.

“Yeah, she’s here.” He momentarily held the phone to your ear and you did as you were told before he brought it back to his own. “Just say this is she.”

You didn’t know what to do with yourself, you wanted to sit close to him but you didn’t want to risk hearing what was being said on the other line. You hadn’t realized how much you didn’t want to be part of this–didn’t want to deal with until Sebastian had made the choice for you and took upon himself just now.

How many times had you received this same call in the past decade?

You didn’t even know. Definitely couldn’t count on both hands.

No child should have to do this for their parent, no matter how old.

Sebastian touched your face, drawing your attention onto him and your heart clenched painfully in your chest at the soft look he gave you and the way he intertwined his fingers with yours, thumb brushing soothingly over the back of your hand.

Today, in this moment, he was your strength. He knew exactly what you needed without even having to ask.

“And is there anything we need to do?”

A pause.

“You have our permission to do what is necessary moving forward.”

You caught his eye again and tried to muster a smile.

“Okay, thank you.” He nodded to himself, “You too. Bye.”

He hung out and then he did what should’ve been done first thing last night, he powered off your phone and tossed it on the nightstand on his side of the bed.

“He OD didn’t he?”

You appreciated that he didn’t look at you or treat you like you would break. He knows well enough now that it doesn’t hurt like it used to, you’d spent a lot of time in the past six or seven months working through the trauma that is your father in therapy. You’d somehow managed to distance and disconnect yourself emotionally from him and his terrible choices.

He is sick.

It has nothing to do with you.

You just have to accept that you’re healthier than him.

You’re better off without him in your life.

You have people around you who willingly fill that void with love on a daily basis.

You are not your parent.

Before you could blink you found yourself wrapped in Sebastian’s embrace, tucked safely into the same position but this time you were facing each other. You let out a soft sigh as he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead and then carefully tucked a strand of hair behind your ears, “Yeah, he did but he’s alive. He is stable.”

You closed your eyes, inhaling sharply.

You waited for the tears. For the resounding ache in your chest.

But it didn’t come.

And for that you were relieved.

“Thank you.”

You felt him relax and his hold on you tighten, pulling you harder against him–nestled perfectly in his arms. “You’re welcome, beautiful girl.” He paused, nose pressed to the top of your head, “Do you want to talk about it?”

You raised an eyebrow, “Do you?”

He shook his head, pressing his lips to your forehead again.

“Can we just ignore the outside world,” You asked softly, “at least for a little while?”

He chuckled lightly, “Of course, sweetheart. Anything you want.”

—————

TagList

@justlovelifeblog @inlovewith3 @buckybarnesandmarvel @sleutherclaw @snugglingbucky @perlaluna @littlewhiterose

@idontwannagomrstarkk @abihaaa14 @eclecticpatrolroadlawyer @sebsgirl71479 @getofffmydick @eccentricnos @barnesml @aira1995 @sweetwritingfanficfriend @dhoruwolfie

[traegorn]

I need to stop doing this to myself.

(A Rant Where Trae Has Written Too Many Books This Month)

So since most of you started following me because of Witchcraft or podcast stuff, I realize a lot of you don't know how much fiction writing I do.

Primarily what I've published are comics. The big one is UnCONventional (which ran from December of 2009 to December of 2019), but I also did a steampunk comic called The Chronicles of Crosarth (which I put on hiatus in like 2018 intending to come back to... but I haven't, and I make no guarantee that I will even though over 650 of the 800 planned pages are done). Crosarth is... fine? The art isn't great in either of these, but UnCONventional carries itself with the humor.

But that's all old stuff. You may be like "Trae, what have you been producing for the last four years," and the answer is "not a lot." I got major creative block with the pandemic. Peregrine Lake, the "Northwoods Gothic" comic I was supposed to launch in 2020 (which has some characters from UnCONventional in it) didn't materialize when I said it would. What storytelling energy I had went into Stormwood & Associates and The Meatgrinder (my two actual play podcasts), but that was it.

And then 2023 happened, and the juices started flowing again.

Peregrine Lake is moving forward -- but with me just doing the writing. My urge to draw has not returned, but my urge to write has. A friend of mine, Ethan Flanagan, is drawing it, and I've written the first year of comics. It likely won't launch any time soon (the artist I'm working with is busy as hell so we want to get a shit-ton of the comic done before we launch it -- we have like the first month and a half of the comic ready?). But yeah -- it's happening. I hoping for Spring, but we'll see.

The other thing though is that I've started writing, like, novels. I've always had like twenty ideas in my head, so I figured I'd give it a shot. I decided to start with the idea I cared the least about (in case I fucked it up): A queer urban fantasy story.

In the last month and a half I've written complete drafts of two different novels in this setting, and am halfway through another one... and have another one outlined.

I, uh, had some ideas.

If you're asking yourself "Hey Trae -- what the fuck? That's a lot" you need to know a few things that aren't obvious. At one point in college, in 72 hours, I produced over 40 pages of text between three research papers. All were for 300 level courses, and I may have disassociated while writing them because I frankly don't remember most of it. But, like, they were decent papers.

One of those papers is in Google Scholar.

Anyway, yeah. I haven't been sleeping great because I've been obsessively writing, but you might ask "Why didn't you just write one and get it ready to publish?" That's a great question. Because I wrote a book, and when I was 3/4 of the way through it I realized something very important: This book would make a great sequel to a book I haven't written. I've been writing book two in a series where I haven't written book one yet.

Well fuck.

So I finished that draft, and I went and wrote book one. Now that book? That book I'm getting ready to publish. I expect to have it out in January. Part of my editing process involves setting what I think is a completed, good, revised draft down for a couple of weeks and then returning to it with fresh eyes. We're in that waiting period right now.

But I still had a bunch of energy.

So the first thing I did was a revising draft on book two (the one I wrote first), but I finished that. And had more energy. And more stories in this setting kept popping up.

So I started a third book. And I'm halfway through the first draft of that book. But then I realized yesterday... shit, this isn't book three.

This is book four.

I need stuff to happen before we get to this story.

So now I've outlined the actual book three, and am working on literally both of these books at once (I'll take a break for Christmas and then go do a final edit on Book One).

And... I'm just like... why am I like this?

I need to stop myself for a few days and get more sleep.