#no matter if its cold water or warm water or water from the sink or bottled water

[pastryfication]

love at first fire | lando norris

part of the love at first . . . series

you’re jolted awake by the shrill scream of the fire alarm, cutting through the silence of the night like a knife. groggy and disoriented, you sit up, heart racing, trying to make sense of the sudden chaos. it takes a moment for the reality to sink in—the alarm is real, and you need to get out.

you fumble in the dark, grabbing the first things within reach: your phone, your keys, a hoodie you pull over your sleep-rumpled hair. the alarm continues its relentless wail as you slip into your shoes, barely managing to shove your feet in as you head for the door.

the hallway is a blur of movement, neighbors rushing out of their apartments, eyes wide with panic and confusion. the air is thick with the scent of smoke, faint but unmistakable, urging you to move faster. you join the stream of people heading for the stairs, your mind racing as fast as your feet.

outside, the cool night air hits you like a splash of water. you’re on the street now, along with the rest of the building’s residents, all of you looking up at the structure that’s been your home, now alive with flashing lights and the distant sound of sirens. the alarm is still blaring, muffled but persistent, a constant reminder of the danger you’ve just escaped.

you’re shivering, partly from the cold, partly from the adrenaline still coursing through your veins. you pull your hoodie tighter around yourself, scanning the crowd, searching for familiar faces, but mostly, just trying to calm your racing heart.

and then you see him.

at first, it’s just a face in the crowd, someone standing a few feet away, hands shoved into the pockets of a jacket, dark hair tousled as if he’d just rolled out of bed. which, you realize, he probably has. his expression mirrors your own—confused, a little dazed, and clearly not expecting to be outside at this hour.

your heart skips a beat. he notices you looking, and for a split second, your eyes meet. you feel a jolt, like a current running through your body, something electric and undeniable. it’s not just recognition, it’s something deeper, something that makes the world tilt on its axis, leaving you momentarily breathless.

he takes a step closer, his eyes still locked on yours, and you realize he’s coming over. your mind races, searching for something to say, but all words seem to have abandoned you, leaving you with nothing but the sound of your own pounding heart.

“crazy night, huh?” he says, his voice warm and tinged with a hint of a smile, as if the situation isn’t entirely unwelcome.

you manage a nod, still struggling to find your voice. “yeah, not exactly how i planned on spending it.”

he chuckles, and the sound comforts you. “same here. didn’t expect to meet anyone at this hour either.”

there’s a pause, the kind that should be awkward but isn’t. instead, it feels like a moment suspended in time, something fragile and precious that neither of you wants to break.

“you live here?” he asks, nodding toward the building behind you.

“yeah,” you say, finally finding your voice. “third floor.”

“me too,” he says, and there’s something in the way he says it that makes you wonder how you never ran into him before. “funny how we’ve probably passed each other a hundred times and never noticed.”

“guess it took a fire alarm to bring us together,” you say, and you can’t help but smile.

he grins back, and for a moment, the world around you fades—the noise, the people, the flashing lights. it’s just the two of you, standing in the middle of the street in the dead of night, and it feels like the most natural thing in the world.

“maybe we should do something less dramatic next time,” he says, his tone light, but his eyes serious.

“i’d like that,” you reply, feeling a warmth spread through you that has nothing to do with the fire.

you can’t shake the feeling that there’s something familiar about him, something you can’t quite place. but it doesn’t matter, not really. what matters is the way he’s looking at you, like you’re the only person in the world, like this is a moment that’s meant to be.

and as the two of you stand there, you start to talk—about the building, about the chaos of the night, about everything and nothing at all. he’s easy to talk to, and you find yourself laughing despite the situation, the tension of the night melting away.

it’s not until the fire trucks arrive, lights flashing and engines rumbling, that you catch a glimpse of something that makes you pause. one of the firefighters does a double-take when he sees him, and then, as if realizing who he is, offers a small, knowing smile.

you glance back at the guy standing next to you, your heart skipping a beat as the pieces start to fall into place. the familiar face, the way he carries himself, the recognition in the firefighter’s eyes—it all clicks.

he catches your expression, a small smile playing on his lips. “you just realized, didn’t you?”

you feel your cheeks flush with embarrassment. “i . . . yeah,” you admit, unable to keep the smile off your face. “you’re lando norris.”

“guilty,” he says with a grin. “but let’s keep it between us, yeah? at least for tonight.”

and just like that, in the middle of the chaos, you realize that something has shifted, something new has begun. it’s not just the fire that’s burning—it’s the start of something between you and lando, something that feels like it was meant to be.

and as you stand there, side by side, lando’s hand slowly reach in down to intertwine with yours, you know that this is a night you’ll never forget. the night everything changed. the night you met him. the night of love at first fire.

[hmmarble]

HMMARBLEDESİGN - DRAGON+ (2)

Marble Bathroom Sink

When it comes to home design, few materials evoke a sense of luxury and timeless beauty quite like marble. A marble bathroom sink not only serves as a functional wash basin but also elevates the overall aesthetic of your space. The elegance of marble exudes sophistication, turning an ordinary bathroom into a serene oasis.

Marble Bathroom Sink

A marble bathroom sink is not just a functional component of your bathroom; it is a statement piece that adds elegance and luxury. Marble, known for its unique veining and rich texture, brings a timeless charm to any space. When choosing a marble bathroom sink, there are several factors to consider to ensure it complements your bathroom design.

First, consider the style of your bathroom. Whether you are going for a modern, classic, or rustic look, a marble sink can fit seamlessly into any theme. The color palette of the marble also matters; white and cream marbles can lend a fresh and airy feel, while darker hues can create a dramatic effect.

Maintenance is another important aspect to consider. While marble sinks are stunning, they do require some care to maintain their beauty. Regular sealing and careful cleaning will help prevent stains and etching, keeping your sink looking pristine over the years.

Installation is another key consideration. Marble is heavier than other materials, so ensure that your cabinet and plumbing can support your chosen marble bathroom sink. Consultation with a professional can help you navigate this aspect of your renovation.

Ultimately, a marble bathroom sink is an investment in both aesthetics and functionality. By choosing the right type, color, and maintenance plan, you can enjoy the beauty of marble in your bathroom for years to come.

Wash Basin Sink

A wash basin sink is an essential fixture in any bathroom, offering both functionality and style. When selecting a wash basin sink, it is important to consider various factors such as size, design, and material.

One popular choice among homeowners is the marble bathroom sink. Known for its elegance and durability, marble sinks can elevate the aesthetic of your bathroom. Their unique veining patterns ensure that no two sinks are alike, providing a one-of-a-kind centerpiece for your space.

When choosing a wash basin sink, you will encounter various types including undermount, vessel, and pedestal sinks. Each design has its own benefits and can enhance the overall look of your bathroom. For instance, vessel sinks are often mounted on top of the countertop, making them a stylish option that complements modern decor.

Aside from aesthetics, the wash basin sink should also offer practical features. Consider looking for a model with easy-to-clean surfaces and a design that accommodates your bathing and grooming needs. The right choice will not only enhance your bathroom’s style but also improve daily usage.

In terms of installation, make sure to consult with a professional if you are unsure. Proper installation of your wash basin sink will ensure that it functions efficiently and lasts for many years to come.

Lastly, don't forget to incorporate additional features such as stylish faucets and accessories that complement your wash basin sink and add to the overall design of your bathroom.

Ancient Roman Baths

The Ancient Roman Baths were an essential aspect of Roman culture, reflecting the importance of hygiene, social interaction, and relaxation in ancient society. These baths, also known as thermae, were large public bathing complexes that served as a social hub for citizens of all classes.

Typically, the layout of a Roman bath included a series of rooms with varying temperatures and functions. The caldarium (hot bath) heated the water through a sophisticated system of hypocaust, allowing steam to rise and warm the space. Next to it was the tepidarium (warm bath), which served as a transitional room, and the frigidarium (cold bath), where bathers would plunge into cooler waters to invigorate their bodies.

In addition to hygiene, these baths featured amenities such as libraries, gymnasiums, and gardens, encouraging a sense of community and leisure. Romans often visited to socialize, conduct business, or simply enjoy the art and architecture that adorned these luxurious facilities. The decorative mosaics and grand columns were not only functional but also represented the wealth and sophistication of the society.

The significance of the Ancient Roman Baths can also be seen in their architectural innovation. The Romans mastered the use of concrete and arches, allowing for grand open spaces and intricate designs. These structures have inspired modern spa designs, embodying the idea of relaxation and wellness.

Despite their popularity, the fall of the Roman Empire led to the decline of these spectacular sites. Many were repurposed, and their intricate plumbing systems fell into disrepair. However, remnants of these ancient baths still surface in archaeological sites, offering a glimpse into a fascinating aspect of Roman life.

Today, while we may not indulge in the same communal bathing practices, the legacy of the Ancient Roman Baths endures. Their emphasis on hygiene and social engagement continues to influence how we design our own spaces for relaxation and community interaction.

[yandere-sins]

Yan-Poll #23

Warning: This is a poll containing sexual content

Your yan is a little pathetic.

That's what you think to yourself as you stand in the bathroom with him, his nervous fidgeting with the towel around his hips feeling even more insulting than him telling you that you are not allowed to go take a shower alone. He was assertive then, the thought of having you separated from him by the bathroom door seemingly unbearable as he immediately stood and walked after you once you announced your plans.

As if you were a child, needing supervision.

But now it seemed like the tables had turned; your always so selfish captor suddenly nervous at the prospect of showering with you. He keeps stealing glances at the areas covered by your own towel, his thoughts probably spinning around the idea of seeing you naked for the first time since he captured you. You don't like it, but you don't have to like it. He does what he wants and you haven't showered in days since he locked you in your room as a punishment. You were smelly and grime was beginning to settle on your skin.

Before, he usually stood watch outside the bath, even when you just needed the toilet. That was uncomfortable enough. But your yan had yet to cross the boundary of invading on your bath-time. You had no idea what caused him to decide now was a good time to make his advances, but you weren't happy with it. Even less now that it almost seemed like he was more embarrassed than you were.

You sighed. It's been too long since you got to wash up and feel clean again. You could argue and tell him to get out, but things had only calmed down. Your body still hurt from him manhandling you, the rope burns still stinging when you touched them. If you couldn't have freedom, you shouldn't have to forgo basic needs like hygiene, even if his presence was unwanted.

Stepping up to the shower, you tried to ignore him. Ignore the way he matched your steps until he was back to breathing down your neck. You climbed over the rim of the bathtub and were about to pull the curtain close when he caught your hand in his, the pain of his touch making you wince. You didn't get to close the curtain until he was standing inside the bathtub with you, forcing the curtain close.

For a moment, only your heavy breaths could be heard. His were dancing over the exposed skin of your nape, the thought of this man you despised so close to you in such a small space feeling even more threatening than usual. It was no surprise that you jumped when his arms snaked around your body to the front, slipping between your skin and the towel. His touch was invading, no matter how gentle and careful every one of his movements was. Your pulse quickened, breathing getting harder and harder as you almost felt claustrophobic solely because of his presence. He halted momentarily when he felt your nervousness, then slowly untied the towel from its fixation on you, letting the fabric slide off.

There was more rustling behind you as he undid his own towel, and before you could reach out, he turned on the faucet. The water was always cold at first before it warmed up, but with the way you two were standing, he got hit by the icy stream instead of you. He took it with more stride than you thought he would after he seemed so nervous about all this.

Some droplets ricocheted onto you, and you bit your lip, arching your back. Still, soon, the temperature was rising to a comfortable warmth. You leaned back with your shoulders, trying to catch some water to start washing up. It felt so good to stand underneath the water again for so long, the cat wash at the sink in your room doing nothing for you compared to the heavenly feeling of grime sliding off you.

You felt his chest lean into you as your captor bent forward, grabbing the shampoo from the shelf. A nervous pang went through you as you heard him squeeze the gel onto his hand and watched the bottle being placed back before you felt his palms brushing against your head. Both your bodies were incredibly stiff as he started massaging it into your hair, never even asking for your permission. Still, you were more surprised about how good it felt to have someone wash your hair than his lack of boundaries.

Breathing out, you decided to try to relax, letting your yandere massage your scalp. One of his hands vanished temporarily, but you heard him aggressively rubbing his own head with it, probably using the foam on his hands for his hair. There it was again, that strange way of obsessing over you. If you were a couple, this would have probably made sense, but as you were not, this was just your stalker trying to feel closer to you by using your leftovers.

"You're beautiful," he mumbled suddenly, and the compliment caught you off-guard. A sense of shame washed over you as you felt the initial flattery, but it was normal to feel this way when you were most vulnerable, right? Naked and exposed to another being. This much was okay, right?

You tried to tell yourself that, but when he leaned forward again to reach for the body wash next, you felt something hard and eager brush between your buttcheeks. Your eyes widened and his hand halted, fingers curling into a fist in what could have only been frustration, but they unfurled as he let out a short, low groan. His other hand gripped your shoulder tightly, fingernails pressing into your skin.

"I'm so sorry," he mumbled, annoyance in his voice—annoyance at himself. "Fuck, I'm so sorry," he kept repeating again and again. It became agonizingly clear he didn't intend to ruin the moment, but that he couldn't help himself from getting hard from merely being with you in the shower and washing your hair. That's how deep that man had fallen. Fallen into obsessive love with you.

"If you could just-- Let me-- Maybe we could-- I could--"

He didn't finish any of the sentences he blabbered, but you felt him grind against you, making you lose your balance and brace yourself against the wall in front of you. Your yan didn't back away. The position you were in was awful. Vulnerable and so, so easy to take advantage of. You felt him grind his cock against you again, another groan—this time bitten back but no less audible—escaping him as you realized he wouldn't just stop.

It was on you to stop this. To put an end to it before it was too late.

You knew it was a bad idea, but the shower was too tempting. You glanced to the side, only the curtain separating you from the room. But jumping out could cause you more harm than good; you could slip or fall, hit your head, or bang into any of the furniture around. However if you stayed... not sure he'd just let you go if you asked. He appeared so pathetic before, but you knew he was downright selfish at all times.

Your captor kept grinding against you, the feeling of his cock so invading, although still relatively harmless. But he was picking up the speed. If you wanted to act, you had to do it soon, but... should you? It might have been better to let him get it out of his system once. Perhaps he'd be overcome by shame and leave you alone afterwards, or he'd at least be satiated. You could endure the grinding, even if you risked more dangers if you allowed it to just happen. Tears stung in your eyes as you felt violated by him and your thoughts alike, the what-ifs unbearable and cruel.

You braced yourself and decided what to do.

(Reasoning and discussions welcome! ♥)

[ohmyeyesmyeyes]

always a good morning - nh13

summary: (nh13 x f!reader) a snapshot into a morning at the swiss alps with our favourite devils captain! inspired by headband nico!

warnings: suggestive content, fluff, not checked! 2.4k words

< a/n: i've hit such bad writer's block i literally can't even tell you so i went back to my roots: brunettes with big brown eyes!! >

You inhaled at the feel of your heart rate quickening, something having thrown your mind from its restful slumber to suddenly being conscious of your surroundings. 

It was freezing, that was the first thing you noticed. You could feel the duvet cover draped across your shoulders but it was cold to touch, like a window had been left open during the night and cooled the one thing that was supposed to keep you warm. There was a draft somewhere down your back, the chilly air swirling up your sleep shirt and down your bare legs, and without thinking much of it, you pulled the duvet higher, nuzzling back down into your pillow.

Maybe if you stayed still enough and tried not to focus on the pounding of your heart, which was clearly telling you to get up for whatever reason, you’d be able to trick yourself into falling back to sleep. Maybe.

You were certainly still tired enough: your eyes felt dry and your bones felt heavy, your entire body and mind fully sinking into the mattress and pillows gladly and with a sigh of relief. You could feel your hair smeared across your forehead at an unnatural angle, and your top was twisted uncomfortably, but the mere thought of reaching around to move it was exhausting to even entertain.

You sighed, breathing into your pillow, feeling the last dregs of sleep begin to wither away. Your heart rate wasn’t slowing and you could feel yourself fight the urge to open your eyes. Suddenly the idea of burrowing back under the covers only awakened the desire to sit up straight and take in the view – when had you become a morning person?

The sigh turned into an impatient huff of resignation, your previous thoughts of sleep abandoned completely, and you slowly peeled your eyes open, peering out from under the covers. 

The foot of the bed was a heavy mess of blankets strewn around, clearly having been kicked off at some point in the night, and your eyes jumped over the chair filled with clothes and bags before settling on the open window to your left. For the sake of the view of the cloudy mountains and the utterly breathtaking green outside, you ignored the sleeping hunk of a back also on your left.

Though it could barely have been five seconds before you turned your attention back to him. That always seemed to happen, no matter where you were or what you were doing – Nico was much too magnetic for his own good.

You were still curled up where you’d woken initially, one arm tucked underneath your pillow, the other resting comfortably on top of the sheets. It was the space between you both that gave you the answer as to why you’d woken up cold: you were perched on one side of the bed, and Nico on the edge of his. The reason? You’d both seemingly drank enough the night before to not take any notice of the sides you’d fallen into, because he was on your side and you were on his. 

You blinked slowly, poking some sleep out of the corner of your eyes before glancing back at him quickly. His back was facing you, broad shoulders blocking some of the light from the window you’d obviously forgotten to cover with curtains the night before. His skin had a brownish glow to it, evidence from the dream-like string of vacations he’d taken this summer, and you restrained the urge to reach out and press your palm against the skin there, knowing with absolute certainty he’d feel like he’d just crawled out of the sun. 

You were so cold because he wasn’t near enough to act as a human hot water bottle, keeping everything just the right temperature.

You weren’t even sure how he did it, not in the early morning breeze, because he’d shuffled the duvet down to his waist and you could see he’d untucked one leg from underneath to come to rest on top of the covers.

It seemed your mind had made up the solution to your little problem before you’d even managed to comprehend it because you’d suddenly pulled the duvet into your fist taut enough to shuffle subtly closer, just enough to feel the heat radiating off his skin, but not close enough to touch him.

You thought about pressing your feet into the backs of his calves, but judging from the sun just peaking round the mountains it can’t have been any later than six in the morning–

The bed shook violently, almost reminiscent of how someone would jump in their skin after falling down the stairs in a dream, and the sudden jolt had your eyes flying open, mind a complete jumble as you blinked the remnants of sleep away.

When did you fall back to sleep?

There was a groan of “woah” from the body in front of you, deep and gravelly, both hinting at the alcohol consumption last night and the early morning disruption of…whatever had happened there.

Your brows furrowed at the intense light streaming through the window, and you could barely open your eyes from squinting hard against it. Yet, you could still make out the silhouette of a shoulder moving in front of you, and still make out the thick head of hair combed back with the sudden appearance of a hand you knew all too well.

“What the fuck?” Nico grumbled, and the mattress bobbled again, prompting you to pull yourself into a sitting position, hair falling into your face before you managed to push it all back.

You weren’t entirely sure how long you’d slept but it must have been at least two hours later: the sun was beaming pretty intensely through the window, no tells of that early-morning breeze left to suffer through.

You were too busy trying to get your eyes to adjust to the light to notice Nico reach an unsteady hand out to the bedside table, fumbling with the phone lobbed on the wood. You blinked once, twice, before placing a delicate hand on his shoulder.

The involuntary shudder that immediately followed had both of you freezing. Right under your palm his skin seemed to transform, now littered with goosebumps. You frowned, slowly removing your hand.

He’d been as warm as you’d predicted, but his temperature was the last thing on your mind, especially when he almost instantaneously started to shiver, his phone long forgotten on the bedside table as he blearily rolled over onto his back, pushing away your hair that had fallen in a curtain around your face, blocking his eyesight.

You took that momentary pause where he couldn’t see you, eyes trailing greedily down his chest before looking up to meet his gaze. It was painfully clear he’d only just woken up: his eyes were still blinking quickly, trying to adjust to the light as well, and one side of his face was lined red from where his cheek had been smushed against the pillow.

There was something so adorably irresistible about Nico in the morning; he never quite ceased to amaze you, not with those big doe eyes blinking wearily up at you, and certainly not with the way he’d curled his arm to rest behind his head, bicep purposefully on show.

“What were you doing?” You croaked, eyeing the rather befuddled crease between his brows as his mouth formed an ‘o’, his attention darting to your pillow next to his head.

His face crumpled at your words, and you held back an amused snort of laughter at his clearly hungover state, instead moving to lay back down in your previous position, head perched on the corner of your own pillow.

“Sorry.” You whispered, unable to help a small smile at the way his nearest eye to you peeked open, immediately followed by a cheeky dimpled smile.

He hummed, shaking his head, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks as he fought to stay awake, “My fault.” He breathed, before snapping his eyes open, “I went to check you were still in bed and almost fell out instead. Why are we on the wrong side?”

You shrugged, yawning, “No clue.”

His face broke into a kind of smirk, and he rolled onto his shoulder, breath tickling your face, eliciting an amused scrunch of your nose, “We must have been pretty distracted, then.” He muttered, and you rolled your eyes fondly.

“Morning breath.” You mumbled, budging your cold foot against his shin. He didn’t recoil at your freezing touch, but rather helped trap your foot between his leg, sandwiched by heat on all sides.

“You don’t care about my morning breath.” He said knowingly, nudging his nose against yours and draping a bare arm across your shoulders to pull you impossibly closer.

He was boiling. The sudden change in temperature had you shivering, now enveloped completely in a bubble of warmth, your forehead pressed snugly against the crease of his shoulder. You found yourself humming, “No I don’t.”

There was a rumble in his chest, a soft, lazy laugh, as his hand dragged through your hair, gently untangling any knots and brushing it off your face to press a sweet kiss to your temple. Your heart had been beating pretty quickly from when he’d almost launched himself off the bed – from sheer shock – but now it was racing for a whole different reason.

It was still for a while, and you were vaguely aware of the pounding in his own chest and the constant shuffling, so when he wrapped both arms underneath you it didn’t come as a complete shock. There was a brief moment you were airborne, a new rush of cold air blowing through the sheets before the mattress was back on your side, and when you peeled your eyes open once more you were facing a now wide-awake Nico, whose cheeks were a significant tinge of pink, evidence of his previous warmth.

He’d spun you around so you were both back in your normal sides of the bed, but he’d also placed you on his hot spot. 

“That’s better.” He grinned, running a hand through his hair.

He’d not had it trimmed in so long it was difficult to keep it all from falling into his face, and for the last few days of vacation it had been driving him crazy. A hair tie didn’t work, it was far too comical for him to even walk out of the door with a sad excuse of a ponytail, let alone enough to face his family. It was only yesterday that you’d managed to wear him down to wear one of your headbands, and he hadn’t once moved to take it off throughout the entire day.

Clearly he was missing it already.

You pushed yourself up onto one elbow and he tilted his head quizzically, “What do you wanna do for breakfast?”

His face brightened, mouth twisting in thought, “We could go to that cafe and pick up some pastries and eat them on the dock?”

As if by command, your stomach growled in agreement, and both yours and Nico’s faces crumpled with amusement, before Nico took initiative and threw back the covers, that single action both the best and worst thing in the world: on one hand you were smacked with the one thing you’d been trying to avoid, but on the other? There was nothing quite as mouth-wateringly picturesque as watching Nico kneel on the bed, back muscles rippling as he stretched.

Your lip caught in your teeth, and he turned around after a moment, not having heard you even attempt to move even despite the goosebumps trailing across your skin, and you blushed, smiling unabashedly as he raised an accusatory brow in your direction. He tried to hide the fact that he was smiling as well, his mouth fighting to keep a straight line, but the dimple in his cheek gave him away. The dimples always gave him away.

He looked right at you, trailing his eyes across your splayed figure still unmoving from your previous position, and you collapsed your arm, head hitting the pillow with a soft thump.

“Good morning.” He mumbled, voice suddenly quite gruff. You reached a hand out to poke him in his lower back, just above the elastic band of his shorts, and he spun quickly, arms instantly bracketing your head in. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and you found you were hungry for a whole different reason. The house was empty – everyone else had made plans to hike for sunrise – and Nico was slowly lowering himself closer to your face, his hair tickling your forehead.

You reached a hand out automatically, fingers catching and pushing his hair away from his face, just right at the same moment he pressed an urgent kiss to your lips, lingering for a few seconds longer than he usually would have.

But…you had an empty house and no reason not to kiss him back as fiercely as you wanted. There were no consequences, after all.

“It is, yeah.” You whispered, pulling back slightly. Through the gaps in your hands a stubborn lock of hair flopped onto his forehead, and he looked at it, contemplating something for a moment.

You did the acting for him, quickly twisting your hands out of his hair and avoiding his arm bracketing you in for the sake of pulling a headband out of the bedside drawer and sliding it around his neck before pulling it back up, the thoughtful task made all the more difficult by the hot, open-mouthed kisses he was leaving across the column of your neck.

“Always is a good morning when it’s with you, y’know?” He breathed between kisses, and you couldn’t help a breathy laugh, mind not completely focused on his hair when he was melting you to the mattress.

“As much as I love what you’re doing, I literally can’t–Oh, thank you.” You grinned as his face reappeared, his cheeks flushed and lips bitten pink as he waited patiently for you to slide the headband into place, just the way you knew he liked it.

You patted the top of his head and he flopped onto the mattress next to you, one arm somehow already wound around your waist, pulling you closer as he continued his path, “I thought you were hungry?” 

“The cafe’s not going anywhere any time soon.” You reasoned, pulling back enough to look him in the eyes – dazed and glossy, “You should wear headbands more often.”

“I know, right? They’re so useful.”

You frowned, “That’s now what I was going for.”

“I know.” He grinned.

[gatitties]

Web of love

─Yandere!Jujutsu Kaisen x fem!reader (platonic)

─Summary: your worst night followed by a wonderful day, are you slowly going crazy? Maybe, but you'll get out of here no matter what

─Warnings: blood, self-harm, anxiety attack, hallucinations, obsession, toxic behaviors, stalking, yandere stuff

Part One / Part Two / Part Three

The blank pages: Part One / Par Two

YOU TRY to control your shaky breathing, no one would take away the poor quality of sleep you had at this point in your life, but having nightmares right now was the last straw that broke your patience.

You looked at yourself in the bathroom mirror, your face was slightly wet because you needed to splash yourself to clear your thoughs, the cold water didn't help much anyway, you slapped your cheeks with moderate force hoping the feeling of mental numbness would go away, but again it didn't work.

"What the hell is wrong with me…?"

You touched your right cheek, slightly red from the previous blow, focusing your gaze on the reflection of the sink mirror, you were a complete disgust, never, not even in your worst period of exams, had you seen yourself so emaciated, the dark circles and bags under your eyes, the lack of color in your face, your frizzy hair, its lack or decrease, bloodshot eyes… you could continue to despise yourself while you stare at your reflection for hours, bringing out each of your flaws.

But there was one that bothered you beyond your appearance, your lack of emotions, your lack of thoughts, you refused to show anything other than a blank expression to those people who ruined your life, you refused to have to think complex things while they took care of everything, not being able to do anything on your own you began to stop complicating your life by thinking about solutions.

Who were you? What were your goals? Your tastes? When did your memories start to become blurry? When was the last time you really smiled? Were you real? Or just a corporeal desire of psychopaths eager to have something precious to protect? Since when was everything so gray, so monotonous? Did you still consider yourself a person with rights and freedom? When did you start accepting this?

"Hey… Hey!"

Focusing your lost vision again in the mirror, you weren't very surprised that you were hallucinating after having a brain as soft as baby food, it was you, maybe a couple of years younger who was speaking to you through the reflection, your mouth opened but no words came out as if you were a fish out of water.

"What's happening? Is this the future that awaits me? You're pathetic! Look at you… Where the hell is your stupid smile? You used to smile a lot before, why…? Why have I become a puppet?"

Your words mixed with a murmur, feeling how your heart squeezed painfully in your ribcage, your mind deciding to continue the macabre game of your existential crisis, replaying memories with your family and all the warm moments that kept you sane until now. You closed your eyes hoping that the hallucinations would disappear, but you only managed that instead of visuals they were audible, reproducing words of affection from your parents in a loop like torture, the breathing exercises you did before to calm yourself stopped working now, you bit your lip so hard that you ripped off some skin, not enough for you because you started running your nails down your arms, leaving red marks from the friction and force.

"You're better than this, what's all this whining about?! Get up and stop being a coward! You will only drag me into this meaningless future!"

"Shut up…"

"Are you even worth anything? You're so boring, I don't understand how those sorcerers want to protect you."

"Shut up."

"Are you going to cry to sleep like always? You are a disgrace, you are lucky, lucky that someone can love you so much, what would you do without them? They are much better than your own parents, accept it, accept it, they love you unconditionally! Even without knowing who you are or how you feel, even without knowing what your purposes are, they will love you! Accept your desti-"

"I said shut the fuck up! Silence!"

You shook your whole body, holding your head, you hit it a couple of times against the wall, so hard that even a couple of tiles fell off, a few drops of blood fell from your head, but you didn't care, the voice, your voice, it was gone, you swallowed your own poison, locking your inner, dark thoughts deep in your brain.

Your mind continued numb for a couple more minutes where all you could hear was a faint sound of static and a constant beeping, but it was more calming than having to listen to your own voice in that twisted way. Getting up once you calmed down a little, your reflection returned to normal, you splashed your face with cold water again, cleaning the blood on your head, nails and lip, taking one last look at your pitiful person, with your head still full of unknowns.

"Why is this happening to me?"

You rub your eyes tiredly, cleaning up the mess you had made, you decide to lie down on the cold bed once more, tucking yourself in and looking at the ceiling waiting for your body to magically disintegrate into ashes, too pretty to be real, when you realize the rays of light make your eyes hurt and sting, one more sleepless night, a new day awaits.

Faking and ignoring your nighttime crisis you get up to do your morning routine, being greeted by an overly cheerful Nobara as you passes through the dining room to look for some breakfast, you couldn't say the same for Megumi, who looked much more tense than normal, you didn't know where the others were but you didn't care much either, and Nobara and Megumi didn't say anything about your appearance, whether they noticed it or not, you're just glad they decided not to ask anything.

"You look like you've experienced the worst existential crisis of your life."

You spit out what you were drinking when you heard Maki just enter, from her appearance you could tell that she had gone out for a run early in the morning, Toge and Panda followed behind her, everything fell into a silence that was too uncomfortable for you because they stared at you carefully, completely ruining your efforts to hide your bad appearance.

"Just a bad dream…?"

You mumbled, avoiding everyone's gaze, Toge approached you, patting you on the head as if that would help you, although it was the most comforting thing you felt this week, it didn't feel as forced as other interactions.

To your relief, everyone continued with their things, while you ignored what they were talking about and continued eating breakfast, their talk became louder than usual, you frowned at this, deciding to listen lightly to the conversation, you froze when you remembered what they were talking about, the Kyoto school exchange, even though you didn't sign up for that stupid ceremony, as a student you had to, at the very least, be present, but you knew that a large concentration of sorcerers would only cause you more problems than solutions.

You knew why Megumi seemed so tense when the other students showed up, they didn't seem to have a very friendly relationship, they all seemed quite focused on the rivalry between high schools, which made you happy since the focus of attention wasn't on you, but rather in Itadori since he seemed to be targeted by the Kyoto school just for being Sukuna's vessel. The bad thing was that you had to stay in the teachers' room, with Gojo and a couple of other guys, the good thing was that you fell in love, Utahime was your spirit animal, definitely someone to admire just for her hatred of Gojo.

"So, why don't you want to compete? I can tell that you have quite a bit of accumulated cursed energy."

"Aww, meeting my favorite student? Well that's a delicate topic she doesn't-"

"I'm not talking to you, shut up."

You smiled internally when you saw Gojo's kicked dog expression, who didn't even let you talk to Utahime, she looked at you again, completely ignoring the albino's presence, it was, the first time since you arrived here that you felt like you were having a normal conversation with someone outside your life, someone disinterested in your protection, it was the most real interaction you had since then and it had to be ruined, not by Gojo, not by any student… curses, a planned attack, a lot of chaos was caused that you barely understood.

"Don't fight and don't try anything weird, although I'll know anyway, stay safe!"

It was the last thing Gojo said to you before leaving with the others to see what was happening outside, you couldn't have cared less about his words, and although locking you in your room was the main idea, your wires got crossed with your little sanity, if everyone was distracted by a greater evil you could use that to your advantage.

Since both sorcerers and curses were completely absorbed in their stupid fight, you used that to go outside, first it was a couple of meters, you didn't notice anyone, the capsule didn't stop you from leaving, so you walked further away, elated by your minimal achievement, you started running as fast as you could, reaching the busy streets of the city, smart enough not to go near the places Nanami frequented.

It had been a long time since your heart had been beating like this, so wild that you thought it might come out of your throat, you coughed for air once you stopped in a park, collapsing on the ground, you lied there, you laughed like a crazy person, some tears escaping of your eyes as you looked at the sky brighter than ever. You couldn't believe it, you were alone, with no one watching, you could feel all the positive emotions hitting you, there were so many sensations that you didn't know how to feel, but definitely much more relieved.

The smile on your face was indelible, you were happy, the world at this moment was painted in much more vibrant tones, the palette stopped being a constant tone of gray, you smiled at children, the elderly, you caressed animals, you bought a few flowers and then randomly give them to some people, completely in a bubble of happiness.

Although the bubble had to burst at some point, whether due to your subconscious or the pass of time, you knew that your sudden disappearance would only cause more of a stir, you wish you were left for dead, but you know those sons of bitches wouldn't have that in mind unless they saw your death with their own eyes or found your inert body.

Using your last moments of happiness, you decided to treat yourself to some of your favorite sweets, saying goodbye to the clerk who served you with one of your best smiles, you took the long way to the jujutsu high school, hoping to delay your reunion with your "loved ones" as long as possible.

"Stop there! Aren't you the missing girl? You've given us an incredible headache, come on, I'll take you back."

Someone you hadn't bothered to meet grabbed your wrist, pulling you without even waiting for you to react, analyzing her appearance, she was quite similar to Maki, maybe a family member.

"What a pity, sorry for the headache, but can you let me go? I know the way Maki number two."

At this moment the least you wanted was a confrontation, but your mood had not completely dropped, although now you were a little more upset than happy, your emotions overflowed, causing you to be a more sarcastic and sassy version of yourself.

Mai stopped instantly when she was called Maki number two, you had definitely found her weak spot, which turned into a passive-aggressive chat between the two of you, you would have been angry, but you couldn't be angry when you enjoyed the criticism you were giving each other, honestly it improved your day and you felt more human than before.

"Oh thank goodness you're fine! I thought those dirty curses had kidnapped you!"

Nobara didn't waste a second in hugging you as soon as she saw you, Itadori following her a second later, you assured them that you were okay not wanting everyone to crowd around you as the others also wanted to ask where you had been and why you disappeared when they were under stroke.

You drowned out the emotions you poured out during the day, swallowing everything, turning your expression blank as you felt Gojo's powerful gaze on you, everything calmed down for the next few minutes, the two schools finished the meeting and the Kyoto students left, before that you decided to exchange phones with Utahime.

Once you got rid of your companions, you locked in your room, unlike many other nights, you threw yourself on the bed, grabbing a cushion and screaming as if you were one of those teenagers in love in those saccharine series, you moved your legs in the air by pressing the cushion tighter between your arms. Changing your posture, you looked up at the ceiling just like the night before, with the big difference that now you couldn't contain your emotions, you giggled, biting your lip lightly, not noticing the wound you got earlier.

You saw it, you saw light at the end of the tunnel, ─not that way of course─, you saw how a door opened before your eyes, a new opportunity to free yourself from the chains that kept you captive with all these psychopaths, experience freedom after so much time made you delirious, made you imagine that you could get rid of them, that they would leave you alone, even if it was risky, your only option was to escape, run away from everything and everyone without thinking twice, without thinking about what can happen in the future, you would give everything to re-experience what you felt today when you ran away.

You sighed dreamily as you remembered the feeling of freedom, closing your eyes, not worrying about whether you were going to be able to fall asleep today or have another boring game of chess, oblivious to the blue eyes that watched from your window.

"It seems like someone is in her rebellious stage, maybe she need some restrictions…"

He muttered, unhappy with your disobedience but excited to see you happy, he didn't think he would see it so soon, your smile was beautiful just the way it was and you decided to hide it like that for them? They were only worried about you, why did you have to keep all that to yourself? They wanted to be part of your happiness, couldn't you understand it? Well, they will make you understand it no matter what.

Once he made sure that your breathing was stable, he entered your room, kissed your forehead like every night, only this time he sat next to you, caressing your head slowly, observing how, even while asleep, your silly smile was still painted on your face, the flash of his phone made you frown slightly, but you didn't wake up.

"I hope you rest well today, I'm sorry for not helping you the night before, but if I had come in you would hate me more, wouldn't you?"

He said to himself, closing the door slowly, giving you one last look before leaving, he sent the photo to the group chat he had with his students, reviewing the last photos where any of the four were able to capture something more emotion than indifference. Just like you, the small display of emotions only opened another door for them, that small display of freedom for you and emotions for them, was simply another trigger for your problems, after all, the more you move, the more you get tangled in the web.

[ssturniolo]

hii first ilysm and your stories :))

so I have an idea with Chris and the reader (they are dating in the story), the reader has problems eating but doesn't want to show it to anyone so as not to worry them so she lies about it. saying that she has already eaten or that she is not hungry, one day while she was at the triplets' house she went down to Chris's room to change but she did not know that Chris had followed her and when she takes off her sweater and her jogging pants, chris is very worried when he sees that the reader has lost a lot of his weight. I know that it's not an easy subject so you don't have to write it, it's just a proposal

Unconditionally loved

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤 - Chris sturniolo x fem!reader

𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶 - request <3 (it’s a little different I hope that’s ok)

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 - eating disorder, use of y/n, crying, I think that’s it??

I follow the delicious scent of my favorite food down to the triplets kitchen, smiling to myself as I watch Chris and Nick put it into 4 separate bowls.

“Hi baby” Chris smiles, trotting over to wrap me in a hug. “I made us chicken Alfredo,” he says proudly.

“Don’t worry it’s edible, all he did was boil the water,” Nick smirks, handing me one of the bowls.

I laugh lightly as Chris rolls his eyes, walking with me to the couch. I set the bowl onto the coffee table, eyeing it longingly. It smells heavenly but I had a full banana this morning so even though my stomach is rumbling, and every part of my body wants this food, I know I can’t.

Instead, I snuggle into Chris’s side, watching him enjoy his meal.

***

I wake up still on the couch, Chris asleep at my side. I quietly stand, taking my now-cold bowl of chicken Alfredo to the kitchen, dumping it into the garbage before setting the bowl in the sink.

I return to the living room as Chris stirs awake.

“Hey baby” he smiles, opening his arms for me to crawl into. I do so, nuzzling my nose into his neck as he runs a hand through my hair.

“Wanna go back to the bed? I don’t wanna sleep on the couch tonight,” Chris says after a few moments of silence.

“Mhm” I hum into his neck, waiting a few seconds before pushing myself off of him.

“I’m gonna put my bowl away then meet you there, ok?” Chris says as he turns the tv off.

“Alright.”

I make my way to his room, leaving his door cracked open behind me. I pull out a pair of pj pants and a hoodie from Chris’s closet, laying them out on the bed. I remove my sweatshirt, not noticing Chris enter the room.

“Y/n?” Chris’s concerned voice cuts through the air as I spin around. His eyes are trained on my ribs that are poking through my skin at an unhealthy level. The way my stomach is less than half its original size is easy to hide under baggy clothes but under his hot gaze, I feel like shriveling up and dying. He wasn’t supposed to see me like this.

“Baby are you ok?” Chris takes a step closer as I take a step back, my eyes brimming with tears.

“I saw your food in the trash. Have you not been eating?” He questions again, knowing the answer.

I say nothing, burying my face in my hands as I erupt into sobs. Chris rushes over, to which I do not step away this time. He brings us to sit at the edge of his bed, cradling my shaking body in his warm embrace.

“It’s ok… you’re ok” he whispers sweet nothings into my ear until I’ve calmed down enough to form coherent sentences.

“I-I lied a lot about already eating or not being hungry. I’m so sorry” I sniffle, my cheek pressed against Chris’s tear-soaked t-shirt.

“No need to be sorry my love. I just wish you would have talked to me before it became a severe issue.” Chris replies, rubbing my back soothingly.

“I just didn’t want to worry you,” I mumble, realizing how stupid that now sounds.

“I know I know. All that matters is getting you the help you need now, yeah?”

I just nod my head against him, blinking away fresh tears. I know I need the help I just never knew how to go about it. Especially since no one but me knew about my bad eating habits.

Chris lifts my chin, forcing me to look into his eyes.

“I’m scared Chris.”

“And I’m going to be here with you through it all. I always will. We face problems together from now on, ok?”

“Ok.” I repeat, giving him my word.

Taking this on is so much less scary with Chris at my side, loving me unconditionally.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Unfortunately, eating disorders are increasingly common amongst people, particularly younger females. If ANY of you need to talk, my dms are always open. I love you guys <3

XOXO - Zoe

Taglist ⬇️

@dwntwn-strnlo @mbbsgf @gabbylovesreading @0-r-a-y-0 @sturn3g1rl @lvrsparadise @taylorssfilmsss @emssturniolo @ilovemattsturn @mattestrella @itsaaliyah2 @thetriplets3 @urfavstromboli

[cagesofgold]

Sickening - Shigaraki x Reader

Tomura believed himself to be an autodidact when it came to relationships.

He learnt everything he knew through observation. Observation which was carefully curated by his master to fit his exact lense. His lense which was warped by fervent desires and undeniable cruelty. Tomura didn’t recognize himself to be an object until quite recently. A pawn, a play piece, being shuffled across the board of fate with his master’s calloused hands at the center of it all.

So for a long time, his perspective on relationships and love, was irrevocably skewed. He believed it to be superficial, something to pass the time and to distract yourself from the dreariness of reality. The only feeling he ever felt which remotely belonged under the umbrella of these emotions, was lust. But never that ‘Sickeningly sweet’ love, as people would describe it. He saw it as a weakness, and a flawed deferment of facing any form of loneliness. Something most feared, yet for him it was the only feeling he didn’t feel out of place in. The one he knew he deserved.

So why do you make him feel so sick?

The first time you entered he felt it. Trailing behind Dabi’s languid saunter and peeking over Toga’s shoulder. Two curious, beady eyes met his - and he felt his stomach twist.

Initially he told himself it was the sight of Dabi’s rotting flesh, or perhaps he had an undercooked piece of pork with dinner. But when the feeling became more frequent, and coincidentally every-time you were in the room, the fact of the matter drew harder and harder to deny.

He loathed it. He absolutely loathed the feeling. And so he did the only thing he knew to do, twist his inarticulacy into hatred. He told himself he hated you. You were an attack on all senses, with that fruity perfume you’d spray, and your voice which would hum along to the radio whilst mixing drinks behind the bar with Kurogiri. The way your hands would graze his whilst passing a glass of strong-smelling whiskey to his crotchety-sulking self. Zero fear in your movements, you didn’t falter for a second. Not when your fingers touched his that were known for destruction, and not when you flashed him a gentle smile. He promptly left the bar. Drink untouched. And sat in his room plagued by a feeling swirling around him that he didn’t understand.

He thought he could push it down, ignore it entirely, and bury himself in his work. However, that proved to be difficult when you were everywhere he turned. He truthfully considered kicking you out of the league, after all, it wasn’t him that was the problem; It was you…right?

He never brought himself to do it.

The weeks rolled by, and the feeling never subsided. In fact it just got harder and harder to ignore. With your cooking for the league, warm on his tongue, and that sweet fucking perfume. He couldn’t stand it. It had even managed to pry its way into the one thing he thought would be safe. I mean, the feeling would have to go away whilst on missions. He had much bigger priorities than his breath catching in his throat whenever you’d look in his direction. Yet when he saw you battling fiercely with two heroes; he felt it again. Except this time it was different. And he felt as if he had no control over his body. Before he knew it he was rushing to your aid, not that you needed it, and by the time he arrived you looked just as shocked as he did.

What the fuck was wrong with him?

That night he leant limp over his sink, having just splashed his face with cold water, droplets dripping from his skin. Strands of pale-soddened hair stuck to his forehead as he raised a palm, pushing the soggy hair backwards as he retreated from the sink.

He paced around his room silently. The clock read 3:40AM. In bright, blaring crimson numbers. He had to speak to someone. He was gonna explode. He ran through the league, who could he ask?

Kurogiri would most definitely give him the same answer that google did when he had relentlessly searched, “Feeling sick around someone”, and would likely stick a thermometer in his mouth two seconds after. Toga…no. Twice couldn’t ever really give advice, because you never truly knew which aspect of it was how he really felt. Spinner could be an option, but he wasn’t at the base. So that left only one person.

And god, did he hate it.

The loamy smell of cigarettes attacked Shigaraki’s nostrils upon entering. The room was shrouded in dusk, and a thick cloud of smoke hung in the air. He had only ever been in this room once after the occupant had moved in, and it was to decay him after he had once again called him, “More scaly than Spinner” - unfortunately he was halted by Kurogiri before he got the chance.

Dabi’s gaunt figure rest upon his bed, eyes fixated on his window as he flicked a few curling ashes from the cigarette stuck between his lips. His head lay against the pillow, not having noticed the looming presence in his room until his face appeared right above his head.

“Jesus!” Dabi jolted upwards, inhaling a large breath of smoke as he jumped upright, proceeding to clutch his chest as he choked out puffs of smoke. After a moment of panicked spluttering he turned to look at the intruder, rage infused in his usual nonchalant eyes. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, i didn’t say you could come in here.”

Shigaraki scoffed. “Im the leader, I can go wherever I please.”

“Yeah, okay jackass.” Dabi snickered, attempting to push past him in order to stand, only to be shoved back down by Shigaraki. “What the f-“

“Why does Y/N make me feel sick?”

Silence fell over the room. A moment passed, then two. And the shrinking feeling of embarrassment started to creep up Shigaraki’s spine.

“What?” Dabi stared at him in a flat sort of confusion.

“Just what I asked.”

Dabi sighed, bringing a hand through his hair as he reached over to the table beside his bed, rolling his cigarette against the glass ash tray which lay atop a stack of books. “I don’t know, man. It’s four in the morning, I really don’t give a shit about this.”

“Well it’s an order.” Shigaraki said in a surprisingly desperate tone, leaning a little further forward to which Dabi leant further back.

Dabi chuckled, his eyes narrowing in that haunting way they always would when he was about to tease someone. “Why do you care.”

“What?”

“I said why do you care. You act as if you don’t give a shit about anyone, so why do you care if she makes you feel ‘sick’ or whatever.”

Shigaraki seemed taken aback, fumbling with his fingers conspicuously. “I don’t.”

“Right.” Dabi nodded in a superficial manner. “Why you in my room at four then?”

Silence somehow managed to regain its unruly power over the room, only to be ruptured by Shigaraki’s low voice.

“Fuck off” He seethed, turning on his heel as he advanced towards Dabi’s bedroom door, swearing under his breath as he knew he shouldn’t have bothered.

His hand met the doorknob, twisting it in his hands as the dim light from the hallway melted into the room which grew smaller behind Shigaraki’s retreating figure.

“Maybe you want her.”

Dabi’s voice halted Shigaraki’s movements, his hand pausing on the doorknob, loosening and then tightening in anxious realisation.

It couldn’t be that. It wasn’t that. Those thoughts kept floating around his brain but for some reason it didn’t translate to the rest of his body, as that dreaded feeling returned and his skin felt hot. Burning and feverish. He hated you. He hated your smile, your face, your gentleness. Your pure, unbridled talent and strong heart. He hated all of it. He hated you.

What did wanting someone even mean?

Sure, sometimes when your hand would dust across his, he’d wish he could hold it. Sure, when you’d laugh at something Twice said he would wish it was him that evoked that reaction. And sure, sometimes his eyes would trail after you as you left the room, his mind wondering when you would return and he would never fully return to reality until you did.

Somehow, Dabi of all people had pierced the veil of denial he cast over his heart all those months ago. And now it thumped in his chest happily and free of wrongful convictions.

He left the room without another word and Dabi didn’t stop him. And for the first time in your entire time of being here he managed to sleep soundly. The following morning he arose feeling lighter and when he sat at the bar - rubbing sleep from his eyes - he watched as your figure darted across the liquor lined shelves, mumbling to yourself as you replenished the stock everyone had heartily drunk through.

He wanted you more than anything. He knew that. And he knew the feeling in his chest wasn’t hatred, it was the opposite.

And even though you were right in front of him, he knew it was a feeling he’d die with.

Unless it killed him first.

[kuroppiii]

  cuteness aggression ᵕ̈       boyfie!timeskip!bokuto kōtarō       x gn reader ˎˊ˗

⋮⋮ ˒ ₍ᐢ..ᐢ₎ 𖥻 ⿻ : your boyfriend is quite ⋮⋮  literally too cute in the mornings

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8:25 am. both you and bokuto have the day off.

you're leaning against the kitchen counter, one of bokuto's shirts loosely hanging off of your frame. as your thumb instinctively scrolls through your feed, the bubbling of hot water brewing for your morning drink sounds off next to you.

you're vaguely aware of the steam drifting up from the top of the machine when your eyes land on a post from an official msby account.

it was video where they had bokuto running around the msby locker room interviewing his teammates. the questions were along the lines of “favorite point you’ve won”, “court position you would try for a day”, “how do you wear your kneepads off court”, yadayadayada—

the questions didn’t really matter to you at the current moment. what caught your attention, of course, was your lovely boyfriend.

you watched his bright eyes as he excitedly talked to the camera and as they were trained on his teammates while he intently listened to their responses.

the same eyes that light up whenever he sees you, without fail. or the ones that glowed a warm amber when the afternoon sun hits them just right. ones you’ve seen on countless nights as bokuto lies on top of you with his chin softly resting on your chest, as he looks up at your face and his eyes dart over each and every feature on your face in utmost admiration.

and in the video he also smiles—a toothy and hearty smile where it’s so wide that little dimples appear at the sides of his face and some of his bottom teeth peek out from behind his bottom lip. his lips are rosy and full of life, just like him. and only you would know how soft they are, too, and the exact feeling of how they stretch into a content grin against your own lips when you kiss. it’s a smile you could never grow tired of.

everything about him is so charming. he’s adorable. some days you wish you could hide him from the world and keep him and his cuteness all to yourself.

and suddenly the urge just hits you—to hold him and hug him and smother him with affection. to cup his face in your hands and squish his cheeks so you can plant a big kiss on his lips. to nip the tip of his nose just to hopefully incite his laugh that brings music to your ears.

and guess what? you can do exactly that, right at this instant.

completely neglecting your brewing drink and leaving your phone laying flat on the countertop, you shuffle your way back through the apartment to you and bokuto’s shared bedroom.

you peek your head in and see he’s still out cold. the sunlight makes its way through the window blinds to cast shapes on your boyfriends bare chest, exposed by the sheets that he’s shoved down to his lower torso in his sleep.

a ray of light falls on his face, where his eyes are closed, his eyelashes brush against the tops his cheeks, and his mouth hangs open as he sleeps in and snores away.

the black and gray streaks of his hair are rendered messy and tussled as his head sinks into the pillow under it.

the other day you read about the phenomenon of, “cuteness aggression: desires to squeeze, crush, pinch, or even bite an object of our affection. scientists think it is a way we cope with intense positive emotions.”

yup. now you totally get it.

you approach his side of the bed and crawl on top of him, brushing your hands against his chest as you lean down to immediately start peppering his face in kisses. surely he’d wake up, and although you knew the previous night’s practice had taken a lot out of him and he deserved to sleep in for a little longer… the urge. the urge to gather him up in your arms with all the love in the world was simply just too strong.

his eyes not yet open, but his hands now moving to blindly search for your waist, his voice is groggy and rough as he mumbles, “this is an awesome way to start off my day.”

you let up with the face kisses for a moment and fight back a giggle as bokuto blinks one eye awake to get a good look at you first thing as he wakes up, “mornin’ gorgeous.”

too cute. butterflies fly around in your stomach while, firmly but gently, your hands go to hold his head in place as you resume to kiss him all over even more.

“what’s the occasion, baby?” he asks amidst being attacked by your displays of affection, his hands playing with the hem of his shirt on you.

“nothin’, just missed you,” you say between kisses, softly and just barely above a whisper.

“well i’m right here,” he smiles before stretching himself out under you, letting out a small whine as his body comes to before the day properly starts.

as he does this, you tap a finger on his nose and laugh when his face scrunches up in reaction, “kō, you look real cute in the morning, you know that?”

a sound of protest escapes from his throat as his arms wrap around you and he rolls you both over. now he hovers over you, and those pretty eyes gaze down at you. if only you could swim in those eyes and all the love they carry for you, forever.

but bokuto shifts so he can kiss you, and kiss you deep. when you part, you feel your heartbeat is racing and that maybe you don’t need caffeine this morning to wake up after all. not when your boyfriend is bokuto kōtarō, who brings something so inexplicably fulfilling to your life with each day you start waking up to him and his cute bedhead—his cute everything.

“not as much as you are all the time, cutie,” bokuto lazily argues and you lightheartedly roll your eyes with a small scoff.

now it’s his turn to “cope with intense positive emotions”, as you find yourself getting smothered with love—his love—in the messy sheets of your bed at around 9 in the morning.

[burning-academia-if]

How do the ROs react to the siren turning into them, and trying to seduce MC?

I'm surprised that siren ask was a hit lol Here's pt1

Rook: "You're ok MC, it's ok." He holds your shivering body close, trying not to let his emotions play out on his face. You were reaching for him, enraptured by not just the siren's song, but his own image. You stutter out his name, voice rough, but he only shushes you, "Just rest for now. That's all that matters."

Beck: The water is both his home and his curse. He pulls you away easily, golden magic flaring and lighting up the whole of the dark night and ocean. He doesn't let you go onto your back on land. You cling to him, body shaking. He waits for your thoughts to process and when you say his name, he breathes out a sigh of relief. You whisper, "That siren...it..." He presses a kiss to your brow, "I know. You can tell me later. Let's just get you safe and warm."

Rhea: She screams your name, feet splashing against the water as she runs towards you. She throws her arms around you, voice desperate, "That isn't me, MC. Wake up, it isn't me." The cold winter water makes her body shake, and even you tremble in her arms. There are people behind her, weapons drawn to take on the siren. It slips away before they can get close. You blink slowly, slumping back in her arms. She doesn't let you go. As your conscious fades she whispers, "If I'd known your feelings, I'd..." you don't catch the last of her sentence before you go under.

Zoe: They're shaking more then you, opening their mouth to speak, only for it to close seconds later. They can only see them taking your face in their hands, but it isn't them. Not really. It's the hands of a siren wearing their face. You had been so willing to embrace them, and they can't focus on that. They need to focus on you, on making sure you're ok, on getting you to safety. They swallow and take your hand, "...A doctor. You need to see a doctor." It's all they can manage

Lars: The siren lays dead at his feet, the image of his face flickering out to reveal its true form. The water laps away the blood splattered on him and on you. He has an arm wrapped around you, and you lean heavily into his side. "Lars, that wasn't-" "I know what that was." He has no emotion to his voice, instead pulling you closer to him and out of the water. Despite his words, he's careful with you, as he walks you back to shore, tide pulling at your legs. Somethings shifted, even if he doesn't say it.

???: They're in the water with you, lips pressed against yours and filling your lungs with just enough air to allow you both to break the surface without you falling unconscious. The water splashes around you, the waves tall and harsh from the storm. They don't let you go, blood tainting the water from where a siren's body sinks to the bottom of the ocean. "You really are mine, aren't you?" You're too delirious from the situation to register what they said, as they fight the tide and bring you back to shore.

[mariabtsos]

Unsinkable ||j.jk|| - Chapter 8

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Description: The 1910s are the peak of passenger ships, it was also the peak of classism, Jungkook is a third class immigrant from Korea, and you are a first class “prisoner” not wanting to go back to a life of strict standards. Once you meet Jungkook, life seems worth living, but when tragedy strikes, will you guys make it out to live the life you planned?

Genre: Titanic AU, poor/artist!JK x rich!f reader, angst, fluff, very slight smut, forbidden love.

Warnings: Mass death, graphic descriptions of: Hypothermia, thalassophobia, bodily injury. Thoughts of death.

Word Count: 1.5k+

You wished Jungkook had been joking on the night you met.

You tried your best to keep your eyes open as you did your best to swim back to the surface, it felt like something was pulling your legs further down, against your better judgment you looked down, barely making out the railing of the stern as it plunged down to what looked like the darkest abyss, you had to keep swimming if you were going to live, but you were scared, scared that something horrifying will come from black waters below you. 

Jungkook wouldn’t let that happen.

You didn’t realize he was pulling you up until you were almost out of the water, noticing how much harder holding your breath was getting to be. As you broke the surface of the water you gasped for air as if you were a newborn baby, you regretted this instantly, the cold air making you feel like a thousand knives were inside your lungs. Breathing was so painful, you were screaming in pain, was it coming from your leg or your head? It didn’t matter, no one could hear you, mainly because of all the screams that surrounded you as well.

Where were Taehyung and Yoongi? 

You looked at Jungkook with concern, remembering the fact that the doe-eyed man you loved had given you his lifebelt, so he was paddling to stay afloat at the moment, and probably to stay warm. As you swam behind you looked around to check if you saw any sign of the two you’d been so worried about. You couldn’t help but wonder if Taehyung was wearing a lifebelt? Yoongi was wearing one, so surely Taehyung was too, right?

“Where’re the others Kook?” Your voice came out shaky, even talking felt painful, were your ribs broken? Talking shouldn’t be this painful.

“I don’t know,” he spoke, shivering. You tried looking around for any sign of them, but it was so dark. So, so dark.

“YOONGI! TAEHYUNG!” You yelled their names, in hope that they would find you, in hopes that they were both okay.

Jungkook swam around and found a few pieces of debris you could float on, they weren’t very sturdy, and it took you both a few tries to figure out how to get on without falling each time. You looked up at the sky briefly, taking in how bright the stars shone. Where’s the moon? you thought to yourself. 

“TAEHYUNG! YOONGI!” You yelled again, your throat hurt from doing so, and it almost felt useless as the screams around you drowned anything you could possibly say. You hoped rescue was on its way, hell, there was a light nearby and the silhouette of what you thought was another ship. Did they see the flares the officers had sent out earlier? Did they hear how the ship so many deemed ‘unsinkable’ broke apart and sunk from right under you? You wondered if Namjoon and Chris’s bodies were sinking down too, and if their bones would even survive the crushing pressure from below?

You remembered your last moments with him before you left to find Jungkook, how he kept insisting that you get on that lifeboat with your mother, how he’d been holding so tightly and how scared you were of both of you surviving and this being your life. Was it bad that deep down, you were glad he’d died and that he had died quick? That you wouldn’t have to worry about living the life pre-destined for you? All of these questions swirled in your mind as you and Jungkook shivered. You wish you could hold each other, but the pieces of debris Jungkook found were not big enough to hold you both up in a way that you could hold each other. So, you had nothing to do but accept the chilling air of the morning.

“Yoongi…Taehyung…” your voice was merely a whisper now. “It’s so quiet Kookie.”

“We’ll…be okay…the boats will be back for us in no time…” his speech was slurred, the words barely separated as shivered uncontrollably.

“I’m so tired,” you shivered too, very slowly paddling toward him, however long had passed he’d moved far away.

“N-no…you can’t…can’t close your eyes, you have…to live,” Jungkook encouraged you, reaching for your hand which you extended to him, it took him a while to get a hold of it as he was barely able to keep his own hand up.

“You know, I was planning on making myself puke before we left London,” he looked at you, his eyes were heavy, you could tell he was sleepy, but he still let out the silliest of giggles, it was weak and soft, but you didn’t know how much you’d needed it until just now.

“Are you serious?” he asked, his speech was slurred and his skin looked even paler now. “Chris and I were lucky we won that poker game,” the doe-eyed man admitted, “I…think…it’s the best…thing I’ve e…ver won…dar…ling” he giggled again, and it almost didn’t sound like the current Jungkook, who you thought may have suffering the worst part of hypothermia.

“Do you think we’ll make it Kookie?”

Jungkook could barely keep his eyes open anymore, “We’re so close…Korea…can we swim to Korea?” He could barely enunciate his words. You looked at where his shaking finger — although it looked like was slowly stopping — was pointing and all you saw was open water and the silhouettes of other passengers in the water, you looked at him and noticed the debris he was floating on, his chest and arms were barely holding on, his body was submerged from the waist down

Before you could answer you heard a loud whistle along with yelling. “IS ANYONE OUT THERE ALIVE?”

It was them, they’d come to help, they’d come back to save you and Jungkook, maybe whoever was up there was looking after you after all? Hearing the manly voice so close made you come to a decision: you weren't going to die. You weren't going to die, is what you kept repeating to yourself, mustering all the courage and strength you could, you lifted yourself a little extra from your debris and saw the corpse of an officer, his body limp and a whistle frozen to his lips. You weren’t going to die. You got off your debris and swam toward the man, trying your best to not hurt him in case he wasn’t dead, you pulled it softly out of his lip and started blowing the whistle right away, with pleas scattered in between.

“HELP US” you screamed, and you kept on repeating the same phrase every time you stopped whistling to catch air, until eventually you saw a bright light pointed your way.

You didn't remember much after that, just helping drag Jungkook up to the lifeboat and then passing out. When the officer in charge of the lifeboat woke you, you were in front of another big ship and you saw as people climbed on the ladders on the side of the ship, as well as people being dragged up who looked pretty banged up, but to be fair so were you.

You dozed off a few times on the way to the medical area they'd set up, you had a dislocated knee, and had in fact broken a few ribs, you were being treated for frostbite like many others around you. 

Where’s Jungkook? That was the first thing that came to your mind as you finally were warm enough to stay awake.

“Jungkook? JUNGKOOK?”

“Madam, if you mean the boy that was found with you he’s in another room, he’ll be taken directly to the hospital once we get to New York,” the nurse who was walking by your bed came by, checking on your bandages. “I have to go with him, please!” You pleaded.

“Are you anything to him?” Shit, you technically weren’t, but technically, all your most important documents were gone with the ship, and unless your mother found you — which you doubted given they’d put you with the 3rd class passengers and she’d rather be caught dead than mingling with ‘vermin’ as she’d called them.

“Yes, I am his wife, please,” you lied. The nurse nodded, letting you know she’d do her best to ensure you'd be with him once Carpathia docked.

In the meantime, Taehyung and Jimin found you, and you cried seeing Jimin was still holding the little baby he’d found, you wondered if his parents survived, if they were here on Carpathia. As selfish as it sounded, you hoped Jimin would get to keep the small child. You told them all about you and Jungkook’s survival, they listened attentively and did their best to comfort you. “Yoongi hyung is in another room,” Jimin explained, once you finished your story “he got stuck on the railing and his leg broke in his effort to get himself out, the frostbite didn’t help much.”

“And even then, when we found debris to float on he refused to get on and insisted I did,” Taehyung said softly, you held out one of your hands to him in an effort to comfort him, “when the ship docks I’m going to the hospital with Jungkook, if I find out what the name of it is and if Yoongi is going there too, I’ll let you both know so we can all get off the boat together, we’re sticking together,” the two boys looked at each other and then at you and nodded.

[sgt-tombstone]

I’m Not Ready To Go

Mature || Ghost x Soap

cw: angst, MCD, vomiting, graphic description of a corpse, blood and gore, hurt no comfort

————

It’s warm here,

Come on in,

But that’s a long way to dive,

When you don’t know how to swim

- Hazlett, I’m Not Ready To Go

————

When John MacTavish was eight years old, his family went on vacation. Gun to his head, he couldn’t say where exactly, but he remembered being warm, a stark contrast to the chilled air of the Scottish Highlands that seemed to sink into his very bones. There was a pool, somewhere near where they were staying, and John had been fixated by it. It was brilliant blue, unnaturally so, and the surface shimmered in the summer sun, blinding, yet so alluring. His fascination hadn’t gone unnoticed, and his mother had led him to the water’s edge, clad in his brand new swim trunks, to dip a toe into the unknown. She slipped into the pool, the glittering sun reflecting off of the water, wreathing her in ethereal light, and motioned for him to jump in after her. But John balked. He’d never been swimming before, had never been in water deeper than his bathtub, and the thought of leaping so readily into uncharted waters had his entire body freezing up, fear lacing his veins like a paralytic.

“I dinnae ken how to swim,” he whimpered.

“It’s okay, John,” his mother had said, low and assured. “I know it’s scary, but I’m right here. I’ll hold your hand; I won’t let you fall.”

Trusting her was as easy as breathing. With one hand tight in her grip, he stepped off of the edge and into oblivion.

————

The gunshot didn’t hurt, all things considered. No more than his aching legs or straining lungs, anyway. Pressure against his temple, a concussive force that was over in a flash; the impact of his shoulder against the concrete hurt more than the bullet lodged in his brain, nestled in a bed of shattered bone. Vaguely, he could feel a rush, like water over his skull, hot and slick as his brain matter pooled on the ground beneath him.

And then he got up.

It was perhaps the hardest thing he’d ever done, but something in his chest, or maybe his soul, knew that there was no other option. He had to get up, so he did. He managed to roll over, get his arms underneath him, and push himself to his knees. The change in elevation made the gaping hole in his head gush, spilling scorching blood over his ear and down his neck, soaking into his shirt and tac vest, and nausea roiled in his stomach at the sensation. The world was blurry and vague, as if submerged; everything around him was muffled and slanting. He was lightheaded, which made sense, considering half of his head was currently on the ground. He swayed slightly, trying to catch his balance with the new weight distribution but it felt like he was keeling over, a ship caught in a gale, a drunkard stumbling out of a pub. His arms swung out, desperate to find some semblance of equilibrium, but he couldn’t quite manage it with half of his head suddenly feeling much lighter than before.

His stomach made a valiant attempt to keep its contents in place at the resulting swoop of vertigo, but it lost the fight as soon as he caught a glimpse of the pool of red, bright against the off-white floor. He twisted to the side, palms braced against the cold concrete to compensate for the abrupt movement, and narrowly avoided vomiting on his own body.

His own, dead, body.

Vaguely, as stomach acid burned the back of his throat, his stomach convulsing painfully, his eyes watering from the force, he wondered how it was possible. Wondered how he could be here and there at the same time, living and dead, conscious and a corpse. Normally, he didn’t make a habit of questioning miracles, leaving skepticism to Price and Ghost, but this didn’t feel like a miracle.

A train swept by, deafening in the tunnel, and the wind buffeted his body, both of them. Through the din, he heard a voice.

“John.”

She was beautiful, all soft skin and warm eyes, blinding yet alluring. Beautiful in the way that men would walk through fire and flame for, if only she led the way. Beautiful in the way that men would kill and die for, if only for the prize of her gentle smile. Beautiful in the way that had John listing towards her, towards her outstretched hand, trust as easy as breathing, but then… he balked. He looked back.

The bomb, disarmed.

Gaz and Price, standing off to the side. Gaz’s face was pressed against Price’s tac vest, his fists curled in the back of his captain’s shirt as he sobbed, held up only by the support of Price’s arms wrapped around his body.

Ghost, kneeling next to his dead body. His head was bowed, his gloved fingers tight on his knees, as if the tension held in his bones was the only thing keeping him from collapsing.

“It’s okay, John,” she said, so softly that he shouldn’t have been able to hear her, but her voice rang clear anyway. He glanced back, breath caught in his throat.

“Who are ye?” He asked, but he knew who she was. He knew her as innately as he knew his own mother, the sound of her heartbeat, the warmth of her skin, the moment his life began. Death stood before him, and he knew that this was the moment his life ended.

All at once, a maelstrom of emotion surged through him. Rage, grief, fear. They ignited in his blood like a wildfire, scorching him from the inside out. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fucking fair.

“I’m no’ ready to go,” he snarled, face twisted in fury, but the anger melted like snow in the face of her impassivity. He’d learned a lot from Ghost over the years, but he’d never gained the ability to intimidate Death herself, especially when she was looking at him with such gentle kindness.

“I know it’s scary,” she said, and something in him broke. Tears streamed down his cheeks before he even felt the sting in his eyes and he couldn’t catch his breath, his mouth caught open on a sob that lodged in his throat. He wrapped his arms around himself, as tightly as he could given his bulky gear, but it didn’t help. He couldn’t escape this nightmare. There was no comfort to be found here.

“I’m no’ done here,” he ground out, quiet between his lips but it echoed impossibly through the tunnel as if he had howled it, carrying all of the emotion he’d held back. He turned back to the dismal sight; to his lifeless body sprawled on the floor, heat leeching out with his blood; to his team, seemingly stuck in place, undoubtedly waiting for the medical team to arrive with the body bag. “I’m no’ even thirty,” he whispered, voice thick. “I’m supposed to have more time.”

“I’m afraid not, John,” she said. The words should’ve hurt, should’ve made him bear his teeth and fight, but he couldn’t summon the defensiveness. Desolation took its place, like a gaping hole in his chest, a twin to the one in his head. “This is all the time you get.”

“No.” He shook his head. He couldn’t believe it, wouldn’t believe it. “There’s so much I didnae get to see, I cannae leave yet. Don’t make me leave.”

“You can’t stay, John.”

Her words sank through him like a stone in a still pond. He knew she was right, could feel the truth in his bones, like an ache that wouldn’t leave, a chill that he couldn’t shiver out.

“I gave everything!” He yelled, pressing his hands to his eye sockets, hard, but the outburst ebbed just as quickly as it had the first time, leaving only empty, numb resignation and a hollow sense of defeat. “I gave everything, and this is what I get?”

“I’m sorry, John,” she said earnestly after a long moment, so earnestly that he couldn’t doubt her. It only made it worse. He shuffled forward until his knees his his own side, until he was face to face with Ghost, or would have been, had Ghost been able to tear his eyes from the cold corpse between them. John lifted his trembling hands, just shy of cupping the mask-shrouded lines of Ghost’s cheeks. For a moment, a split second, Ghost glanced up, as if he could sense John’s proximity, the chill of his fingers only centimeters from his face, and their eyes met. The moment seemed to stretch and warp, a second caught in an endless expanse as he stared into the depths of Ghost’s, bourbon brown eyes for the last time. And then Ghost dropped his head again, and the second shattered.

“I cannae leave him,” he said, directing the words over his shoulder even as he kept his eyes on the slope of Ghost’s mask, the way his balaclava rippled where his hair was flattened underneath it, the careful stitching that kept the whole ensemble together. “Don’t make me leave him, not like this. I cannae- I never got to tell him…”

He knew he was dangerously close to begging, knew how hopeless it was, but he had to try.

“Simon,” he breathed, then again, louder, the sudden resurgence of his anguish lending a warbling strength to his words. “Simon, I’m so sorry, love, I didnae mean to, I promise, please, love, please look at me again-“

“He can’t hear you, John,” she murmured.

“Tell me he’ll be okay,” he snarled at the interruption, whipping his head to the side, just far enough to throw the words behind him. A bad idea, if the swoop of his still-unbalanced head was any indication, but he didn’t care. There was nothing more important than this. The urgency was glass under his skin, paralyzing.

“John, I can’t-“

“Lie to me if you have to,” he snapped, “but tell me he’ll be okay. He’ll die in his sleep when he’s eighty, quick and painless. Tell me he makes it out. Tell me he disnae die here.”

He could hear another train coming, rushing down the tracks, rumbling through his knees. The medics would be here soon, no doubt, and then it would be chaos. Team members or not, the rest of the 141 would be swept to the side, told to return to base for debrief and several rounds of psychological evaluations. He could see the slow preparation to move in the shift of Price’s arms around Gaz, getting ready to let go, letting him find his footing again before stepping back. He could see it in the flexing of Ghost’s hands against his knees, fingertips digging into the flesh of his thighs, burying everything until they got back to base, just like he always did. Only, this time, he wouldn’t be there to see it. He wouldn’t be there to bump his shoulder against Simon’s, a comforting weight at his side.

“I love you, Johnny,” Simon whispered, so low that John thought he’d imagined it. Agony laced his voice, dripping with grief and guilt. He ripped off his mask, quick and desperate, and John was gifted the unique torment of watching, helpless, as Simon’s lips curled in a silent keen, his tears running in wavering rivulets down his scarred cheeks. He brought the cloth part of his mask up to his face to wipe away the tears. “I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m so sorry, Johnny.”

He stretched his hand out and his fingers were twitching, his arm trembling, every sniper instinct utterly broken, but the touch he used to close John’s unseeing eyes was as gentle as a wave, softer than water, extinguishing the dull, lifeless blue.

“Goodbye, love,” he breathed, and then he stood up, pulling his mask back over his head, shutting out the rest of the world, containing everything that was Simon Riley behind the skull plate, locked tight. He turned, stooping to pick up his gun, and stalked out of the tunnel, not waiting for Price or Gaz to catch up.

John stared after him, rendered—for once in his life, or maybe only in death—speechless. The train hurtled through the tunnel, but he barely noticed it. He felt scraped hollow, nothing more than a husk, eyes caught on the retreating back of the love of his life. He’d never be able to say it back.

“He makes it out,” Death said softly as the sound of the train faded in the distance. He’d forgotten she was there, but he didn’t startle. She was a calming presence at his back, a warmth that he couldn’t explain, didn’t even try. He didn’t know if she was lying and he didn’t dare ask. It was a comforting fantasy, if nothing else. He swallowed roughly, ran a hand through his mohawk, and stood up. It was easier this time, somehow, or maybe he’d gotten used to the dead weight. He turned, his back to his own corpse for the first time, and felt the yawning expanse of the unknown in front of him, a nebulous, unseen aura that shimmered like sun on water, wreathing Death in ethereal light. Her expression was soft and sympathetic, but he didn’t feel the sharp sting of pity he’d expected. It made his next words a little easier to bear.

“I dinnae… I dinnae ken how to swim.”

“I’m right here, John,” she said, low and assured. “I’ll hold your hand; I won’t let you fall.”

Trusting her was as easy as breathing. He placed his hand in hers, tight in her grip, and together, they stepped off of the edge and into oblivion.

————

Feel free to drop a kudos or comment on AO3!

[mitchellpete]

Kinktober Day 23 - Bath/shower

pairing: ethan hunt x f!reader

cw: mild injury descriptions, imf agent!reader, shower sex, handjobs, thigh fucking, penetration, unprotected sex

word count: 1618

kinktober masterlist here.

18+ ONLY | MINORS DNI

-

It’s seemingly the biggest relief of your life, stepping under the hot spray of water. 

A few hours after the mission, the team had finally sprawled out. Ethan decided he’d stay in Paris just a few extra days, where he’d been holed up in a bleak little apartment a month prior to the mission. The place had been vacant while the team used the safehouse, now a little dusty and cold and dark, but its state was the least of your worries when you both stumbled inside.

Battered and sore, you both quietly made your way into the bathroom. Ethan turned the water on, the sudden jolt of it loud against the tub. Allowing the water some time to warm, you watched as he stripped in front of the mirror, watched as his eyes surveyed every splot of purple and yellow that littered his torso. He winced as he touched a particularly large bruise on the side of his ribs. You leaned in in the midst of stripping your own clothes, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder blade, right above a long, red cut. That scary fall he’d taken earlier.

“You took too many bumps,” you murmured with a frown, lightly dragging your fingers down his back. 

Ethan shuddered at the feeling, hands gripping the sink. An exhale.  “Got the job done. That’s all that matters now.”

“And getting some rest,” you remind him, stepping back to finish ripping your garments off. You reach for him when done, wrapping a hand around his arm and tugging him towards the steam.

Ethan groans when the water washes over him. You stand with him underneath the spray, letting the heat relieve your muscles. You watch him in front of you, as the water hits the top of his head and runs down his face. His eyes close, his long lashes sticking to his cheeks the same way his hair sticks to his forehead. You smile, pushing yours back, away from your face.

Soap in hand, Ethan brings you close, gently bringing it to your body. It smells nice—lavender, it must be. The scent fills your nostrils as Ethan brings it up close, running it up your chest and across your collarbone, over the curve of your shoulder, down your back. You moan softly at the pressure, more so when he sets the soap aside and just rubs the soapy bubbles into your skin with his hands. He watches intently as he touches you, teeth biting into his bottom lip as his fingers knead and massage your chest. Hands surprisingly soft against your skin, his touch climbs up to your neck. You wrap your hands around his wrists when he’s washing you there, and he takes the opportunity to lean in for a kiss.

The buzz of his touch and now his mouth on yours excites you underneath the hot water. You reach for the soap mid-kiss, rubbing it in between your hands and then setting it aside again to just massage at his skin the way he’s doing for you. 

You both stand there, hands exploring the dips and curves and muscles on each other’s bodies. Ethan pulls away from the kiss but his mouth lingers on the corner of yours, where he lets out a small groan at the feel of your hands. It’s then that his finger brushes against your hardened nipple, eliciting a groan out of you too, except yours comes out more high pitched and needy. Ethan’s touch travels south, down your abdomen and over your hip bone, where his fingers wrap around your skin there. 

The heat of the water has your bodies flushed and warm, and suddenly everything feels a bit too hot when Ethan brings you in even closer. You feel his cock against your skin then, hardening in between your bodies. 

Your hand slides down his chest and down his abs, and then your fingers gingerly wrap around his shaft. He hisses against your mouth, jerking forward into your grasp. You squeeze him a bit, getting a few whiney noises out of him that only further your desire. He breathes out, reaches for the soap again to continue slathering you in it, to make use of his hands while you stroke him. 

Ethan continues washing your body, his touch still gentle even as his breathing quickens. Matching his gentle touch, you slowly move your hand up and down, getting him fully hard in your fist. 

The soap he rubs all over you runs down, dripping from your chest and down your legs, leaving your body slick and slippery. Ethan moans and pushes you back against the cold tiled wall, head dipping down to nip at your neck. You angle your head to grant him access, sighing against the side of his head. His mouth is hot on your skin, almost as hot as the water, and it only adds to the coil in your stomach. You grind against him in anticipation, needy and desperate for more friction. 

You gasp as Ethan complies, feeling his cock poke in between your legs. You buck up against him, allowing him to slide in and out of your thighs. The bubbles running down your body help him slip and slide with ease, his hips jerking in and out of the crevice of your legs. He gasps against your neck, overcome with pleasure.

“Ethan,” you whine, rolling your hips. Your cunt suddenly throbs with need, clenching around nothing. Arms wrapped around his shoulders, you bring him in as close as can be. You’re careful not to slip, the soap still dripping and pooling at your feet.

Ethan’s cock continues sliding in between your legs, his heavy pants against your ear. You groan, back arching off the tiles as the pleasure trickles up your inner thighs and gathers in your abdomen. You feel your knees buckle, and Ethan seems to notice too, a strong hand wrapping around your arm to keep you steady. The other hand meets the wall beside your head to hold himself up, hips thrusting almost desperately. 

You lean up, pressing your mouth to his neck to coax him closer to his imminent orgasm but it’s like he suddenly changes his mind, groaning loudly and pulling back just as you gently bite in between his neck and shoulder.

“Fuck, come here,” he mumbles breathlessly, using the grip on your arm to turn you around. Now facing the wall, legs slightly tense from having stood against it, you bite your lip and hold onto the grab bar beside you for leverage. His warmth is ever present behind you, his hips against your ass and then it happens quickly—he pushes inside you, the stretch delicious and easy. Your lashes flutter in pleasure, back arching again as your body takes him in, feeling him meet your deepest spots.

Your back aches slightly from the fighting just hours prior but Ethan bottoms out inside of you and suddenly all you can think of is the glow that washes over you, igniting your entire body in white hot bliss. 

You can’t see Ethan behind you but you can hear him—filthy moans and quiet murmuring and praise that you can’t quite make out under the spray of water. 

You’re sure you see stars when he starts to move, hips meeting your ass with every thrust, his fingers digging into your waist. The sound of skin on skin and the slap of water is loud over the spray, as are your sudden strangled noises. 

Ethan moans your name, and then a series of whines stuck in the back of his throat, and you’re sure he’s close. His composure is always impressive, and he’s usually the gentleman that always needs you to cum first, but his hips start sputtering this one time. He pulls out just as he starts spilling inside of you, some of it in and the rest landing in the mix of bubbles and soap on the tub floor. 

He gasps as he cums, hand coming up to the wall to steady himself again. Still, he guides his cock back inside you with the opposite hand to finish you off, biting his lip to suppress his moans. It’s seemingly impossible for him, and it’s your turn to gasp when the warmth of his whole body covers you, chest pressed to your back and lips next to your ear, where he continues spilling them.

“Come on, baby,” he coaxes, mouth ghosting over the shell of your ear, and behind it. “That’s it.”

Your knuckles go white from gripping the bar, and you throw your head back, cheek to cheek with him as he sloppily starts his thrusts again. Ethan’s hands travel up your body this time, trailing your chest and all the other little sensitive spots he knows. 

It’s not long before he’s got you gasping and sputtering beneath him, body shaking and legs going weak. It’s like the glow coursing through you suddenly explodes, overtaking your senses, and then it’s all too much—the water, the soreness in your body, all the steam surrounding you. Ethan holds onto you as it takes you, strong arms around your middle once he’s pulled out again. You instantly turn in his arms to face him again, arms wrapping around his neck, exhausted. Face to face, you both pant, coming down from the high together. 

You shamefully have to take a seat in the tub to finish cleaning yourself off, legs feeling tingly, and Ethan playfully teases you about it. It’s all worth it, though, because then you’re wrapped in a towel and dried off and carried to bed, where you get to lay on Ethan’s chest and relish in the post-mission victory together.

[kkcauseway]

Caring Hand

Summary: You're going on a trip with Joel, which means driving to the destination and it’s hours away… to make matters worse your morning sickness is at its worst. So Joel does his best to look after you. Content and warnings: TW: vomiting -morning sickness. So much fluff. Talks of pregnancy, protective!Joel, caring!Joel. No use of y/n, no outbreak. Word count: 1.8k

Caring husband Joel Miller x F!reader

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You and Joel are travelling to a lodge you have booked for the next week. Your first proper time away in months. Joel booked it as a surprise after your promotion, he’s so thoughtful and compassionate like that.

However, you’ve not been feeling good all morning, morning sickness is at its worst again, this pregnancy so far really hasn’t been kind to you. You’ve been throwing up throughout the day for the past week straight, and the temperature outside reaching record highs means there’s no helping you to feel even slightly better. The heat makes you sicker.

This trip has been planned for months, obviously not with pregnancy in mind. (Not that you’d change it for the world.) But even with you feeling so ill, hardly able to keep food down, you’re not about to let that ruin your trip. It’s very much needed, and you do think it will help to make you feel better. The air’s cleaner where you’re going. It will be nice to breathe in really fresh air, and there’s a lake, god you could just about strip naked and jump in there right this second. You’ve been on the road about an hour when you begin to feel really sick and hot, you’re feeling the heat a lot more than usual today. Having already stripped down as much as is possible there’s not much else you can do. Wearing the bare minimum before it would be classed as ‘indecent exposure’ or more to the point where Joel would get too excited by the sight that he would absolutely ‘need’ to have his way with you. Although he knows better than to joke with you right now.

Keeping your eyes closed and trying to keep your breathing calm is about all you can do to try to relax; Joel can tell you really don’t feel well though. He’s got to learn when you get bad because you aren’t always vocal about it, not wanting to worry him, although he begs you to ‘worry him’, so he can share the burden and try his best to make it better.

“You want some more water baby?” he asks sincerely.

“Please” you say wiping your forehead, not even thinking about the fact Joel’s driving and it means he’s reaching into the back to get it for you whilst he’s supposed to be watching the road.

With thanks you take the bottle from him. Taking a large, heavenly swig. The water isn’t warm yet thankfully, but you know it won’t be long till it is, so you savour every second of the ice-cold water as it makes its way down. That definitely helps. You opt to roll the bottle on either side of your neck before doing the same to your cheeks. It feels amazing and you can’t help the little satisfied moan that falls from your lips.

Joel smirks as he shakes his head at you. You lightly laugh back at him through the discomfort beginning to feel better then. Finding it easier to enjoy the trip, even finding the energy to sing along to certain songs.

But then it suddenly hits you again and you go quiet. As expected, the heat has turned the water almost hot, and it’s not at all satisfying to drink. But you grin and bear it to keep yourself hydrated, breathing through the sick feeling. Not allowing anything to put a dampener on the start of your trip.

☀️☀️☀️☀️

You need air, proper air not just the air-con blowing in your face and soon, you need out of the car to fully breathe. “Babe, can we stop at the next services please? I really need to get out for a bit.”

Joel looks to you briefly “Sure, we can, you really not feeling good still?”

“No, I’m not. This baby’s really playing me up” you sink into your seat, rubbing a palm over your stomach, hoping to alleviate the feeling.

“Okay baby” he sighs deeply, hating seeing you in this much discomfort without being able to do anything to help. “The next services aren’t too far out we can stop have something to eat too if you’re up for it?”

“Let’s see how we go” you let out a heavy breath. The thought of eating food physically repulsing you.

Joel has the aircon blasting in your face, and it’s by far the best thing ever, but it’s not enough. You try your best to focus on the cool air coming at you and for a short time it does the job, but then you hit traffic. And you go from speeding away to 10mph if you’re lucky.

“Fuck Joel, you need to pull over as soon as you can, I can’t wait till we get to the services. Fuck, I need to get out. Feel like I can’t breathe” you huff.

“Okay darlin’ I promise soon as I can I’ll pull over, so you can get some air okay. Promise baby, don’t panic okay?” Joel’s worried, it takes a lot for you to moan about feeling unwell.

“I feel so sick” you whimper sounding so small.

“I know baby m’sorry, hopefully won’t be long and you’ll start feelin’ better. I know y’hate feelin’ like this.”

“I do, I hate it so much” you utter sounding so deflated.

As the car begins slowly moving once more, you feel heat rise from your feet to your face and you’re overcome with this nasty unbearably hot feeling. And then before you can say or do anything you throw up all over yourself, a choke like cough following afterwards. It genuinely came from nowhere you didn’t feel it rise; it just came out. There was no way to prevent it from getting all over you and the car seat.

Joel looks over at you and uses his hand closest to you to hold your hair out of your face “you’re okay baby just breathe” his other hand quickly grabs a plastic bag from his car door storage.

As you breathe incredibly heavy you take the bag from him, “just in case” he whispers before he puts that hand back on the wheel. You’re so uncomfortable as vomit slowly seeps into your shorts and a smell of stomach acid fills the air.

“Fuck. I’m so sorry Joel, it just, just came out” you pant, eyes stinging, and heart racing.

He’s indicating now to a point on the road he can pull over in. “Honey don’t be sorry y’couldn’t help it” he’s still holding the hair out of your face, but you thankfully haven’t been sick since.

When he parks safely, he quickly jumps out of the car, goes into the boot to retrieve some tissues and wipes before he comes around to your side opening your car door.

“I’m so sorry you feel this shit baby” he utters beginning to clean away the sick from your lap, using the currently unsoiled bag he gave you to discard the tissues in.

As much as you feel like shit, you still can’t believe how much he’s helping you, especially considering you’ve just thrown up in his car, all over his seat. He didn’t even think about it before jumping into action, not showing any signs of repulsion.

When it’s okay for you to get out of the car, you slowly jump down using Joel’s hand to steady you. He quickly cleans the seat as you take a wipe and start to clean your hands and arms. Once finished Joel doesn’t even hesitate to get onto his knees to clean off your shorts and legs properly. He can see your breathing is still very uneven and you look on the verge of tears. “Shhh, you’re okay baby” he reassures softly as he uses delicate strokes with the wipe.

“I’m sorry I really didn’t mean it.” You try to hold the tears back, but to no avail.

“Hey, you don’t need to be sorry baby, s’okay” he reassures whilst continuing to clean your shorts.

“I’m so embarrassed. I'm so disgusting.”

He stands up then, finally done with cleaning your lower half and you’ve finished cleaning your top half. Joel looks into your eyes “baby you’re living through all of this so you can bring our baby into the world, trust me, watching you embrace all the shit this pregnancy is throwing at you. S’sexy regardless of what happens okay? Not disgusting”. You stay silent, hanging your head low in shame. “Hey” he grabs your chin gently, so you have no choice but to look up at him. “I mean it; would I ever say anything I didn’t mean?”

“No” you whisper before sniffling.

“No, I wouldn’t, so stop feeling embarrassed, I’ll always adore you no matter what”. He strokes your cheek, and you lean into his palm as he does so.

“I love you Joel, I really do” you say through your slowing whimpers.

“I love you too baby. How y’feelin’ now?”

“Sick again, which is just perfect.”

“Well, there’s no rush for us to get back onto the road Baby we can stay here as long as y’need us to.”

He puts his arm around you then, stroking at your back.

“You’re so good to me Miller, I do honestly love you so much.” You turn into his side placing an arm either side of his body before squeezing him to prove your affection. He continues his stroking whilst leaning so his lips rest on the top of your head speaking loud into your hair as he replies, “I love you so much too, and this lil baby of ours, even if they’re just a teeny tiny dot right now.” He kisses the top of your head, and you stay stood in that embrace for a little while.

☀️☀️☀️☀️

“Not to ruin the moment, but I’m definitely gonna be sick again.”

You bring a hand to your mouth, and you move away from him slightly then, but he runs after you to hold your hair back. Rubbing your back as you throw up once more.

“Fuck baby m’so sorry you feel like this” he says to you between your bouts of retching. “S’it you get it all out”.

Eventually you spit for one final time and stand up straight again then, Joel pulls out a tissue from his pocket and you wipe your mouth “ugh I hate this”, Joel looks at you sympathetically before passing you some gum, which you’re eternally grateful for. “I hate it so fucking much” you say between chews “but, it’s all worth it for her” you rest a hand on your still flat stomach.

“Her?” he questions.

“Just a feeling that’s all.”

He smiles at you then and you smile back. “My girls” he utters softly through a wide grin placing his palm above yours.

How does he manage to make you feel so good even in your worst moments?

With the sickness feeling finally completely gone (at least for today- you hope) you can get back on the road. A week away full of fun, food, sex, and sun. God you’ve been longing for this for months. Just you and Joel. Though it means even more now than it did before. You’re soaking up all the time you have left before you lives are forever changed.

Changed for the better…

Main masterlist

[truths33k3r4]

(Warnings for this chapter are at the bottom of the page to keep from giving away spoilers.)

CHAPTER 8 - Deceptive Answers

Don cringed as he thoroughly sprayed down the empty trash bin, acting as if the fragrant, lavender scent would banish the acrid stench back to the pits of hades from whence it came. After the third round of air freshener, he slowly backed away from the bin with a cautious frown.

He proceeded to spray it down four more times.

Why did it have to be vomit…

As he walked to the kitchen sink he gently pulled off his latex gloves, neatly folding and placing them on the counter as he began to run the tap. After years of learning about germs and how to abolish them, he knew well that it didn’t matter if you washed them with hot or cold water. But even with this knowledge, it still brought him a slight ping of delusional comfort envisioning the hot temp burning the germs right off his hands.

That’s definitely normal.

He didn’t care all that much for the gooey sensation of the soap when it first puddles in his palms, but with a few quick scrubs, the sticky texture expanded into soft peaks of foam. The warm water mixed with the luscious suds did wonders for his dry hands. Thanks to the colder weather beginning to creep into the city, his home’s air had been stripped of its moisture. As a result, the skin of his hands and ankles cracked like the barren grounds of a scalding desert.

In other words ew.

With the last stage of washing his hands complete, drying them and folding the washcloth over the railing near the sink, Don began the trek back to his office. As he neared the doorway of the brothers’ bedroom, he paused.

Just move quickly. No big deal. Just ‘ninja’ your way around. Get to your office without attracting any unnecessary attention. Orrrr getting involved in any more emotional drama… Easy.

With a quick inhale, and his face tightened with concentration, he slowly took one silent step after the next, continuing his way down the hall past the bedroom. As he crept, little pieces of whispered conversation fluttered past his ears.

“...Lotus, what are you talking about?” 

Don instantly recognized the soothing tones of his oldest brother.

 “You are free. You made it out. We saved you. Shhhh, it’s alright.”

Don’s brows creased together as he paused to figure out what had happened to spark such concerned words from Leo. Going by what he said, the eldest wasn’t referring to Lotus being sick. The word “free” especially intrigued him. He continued to stand frozen as he leaned closer to the doorway, his curiosity now overriding the mission to get to his office.

“N-no… No, They…They’ll never go away…” A small voice cried in muffled whimpers.

Don’s mind began to process Lotus’ words one at a time; Every vowel and every fluctuation were filed into neat shelves in his brain.

Who’s “they”? Going by how we found her, she must be referring to the scientists at the lab, right? But what does that have to do with her being sick? Did those physician abominations give her something to make her ill? 

“Who, Lotus? Who won’t go away?” Leo gently whispered over Lotus’ smothered sniffles.

Don leaned closer. No verbal answer was given to Leo’s question, the silence only being filled by the frantic shuffles of sheets being pulled back and forth. 

“I.. I don’t… I don’t want to talk about it. I c-can’t.” Lotus pleaded as her voice continued to crack and splinter under the weight of whatever was haunting her mind. “I just c-can’t.”

Don’s posture physically slumped as he listened to the fear-stricken shivers of Lotus’ voice. The way her words jittered and broke in shards sounded all too familiar to him. She was so scared, but there wasn’t anything physically present that would make her react that way.

That left whatever was plaguing her to be something lurking deeper. Don couldn’t help the defensive snarl that escaped his teeth.

It has to be nightmares… That’s the most reasonable explanation for such behavior.

He knew that well, being reminded every night of the horrors he and his twin were forced through. Even though they were home. Even though they were safe. Even though it made no sense that the past has such power over the present.

And now he sees he’s not the only one.

How long was she there?...  How long did she live under the microscope of Specter’s prying eyes?

Don failed to suppress a shudder through his body as he was forcefully pushed into his own memories of the nightmare laboratory. His hands instinctively rose to cling to his shoulders, rubbing them down in an attempt at comfort. He clenched his teeth and closed his eyes, willing his mind to forget all those horrific memories that plagued him, but it was all for naught.

His twin’s screams echoed in a terrible chorus that consumed all his thoughts. 

A sickly, neon green glowed through the barrel of a syringe.

His chained wrists ached and burned from being yanked through long corridors.

His terrified face looked back at him through the reflective surface of dark-tinted lenses.

His body shook violently as an electrode was pressed into the left side of his head.

His vision erupted in white static when the nurse pressed the button.

NO! STOP IT- NOW!

IT’S OVER. STOP LETTING THIS GET TO YOU.

IT’S OVER.

Don gulped down the dread and anxiety clogging his throat, burying it deeper into the places of his heart he dared never to go. The chill of his memories forced another shudder to claw its way up his spine, leaving him gripping tightly to his arms and shaking his head. His legs shivered and buckled underneath him as if the weight of his memories added to his physical mass.

It’s over. That’s enough.

Don leaned and used the wall to stabilize himself, relying on the firm surface to steady his rampant thoughts as well as his shuddering body.

Just move. One foot in front of the other. 

With a withered sigh, he pushed off the wall and continued walking, blocking out the rest of the hushed conversations escaping the bedroom.

 I can’t deal with that right now. I just can’t.

Leo’s got it. He can handle it.

With his mind completely focused on simply reaching his office, he didn’t even attempt to sneak past the bedroom. It didn’t matter if they saw him, anyway. This was one of those pesky things that he just… couldn’t fix. 

So why try when it’s a waste of time? When there are others who are far more equipped for such a task?

Soon after, he finally reached his office, carefully closing the door behind him as he walked toward his desk. With a sigh, Don flopped onto his computer chair, causing a quiet squeak to fill the compact room. He leaned into the firm cushion of his chair as the whispered hum of the computer filled his ears. For a moment, just a small moment, Don took the second of mental silence to look around his room.

His gaze immediately rose to the high school certificate hung proudly on the wall closest to his desk. He remembered how excited he was to have such an accomplishment under his belt at the young age of sixteen, rubbing it in Raph’s face with a smug grin. His twin nearly shattered the frame before Leo and Splinter intervened. 

So much has changed.

As his eyes began to wander again, he suddenly caught sight of a small, blue sticky note left underneath the frame of his certificate. Don leaned and squinted his eyes as he read,“Please remember to drink! -Leo”. 

A cozy warmth filled Don looking at the note left there by his brother. It embraced his heart and settled his mind, leaving the faint feeling of a grin growing on his face. Don turned to his desk and took a good swig from the glass of water left there since that afternoon.

His eyes continued to wander, soon catching sight of his calendar and notes posted on the wall near his door. He again squinted his eyes, and even fixed and cleaned his glasses, but that all proved to be useless. He still couldn’t read very well, and it was beginning to drive him crazy.

With an annoyed growl, Don scooted and rolled his chair closer to the wall. He would have to figure out his sight problem some other time, no matter how many sparks of dread began to pop in his stomach at the thought of his vision once again failing him.

Shaking his head to repel any more worthless memories from entering, he once again gazed at the notes neatly stacked on the wall. Most of them were just phone numbers of the “co-workers” from his job. 

But then he finally saw his calendar. And the warmth that once thrived inside him vanished instantaneously. 

Leo’s words echoed back to him as he began looking over the wrong amount of days crossed out, reminding him just how much time he had lost.

“Eighteen days.”

For eighteen days he didn’t help his family.

For eighteen days he didn’t keep up with the repairs of his home.

For eighteen days he didn’t show up to work.

For eighteen days his family tirelessly searched for him.

For eighteen days you failed them. Weeks of worry, dread, and longing plagued your family all because of your absence. Did they even have fresh food this whole time? Did they have to resort to drastic measures? Did they have heat? Did any of them sleep? 

Don crushed his head under the clutches of his tightening fingers. 

How much pain did he inflict on his family all because of his carelessness?

Don hunched over in his chair, pulling his legs up to his plastron and pressed his head onto his knee caps. He squeezed tighter and tighter until it hurt.

How could I let this happen?

Why did You put me in this family if You knew I would FAIL THEM?

He pressed his head further into his knees. His arms clung tighter around his legs. His lungs begged for oxygen that he couldn’t supply. 

“Why?...” He whispered brokenly.

Just at the moment he felt his head would burst from the pent up energy and pressure, a soft *ding* sounded from his monitor. He couldn’t recall what he had been processing on his desktop, so he slowly lifted his head from his knees, gazing over to his computer as he dropped his feet back to the floor.

Then it clicked in his brain, and he shot his legs out to propel himself off the wall to his desk. After slamming his hands against the ridge to keep from crashing into the small table, he took a millisecond to gather his completely shattered mental state so he could focus on the task at hand. 

This was something he could fix.

His fingers comfortably found their rhythm clacking on the keyboard as he finally opened the files coded into Lotus’ implant. He was surprised to see so many, at least a hundred or so lined up in neat rows. Each one was labeled similarly, with the title “SUBJECT 19- PROCEDURE #”. 

As curious as he was to begin looking deeper into those files, one in particular caught his eye, labeled two simple words:

“SUBJECT INFO”

That should be promising.~

With his mind made up, Don swerved his mouse and clicked. The file opened to reveal many different types of documents: Blood types, heartbeat readings, and many more medical related data.

If Don weren’t so disgusted by what these felons had done, he would actually be quite impressed with how well organized all the information was. 

He pushed that feeling aside as he continued scrolling.

“MEDICAL HISTORY”...

“DIAGNOSES”...

“TREATMENT PLANS”...

Holy French Toast there’s SO MUCH… I’m gonna need weeks just to go through this all!

“MEDICATIONS”...

“TEST RESULTS”...

“PROGRESS NOTES”...

Down, down, he continued searching through them, just trying to find the end of the treasure trove of knowledge about his family’s new guest.

“IMAGING AND DIAGNOSTIC REPORTS”...

“IMMUNIZATION RECORDS”...

And then his cursor finally stopped. And at the very bottom of the list lied what he was searching for:

“VITAL RECORDS”

There you are.

Don clicked the file as he hunched closer to his monitor, the feelings of anticipation and dread filling him as he wondered what he was going to find. Lotus would finally get some semblance of answers about her past now. And from what he’d seen of the wounded girl, he knew she needed some good news.

The first document to pop up on his screen was a newspaper clipping.

What? 

The article showcased some kind of vehicle, flipped over and ablaze on the side of a dirt-paved road. All the dates on the paper were crossed out, as well as the last names of anyone involved. The cover read in bold letters,

“FAMILY OF FIVE KILLED IN UNFORTUNATE CRASH”

Don’s head cocked in utter confusion as he began reading through the article. He began clicking his tongue as all his concentration zeroed in on every word of the story before him. 

Somehow this connected to Lotus. And he was going to find out how.

The article stated that during a particularly rainy, spring night, a family of five, (husband, wife, and three children), slid off the road and flipped their car over. When help finally arrived, as well as the Press, the car was being swallowed by unrelenting flames. Only two bodies were retrieved, that of the husband and wife. Their names were Frederick and Jess, but their last name was crossed out. 

All that was left of their two toddlers and baby were scorched car seats. 

Don backed away from his monitor in horror, covering his eyes with his hand and sliding it down to his chin. The images of the husband and wife’s bodies hidden under sheets made his stomach tighten with sorrow. He squirmed in his seat, both guilty and grateful that he had never seen or heard anything about this tragedy.

All it took… was one thing to go wrong.

… And then… everything was gone. Everything. That poor family…

The rest of the article continued on to review the woe of their family’s relatives, as well as the following funeral that would occur at a later date. (A later date that was meticulously scratched out to be indecipherable.) 

Why is this in her records?...

After finishing reading through the article, he moved on to the next document in the file:

A birth certificate.

Don muttered an annoyed growl as he noticed that this document had been thoroughly crossed out too, with the only things left reading:

Alexis?... Is that Lotus’ birth name?... But… this is an official document by the State of New York- 

A human certificate.

Don’s brain whirled all this new information around his mind like an indecisive tornado. Nothing was making sense. No puzzle pieces were lining up. How could he be given so much information and none of it is useful?!? Here he thought those psychos with medical degrees were organized and thorough in their research- Here he thought he was finally given a buffet of answers ready to be feasted upon at a moment’s notice. How wrong he was to think this would be easy.

If he’s learned anything in his sixteen years of being a teenage mutant ninja turtle, it was the fact that easy never seemed to be an option.

His shoulders fell as he let out a sigh filled with disappointment. None of this would make Lotus feel better… If anything, it could make things worse. 

If these documents are true… 

Don pushed away from his desk, dropping his head onto the rim of his chair as the weight of the answers given to him pressed further into his mind. His chest ached and his head spun with the implications of the documents.

Was Lotus born as an actual human? 

Did she truly once have a family? 

And how did the newspaper article connect to this?

Was she in that crash? Did she escape the fire? 

Instead of clicking into place and revealing the steadfast truth, all that these answers had done was scatter the pieces of this mystery further apart, deepening the chasm that remained of Lotus’ past.

That's it for this chapter!! And now all of you get to really see the base mystery of my story. :) Hopefully these small pieces of the past will help you theorize what you think happened to Lotus and who you think she is. :) I was ECSTATIC to show you all this chapter. I'm honestly quite proud of how it came out, and I am so excited to delve deeper into the mystery of Lotus' past.

Feel free to reblog and share this!

BIG THANK YOU to @poetique823 for helping me and encouraging me through this chapter! Also apologies for uh... breaking you. XD

@writer-in-wonder, @allyheart707, @oddartistl3, @risebabyx2, @joyjoygorl, @carrots-bear, @howtotrainyourdragonprince, @jasminegazer, @indieyuugure

If you want to be tagged in the next chapter, please comment down below! :)

To God be the glory!

~ Melissa

(CW- Implied past deaths, trauma, mention of medical trauma!)

MASTERPOST <- PRIOR CHAPTER NEXT CHAPTER ->

[cryinginmyroomsposts]

Maybe - Jeongin

Pairing: Yang Jeongin x Reader

tags: fluff, friends to lovers, unrequited love, best friend Jeongin, winter weather, angsty yearning

a/n: not proofread, just trying to live my delusions through writing (I am hopelessly down the rabbit hole)

masterlist

"Be careful. It's slippery." It's the bare minimum and you are aware of that but the tumble your stomach takes and the giddiness in your heart indicate that you definitely did not get it.

Jeongin came into your life like a Manhattan wind- strong, surprising and mind-boggling. He changed the course of your life in an abhorrently short time. Everything about him screamed your type, especially that damned dimple. And you were so hopelessly in love that the fact that he insists on referring to you as his "bestest friend" almost every day breaks your heart and stitches it right back up.

You watch as he brushes his hair away from his face, those smooth dark black fringes framing his face as he breathes out fog in winter. You have been admiring his features, his beauty and all of him since the wind was a welcome change to the heat. Now the wind sends a chill down your spine and you hug yourself a little tighter.

He leads the way, looking around excitedly like a kid. The frozen lake forms a scenery of serenity and calm unknown to the ever turbulent heart of yours. Winters have always been rough on you, the cold can be cruel to those without enough layers to keep them warm. This one might be different. Or so you hope.

"Y/N, stop dreaming and keep walking. Eyes on the ground." Jeongin tries his best to sound stern but the concern drips sweetness from his voice.

"Shut up, Jeongin. I'm completely fin-AH!" As luck would have it, right as you finished the sentence you stepped on some fresh ice and slipped. Giving up on pretending to be graceful, you let yourself fall flat on your ass.

"Go ahead and tell me 'told you so'", you groan, lowering your voice for the last three words in an exaggerated imitation of Jeongin's voice. Looking up you notice that Jeongin looks like he's having a seizure from all the laughing he is doing. You begin to pout, but the view is too good to even be embarrassed or disappointed.

His fox eyes are crinkled into two straight lines, dimples deep and cheeks flushed bright red. He's bending over in laughter, looking up and down, pushing away his fringe from his face. The big coat envelopes him, the sun sinking into the water behind him. Jeongin is a sight for sore eyes even on a regular day, but a Jeongin radiating pure bliss is a full-on painting you could sit and admire for days on end.

"Yaa! What are you staring at? Get up before you freeze to death." His voice brings you back to reality and suddenly the snow under you starts to make its temperature known and you get up as fast as possible.

Dusting the snow off you and straightening your clothes, you walk to join Jeongin who is a few steps ahead of you staring at the scenery.

"When will you stop falling Y/N..." He jokes silently.

You make it impossible to not fall every second I am with you.

"Only if you ever leave..." you say silently.

He turns to you with a questioning look and you smile as you shake your head and look at the impending sunset against the snow-covered park.

Maybe he'll never know how hard you have fallen for him. Maybe Jeongin will wake up one summer day realising that the sparkle in your eyes and the blush on your cheeks was not the winter's fault. Maybe he will fall with you one day. And maybe one day, your thoughts won't just be filled with maybe's. But for now, he's here. That's all that matters. You have him in your life, you get to love someone as radiant as the summer sun and as calming as the midnight moon. You have Jeongin. That's enough. "Innie, shall we go?"

"After you, Milady."

The sound of giggles fills the dense winter air as a boy and a girl walk side by side, unaware of how much they love each other in silence.