#not really this is just something short and silly that is different than my normal

[orcboxer]

Sure there's zombies killing and eating people on the street but those people are not dying from the virus they're dying from comorbidities. For instance, that guy we saw getting eaten on the way into work today clearly died from blood loss, not infection, plus he already had a heart condition. People with preexisting conditions are just going to have to take care of themselves. Say it with me, "They're all already dead to me." See, that feels a lot better now doesn't it?

Good because you still have to go to work. No we're not paying you extra. Yes we're doubling grocery prices. No you don't qualify for disability. Or healthcare. Or a home.

Look, if you get bitten, you can stay home for one day, I guess 😒, but then you need to come in early. We're really short staffed at the moment, despite our company's profits being higher than ever. In fact we may be laying some of you off next month. You don't mind working off the clock right?

Also you look silly with that protective gear. We're gonna harass you for it, not like institutionally but just socially. Who cares if a zombie attacks you? Who cares if we invite them into the building? You don't need to defend yourself, you're just overreacting. If you get bitten just tell everyone the festering bite mark is from a different animal, that's what we all do.

And hey, don't worry so much. It's endemic, which means we don't have to keep track of how many people are dying from it anymore. Just look at those numbers! It's only killed 2,000 people in America this week! That's basically nobody! We're back to normal!

If everything starts tasting like rotting meat for the rest of your life, it's probably something else. If you experience brain fog or you forget things constantly or you're tired all the time after even minor physical activity, it's just because you're lazy. Yes every other virus you ever get will also be increasingly worse but that's just a coincidence. Those viruses just happen to be exponentially worse now.

Plus, those few weeks during the lockdown were terrible for my mental health. I just can't keep living like that, so we have to go back to normal life, which now involves people biting each other and twitching uncontrollably and rotting visibly.

You can't expect the world to wait for you. "Already dead to me," remember?

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

CALL MY NAME AND I'LL COME RUNNING ; SATORU GOJO

synopsis; satoru can be irritating, at times. but even if you push him away, he’ll always, always be there for you when you need him.

word count; 8.7k (this was supposed to b a short drabble but i was possessed by the devil halfway through)

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, reader n toru have a fight, mild swearing (a couple fucks here n there), hurt/comfort, satoru has communication issues but he’s trying his best, depictions of stalking (reader gets followed by a random creep but satoru comes to the rescue dw), uhh implied thoughts of violence? (satoru wants to Maul said dude but doesn’t), literally just me being in love with satoru gojo for 8.7k words straight

a/n; no thoughts head empty only gojo running through the streets like a wild beast looking for u <33 im normal about him yeah.

“you’re so annoying sometimes, you know that?”

satoru smiles. the sentence isn’t one he’s unaccustomed to hearing.

usually, the words are soaked in an undeniable fondness, as they spill from your lips. rich with exasperated love. one that never fails to have the corners of satoru’s lips curling up, a mellow kind of joy blossoming in his chest.

but now, that fondness is nowhere to be found. 

you sound thoroughly exasperated, and a little bit fatigued. more than anything else, there’s a vague irritation behind the tilt of your voice, something almost cold. it makes all the difference in the world. 

and yet, despite that, a certain someone chooses to pay no heed to the bad omen.

“aw, c’mon. you know you love me, baby.”

satoru is grinning. lighthearted, awfully sweet. there’s a certain smugness to it, though, one he couldn’t wash away even if he was aware of it; you wouldn’t do so even if you could. that smugness is a part of him, one that you’d usually find endearing. 

but right now, it only seeks to further your frustration.

it was a stupid fight, truthfully. completely meaningless. satoru had forgotten to pick up after himself for, like, the fourth consecutive time, and so you grew annoyed. not by a lot, but enough that you felt the need to be firm when you reminded him not to make the same mistake over and over again.

but satoru had only grinned, in that self-satisfied fashion of his, and apologized in a way you couldn’t possibly call sincere. then he did what he usually does — promises to work on it. to not do it again. he never follows through, though.

but even that thought wasn’t anywhere near enough to make you truly angry. what really began to irk you was the fact that satoru wasn’t taking you seriously, even in the slightest.

that’s how he always is, when it comes to this kind of thing. and you try to be patient, you do. you try to be understanding. sometimes you even appreciate that he keeps the atmosphere light, but other times, you just can’t help but feel irritated by it.

and the current situation happens to fall into the latter category.

you don’t care if satoru leaves a candy wrapper or two out, every once in a while. of course you don’t. it’s a silly thing to argue about. but would it hurt for him to just listen to you? to try to put himself in your shoes, for once? it’s not about the wrappers, or the undone dishes. it’s about the way he treats you when you complain about it — like it’s no big deal, like it doesn’t matter. even if it obviously does, to you.

so, gradually, the topic of your little argument began to shift, into a conversation about satoru. about the fact that he so adamantly refuses to talk about the things that bother you in a serious fashion. about the fact that he so adamantly refuses to take you seriously.

and he just keeps proving your point, with every word that falls from his lips.

at this point, you’re genuinely beginning to feel a little angry. but satoru doesn’t see that as the warning sign it is — he just thinks it’s cute. he’s just been cooing at you, this whole time, despite your numerous attempts to actually explain how much his behavior affects you sometimes. it feels a bit like talking to a wall. satoru keeps on teasing you, even as you try to be firm about your point, and only brushes you off with empty promises to do better and more unneeded comments about how much he wants to hug you when you pout like that.

and you falter, a little. of course you do. you’re weak to satoru. weak to his words, that sweet voice of his, that pretty grin. but that only makes everything worse, because if you let yourself look even a little bit flustered at his comments, he sees that as his cue to continue.

you don’t even know if he’s doing it on purpose, at this point. is he doing it because he knows it’ll annoy you, or does he genuinely not understand that you’re upset? you’d like to think that there’s no malicious intent behind it, but can’t he see how troubled you are? you don’t get it. you don’t get him, and that frustrates you most of all. satoru can be so goddamn convoluted, sometimes.

so you simply can’t help but feel annoyed. angry, even. how long have you been arguing for, at this point? you’re not sure. but you feel the frustration inside of you grow, as the minutes tick by, into something you know will eventually explode.

a sigh falls from your lips, deep and exasperated. a little bit exhausted. “i’m serious, satoru. you’re not even listening.”

“i am!” he protests, stubbornly. childishly. “you just look so cute when you’re all mad. not my fault you’re so distracting.”

satoru smiles, voice sugar sweet, but all you can do is frown. does he really think it’s cute that you’re upset? the thought makes you somewhat sad. but you can’t show that, can’t let that part of you win — you don’t even want to think about the possibility of you crying, because of this. yeah, no way in hell. 

so instead, you channel it into anger. as the blood inside your veins comes to a boiling point, you dig your nails into the skin of your palms, gnawing at your bottom lip and shifting from one foot to another.

”satoru, i’m —” another sigh, sharp and vexed like the blade of a knife. ”i’m trying to have a serious conversation, here. can’t you see that i’m upset?”

satoru takes a moment to look at you, from behind the black glass of his shades.

he can. of course he can see that. you’re frowning, and there’s a crease between your brows, and you keep huffing and sighing every three seconds — you’re obviously, undoubtedly upset. and satoru wants to take you seriously, he does. it’s just that the part of his brain that only ever wants to coddle and tease you keeps persuading him not to.

he’s not lying, either; you do look cute. almost too cute to take seriously, when you’re pouting so sweetly, a little red in the face from all the frustration bubbling inside your chest. you look so small, glaring up at him like an angry puppy. 

satoru can’t help but smile. it’d be impossible not to.

and he will listen to you, will take you seriously. he knows you’re angry, knows you’re upset, and he intends to deal with that properly. but he doesn’t need to do it right now.

just a little more teasing, before he has to stop beating around the bush. satoru dreads it, a little bit, dreads having to genuinely be serious, be open and apologetic. it always feels so strange, so discomforting. 

all that stuff can wait until later. for now, he just wants to see you blush a little more, huff and puff at his limitless affection, that he knows you love deep down. where’s the harm?

(and therein lies the problem. satoru is observant, and typically good at seeing the line that he shouldn’t cross when it comes to you. but there are times when he slips up, times when he doesn’t realize that his words have begun to sting. times when the line becomes blurry, because he knows some part of you enjoys the way he babies you, and sometimes it blinds him to the part of you that doesn’t.)

satoru is smiling. it’s the same as always — big, bright, glazed over with honey-sweet adoration. smug and teasing. it’s such a satoru-like smile that it makes your breath hitch, sometimes, makes your heart race with wonder. but now all it does is annoy you. everything you love about satoru is annoying you, right now. 

in your eyes, that pretty smile of his seems almost taunting. like he’s trying to pick a fight with you, trying to make you even more upset. you don’t want to blow up over something like this, you really really don’t — but for some reason, you feel dangerously close to. it’s not like you at all.

you bore into his eyes with a cold glare, even though you can’t exactly see them with his shades in the way. posture straight and rigid as you try to make yourself look bigger. you must look at least a little bit menacing, like this. right?

“i’m seriously angry with you,” you say, hoping your voice sounds as austere to his ears as it does to yours. “don’t you get that?”

satoru coos, unable to hold the sound back. he doesn’t notice the flicker of hurt in your eyes, only focusing on how the sunset rays frame your figure, kissing your skin with sun-soaked fervor. you look so pretty. and that angry look on your face is too tantalizing not to tease.

“aww,” he croons, inching closer to you. there’s a teasing glint in his eyes that you can’t see, unmistakably fond. “is my little baby that upset?”

you blink. his voice sounds even more sugar-sweet now, obviously exaggerated. there’s amusement there, too — like this is just one big joke to him. you think he must be doing it to belittle you, to embarrass you. speaking to you like you’re some kind of grumpy toddler, and not a grown adult trying to have a serious conversation with their partner. your blood boils, boils, boils.

— and so the cup overflows.

“oh, go fuck yourself.”

it’s almost in a hiss that the words fall from your lips, cold and harsh; they leave the confines of your throat before you have a chance to reconsider them, sudden and sickeningly heavy. crude, too. you’d never be so crass with him under normal circumstances.

but you’re overwhelmed, thoroughly and completely, and satoru is being particularly infuriating. you genuinely feel hurt by the way he’s disregarding your feelings, and that realization stings more than anything. 

so you can’t help but say the words, louder than you meant to, before turning on your heel swiftly and walking out of the room. 

you don’t even have time to register what you’re doing, legs moving on their own before your mind can catch up. brisk and heavy steps carry you to the door, all while you furiously attempt to blink away the tears of frustration that begin to form in your eyes.

it only takes a second for you to grab your jacket — then you’re out.

satoru hears the front door close, echoing off the walls of your apartment. you don’t quite slam it shut, but you close it with more force than usual, and he can’t help but inwardly wince.

a moment passes. 

then, he flops down on the couch, lanky arms and legs dangling uncomfortably off the edges. the groan that slips from his lips is muffled by the soft cushion as he burrows his face into it, while replaying your interaction inside his mind.

satoru can’t help but feel uncomfortable, with this conclusion. a little bit irked. a vague something rests inside his chest, something he doesn’t quite want to admit to feeling. it makes him feel a little bit sick.

(”oh, go fuck yourself.”)

he can’t recall you ever raising your voice at him like that. when it comes to him, you’re usually so patient; soft, understanding, gentle. for you to have snapped in such a way — to have stormed out of the apartment in your anger — he must have pushed you pretty far.

satoru sighs.

he really pissed you off, huh?

(he can never quite seem to get this right, can he?)

it was never his intention to make you genuinely mad. he just lost sight of the line, for a second. that’s all.

and maybe he was also trying to avoid the issue, trying to avoid actually arguing with you. because he hates it. he hates it more than anything. satoru would much rather see you smile and blush than act all serious and sad. 

he just wanted to make you laugh.

was it insensitive? yeah, probably. he just can’t help but fuck this up, it seems. now he’s gone and made you angry — and as much as the sight would usually thrill him, as cute as you look when you’re irritated, a pit of anxiety settles in his gut. everything just feels wrong.

more than anything, satoru feels restless. because, right now, there’s nothing he can do. he can’t chase after you, even if just to apologize — that’d make you even angrier.

he knows he needs to give you space. you were obviously overwhelmed; some fresh air will do you good.

it irks him, though. satoru wants to fix it. he always wants to fix everything, before it even breaks. and even now, all his mind can do is spin in circles, wondering how he could possibly cheer you up.

he’ll just have to apologize, when you get back. and hope you forgive him. maybe he can get you something sweet to munch on, or a bouquet of flowers. would that make everything okay again?

satoru doesn’t know. so he just scratches his head, and tries his damndest not to think of how defeated you looked before leaving.

your steps are heavy, dragging you forward, leading you somewhere you have no knowledge of. it’s chilly out, and the sun is already setting.

everything in the world feels so wrong. like it’s tilted slightly to the left, like the earth stopped spinning around its axis. like everything suddenly lost its saturation. 

you just needed to get away from him, for a while. away from that smug smile, that patronizing tilt of his voice. you couldn’t even stand to be in the same apartment as him. it’s not often you feel that way, not often at all. 

and it only increases your growing frustration. 

you are beginning to calm down, though — you know you are. the crisp evening air and the pleasant mingle of people soothes your muddled senses, smoothing down the crease of your brow and the ache in your chest.

a heavy discomfort, and a growing guilt. that’s all you can feel, as the anger slowly seeps out of you, turning into vapour with every exhale of your breath.

you hate arguing with satoru. you hate it more than anything. the guilt clawing at your chest barely leaves any room for anger — you almost yelled at him. just the thought of doing that to satoru makes you want to cry.

because you love him, at the end of the day, even when he’s being absolutely insufferable. he’s a sweetheart, your sweet boy, always trying to lighten the mood and make you smile. maybe you should have been a bit more understanding; you know satoru’s bad at this stuff, bad with emotions and vulnerability. and deep down, you know he’d never hurt you, not on purpose.

he probably just didn’t realize that you were genuinely upset. it’s a mistake that anyone could make.

but it just makes you feel so frustrated. like he’s not even looking at you. always hiding behind those shades, never opening up. never letting you see him wear anything but a smile. you want him to take it slow, open up to you at his own pace, but that doesn’t make the wait sting any less.

it’s not like you were asking for a lot. first, you simply asked him to pick up after himself. the way you do, the way anyone does. then, you simply asked him to treat you with respect.

a sudden pang of bitterness runs through your chest. sure, you could’ve handled it all better — but he could have, too.

every step you take hits the pavement with an irritated kind of decision. whatever. whatever. for now, you don’t want to think about it — all you want is to walk around and take in the sights, enjoy the peace and quiet.

so that’s exactly what you do.

before you know it, the sun has set, and the moon has risen — shining down and painting the streets in a mesmerizing blue, ephemeral and tranquil. it’s enough to give you some peace of mind, as you lurk around familiar streets, soaking in all the open space. so different from that suffocating apartment, and the man inside it, with that shit-eating grin and those breathtaking eyes.

(he’s called you, a couple times. you haven’t been gone for long — an hour or so, you think, maybe two. some part of you wanted to answer, just to hear his voice through the phone, but the part of you that’s still awfully irritated shut that down immediately. so, stubbornly, you just let it ring.)

the streets are empty, and the sky is dark. the light of all the lampposts illuminate your way, along with the soft flicker of the moon and stars. an endless galaxy stretches out before your eyes, little pale dots of stardust shining like jewels.

an ever-lasting, never-changing sky, that continues on for infinity. limitless. all the space you could possibly want, and then some.

for a moment, you can only look at the glittering stars in wonder, soaking in the feeling of absolute solitude. 

— it doesn’t last, though.

“you alone?”

a sudden voice calls out from behind you. close, discerningly so, enough to make you flinch. you curse yourself for not noticing anything sooner, caught up in looking at the starry sky, in angling your phone to take a picture of it.

hesitantly, you turn your gaze towards the sound — wincing under your breath when you see the man a couple steps away from you. he looks a little crazed, you think, shifting from foot to foot and hunching over. 

oh fuck no.

great, just what you needed. that’s just your luck, isn’t it? your brain can only spin in circles, trying to get your body to react, to run. to do literally anything except just stand there like a deer caught in headlights.

in your nervosity, all you manage is a painfully awkward laugh, as you stutter out a halfhearted response.

“oh — no, i’m just waiting for my boyfriend!” you smile, unconvincingly. your face must be soaked in unease. whatever he wants with you, it can’t be anything good.

at least you said that one word clearly — boyfriend. you can only hope it’s enough to scare him away.

but the man only shifts a little more, emitting a gruff kind of hum, not saying anything else. your spine tingles with apprehension. every cell in your body wants you to leave. he seems a little intoxicated, you think, and the thought only stirs the anxious feeling in your chest further.

god. why does this have to happen to you? why now?

thankfully, you’ve got your phone in hand. as your mind scrambles for solutions, your fingers tap at the screen, urgently scrolling through your contacts. in such a frightened state, your acting must be positively awful, but you make a vague attempt. not like you’re getting any oscars for this, either way.

“sorry — he’s calling me now!” you stammer out, taking a step away from the man. he doesn’t make a move to follow you, so you take your chances and press your phone to your ear, feet carrying you forward with haste.

in your fear, you don’t think twice about calling satoru — but you can’t help but internally wince at the decision, as the anxious patter of your own heart resounds in your ears.

how are you supposed to talk to him, exactly? what are you supposed to say? hey, i know i just told you to go fuck yourself, but will you hear me out? i need your help. 

and you do. you do need his help. all you want is for him to swoop in, to take you in his arms, your knight in shining armor.

satoru’s said it to you, before — that if you need anything, anything at all, you can come to him. that you can always, always lean on him, without exception. 

you know that he likes helping you. likes it when you open up to him, when you put your trust in him. when you aren’t afraid to ask for his help.

so despite everything, you hold your phone to your ear, walking away with brisk steps and praying that he’s not petty enough to ignore your call like you did to his.

back home, satoru is still resting on the couch, tapping his feet and trying to distract himself. 

he’s a little anxious. it’s dark out, and you’re not answering any of his calls. when you’re out of sight, like this, he can’t help but feel a little helpless — worried about everything that could happen to you. but it’s not like he can force you to pick up. 

you’re probably at a friend’s house, or something. telling them all about what an asshole your boyfriend is. as much as the thought stings, satoru hopes it’s true; it’s all he can comfort himself with. anything is fine as long as you aren’t out walking alone, in the cold, in the dark.

entirely caught up in his spiralling thoughts, satoru almost flinches when the phone rings. laying on the table in front of him, just within arm’s reach. it only takes a second for him to react as his gaze flits to the bright screen, and he sees the contact name, the many heart emojis littering it.

with a start, satoru jumps up. his back straightens out, and his hand flies to grab the phone — he’d feel embarrassed at his own eagerness, but right now he just can’t help it. even under ordinary circumstances, he wouldn’t let the phone ring more than twice, always giddy to hear your voice whenever possible. 

this time, however, he does falter slightly.

he takes a split second to simply stare at the phone in his hand, at the affectionate contact name. what is he supposed to say to you, exactly? how is he supposed to act?

satoru doesn’t know, but as if afraid that you’ll change your mind and stop the call, yourself, he opts to simply answer. he’ll just have to figure out what to say on the fly.

(unfortunately, satoru’s instinctual response to anything is either smugness or playfulness.)

“well, well. look who finally decided to pick up.”

you’re the one who called him, not the other way around — but satoru can’t be bothered with small details like that right now. he only hopes you don’t notice the faint nervosity in his voice, the stiffness as he tries to sound unbothered.

you don’t notice anything at all, mind far too muddled, too clouded by fear. all you can do is take a deep breath, desperately trying to grasp control over your wavering voice.

“— satoru?” you call out, voice meek and frail. the man in question notices it immediately, sitting up a little straighter, but before he can say anything you continue. “i’m sorry, i just — are — are you still at home?”

there’s an anxious tilt to your voice, one that’d be impossible for satoru to miss. your words are a little breathy, spoken in a fast tempo, and he feels a sudden dread crawl up his spine.

something is wrong, his senses alert him.

“yeah,” he hums, trying to hide the turmoil in his own voice. “why? is everything okay?”

the line is quiet, for a second. “it’s just —“ an exhale, as you once again attempt to steer your voice in a less nervous direction. “just… some creepy guy tried to talk to me. i told him i was waiting for my boyfriend and now i’m walking away from him but he’s still following me.” another exhale, as you worriedly sneak a glance over your shoulder. ”i just — i don’t know what to —”

“where are you?”

satoru cuts you off, voice eerily serious. his gaze turned cold the moment he heard creepy guy, legs moving him towards the coat rack by the front door as if on autopilot. 

he’s already left the apartment by the time you answer, looking around you meekly.

“i… don’t know,” you sigh. “i’m not far. i walked past that one crêpe stand by the park but then i, like… continued up that street? and now i don’t really know where i’m going.”

you continue, a little exasperated as your gaze flits around the dark street. attempting to recall your steps, a difficult task with how on edge you feel. “i’ll try to look for a sign, or something,” you gulp. “… i’m sorry. i just wanted to get away from him.”

satoru’s voice is comforting, when he speaks, eager to console you. grounding and soft. “hey, it’s okay. i’m heading there now, alright?” he smiles, hoping you’ll hear it in his voice. “i’ll be there before you know it.”

you do hear it, and his words ease a little of the anxiety in your chest, despite your fear. “okay.” 

the line grows quiet, again, and your brows furrow in worry. “can — can i keep talking to you?” you ask, uncertain. a little pitiful. ”please?”

“of course,” satoru answers, instantaneous. he’s already making his way towards the crêpe stand with decision in his steps, mentally scanning the area ahead. despite his own anxiety at the situation, he attempts to sound as secure as he can possibly manage, desperate to soothe the worry in your voice.

“try to relax for me, okay? nobody’s gonna hurt you. not while i’m here.”

his words are absolute, as he consoles you. he sounds so sure of himself, so much that you can’t help but believe in his words. so you nod, emitting a weak hum when you remember he can’t see you.

“can you tell me what you see, baby?”

“uhh…” you look around, blindly, trying to find some sort of meaningful hint around you. “there’s like… some toy shop?” 

satoru only hums. “can you check your location on your phone?” 

you blink. 

of course. why on earth didn’t that cross your mind before? 

“oh — yeah — fuck. i’m sorry. i don’t know why i didn’t —“ you sigh, heavy. “hold on.”

following satoru’s instructions swiftly, your gaze scans over the screen. he waits, patiently, already heading past the park and up ahead. as soon as you succeed in finding the name of the street, you echo it to him.

satoru sighs, a little relieved. “okay,” he hums. “i’m not that far away. i’ll be there soon.” he only hopes his words can soothe your fear, even a little. “is he still following you?”

you glance behind you, and meet the gaze of the stranger. just like you were afraid of, he’s still following you — if anything, he seems to have gotten a little closer. with a jolt, your heartbeat picks up.

“yeah,” you gulp. 

satoru’s chest tightens. he emits a low hum. “just hold on. i’ll hurry.”

focusing only on the tilt of satoru’s voice, you try to calm your breathing. you just want to see him. the thought of doing so is the only thing keeping your trembling ribcage intact, at this point. 

you swallow a shaky breath.

“thanks, toru.”

a sudden pang of ache sprouts in satoru’s chest, like thorny vines curling around his ribcage. his heart hurts. you sound so scared, so very small. 

this is all his fault, he thinks. all of it. he got too careless; none of this would’ve happened if he had only been more considerate. if he had just stopped you from leaving and apologized, or hadn’t upset you in the first place. then he wouldn’t have to hear that scared little voice, wouldn’t have to imagine your body shaking like a leaf in the cold night. so far away from him. 

but satoru can’t beat himself up over it, not yet. there’ll be more than enough time for that later. for now, he needs to get to you — that’s the only thing on his mind.

so he lets his feet carry him forward, running towards your location with bated breath. he’s sure you can hear it, through the phone, even though he tries to contain it.

the sound consoles you, if anything. it reminds you that satoru is there, that he’s on his way. that there’s no need to be scared. 

but you can’t help but freak out, a little, when you hear the man call out from behind you.

“hey!” he slurs, stumbling towards you with unsteady steps. his voice is loud, angry, and it sends your mind reeling into panic mode.

a flinch overtakes your body, before you stumble forward, walking even faster than before. you’re almost running now, breath hitching as you gulp. satoru hears it all — your panic, the echo of the man. his own tempo picks up.

“baby, calm down, okay?” he consoles you, voice concerned and honey-sweet. “just keep walking. i’m almost there.”

“sorry —“ you squeak out, between flurry breaths. breathing uneven, laboured and anxious. but you try your best to calm down. “‘s just scary.”

it almost feels physical, the way it irks him. satoru wants to pull you close, more than anything, but he can’t. and that just makes the calamity inside his chest grow, clawing at his ribcage as if trying to escape, to go to your side. 

(he never, ever wants to hear that kind of fear in your voice again.)

“i know,” he soothes. “you’re doing good, honey. listen — he’s not gonna touch you. i won’t let him. you have nothing to be scared of.”

you nod, even as you exhale a shaky breath. ”i know.” 

and you do. you know there’s a truth, to satoru’s words, one that’s never failed you before.

because satoru is your safe space, at the end of the day — he can be annoying, outright insufferable, and sometimes he’s bad with emotions. but he tries, you know he does. and, more than anything else, you know that he’ll always, always be there when you need him. he’ll always be there to protect you. 

and a part of you is sure that everything will be okay, as long as he’s around.

(it’s easy to forget how trustworthy satoru really is, how much he cares. how dependable he is. and how serious he can get, when he truly needs to be, despite his childishness. it’s moments like these that remind you of that.)

but it’s still scary, at the end of the day. you can’t help but feel uncomfortable, a little lost in the world. because you and satoru just fought, you just told him to go fuck himself, and yet here he is. running to your side, in the middle of the night, because you’re scared and alone and you need him.

the man continues to shout, behind you, muttering curses you can’t quite make out. you look over your shoulder nervously, steps hurried.

and satoru runs like a man possessed, through the moonlit streets, gaze scanning the area like a wild beast. his most visceral instinct is screaming at him, tugging at his flesh and bones, desperate to protect you. to comfort you. to wash all your worries away. 

as he makes a sharp turn, he momentarily stops the movement, halting to look around. he thinks he must look a little crazed, with the moonlight illuminating his eyes, but he couldn’t care less.

especially not when his gaze lands on a certain person, further down the street — small and alone.

your eyes meet his.

with the darkness of the street, it’s hard to make anything out, but the light of the lamppost helps. though even without it, satoru’s sure he’d know it was you, just from the sensation that unfurls in his chest as his gaze lands on your figure. 

an audible sigh of immense relief falls from his lips, and his tense shoulders relax, eyes softening just a tad. he hears a similar noise coming from the phone in his grasp, and he assumes that means you recognize him too. not bothering to end the call, he puts it in his pocket, walking over to you with brisk steps. 

you stumble towards him, yourself, the worried crease between your brows now smoothed away. the closer he gets, the faster you move, until you can see the blue of his eyes. two pocket-sized moons.

satoru swoops you in for a hug before either of you can say anything.

he cradles you close, awfully close, so close you can hear his heavy breathing against your ear. it tickles your neck, along with his soft hair, and you shiver. his fragrance envelops your senses, a blend between fresh laundry, strawberries and some expensive cologne. your favorite scent in the world. 

and suddenly, the world is devoid of danger. nothing can get to you while satoru’s there. all that exists is you, and him, and the soft flicker of the moon.

satoru squeezes you tightly, ensuring himself over and over again that you’re safe. he might be squeezing you a little too tight, but he can’t bring himself to think about that just yet.

finally, that growing calamity inside his chest is satiated. winding down at the feeling of you pressed up against him, the indisputable proof that you’re okay. with you in his arms, satoru feels like everything is alright, again.

the fear inside his chest, so foreign it leaves him shaken to the very core, finally begins to dissipate too. he doesn’t think there’s anything that makes him feel quite as hopeless as the thought of not being there for you when you need him. he never wants to feel that fear again. it’s suffocating. it crushes his lungs.

all he can do is hold you close, his big palm smoothing down your hair, the back of your head, your spine. warm and comforting. keeping you steady against him. he can feel your heartbeat, rapid and anxious, so fast that his heart aches. satoru is eager to soothe you, eager to make it go away.

”i’m here, baby,” he breathes, rubbing his cheek against the side of your head. ”you’re safe now.”

the words are spoken softly, right by your ear, and you exhale a shaky breath. you’re bundling up his clothing with your fists, anchoring yourself to him. after a little while, you let go, opting to wrap your arms around his midriff instead. nuzzling into his broad chest, you try to blink away your tears and contain your sniffles.

you nod against him, and satoru kisses the crown of your head.

and, finally, his gaze strays. it falls farther down the street, until it lands on a certain man — shifting from one foot to another. watching you both in silence.

the calamity inside his chest rouses from its slumber, once more.

satoru makes sure to keep his hands on you, still rubbing your back with one steady palm cradling the back of your head. keeping your face hidden in his chest, safe and secure.

then he raises his head, back straight, full height on display as his eyes meet the stranger’s. he can tell they do, even with the distance, the darkness of the street.

and satoru knows he looks menacing. he knows the light of the lamppost illuminates his figure perfectly, framing his tall stature and broad shoulders. and he knows the moonlight caressing his skin illuminates his face, his cold eyes — blue and uncanny, glowing even brighter than the moon. staring daggers into the man’s soul. if looks could kill, there wouldn’t even be any remains left to find.

the man stiffens, visibly, and satoru delights in it. he doesn’t leave, though, and for a second satoru wonders if he’s really intoxicated enough to come closer — 

but, sure enough, all he does is stagger a little. then he walks away, grumbling under his breath, hands in his pockets.

and satoru isn’t satisfied, with this conclusion. not in the slightest. he wants to run up to the man, wants to hold him up by the throat, wants to tell him off. because he has the nerve to terrorize someone like that, stalk them with intentions he knows can’t be anything but revolting. the nerve to do that to you, of all the people in the world —

satoru doesn’t know if he’s hated anyone quite as much. 

and a part of him wants to make him cower. make him fear for his life, just to make sure he never does anything like this again. leave him with a fear so great it’ll linger for as long as he’s alive.

(and a more animalistic side of satoru, one he doesn’t want to acknowledge, wants to do things that are much, much worse.)

— but you come first. without question, and without exception. he refuses to leave you alone, and refuses to make you look at the man for even a second more. 

so he’ll focus on you, entirely.

he can tell you’re still shaken up, heartbeat pulsating against him, little flutters of life prickling his skin. there’s a desperation in the way you hug his waist, like he could disappear at any moment. like he’ll slip away if you don’t keep him close. the sight tugs at satoru’s heartstrings. 

his first priority is to soothe you, always and forever. so that’s exactly what he does.

satoru smiles. it’s small, in the wake of the situation, but awfully sincere. fingers reaching down to trace over your jaw, he gently urges you to look at him; when you do so, hesitant, he cups your cheek with his palm.

your teary eyes feel like daggers to his heart, an unmistakable proof of his failure. his failure to protect you, to keep you safe and happy. but at the same time, he’s glad, from the bottom of his heart — that you’d let him see you like this. even after everything.

you look very meek, blinking the tears away as you look into his eyes. they’re bright, and comforting. you wonder if he left the shades at home, if he rushed over here so hurriedly that he didn’t think to bring them with him. you’re happy, in any case — the effect they have on you is undeniable. 

you can’t bring yourself to look away, consoled by the flickers of white inside his irises, like fluffy clouds in the blue sky. ever-lasting, never-changing.

satoru tilts his head, smile sweet and understanding. ”that was scary, hm?” 

his voice is tender, somehow so mature. like he’s some older, wiser being, comforting a scared child. it’s so soothing, so very grounding.

squeezing your eyes shut, you can only bring yourself to nod, as you nuzzle back into his chest.

”you’re okay now, honey,” satoru coos, smoothing down your back as you sniffle. an immense softness seeps through his whisper. ”i’ll always be here to protect you.”

there’s a truth to the statement, heavy and pious. like an oath, a pledge, something for you to believe in unquestioningly. you allow yourself to soak in the words, knowing them to be true.

you’re safe, now. there’s nothing to be afraid of anymore. satoru’s here, and he’s hugging you, pressing kisses against your shoulder.

but you just can’t stop crying.

when you speak up, your voice is weak, barely above a whisper. close to breaking apart at the seams. too tired after everything to resist the guilt inside your veins, you sniffle, and part your lips.

”i’m sorry i yelled at you.”

satoru stills.

then, his gaze softens, considerably. he hears himself coo, softly, palm smoothing down the back of your head. 

his sweet angel. apologizing to him, when he’s the one who started this whole mess. when you’re still so shaken up. because he let you leave the house angry, because he made you angry in the first place. because he didn’t see how important the discussion was to you.

(“you’re not even listening.”)

yeah. he wasn’t. he didn’t really want to.

an acute sense of shame. an intense guilt. that’s what he’s been trying to push down, all this time. that’s the unnamed something. 

it’s hard for him. to be as sincere as you, as open with his feelings and emotions. as mature. because even in a situation like this, you can swallow your pride and frustration, and apologize. even when you aren’t in the wrong. you’re always the bigger person, always the one to give in first, because he’s too stubborn to do so himself.

next time, satoru pledges, he won’t let you. next time he’ll be the one to swallow his pride.

because, yes, being vulnerable and admitting that he was in the wrong makes him feel a little like he’s being skewered alive — but you’re important to him. he loves you. and he wants you to know how much he trusts you, how special you truly are. 

if he can show you that, by being a little sincere, a little serious, then any discomfort he feels in the process is a small price to pay.

satoru’s lips meet the crown of your head, as he encircles your smaller frame, arms reaching around your neck to pull you close. he rests his jaw lightly on the top of your head, breathing in your scent. ”you have nothing to apologize for, baby.”

a pause lingers between the words he’s already said and the ones he yearns to say, but can’t seem to pull out from within his throat. it takes effort, to squeeze them out; but every time he replays your own apology in his mind, it gets a little easier. he squeezes you lightly before opening his mouth, as if to give him strenght.

“i’m sorry.”

you blink. 

for once, satoru sounds sincere when he apologizes — almost painfully so. bordering on something you think may be nervosity. you try to look up, to catch a glimpse of his expression, but he keeps you hidden in the crook of his neck.

”i was being immature,” he continues, sighing. you don’t know if you’ve ever heard satoru sound so uncomfortable. ”you know how bad i am with this stuff. but i never want to — you know.” 

he makes a gesture with one of his hands, as if that will say the words for him.

“— i didn’t mean to upset you. honestly.” satoru inhales the cold air, in hopes it’ll make him more honest. “you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

you listen. intently, not missing a word, not a single tilt of his voice. it all sounds so genuine, almost foreign on his tongue. satoru seems to be trying to find the right words, grumbling a little under his breath. 

he’s cute, like this. kind of awkward, but that only makes him cuter. you nuzzle closer to him, comforted by his very existence.

”… i’ll work on it,” he whispers, at last. “i’ll listen to you. i promise. i really, really will.” 

you think satoru’s voice wavers, just a little, when he says his final piece. 

“so please don’t cry.”

this time, satoru doesn’t stop you when you attempt to lift your gaze, loosening his arms around you and raising his head from where it rests on top of yours. 

your eyes meet. satoru is smiling, weakly. he tilts his head, looking at you with something you could only ever describe as love.

”okay?”

such a lovely smile. so painfully genuine. his eyes are on full display, shining in the dark of the night, like splotches of moonlight. like someone stole the moon down to earth, and carved out little pieces to put in his irises. an ethereal hue.

he’s so gorgeous. hair just a tad messy, tousled from all the running he did to get here. cheeks a little red from the cold. when he smiles, his eyes crinkle. but he looks almost pained. 

(he was so, so worried.)

blinking away the tears clinging to your lashes, you simply stare, entirely mesmerized by the sight. satoru’s thumb goes to wipe at your glassy eyes, smoothing away the drops that threaten to fall. you want to engrave his expression into your memory, so you can never forget it. but it’s just a little too much.

so you hide in his chest, once more. the word that falls from your lips is tiny. “okay.”

satoru smiles, kissing the top of your head with a relieved exhale. bathing in your presence, still reeling from his show of vulnerability. he feels a little like he just cut himself open, let you peek inside his ribcage. the night air stings his skin. 

but you’re so warm, hugging him tightly, breathing and heartbeat finally relaxed. 

(he doesn’t mind it, not if it’s you — having you look inside his chest. if you asked, he’d let you build a shelter there. right between his fourth and fifth ribs.)

now that the words are out of his throat, they don’t burn at all. satoru feels a little silly, for being so scared to say them out loud. he knows you’d never use them against him.

all you do is snuggle closer, as if silently conveying your forgiveness.

you stand there for just a little while longer, wallowing in the tender atmosphere. finally, satoru makes a move to leave, and you begin to walk back home.

“sure you’re okay now, baby?”

you nod, exhaling a flurry breath. it turns into vapour in the cold of the air, drifting up and dissipating in the expanding starry sky. “yeah. thanks for coming so quickly.”

“of course,” satoru only says, choking back a yawn. 

your hands are intertwined, and he’s halfheartedly swinging them back and forth. it soothes your anxiety, and satoru’s protective instincts. you know neither of you will slip away, like this.

you shiver a little, subconsciously inching closer to satoru to protect you from the harsh bite of the midnight breeze. he notices, giving you a glance and a tilt of his head. “you cold?” 

“just a little,” you mutter, smiling weakly as you look up at him. ”i’m fine.”

satoru huffs. did you really think he’d be dissuaded by such a weak retort? there’s no way he’s letting you walk around all cold and shivering. 

so you come to a standstill, as satoru begins to shrug off his coat. he refuses to let go of your hand for even a second, making the process slower than usual — your heart flutters a little, as his fingers curl around yours, delicately. 

when he finally gets it off him, he wastes no time in draping it over your shoulders. it’s big on you, warm and soft, shielding you from the chilly air. satoru can’t help but giggle sheepishly, as he always does at the sight — you look so cute. 

“c’mon. let’s go home,” he grins, ruffling your hair teasingly.

satoru doesn’t feel cold, not in the slightest, as he holds your hand tightly. just your presence is enough to warm his bones to the marrow.

the silence between you is comforting and soothing, as you continue to walk. hand in hand, admiring the starry sky. you’re both too tired to speak — but satoru does so, anyway.

“i meant it, y’know.” satoru sounds sleepy, but earnest. ”i really will work on it.”

he doesn’t look at you when he says it, yawning softly and stretching his free arm. gaze fixed on the morning star. 

“oh.” you pause, squirming a little. sheepish. “thank you. i’m sorry that i — i mean.” a sigh. “i probably overreacted a little.”

satoru shakes his head, waving off your guilt. “nah. you’re right. i never want you to feel like i’m not taking you seriously.”

his gaze meets yours, tentatively. his eyes shine like wedding rings. “you mean a lot to me.”

the sincere words manifest themselves as a heavy pressure to your chest, closing in on your heart as if crushing it. it’s a pleasant sensation, though, overwhelming as it is. you’re a little scared that your knees will buckle if he keeps this up, but even if they do, you wouldn’t want him to stop — satoru’s love is terrifically overwhelming when there’s nothing to hide it, when it’s just love and nothing else.

but you’d never reject it. you’d let it crush you to death with a smile on your face.

all you can do is avert your gaze, afraid that you’ll fall into the blue sea of his eyes if you don’t. heavy thumps of blood resound in your ears as your heart beats, warmth spreading throughout your entire body.

“… you mean a lot to me, too.” you echo, holding his hand just a little tighter. warmth rises to your cheeks. “i just felt really frustrated, i guess. like you were looking down on me. i know you weren’t actually, though.”

satoru chews at the inside of his cheek, almost anxiously. “i know i can be a little much sometimes,” he says, tasting the words on his tongue. “and i appreciate you for putting up with that. i’m sorry i let it go too far. i’ll be more considerate.”

your heart stutters in your chest. you’re not sure what to say — the way he forms his words makes them feel so absolute. and you believe him.

“i’ll be more considerate, too,” you echo, looking down at the pavement. “i shouldn’t have blown up like that.” a pause. you mumble, quietly, a little embarrassed. “i shouldn’t have told you to go fuck yourself.”

satoru breathes out an amused huff, chuckling lightheartedly. his eyes carry a teasing glint when they meet yours. “i probably deserved that. no worries.”

“still,” you pout. satoru giggles. 

“we’ll both work on it, then,” he hums, tilting his head to find your gaze. “right?”

you blink. a small smile breaks out across your face. “right.”

satoru swings your hands back and forth, looking awfully happy with himself. you’re proud of him. really.

“oh —“ he says, breaking the sleepy silence once again. “and i’ll stop leaving wrappers around, too.”

this time, you’re the one who huffs out an amused breath. “thank you,” you grin, looking up at him. he thinks the sight is terribly precious.

a yawn leaves your lips, drowsiness sneaking its way into your bloodstream. you’re not sure if it’s due to the dark, or if you’re just a tad exhausted after all the arguing and panicking.

satoru notices, and gets an idea.

“you tired, baby?” he coos, eyes teasing but soft around the edges. “d’you want a piggyback ride?” 

when you give him a look, sleepy and kind of exasperated, satoru grins. you huff out an amused breath, just a tad embarrassed, but it only spurs him on.

so he crouches down, one knee meeting the pavement, letting your hand slip from his. you blink, tiredly, at the loss of contact. you can’t see his face, but you know he’s wearing that lovesick, smug little grin of his. 

”c’mon. your big, strong boyfriend’ll carry you.”

satoru’s feeling playful, you can tell. that’s usually a bad sign — but you can’t deny that you’re tired. and the prospect of getting carried all the way home is eerily tempting. 

your gaze falls on his back, and his broad shoulders. silently, you walk towards him, and wrap your arms around his neck. satoru holds you up by your thighs, and then stands up, jostling you a little; he does so without a hitch, and you’re reminded of how strong he really is. his grip is secure, and you trust him not to drop you, no matter what. 

you let out a content sigh, basking in the chill of the midnight air as you nuzzle your cheek against his soft hair. satoru chuckles.

”my sleepy lil’ sweetheart,” he coos, voice a tad raspy. ”lucky thing you’ve got me, huh?”

there’s a softness to his voice, despite the teasing tilt obscuring it. you can only huff out a breath, somewhere between a chuckle and a scoff, and cling to him tighter.

satoru will get you home safe. he can be annoying, outright insufferable, and he can be bad with emotions — but you can always, always trust him on that. 

so, with his coat shielding you from the chilly air, and his back warming you up as he carries you back to your apartment, you allow your eyes to flutter shut; enjoying the cozy feeling his presence brings you.

he’ll always be there when you need him.

[tsxkkis]

# tsukishima kei ‐ better for you

a/n: a request for anon that definitely took me too long to write T-T i'm terribly sorry for the delay .... also this strangely reminds me of my first ever fic on this account (which was also abt tsukki) so it's kinda silly :33

summary: tsukishima is jealous and not exactly good at hiding it.

warnings: none, pure fluff

tsukishima has been awfully quiet since you arrived at the training camp.

it's not like that was an unusual behavior from him - he was naturally a quiet, introverted person, so anyone with a basic knowledge about his personality would assume it's perfectly normal. but you knew better.

he was your boyfriend, after all. even if quiet and rather reserved, he would continuously taunt you with his snarky comments and witty remarks, almost twice as much as he would his teammates. but for the last two days or so, his demeanor changed; there was something that ticked him off, and, contrary to his beliefs, he was not good at hiding his jealousy.

figuring out the reason behind it was a no-brainer.

tsukishima adjusted his glasses as he observed yet another guy walking up to you, and he could already recite the way this conversation was about to go from memory. he stood next to yamaguchi, back resting on the outer wall of the gym, eyes staring daggers into the fukurodani jersey of the boy trying to hit on you. but of course, he didn't do a thing about it, instead opting for a low, annoyed huff.

you could see him from where you stood, and a sigh left your lips as you saw his eyes dart away from yours the moment they met, the blonde boy wasting no time in walking away to a spot where he wouldn't have to see the situation in front of him.

the boy in front of you, whose name you've found out to be komi, fukurodani's libero, kept on babbling about something, but you've stopped listening a while ago, quickly excusing yourself to follow after your boyfriend.

'wait.' you said, voice just loud enough for tsukishima to stop in his tracks, head turning around to face you, waiting for you to continue what you wanted to say. you caught up with him, eyes squinting a little as you looked up because of the sun positioned right behind his head. 'are you really jealous of all these guys?'

'no.' he rolled his eyes, a classic sign of frustration from him, almost as if he intentionally tried to show you that despite his words, he is indeed annoyed with them.

'i can clearly see that you are.' he didn't answer you this time, silence taking over as he avoided eye contact with you, acting more childish than ever. you couldn't help but smile, hand reaching out for his with a gentle squeeze. 'you know that they could never steal me from you, right?'

silence.

'oh, come on, you're sulking like a five year old baby right now.'

'says the one who acts like a baby all the goddamn time.' his remark made you crack a smile, happy that you got him to talk. 'it's annoying. and it's not like i don't trust you either. it's something different.'

'hm?'

he let go of your hand, taking a few steps forward, the setting sun hitting his face as he stared into the magine in front of him; the hill he had to run up and down at least five times that day, barely noticeable roofs of homes situated not far away.

'don't you think that at least one of them could be, you know.' you already knew what point he was trying to make, and yet hearing it from him made your heart break a little. 'better for you?'

a moment of silence passed, the chirping birds being heard from away.

'no.'

he could hear the sound of your shoes hitting the ground with each step you took towards him, your arms gently wrapping around his torso from behind, face nuzzling into his back.

'look at me, tsukki.' hearing your words, he slowly turned his head around, only to be met with your lips already on his in a sweet, short kiss. 'listen carefully, alright?'

'i'm.' kiss. 'not.' kiss. 'going.' kiss. 'anywhere.'

he couldn't help but smile at your actions, breaking out of his aloof persona for a split second, hand searching for yours to hold it tenderly.

'besides,' you added, lips curving up into a sly smile. 'none of them could give me the same level of sarcasm that i love so much.'

you continued smooching his lips, cheeks, forehead, nose, trying to cover his entire face with kisses.

'alright, alright.' he mumbled quietly, pulling you away as he adjusted his hair. 'don't be so touchy here, though. not that i don't like it, it's just-'

'i knew it!' you recognized the voice behind you immediately, and tsukishima's shocked face only confirmed your suspicions.

'let's leave the lovebirds before kei kills us with his death stare, bokuto.' another familiar voice was heard, and as you turned around, you immediately noticed the spikey black hair and kuroo's tall frame.

as they ran away, shouting a familiar rhyme of 'y/n and tsukki sitting on a tree', you couldn't help but laugh, resting your head on your boyfriend's shoulder. he didn't look half as content as you, lips in a straight line as if he just got caught doing something so utterly embarrassing he would never recover from it.

'if they continue this, everyone will know.' he mumbled, back to his usual, annoyed tone.

'look at the positives, kei.' you nudged him on the shoulder, smiling up at him. 'at least now no one will flirt with me anymore. no more frustrations for you.'

and maybe you were right.

or maybe you weren't, as he found out later, when the information of your relationship got to the ears of his overly excited upperclassmen.

taglist: @moonswolfie @wyrcan @kitsune-kita @haechansbbg @luvvrgirll @serotoninbarbz @sugaraddict301

[denwritesandcries]

The Wilderness Wants Us To (Kiss) – YJS

Pairing: poly!yellowjackets x fem!reader

Summary: You have experienced all kinds of weirdness ever since the plane crashed months ago, so why the weirdest thing so far is it seems like all the girls are suddenly courting you? 

Or, a series of kisses between you and your dear football team.

Word count: 4,6k.

Content: cursing, kisses, fluff, suggestive, angst if you blink, slightly dark, intoxication, the doomcoming, the wilderness but nobody has been eaten (yet).

Note: They’re all weirdos in a romantic, toxic and codependent way.

English is not my first language.

Your life has stagnated into a familiar routine since the plane crash. To clean. Hunt. Eat. Exist. Survive. Doing the same chores in the cabin, the usual hunting trip, seeing the same faces every day, not dying of hunger.  Not dying of boredom.

Nothing really seems to change other than the cultish trends that your friends seem to be slowly embracing, so if something different happens, you notice it immediately.

Once is an incidence.

Two, it could be a coincidence, but there are no coincidences in the wilderness.

Three is a pattern. That exists in the wilderness.

And the fourth is proof that there is definitely something weird going on – if you even have a sense of what is normal or not –, something that you have no idea what it is, but you know it’s there.

There's something wrong with your teammates. I mean, there's something wrong with all of you, but that's different even for them.

The thing is that you, thinking that maybe it was just in your head, only realized that you weren't imagining anything after the fifth time it happened and now that you know you can't stop thinking about it. Events keep coming back to you from times when this has happened before and you never connected the pieces.

You didn't notice at first, of course you didn't. Physical affection was becoming more common and normal between all of you every day and also because it was Jackie, the captain of your team, and physical affection on Jackie's part was already completely normal even before the plane crashed. She liked to pat you on the shoulder and hug you goodbye after classes and parties – as if she hadn't spent the day barking orders at everyone during practice, but it's Jackie and you really like her a lot, so it's okay –, you could always see her clinging to Shauna's arm, if not hers, then whoever was closest to replace her for a few minutes. Jackie likes to touch and you know it.

Receiving affection from her is like second nature, so you don't even blink when, on yet another boring and lazy afternoon, you give Jackie her old walkman, now repaired and working, and get a kiss as a thank you.

It was a silly treat to make her smile, just because she seemed so sad lately that it made you sad too. She squeals loudly and excitedly, before wrapping her arms around your neck and placing a kiss on your cheek.

She immediately runs off somewhere saying she was going to test it and show it to Shauna, completely abandoning the task of pretending to chop wood so you can complete it.

You only process what just happened when you hear a giggling coming from nearby, because of course Jackie would kiss you in front of your younger colleagues.  One of them points at your cheek provocatively and you lift a hand to your face to feel the texture of pink and shiny lipstick marking your skin. Of course, silly you not to assume that Jackie Taylor wouldn't stop wearing makeup just because of some plane crash.

Whatever, you thought, not bothering to clean the mark. Jackie is sweet. She does things like that all the time, obviously you wouldn't think there's anything weird about it. It wasn't even the first time she kissed you. Kisses on the cheek were a thing long before you left civilization.

You only wipe the stain from your face, in a short and hasty gesture, when you return to the cabin and Mari makes one of her smart comments about it, because there really was no big deal, but the provocation still makes you a little nervous.

(Jackie wears lipstick a lot more often after that, even though she's quickly running out of the only one she has left, but you don't say anything. It would be really weird to imply that you noticed her lips that much. Which you didn't do, no way.)

The second time it happens shouldn't have left you as perplexed as it did, after all everyone knew that Shauna Shipman was never far behind Jackie in the things she did, but it didn't pass through your head that she would kiss you. It was Shauna. Even though she was never rude, you weren't really close and it was embarrassing to admit that you found her a little intimidating. She had a tendency to stare in silence for a long time, which made you avoid conversations whenever you could.

Well, it wasn't a kiss-kiss since it wasn't actually on the mouth, but seeing as you weren't expecting it at all, it could have been. You're learning that reading Shauna is much more complicated than it seems, making it difficult to know if what awaits you is a punch, a bite, or – the most recent discovery – a kiss.

It happened because of the thing that seemed to drive your little society: meat. Because the food was almost running out and no matter what you and Natalie brought, it seemed like there would never be enough. And Shauna was hungry. Painfully hungry.

She always seemed to get hungry more quickly than the others, craving meat with an almost drunken need and you didn't quite understand why, even though you had noticed this detail some time ago. So when you and Nat are seen arriving back at the cabin carrying a deer, a big deer, Shauna practically runs up to the two of you, basically ripping the antler out of the blonde's hands and making you stumble to follow her back to the meat house.

You offer to help her just out of politeness and how rushed she seems, without expecting a positive response since it was common knowledge that Shauna preferred to work alone.

However, she nods her head enthusiastically as she hands you a knife and you swear you've never seen someone look so happy to slit an animal's throat alongside someone else.

When the task is done, you end up at the door with a full tray ready to be prepared for dinner back and Shauna is right behind you, with that same enthusiasm and silent yearning. It's a little unnerving, but at least she's not staring at the back of your head like she's trying to burn you like she usually does. You guessed any progress was welcome.

You just didn't expect it to progress to Shauna pulling you by the elbow to face her and tilting your face towards hers. You're so startled by the sudden touch that you only feel your face heat up as hot, wet lips meet the corner of your mouth when Shauna pulls away, taking the tray from your hands as if it weighed nothing and continuing on her way, muttering a quiet and embarrassed “thank you” over her shoulder.

You stood there like an idiot, feeling your bottom lip and part of your cheek tingle where she touched you just a moment before.

So Shauna kissed you. Okay. Nice. Maybe she was just very grateful and very hungry. Twice, coincidence. Nothing more than that.

 Right?

(Shauna looks away from you when she's caught staring at that night, which never had happened, but you attribute her red face to the fact that you're sitting by the fire.)

The third time is the one that makes you go “okay, maybe that's a thing now,” because apparently the kisses have nothing to do with Jackie-Shauna or simply gratitude – at least not entirely – and much more to do with the fact that it's you.

Which actually doesn't make much sense. Van and Taissa are together, why would either of them feel the need to kiss someone else? Why would they both feel?  And why you? It's true they haven't told anyone yet, but you know. It's a little hard not to notice when they both disappear at the same time into the forest or behind the cabin so often, but still. You don't kiss other people when you're committed. It's a principle, damn it.

Anyway, it's starting to get cold, you think there's just over two months left until winter arrives, maybe less, which makes tasks much more complicated and annoying to do. Especially when it comes to washing clothes.

Luck – Mari's damn shuffle – decided that you, Tai and Van would be the ones to do the laundry this time and the three of you dragged yourselfs grumbling and complaining to the lake, carrying piles of clothes in your arms.

Now, of all the things you have to do around the cabin, scrubbing clothes in cold running water is probably the one you hate the most. Cold, wrinkled hands, chills running down your spine, ew. The fact that Van and Tai went with you makes things at least a little less boring, with the redhead happily filling the silence, her silly jokes making the task almost bearable to accomplish. Almost.

“Ugh,” You groan for what feels like the thousandth time in the last hour, “We’re gonna end up catching a cold like this.”

“You definitely will, if you keep annoying me like this,” Tai replies, swinging her arm towards you, cold water splashing in your arms, “I'm gonna push your dramatic ass into the river, I'm warning you.”

The drops make another chill run through your body, so just for the audacity, you straighten up and let your body fall against hers with the most done expression you can muster in a few seconds.

Tai screams your name indignantly when a wet t-shirt slips out of her hands and falls straight to the ground, but you don't pay much attention when lets out a loud and exaggeratedly long sigh, hearing Van’s laugh as she watches the scene.

And Van, wonderful, too sweet for her own good, Van, decides to finally take pity on your little show – maybe you really were spending too much time with Jackie – and finish what you had left of your part of the pile and you would definitely have jumped in her arms and kissed her for it, if you weren't, you know, in front of her girlfriend.

It turns out that blinking your eyes and sighing doesn't work as well for you as it does for Jackie, because as soon as you get ready to go back, bending down to pick up the heavy basket full of clothes, a familiar hand pushes your chest.

“Shit, Taissa!”

“I said I would do it, didn’t I?” She stands in front of you, hands on her hips and one eyebrow raised as she watches your form lying, shaking and soaking wet at the river's edge.

Van's laugh doesn't bring you that rush of happiness from moments before, since now you're sure that she only decided to help you because she knew what Tai was going to do anyway. That little shit.

You walk past them with the basket in your hands, a trail of water in your wake and a frown on your face.

The way back is completely silent, except for the sound of your fast breathing in your rush to get there and warm up and the girls' requests for you not to get upset over a silly joke. Whatever. You won't say a word to them no matter what they do.

“Oh, come on,” Van wraps an arm around your neck, “We didn’t want to make you so upset, right Tai?”

Tai moves closer, her shoulder brushing against yours, but you remain quiet regardless, even if your willpower to remain upset wanes a little.

“Right” she agrees, sounding very unconvincing, “What can we do to make it up to you?”

“We are so sorry,” Van reiterates, blinking innocently.

Your only response is a noise from your throat that sounds a lot like a petulant mumble and you feel the look they exchange over your shoulder.

And then Van's arm brings you closer and there are lips on either side of your neck. You freeze, breath hitches.

It's not fast like the other ones, but long and drawn out as if it's trying to prove you. A shiver runs down your spine and the baby hairs on the back of your neck stand up, even though you swear it's just because your skin is still damp from the fall. You can feel Van's hair tickling your face and Tai's breath is warm against your chin.

You blink and Van is walking away with a wolfish smile on her lips, whistling absentmindedly and Taissa has the basket you were carrying in her own arms.

“Aren’t you coming?” Van turns when she notices you still standing and Tai arches an eyebrow, as if to say 'so?' and you stumble after them.

“...Sure, whatever!” You stutter, face as red as your goalie’s hair, “But if I get sick, that’s on you!”

“You won’t!”

You return to the cabin with your head down, but for a completely different reason this time. You feel weird, embarrassed, even with your friends walking calmly beside you. It feels weird to just call them friends too.

(Three times – or was it four? It's a pattern. Definitely a pattern.)

You do, in fact, get sick and the fifth time feels more like a fever dream than anything.

Seriously. You survive a plane crash without any serious injuries, but a flu is what knocks you out. You end up in the attic, with a heavy chest, incessant sneezing and a high fever that won't let you sleep.

And of course, Misty Quigley hovering over you like a hawk.

In fact, all your friends seem to be hovering over you in an overprotective way these days, which might not be strange considering the situation, but other people in the group have gotten sick before, including the younger ones, and none of them have reacted like this.

Van and Tai spent the entire time staring like kicked puppies from across the room until Misty kicked them both downstairs so you could try to get some sleep. It wasn't doing much good, but the momentary tranquility was really appreciated.

Misty has been with you the whole time since your fever started and you let her ramble happily while she plays nurse, putting damp cloths on your forehead and helping you drink hot tea, even though you insist you're well enough to do so. She seems very happy to be helpful, so you let her spoil you as much as she wants.

You turn over on the cold floor, wrapping the blankets tighter around you as you sneeze again and Misty sits next to you, but there's nothing she can do at the moment to make you better, so she stays still, looking nervous and pushing her glasses on the tip of the nose with her fingers.

You think about how she seemed to have looked with longing and something that might have been envy when Jackie ran her hand through your hair in the morning before going outside with Shauna after leaving you another blanket. She looked the same when Lottie rubbed your shoulder gently and spent time by your side throughout the afternoon, leaving what appeared to be a half-cut crystal near where your head rested. It's just like she wanted something, but didn't know what or if she could do it. You don't know exactly what too.

Your ears ring and you think about your teammates, your friends and kisses. Four kisses on three occasions. Things that didn't happen before, but apparently happen now and that follow a strange pattern. You wonder who will be next to follow it.

You do what you do next in the fog of sleep and fever, because you'll never be able to actually sleep if you don't have a proper place to rest your head. It has nothing to do with the possibility opened in your last thought.

Her legs are soft under the blue and yellow shorts she wears when you crawl around and rest your head on them and it's certainly much more comfortable than the floor.

“Talk,” You mumble, clearing your throat at the hoarse voice.

“What?” She squeaks and you can tell it caught her in surprise by the way her eyes roam over your form, unsure of what she just heard and what's going on.

Misty is clearly alarmed, arms raised above her body as if she's afraid to touch you, her glasses falling onto the tip of her nose again as she looks down to face you, blonde curls falling across her face.

“What– What are you doing?” She asks.

“Weren’t you saying something about Plato?” You hold back a yawn as you fix yourself on her lap, ignoring her question completely, “Come on, keep going.”

She seems to ponder for a second, jaw dropped in confusion, but you don't move, so she picks up where you assume she left off. After a few minutes listening with your eyes closed, you feel her soft hand rest hesitantly on your back, running her fingers up and down when you don't protest.

You let out a sigh when you finally manage to relax, her voice calming the ringing in your ears a little and when you squint your eyes, Misty seems perfectly satisfied.

That's it, you think, that's what she wanted then.

Your body still has sporadic chills, but you feel like falling asleep, having lost track of how much time has passed with Misty talking to the walls about whoever the philosopher of the moment is. Your head feels heavy, you can barely keep your eyes open. It's good not to be alone when you're like this.

You're not sure whether or not you imagine the cold lips against your warm forehead when you sleep, but it counts as success for your little test. Five.

(You only wake up the next morning, feeling much better and more energetic, even without remembering a single word you said to Misty, just having fallen asleep on her lap for a while. The way she blushes and laughs after that, staring and following you around whenever she can, says that she remembers it very well. Coach Ben gives you a look full of sympathy when he sees her clinging to your arm, which you don't quite understand.)

The sixth time happens in the middle of the forest. It's windy, sun almost down, with Natalie walking beside you. It's the most peaceful moment you've had in your life in weeks, and it's also the moment you realize that maybe there's something wrong with you as much as the rest of the team.

Nat is talking, complaining about how Travis – the closest thing she'll have to a boyfriend in this place – is mad at her. He won't hunt or talk to her, much less touch her.

That's why you're following her, actually, the hunting part. You don't have much sense of your place in the group compared to the others, doing a little bit of everything when necessary, but Natalie seems to enjoy your company on these occasions, even if your aim with the rifle isn't as good as hers.

You spend so much time listening to her complain about mundane things like condoms and the flask of old booze she found in dead-mummified-guy's stuff that you feel the absurd urge to laugh. It's so strangely normal – except for the mummy part, but still.

Maybe that was what made you open your mouth after minutes of silence and broken snorts:

“So he can't get it up once and now he's mad at you? Damn Nat, if you need someone to make out that badly then I could help you with that.”

It comes out half as a mockery, half as truth, because that's what you do. Help people, fix things. But it's sarcastic, because it's just a stupid idea for Natalie to even consider.

Except she suddenly goes quiet and when you turn your head, she's looking at you. Eyes half-closed, mouth open, wanting.

When she kisses you, you're already waiting, longing for it, arms wrapping around you and pressing your body against the nearest tree. You think about how she was the only one who had the courage to chase your lips, to take what she really wanted.

The only thing you can feel is the weight of Nat's hands – cold, always so cold, even though winter is still a while away – on your hips, one sliding up your back to grasp the hair at the back of your neck, lips parting and tongue finding yours almost desperately and then you can't think about anything else but her. Natalie, who is much stronger than she looks and who also holds her own to stay sane in this place much better than anyone could imagine. Natalie, the bane of your existence and also your best friend. Natalie, who kisses like she hunts: with all the confidence her reputation demands.

If you close your eyes tightly and try hard, you can almost pretend you're at one of Lottie or Jeff's parties, listening to your friend complain about a stupid boyfriend, getting euphoric because she likes you better than the said stupid boyfriend.

And then she's pulling away, mouth swollen and hair completely messed up from where your hands had been placed. The moment ends and you come back to reality, picking up the rifle from where it was lying on the grass and looking around uncertainly. You guys didn't catch anything today. Food is running out.

You return to the cabin in complete silence.

(You don't see Natalie trying to talk to Travis after this, nor him with her, but you don't think she cares.)

You stopped counting after that, kisses and touches becoming a blur in your mind as the days pass and your worry increases. Whatever this is seems less important than what's happening at the moment: little food, few coats, winter approaching, a fucking baby coming.

However, it all comes back to them anyway, when you finally realize that you were right all along, that there really was something wrong with all of you and everything goes south quickly when someone decides to put mushrooms in the food.

It was an unspoken knowledge between you that the Yellowjackets would never be able to have a proper homecoming, so when the idea of a ​​doomcoming came up in the conversation, even as a bad joke, you were one of the first to agree to it. A bittersweet goodbye sounded better than nothing.

You just didn't expect everyone to end up on drugs and acting like they were in some kind of cult. What did you miss that got you all to this point?

There is someone howling in the forest. Someone, not an animal. Or maybe they really were animals, given the way they're all chasing you now.

Just a moment ago you were genuinely enjoying the night, dancing with Ravi to Lottie's humming music and drinking fermented punch for who knows how long, even with a small feeling of being watched sent shivers down your spine at times. Then there was no sign of Ravi or Travis – nor Coach Ben, but he escaped somewhere in the woods with Natalie's canteen in his hand the second Misty's back was turned – and things started to get... confusing after everyone helped themselves to some stew.

Now there's someone howling in the forest and your head is spinning, hurried footsteps sound behind you as you end up back in front of the cabin after running in circles, a rabbit cornered by an entire pack.

Leaves are stuck in your hair, the hem of your dress is torn and covered in dirt, and you're sure you scraped one of your knees while running. There are also a bunch of dilated pupils focused on you.

Shauna is the first to approach, which surprises you so much that it gives the others time to do the same, big, sad, hazy brown eyes seeming to see deep into your soul.

“Why do you keep running away from us?” she asks, a pout that you can't tell if it's fake or not formed on her face, sliding a hand gently up your arm to your waist pulling you close and keeping her grip tight.

Jackie has her head cocked to the side and a smile painted red rather than pale pink like the first. She looks a little more composed than you'd expect, standing next to Shauna and bouncing in her step expectantly.

That was all it took to realize that you couldn't pull away even if you wanted to, melting against the scalding skin as if you had no problem getting burned.

“I'm not. I just… I don’t know what’s going on.”

The words came out slow and slurred on your tongue as if you didn't know exactly what you were referring to.  This whole crazy night? Absolutely, but there are also so many other moments not recognized before.

You find yourself guided back to the cabin when you hear Lottie's voice in the background and Misty taking your hand to guide you. It all ends up there anyway.

You're unsure when you're placed in the pile of blankets and sheets on the floor, the lit fireplace warms the room like never before and there seem to be hands everywhere when Natalie enters your field of vision.

“I think you're a little too high right now, hun,” Nat scoffs, as if she's amused by your slowness.

You feel a laugh grow in your chest though you don't mean to, “You– you think so?”

“Yep,” she clicks her tongue, “The mushrooms hit hard.”

“Mushrooms!?” You let out a squeak of surprise when you're suddenly pulled back against someone's front, recognizing Taissa's nails scratching your back through your dress.

“'M sorry." Misty mutters disjointedly, tracing the lines of your palm like it's the most interesting thing in the world.

“What–”

You stop mid-sentence when you make a sound in the back of your throat as you feel Van's teeth graze the junction of your shoulder and neck, bright green eyes and a wolfish smile on her recently healed face. You knew right away who the hell was howling.

“Oh, come on,” Van echoes with the same provocation from the day in the lake, “Don't tell me you're afraid of It.”

“It?” Your breath hitches when a hand guides your head up and there she is.

Lottie Matthews looking down at you, an antler crown on her head that makes you slack-jawed and hazy looking, looking completely divine and you hesitate when you realize that the entire team has gathered around you, as if they were waiting for something. What the fuck is going on?

Lottie leans down to your level, face dangerously close to you, and you swallow hard when your eyes settle on her lips. She never kissed you, not like the others, something that always left a doubt in your head; an almost embarrassing curiosity to know what it would be like.

She meets your eyes with a malicious gleam, like she knows exactly what you're thinking and leans in a little more and just as you close your eyes to meet hers, hunger lips stray to your jaw.

“Lottie–” you squirm and the hands on your hips hold you tighter.

Nat silences you, running her fingers through your face provocatively while Lottie trails kisses down your neck, working her way down. Everything seems too stuffy, like you're melting at their touch.

“It's okay.” She reassures, cold, chapped lips finding your chest, teeth scraping the skin, “It wants us to, can't you feel It?”

You can't feel it, not really, you never understood this strange connection everyone seemed to feel with the wilderness that you didn't, but there are gentle hands caressing you, making you sink deeper and deeper and Lottie is finally kissing you, just like you wanted; lips stopping right over your heart, as if she wanted to devour it.

“Yeah." You say, “I feel it.”

You're sure the cabin is on fire, but you're the only one who's burning.

[1427]

would you? (pt. 2)

Negan x Reader

Summary: Your mom died when you were 15, your Aunt Lucille was given custody even though she was battling cancer. When the world gets upended and Lucille dies, Negan is all you have, but he isn’t cut out to be a parent. When he becomes the leader of the Saviors and takes residence in the Sanctuary he’s almost a stranger. No one wants anything to do with you because you’re Negan’s “daughter”. So when you confront Negan about needing company, he obliges. You don’t realize that the feelings you’re developing are inappropriate, but Negan does.

Setting: Height of the Saviors era Sanctuary, Negan’s bedroom. 

Warnings: SMUT, age-gap (reader is 18, Negan is early/mid 40’s), virgin!reader, manipulation, guardian!negan (technically it’s Uncle!Negan and it IS mentioned explicitly), oral (f receiving), unprotected piv, creampie, stocking!kink, innocence/corruption!kink, reader is described several times as a doll/toy, read at your own risk ok

Word count: 3.3k

A/n: uhm, my heart was racing the entire time I was writing this please read at your own risk fr

// Part 1 //

masterlist

18+ mdni

I was just bending over to grab my pencil, coach. 

For a while, you don’t bring up what happened that night. Going to lunch like everything’s normal. Negan is even more disturbed by this than he was by your innocent flirting. You don’t bring it up, but you’re different. Reminding him of some of his former students. The girls with obvious crushes - ones they were trying to hide but actively weren’t. They’d do things that could easily be explained away. 

Sorry, I only packed these shorts today. I didn’t realize they were against dress code. 

It was easy to not look then, to hardly be affected by silly teenage girls who had no idea what they were doing. He could go to the teachers lounge and flirt with the TA’s if he was really looking for someone younger. But younger isn’t necessarily what Negan liked. ‘Innocent’ wasn’t something he thought he could get into. But with you? He had all control, every single aspect of your life was in his hands - and he knows he fucked up. He knows he fucked you up… but he’d gone and fucked himself up too. Finding himself wanting to teach you everything. So caught up in the knowledge of how bad you want him makes him feel like a king - moreso than any amount of wives. You only wanted him. You only knew him.

Oblivious to Negan’s dirty secret and because he’d threatened to stop seeing you if you continued this flirting behavior you stick with subtle stuff. Wearing even lower cut shirts, mini-skirts and stockings. And sure, the stockings had holes in them. But Negan liked that even more than if they hadn’t. It let him imagine you weren’t this pristine untouched thing. He wasn’t sure which was worse; fantasizing about you as this perfect little doll that’s never been held by anyone, that doesn’t know anything about a man’s body or as this thing he’d corrupted. Giving you romance novels? What an amateur mistake on a colossal scale. 

When you started wearing skirts he could smell you. Your wet cunt, sweet and unmistakable, every single time you walked into his bedroom for lunch. He tries to ignore it, tells the kitchen to make more pungent food, wears cologne, but it doesn’t matter - he could pick your scent out of a line-up of the undead, having had weeks to memorize it. 

Negan’s cologne only makes you more wet for him. You can barely make it through lunch anymore. Trying your best to keep up with the conversation that you’re almost positive he’s phoning in as well, but it’s not easy when all you can think about is him stuffing you full on the bed that sits a dozen feet away. You’re desperate to make a move and terrified that any move you make will disrupt everything. 

You scour your books for some kind of clue on what to do next, how to make it impossible for him to say no - but there’s no obvious answer. With no experience to tell you that Negan was losing his goddamn mind waiting for you to make a move or proposition so that he could oblige it. 

He gets sick of waiting. Sick of drinking down his disgust with himself. It only makes the fantasies more vivid. Almost tangible and right there. All he really had to do? Touch you. And he knows it. 

He’d stopped getting you gifts and novels after that night, but today? Today he had something real fuckin’ special. 

You’re sitting across from him eating… only desserts? Weird choice, but still delicious. “What’s the occasion?” You ask, taking a bite of the strawberry shortcake set out in front of you. 

“Do I need a special occasion to treat my favorite girl?” He says it so casually, but he’s never said anything like that to you before. 

“Okay,” you breathe out a chuckle, “who are you and what have you done with my uncle?” 

“Woah now, ‘Uncle’?” The title made him visibly uncomfortable, but not because he didn’t like it. He was too far gone with you, and now anything that made it more taboo just spurred his hunger further. 

You breathe in deeply, as if you’d just confessed to something. Simply put, you had. He knows how bad you want it. He can smell it on you, and you didn’t care he was your family. Not even just your almost supposed ‘guardian’, no. You saw him as your uncle and you still wanted it. Bad. “Yeah, you are my uncle, aren’t you?” 

“That makes you my niece.” He says it like it’s news. Not understanding that he’s trying to gauge your reaction. 

For some reason, it makes your heart pound. Your ears get hot, and that same smile you’d tried to will away that night he’d forced a confession out of you (in the form of a moan at his touch) blossoms on your face. Pink cheeked and starry eyed, “It does,” you nod, you really don’t know any better, “Anyway, what’s all this about?” 

Negan scrambles for an answer that isn’t the one he can’t say out loud, “Missed your birthday, wanted to… make it up to you.” His voice is low, droning, and it makes you shift in your seat, crossing your legs. Negan notices and smirks at your body giving you away. You’re so easy. 

“Oh… thanks.” You take another bite of the shortcake before moving your fork to his plate to take a bite of chocolate cake. He lets you, he’s been letting you get away with so much more disrespect than he’d ever allow from anyone else. Telling himself that no teenager shouldn’t be getting away with little stuff like that, but really it’s because he likes it. He wishes you would take more control, and just ask him already. He’d wished for weeks that you would press yourself up against him like you had before he’d made you aware of your own feelings for him. And he hates that he told you that you weren’t allowed. That it was wrong. Because it is, but he doesn’t care anymore. 

He’s sick of waiting for you to understand how to make a move, “I got you a little something too.”

It’s almost unbelievable that he’d gotten this for you. One of the saviors had tried to smuggle it to keep for himself, and once Negan saw it… he couldn’t think of something better for you. “Now close your eyes,” he purrs. 

You slam your eyes shut and put out your hands eager to receive another gift. Feeling a hard plastic case being slipped into your fingers, “Now open them.” 

It was a… you had no idea. Looking up at him in confusion you’re met with a look of complete and total satisfaction from Negan. Smiling wide at your reaction. “What is it?” You whisper, smiling back. 

“Oh, don’t worry. I’ll show you.” And he winks. He fucking winks. You’re a mess. You’re putty. You have no idea what this little pink egg shaped thing is, enclosed in the plastic balanced in your hands, but you know it’s something… different. He can tell you still have no clue what it is, what it’s for, but he sits and waits for your thanks. 

You can feel it, your legs tremble as you’re about to stand up but you stop yourself. You’re not supposed to flirt with him. And he told you that that’s what hugging him is. At least when you do it. You look to him, chewing on your lip, you want to feel him pressed against you so bad it’s making your knee bounce in anxious anticipation. You think about the fact that if you were hugging him you’d be able to smell his cologne even stronger, maybe you could even get away with kissing him on the cheek. After all, you could just blame it on the gift again. 

He’s just sitting there, leaned back in his chair, staring toward the window. It would be so easy to just… you get up and crash down into his lap. Draping your arms around him, pulling your face into the crook of his neck like you always do. This time is different, like everything else has been different since that night. You can’t will yourself to move. Your breath caught in your throat as your gaze travels upward. All you can see is his neck, his chin still pointed away like he’s trying to hold himself together. You feel a guilt creeping into your periphery but it’s drowned out by the heat between your legs. Without even realizing you’re doing it, you plant your lips on his neck. 

He’s quick to react, his hand coming to grip your thigh just as instinctually as you had kissed him. Negan is sick of waiting, he was not built for this. “Do you want me to show you how to use your gift?” 

You’re melting, all your senses dizzy with his hand so firmly on your leg. Feeling his calloused palm through the tears in your stockings, your skin prickles. He puts his one arm underneath your legs and the other under your arms and picks you up, placing you gently back down in his chair. The suspense courses through you, tightening and moving to your limbs. The personification and embodiment of an exclamation point, you’re trembling as he stalks around the room. Taking the still unopened gift off of the table, you hear the click of the knife from behind you as he paces. He’s cutting into it as he leans down and breathes in your ear, “If you want me to stop, you tell me to stop, okay?” 

You nod in response, trying to swallow the knot in your throat.  He keeps talking, walking around to face you again as he gets the small mysterious device free from its packaging. “I fucked up with you,” you can tell he’s going to start monologuing like he always does, building up the anticipation you already can’t take. Your hands pulling at the hem of your skirt because you don’t know what else to do with them. “I want you to know that I know I’ve made mistakes. I’ve really really fucked up your pretty little head.” As he speaks he moves back around behind you. Cheeks flushing at the compliment. He’d called you pretty. 

“But don’t worry, kid,” his voice in your ear feels like his stubble beneath your lips that you’ve imagined so many times, “I’m gonna fix you right up.”

His hand glides down your chest from above you and your body dramatically arches into his touch. Shivering as he moves his way down to one leg, pulling on your stocking to maneuver the limb onto the arm-rest. He does the same with the other, as if you’re some doll he’s positioning. You’re putty, not a single ounce of resistance inside of you. He moves his hand to lift up your skirt, letting it fall to your stomach. Unable to look at yourself in such a provocative position you close your eyes. 

“Holy shit, girl.” Negan’s smile devours him as he takes it all in. You’re not wearing underwear underneath your stockings, something he was absolutely not expecting. Your pretty pussy all smashed up against the mesh, your juices seeping through. In the light it almost sparkles. He’s never seen a damn thing like it. He hadn’t even done anything yet, and you were a shaking mess in his chair. Waiting so patiently for him to fix you. 

He had planned on putting the little vibrator against the fabric of your panties and stockings, and while he still could… he can’t stop himself from putting his warm hand between your legs instead. He doesn’t want to stop himself, he wasn’t built for that. Fuck the piece of shit vibrator and fuck all of his stupid fucking plans to take this slow. No, he knows what you really need. Him. 

His big hand comes to rest on top of your mound, pressing his fingers flat against the wet fabric of your stockings hard. The pressure.. the warmth.. your hands immediately shoot up from your sides grabbing his forearm as you gasp at the feeling. Pulling yourself even more flush against him, any piece of him you can get. 

You’re shaking, Negan can’t think straight. All plans out the window, that smell, he needs to taste you. He rubs his whole hand, all four warm fingers, against the sopping fabric in circles for only a few seconds before bringing his hand up to his nose and taking a deep breath in of your scent. (He won’t lick you from his fingers, that’s somehow beneath him.)

You whimper under his touch and whine when he pulls away, but you don’t move other than to put your arms flat against the armrests of the chair. He was going to fix you, right? So you submit, not really even understanding how to react to any of this. 

His dick is so hard against the fabric of his pants that it hurts. He tries to readjust, but it only makes him groan. Your neck cranes at the noise, but before you can get a look he’s in front of you, pulling up on the mesh directly above your heat, taking the knife he’d still been holding and cutting into it. The sound of the stockings tearing only makes Negan’s dick harder, revealing your glistening cunt like unwrapping a fucking present. Just for him, all for him. He did this… all of it. 

He rips the fabric more before pulling your hips closer to the edge of the chair and kneeling down on one knee. His face buries against you with a haste you weren’t expecting, your body shooting up at the feeling. So sharp and too much, you squirm against his tongue but he keeps you still. Growling into your cunt, “I said I’m going to take care of you, doll, so you have to let me.  Stop. Moving. Just…” his tone softens, and he kisses you sweetly on your hood, “relax.” 

Negan dives back in more gently this time, taking in the taste of you slowly. Drinking from you, he’s never tasted anything so sweet. So pristine. His tongue swathing in large laps against your lips, you’re trying your best to relax but your orgasm builds faster than you can tolerate. It felt like fucking magic, filling you with stars that buzzed all the colors of the rainbow. He flicks his tongue between your folds, directly onto that spot and your orgasm shoots through you like a bullet. From your core to the top of your head, no orgasm you’d ever had had felt like that. It left you wanting, it wasn’t enough. Your walls pulsate, gushing thick white perfect ecstasy into Negan’s mouth. He snickers against you, his nose resting gently on your still quivering clit. 

He doesn’t want to wait - picking you up like you weigh absolutely nothing, bringing you and your dizzy head to lay gently on his satin sheets. Bliss; and yet, you yearned. 

Inside. 

Your whole body shouting, the personification and embodiment of a fucking exclamation point. His belt clacks against your sensitive folds as he races to get himself inside.

And then, all of a sudden and just like that - you’re whole. His lips smashing into yours in a desperate need to claim every part of you. 

When he’d imagined it in his head you were naked, all skin and blush and like sweet honey coating his senses. It was all different, but he didn’t mind you like this. Clothing soaked with sweat and your own sweet nectar; he felt like he was in high school and he’s taking your virginity underneath the bleachers. All limbs and throbbing need and no time, no breath to waste.

 He kisses you deep and rough until you can’t breathe and you pull away, still adjusting to his size which you imagine is large from the discomfort inside of you, snaring itself into your vision like white flashes of electricity.

His first few labored thrusts hurt like you imagined it would, though it’s not like anything you’ve felt before. The burn of your walls stretching over him makes your breath hitch sharply in your throat, “That’s a good girl,” he purrs in your ear as he pulls out and slams into you harder. Tears sting your eyes as you nod into his shoulder, silently willing him to keep going. Don’t stop. He couldn’t stop even if you’d asked him too, your pussy is too wet, too hungry and swallowing him whole. He knows what you need, he can tell, even if you couldn’t. You need this. 

Negan is seeing fucking stars, your hole stretching so perfectly around him like it never needed anything more, “Fu-uck,” he’s not going to last 5 minutes. He leans back, taking your hips and pulling them off of the bed to stay attached to his while he fucks you like that. Your shoulders still down against the bed, you’d never read about a position like this and it hurts but you like it. Your eyes traveling down his body as he buries himself slowly into you. All the way to the hilt, and that’s when you see it.

“Oh my god,” you breathe, causing him to look down and see what was going on but he had already pulled back. 

“Hm?” His tone is amused. 

“Do it again,” you whine. He smirks a brilliant flash of white teeth, before his face completely falters at the sight when he presses himself all the way into you again. Both of your eyes wide as the outline of his cock protrudes from your belly. 

“Jesus,” his voice is loud, it seems to vibrate your brain against your skull. He draws himself out of you and shoves back in - more unceremoniously than previous. He’d been trying his best to not hurt you, to take it as slow as he could manage; but seeing his hard length poke out of your body was too divine, way too fucking hot for him to not lose any semblance of control he’d had. 

Negan drowns you out, your loud screams, your hands clawing at his forearms, as he rails into you. Eyes fixed on your stomach as he watches; he doesn’t even realize you’re cumming until your hips shake violently in his grip. Your walls clench so tight his cock is pushed out. Negan clicks his tongue, as if you’d done something wrong. Moving himself in position back on top of you, his elbows coming to rest above your shoulders, his whole being swallowing you up. Your arms and legs wrap around him to try and still your shaking body as he ruts up and into you like a wild animal, his breathing jagged, his movements much less languid. Rough and desperate and all consuming. 

Using your body like a toy to get himself off, he’s hardly paying attention anymore. Grunting curses that you’re trying to memorize through a hazy veil of satisfaction.

He’s. Falling. Apart.  

And it’s wet and hot and so deep inside you that you can feel it in your fucking throat. You scream, loud, as he empties himself inside you.

Quickly, too quickly, he pulls himself out. He wants to watch his seed spill out and onto the gray sheets. You’d said you fucking sucked at painting, but Negan thinks this is the most beautiful piece of art he’s ever fucking seen. His cum dripping out of your freshly and newly used pussy in soft glistening strings to pool underneath of you, the white in stark contrast to the dark fabric is something real fuckin’ special. 

He’s smiling, kneeling above you with his hands on your stockinged knees as he watches between your legs. You’re in another world, on another planet and lost in your senses. It was everything you’d dreamed it’d be. Heaven. 

Negan had every intention on this being a one time thing. After all, hysteria was curable - but as he lays back on the bed to catch his breath he’s already caught dreaming about you in every position, any way he can place you. His perfect little toy, all just for him. Only his. 

[midnight-pluto]

yk I was hoping for fun silly bsf Damian right?? NOT WHATEVER THAT WAS 😭😭

(I would 100% love another post elaborating on this if you want to make one. I eat up bsf Damian content)

WHITE LIES — headcanons, damian w.

well i mean since you asked— here’s some elaboration on my small facts and crumbs of my bsf!damian saga, series, whatever

contains: bsf!damian x gn!reader, angst, definitely not fluff, mentions of murder/sacrifice but in a symbolic way

a/n: this goes against my own rules for this blog, but who the fucks gonna stop me? n e ways pls read the ending a/n 🫶

there isn’t much you know about bsf!damian’s parents relationship except that his dads a whore

what he has told you is that his mom raised him abroad which was why bruce seemed practically unaware or unknowing of his existence before then, which seems to check out since he only came into the public eye only 2 years ago

due to both of his parents living in separate countries with different laws and with him being a minor, it’s hard to deduce when and where he’s gonna be at times

bsf!damian told you that the agreement his parents settled upon was that his dad gets to keep him for the majority of the school year but goes to stay with his mom for the majority of the summer

however, his mom is allowed to spontaneously pick him up only a few times during his school year which doesn’t seem quite right on your part but apparently his moms also loaded and his dad can’t really do anything about it

of course, it’s merely a cover up whenever he has to go on missions that take longer than just a free weekend

it's a hard lie to keep up, but as time goes on it gets easier to keep up and even harder for you to try and decipher anything that could potentially be wrong with bsf!damian’s stories

it'll be worth it in the end, won't it?

he tries his best to not listen to you when you talk about yourself, the less he knows about you the easier it is deceive you and eventually cut you off

but he listens

it's middle school, why should he take anything that happens here seriously? that includes you, bsf!damian doesn't see himself continuing to talk to you three years from now and he highly doubts that possibility

so what if he secretly wants to know you for eternity and onwards? despite his life being full of wealth bsf!damian still can’t afford being able to keep you in it for long

bsf!damian could barely scrape by deceiving you with an overly elaborate tapestry of all of the lies he’s ever fed you, but it’s for the better

it’ll be worth it in the end, won’t it?

his wants weren’t needs, and both as an assassin and robin that rule applied — except this time around he placed the average civilian’s life over his own

the universe never seemed to allow bsf!damian enjoy things for long, for you were merely a civilian he wanted to be by his side, wanting for your lack of expectations on how to present himself, but he didn’t need it

but it was for the better, for your safety and everyone else’s so you would be away from all the danger and destruction bsf!damian never failed to bring with him

it’ll be worth it in the end, won’t it?

it has to be

it has to be worth something, anything, for bsf!damian’s time being by your side to be cut short by his own hands, because if it isn’t then he just wasted his only semblance as a normal teenager, a child, away

you had bsf!damian and bsf!damian had you, if he let go of that without your safety from the countless revenge plots and villains that had it out for him ensured then he didn’t make a sacrifice, he committed a murder

and that was something damian had sworn off

a/n: no, this wasn’t made out of the multiple asks and comments asking for more bsf!damian content, i had already had this in the works when i made my last post about holding off on updates so for the month this may be my last actual post on bsf!damian, for the month.

[theetherealbloom]

NORMAL THING

Summary: It's a normal thing to fall in love with movie stars.  

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Fem!Reader  

Warnings: Age-Gap(ish), Huge Crush, kind of Power Imbalance (cause you’re a fan but nothing absolutely weird), Hurt-to-Comfort, Infatuation, Fluff, ANGST, Dog, Older Sister, COVID-19, Pandemic Era, Cheesy, Awkward, Hallmark-ish Vibes, Whirlwind, Work, 

Word Count: 3k

A/N: That mf voice note-turned-song has me sobbing and dying every time I listen to it. Then I was also listening to "Normal Thing" and was like, “ohhhh this song is for me… help.” I wrote this fic in a place of just… feeling sorry…? Like apologetic that Pedro had to go through that kind of feeling all alone for a while. Anyways, there's a few sentimental moments here inspired by poetry and things I've read and learned, hope you enjoy!

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Songs: "Normal Thing" by Gracie Abrams, "Pedro" by Omar Apollo

dividers by: @/saradika-graphics

| Main Masterlist |

You had gone to visit your sister during your last summer break before graduating. Then, the second wave of COVID struck Europe, making it uncertain when you could return home. However, since all classes had shifted to online learning, the timing wasn't as critical.

Your older sister calls your name, snapping you out of the book you were absorbed in. "Hey, I’ll be out later getting groceries… do you mind taking Hershey for a walk after dinner?”

Her chocolate brown Labrador retriever, Hershey, a retired service dog, perks up at the mention of his name. You can't help but smile at his eager expression. “Yup, I can take him out later.”

She reminds you, “Don’t forget your mask!”

You playfully roll your eyes at her. “I won’t.”

Your sister thanks you and leaves for the store, leaving you alone with Hershey. You decide to take a short break from studying and take the dog for a walk around the neighborhood.

As you make your way down the quiet streets, Hershey happily sniffing at everything in sight, your thoughts drift to Pedro Pascal. Ever since watching him in The Mandalorian, you couldn't help but develop a bit of a crush on him. His charm and charisma on screen had captured your heart, making it hard for you to focus on anything else.

But it was just a normal thing, right? To have a celebrity crush? You reassure yourself as you continue walking.

You've always been drawn to movie stars and actors. Growing up, you had posters of your favorite celebrities plastered all over your bedroom walls. It was just harmless admiration, nothing more.

But with Pedro, it felt different. You found yourself constantly daydreaming about meeting him or even just catching a glimpse of him in person. You even shamefully admit that you've watched his interviews multiple times just to hear his voice.

It's ridiculous, really. You were fully aware that it was just a fantasy and that nothing would ever come out of it. And even if by some miracle you did meet him, what then? He would never be interested in someone like you - an ordinary college student from a small town.

You sigh and shake your head, trying to push away these silly thoughts as Hershey tugs at his leash to sniff at yet another tree.

But then something catches your eye - a poster for an upcoming film starring none other than Pedro Pascal himself. Your heart flutters at the sight before reality comes crashing down on you once again.

You shake your head and continue walking with Hershey, wondering when this infatuation will finally fade away.

Your older sister had always been supportive, albeit a bit concerned about your celebrity crush. "It's sweet, really," she would say with a soft smile, "but just don't lose yourself in the fantasy, okay?"

Your friends, on the other hand, found your crush hilarious. During your video calls, they would tease you mercilessly. "Come on, you'll never meet him!" one friend would laugh. "It's just a harmless crush, right?" another would add, their tone light but the message clear.

In the privacy of your room, you sometimes found yourself talking to the mirror, practicing speeches you would never give. "Hi, I'm a huge fan… and I just wanted to say..." you'd trail off, feeling foolish. You even practiced smiling and having conversations with yourself, hoping to perfect that effortless charm you admired so much in Pedro.

Yet, your self-awareness kept you grounded. You knew it was just a fantasy, a way to escape the stress of your real life. With a sigh, you would push those daydreams aside and focus on finishing your papers and remaining projects.

You wished one day to work in production, to be a part of the magic that created the worlds you loved to escape into. As you typed away on your laptop, you allowed yourself a small smile. Maybe one day, you would be behind the scenes of a film or a series. But for now, you had work to do, and dreams to turn into reality.

The sun sets late in Switzerland, casting a warm, golden glow over the tranquil residential area. You enjoy these walks, the peacefulness a stark contrast to the bustling city life you're used to.

Right after dinner, you take a stroll with Hershey, you notice a man sitting on a park bench, his shoulders slightly shaking.

Frowning, you glance down at Hershey, who looks up at you with curious eyes. Adjusting your mask, you make your way down the sidewalk, intending to walk past the stranger. But Hershey has other ideas, pulling you towards the bench with a wagging tail.

Instinctively, the man begins to pat Hershey, his touch gentle yet shaky. “Oh, Hershey, wait—” you start to say, but then you notice the tears streaming down the man's face.

You pause, feeling a pang of sympathy. “Do you mind if I sit down?” you ask, gesturing to the far end of the bench.

He looks up, eyes red and puffy, and nods. “It’s fine.”

You sit down, giving him space but staying close enough to offer comfort. You give him your name then look over to your adorably friend-shaped labrador, “And this is Hershey.”

“Pedro,” he replies, his voice barely above a whisper.

There’s a moment of silence, broken only by the soft sounds of Hershey sniffing around. Then, gently, you ask, “So… what’s on your mind?”

Pedro hesitates, struggling to find the words. “I… I don’t even know where to start.”

“I know it might seem a bit strange, but sometimes it's easier to talk to someone you don't know. No judgment, just listening,” you say, offering a reassuring smile.

He chuckles softly, a small spark of warmth in his eyes. “Maybe you’re right.”

“Besides,” you add with a playful grin, “I promise I’m a great listener. I even have a certificate in listening from my sister's dog.”

He laughs – a genuine, heartfelt laugh that seems to lift a weight off his shoulders. Your laugh follows, a sound so infectious and bright that it makes people around you feel lighter, happier.

“Your laugh,” he says, a hint of wonder in his voice. “It’s... special.”

You smile, feeling a warmth spread throughout your face and chest. “Thanks. So, Pedro, what’s been going on? Are you visiting family or…?”

“Oh, no, no. I just… I finished a job.”

“That’s nice. What do you do if you don’t mind me asking?”

He looks a little uncomfortable admitting it but he settles, “I’m um… an actor.”

You smile, your eyes crinkling as you do, “Do you like it?”

“Like what?” He asks in confusion.

“Y’know, acting?”

He takes a deep breath and begins to talk, the words spilling out in a rush. He speaks of the pressures of fame, the loneliness that comes with it, and the crushing weight of expectations. You listen intently, offering empathy and understanding.

“You know…?” he asks, surprised. “You know who I am?”

You nod and shrug. “I… I figured it out after you mentioned some of your projects.”

“You didn’t say anything?”

“I didn’t think I had to.”

Pedro looks confused for a minute, and you offer a simple smile. “I’m not famous or anything extraordinary like you. But I can only imagine how exhausting it must be, constantly looking over your shoulder. Not wanting to mess up or upset people must make you feel like you’re always on the edge, always holding your breath.”

He nods, his expression softening. “That’s exactly it.”

“I've done my fair share of pacing and reeling,” you say with a self-deprecating chuckle. “I even thought it looked cute at times. But I know there's more to life than just this feeling of uncertainty. Even though right now, it feels like there isn't any moment past this one.”

You sigh as your eyes get misty. “In the end, if any of us are going to make it, we simply have to believe. We have to believe that we aren’t alone, that people see us for who we are and what we can be. You have to visualize it; cling to whatever fills you with courage, because the world needs you here. It needs you.”

As the night wears on, you both share stories and laughter, the conversation flowing naturally. By the time you part ways, Pedro looks visibly lighter, as if a burden has been lifted from his shoulders.

Beauty no longer has an effect on Pedro. It takes more than physical appearance to impress him. Instead, it's the ability to intrigue his mind and provoke his thoughts that truly captivates him. That is what he considers someone as magic.

“Thank you,” he says sincerely. “I didn’t realize how much I needed this.”

“Anytime,” you reply. “Had a good time, but I guess I'll see ya. Take care, Pedro.”

Years later, when the world isn’t as plagued by the pandemic, you’re working in New York, living your own life but occasionally checking in on Pedro’s career through social media. He’s become a prominent figure, his face everywhere. Yet, you can’t forget the vulnerable man you met on that bench.

One night, you’re at a bar in the Bowery Hotel with friends. The atmosphere is lively, filled with laughter and chatter. As you share a joke, your laugh rings out, catching the attention of someone across the room.

Pedro looks up, his heart skipping a beat. That laugh – he knows that laugh. His eyes scan the room until they land on you, and for a moment, everything else fades away. He feels an uncanny sense of familiarity, a powerful pull towards you that he can’t quite place.

Your friends laugh at a joke you made, but your mind is already miles away. Tomorrow, you’re heading to Glendale, California, to work as a sound engineer on an upcoming project at DreamWorks Animation. The excitement and nerves flutter in your chest as you excuse yourself to start packing.

Pedro starts to make his way towards you, determined to find out if his instincts are right. Just as he’s halfway across the room, a fan stops him, asking for a picture. He smiles warmly, grateful for the support, and agrees. 

“Thank you so much, Pedro! This means the world to me!” the fan gushes, snapping a quick selfie.

“No problem at all,” he replies, his gaze drifting back to where you were sitting. He quickly wraps up the conversation, eager to see you again. But when he looks back, you’re gone, as if you vanished into thin air.

Pedro’s heart sinks. He scans the room, hoping to catch another glimpse of you, but you’re nowhere to be seen. 

Meanwhile, you’re outside, heading towards the subway station and waving goodbye to your friends. “I have to pack and get some sleep. My flight is early tomorrow morning,” you explain, your excitement barely contained.

Your friends hug you, wishing you luck on your new endeavor. As you descend down the stairs and board the subway train, your thoughts drift back to all those years ago, on the little bench, and now the bar, to the man whose presence had stirred something deep within you. You shake your head, putting on your headphones, distracting yourself with your favorite songs on your playlist.

Inside the bar, Pedro stands in the exact spot where he last caught a glimpse of you. A strange mix of disappointment and determination fills him, knowing he must find you again. The connection he felt was too strong to ignore – he needs to see if it was genuine or just a fleeting moment between two strangers on a park bench all those years ago.

The next day, you arrive at the DreamWorks Animation campus in Glendale, California. The excitement and nervousness intertwine as you step into the studio, ready to start your new role as a sound engineer. 

Your supervisor gives you a brief overview of the project, "The Wild Robot," an animated film in production. "We need you to record and mix the voice actors' takes for each character," he explains. "Attention to detail is crucial – the right sound can bring the characters to life."

You nod, absorbing the requirements of your new role. "Got it. I'll make sure every line is perfect."

As you glance at the cast sheet for the voice actors, you notice that a few roles are still being finalized. Your mind drifts back to the previous night, to the man in the bar who looked so familiar. Shaking off the distraction, you focus on the task at hand. 

Your days are filled with recording sessions and mixing tracks, immersing yourself in the world of "The Wild Robot." The work is demanding but rewarding, and you throw yourself into it with everything you have. 

Despite your busy schedule, thoughts of the bench in Lucerne and the glimpse of him at the bar keep creeping back into your mind. The way Pedro had looked at you, the sense of connection you felt—it all seems so surreal now. You can’t help but wonder if you’ll ever see him again. The story you want is the story you get. Are you special, or was this all scripted in his head?

Back in his home in LA, Pedro can't shake the feeling that he needs to find you. He starts making discreet inquiries, hoping to track you down without drawing too much attention. The memory of your laughter and the warmth in your eyes keeps him going. He knows he needs to see you again, to see if what he felt was real.

As you finish another recording session, you glance at the cast sheet again. A new name catches your eye—Pedro Pascal as Fink the fox. Your heart skips a beat. Could it be him? The thought is both thrilling and terrifying.

Taking a deep breath, you try to focus on your work, but your mind keeps drifting back to the possibility. What if it really is him? What if fate has brought you together again? The anticipation builds as you wait for the next recording session, hoping that your paths will cross once more.

When the day finally arrives, you’re setting up the recording equipment, your hands trembling slightly with nervous energy. The door opens, and you hear footsteps approaching. You look up, and there he is—Pedro Pascal, standing in the doorway, looking just as surprised to see you.

“Hi,” he says, his voice soft yet filled with emotion. “It’s you.”

You smile, trying to steady your racing heart. “Yeah, it’s me. I didn’t expect to see you here. Well, I mean,” you start to fidget with your fingers, stumbling over your words, “I read the call sheet and I—”

“I didn’t expect to find you either,” he admits, taking a step closer. “But I’m glad I did.”

There’s a moment of silence, both of you taking in the significance of this unexpected reunion. Then, with a gentle smile, Pedro says, “Do you have time to catch up after this?”

You nod, feeling a rush of warmth and excitement. “I’d like that.”

As the recording session progresses, you can’t help but steal glances at Pedro, who seems equally distracted. When it’s finally over, you pack up your equipment, your heart pounding with anticipation.

Outside the studio, the two of you find a quiet corner to talk. Pedro takes your hand, his touch warm and reassuring. “I’ve thought about you a lot,” he admits. “Ever since that night in Lucerne, and then seeing you again at the bar… I knew I had to find you.”

“I’ve thought about you too,” you confess, your voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t know if it was real or I just made it all up in my head.”

“It’s real,” Pedro says, his gaze intense and sincere. “And I want to see where this goes, if you do too.”

You smile, feeling a sense of hope and possibility. “I’d like that very much.”

The air between you and Pedro is charged with electric energy as you talk and laugh, baring your souls to each other like old friends. Time seems to stand still as you swap stories and reveal your deepest desires, the connection between you growing stronger with each passing moment. This is more than just a chance encounter; and the both of you can feel the spark of something new and thrilling forming between you.

[dangopango00]

Carrying Your Loser BF like a Princess

Losermen x GN Reader

(Kenma, Levi, Abyss) x GN Reader

A/N: BY LOSER i mean they are very passionate about sth (usually games) and/or awkward as hell. Geeks nerds. I love them. just wanted to write some silly simple hcs so here

A/N but after writing: I am physically incapable of writing something short oh my god. They just kept getting longer and longer as I kept writing omg 😭

HCS UTC

Kenma

- Won’t want you to do this kind of thing in public bc it’s a bit embarrassing + he’s not really into PDA but in private its so different:

- Nonchalant. If anything probably surprised you can carry him if you’re shorter or really skinny

- Only really concerned if it’s disrupting his game but if he’s on his switch or sth portable then he has no complaints

“What are you doing?”

“Carrying you like the pretty princess you are 😋”

“?” (Probably glances at your silly smirk and looks back to his game)

- He often doesn’t respond to your shenanigans, he needs to focus and is not going to risk losing braincells with your nonsense (rude ✋😔)

- Likes it and it’s not a secret— he just doesn’t say it out loud; it’s obvious

- Sometimes he’ll randomly sit on your lap perpendicular to you in the princess position so you’re ready to sweep him off his feet whenever

- As a guy who hates getting tired and often gets left behind at places bc he was too focused on his phone or switch, it’s really convenient tbh

- Kisses you on the cheek and the side of the face when he’s feeling silly but usually he expects YOU to shower HIM in kisses even though you’re already carrying him smh actual cat princess behavior 😒

- Eventually if—when he gains more confidence in public he will have you carry him around everywhere if he’s busy gaming bc its convenient and lovely (imo I think he probably got more confident post timeskip but tbh I didn’t get that far in the manga so I literally do not know lmao)

Levi

- Blushy if its in private DOWNRIGHT CATATONIC if its in public

- Extremely perplexed as to how you did it bc he’s most likely way bigger than you and engulfing you just by being in your arms but he’s literally so flustered he can’t even think about that rn

A/N: I hate typing out stutters but he’d stutter and trip over his words sm srry gng

“H-huh? What are y-you doing?!”

“Carrying the prettiest princess in the world 🥺”

“!?!?!!?”

- Can’t even respond. free him 😭😭 (Don’t. he wants to be in your arms as long as possible)

- Really not used to being carried AT ALL and hides his face in the crook of your neck while holding onto you; does not want to be dropped or make eye contact with anyone who has the misfortune of witnessing this; he’d have to jump (he’s being a silly goose)

- Conflicted as hell because on one hand HE wants to be the hero saving the princess and sweeping you off your feet but on the other hand it feels really nice to be doted on every once in a while….

- Feels so uncool and pathetic for enjoying it but you assure him it doesn’t make him less cool to accept love

- Sits so close to you he’s basically on your lap when he either wants to be held or wants to try holding you (He’s afraid he’ll drop you though)

- Probably happened in TSL (seems like sth henry would do tbh) and he’s freaking out about it bc this is NAWT the scene he wanted to reenact with you but it’s still so cool and you’re so cool and pretty and handsome and….. oh he’s been staring at you for a while hasn’t he? Time to crawl in a hole and die

Abyss

- Actually just bewildered 😭😭 blushy too but like. Extremely confused

- Would not like you to do it around Abel but if you did he wouldn’t get mad or anything, he’d just be unable to converse like a normal person

- CONFLICTED he likes the feeling and the proximity because he can feel the fanning of your breath on his skin, see every one of even your most menial features, feel the burn of his face under your gaze, enjoy the warmth of your body close to his, etc but at the same time its a bit odd to him (he just has to get used to being loved, I fear)

“!” (Shocked breath inhale)

“How does it feel to be the prettiest princess in the world? 🥹”

“Uh.. um…..g..good…..” (Probably gulped and everything 😭)

- He’s silly he answers every question seriously even if it’s rhetorical 😭❤️ thinks you’re seriously asking him

- Definitely a fan after getting used to it especially when you kiss the side of his face (ESP ESP if u kiss his eyelids or near his eyes) (I say eyes bc yes you kiss both; you show love to every part of him which is so endearing to him bc it shows that you aren’t just trying to make him feel better about his backstory but just love all of him)

- WILL CARRY YOU IN RETURN !! So much so that for every 1 time you carry him he’s probably carried you like 5 times in any position you’d like (nothing too scandalous though, he might evaporate)

- Reverts to back when you two were in the pining stage when he wants affection in general (not specifically being carried but it usually includes this or at least laying across your lap) and starts stuttering like crazy, unable to even talk properly nor can he even look you in the eye; shakes violently

- Smells your hair, sorry. If you are. Bald he just smells you— your perfume, your cologne, your natural musk whatever. He shoves his face into your neck and he just wants to be as close to you as possible

[unsuredreamer]

Would you? Maybe

Chloe Charming 💙 x fem!reader

Here you go my loves, I hope you like it! If you do and want more let me know!

I'm also up for ideas 🙌🏻

Auradon. A seemingly perfect kingdom for anyone, anykind, some people described it as magical even, though there wasn't really anything magical about it, and all kinds of magic were long forgotten here, some forbidden.

A place where people aren't as kind as they are pictured to be, most of them even crueler than the worst villains. You would have thought differently.

Being sent here after told fairytales, you'd expect royals to be nice, welcoming. They might have been, although their children are the real pain in the ass.

You were wondering, why has your dad even sent you here?  It's not like you were needed in this world of mortals, well magical mortals.

Don't you think wrongly of course, you always wondered how it is here, and have always dreamt of living here, even just for a while.

It's just.

You'd never expect them to be mean to you purely out of spite? They whispered behind your back, they talked mean,  even laughed at you loudly, which was something not ordinary for you given in that you never once had done something bad.

You have been here for merely 2 months, it was quite a long time for one, but not so much for you, still yet getting used to the time going a bit faster here you haven't really exchanged a word with anyone other than the professors at the school and maybe 2 students.

Well, until now.

A girl with a big shiny sword hung close to her hip bumped right into you. being slightly taller than a normal sized teenager, for a god shrunken to this size, you stood still keeping your posture straight and your head high as taught to you by your dear mother. The girl wasn't so lucky, sat on the ground she groaned in pain.

"I am so so sorry!" You quickly yelled, trying to help the girl to stand, not really being aware of how loud you are. Yet another thing, to get a hold on, being different from your home grounds. "You're just so small and I-I just wasn't looking, and-"

"Hey, get off her! You prideful weirdo!" Another girl came running in, quickly fisting you away from the gorgeous blue haired girl that was just standing hazed 2 feet away.

You always admired her, her total bluntness and a kind hand, her swordsmanship. Welp, you were an observer if you couldn't yet decipher.

"Aye, I'm not prideful, why would you think that?" You shot back at the possessive girl, her gritted teeth told you she was certainly not the kind one.

"You have been nothing but walking around with your head stuck up, like you're all better than anyone here!" She shot fires up you "You're not by the way." glaring she spat out.

"Hey, Red calm down. It's nothin-"

"You better take your 'I'm a god, you better respect me before I make your life a misery' act out of here, before I make you a feast to the Jabberwocky! So much for being exactly like your father" Red, the truly rebellious princess of Wonderland, yelled cutting the other in process. Making a scene out in the gardens of the school.

Of course, you were not totally oblivious to your surroundings, you knew your royals, and your ways around the kingdoms, around Auradon especially. Actually ruling one of yours for quite a short time, you knew better than to get involved in silly high school fights. Being committed to get to know this world better.

You could take any kinds of insults, you really could, an insult she supposedly thought was very harsh. But you actually wanted to be exactly like your father.

Not so much a cocky god. You never thought of yourself as the goddess such great that everyone had to be bowing to you every second they see you.

You were a powerfull being, truly you knew how big of a power you posessed, but making others your play dolls was never in your intention, even when people higher above you insisted on you having maids and others sorta type

But you knew better than to make the girl regret her words, especially because you felt she knew she was wrong deeply in her heart, and also a bit broken. You walked past her, sparing her just a graceful smile and a kind eye.

Stoic you were indeed, no one would question, they just have been so distant as to not anger you? you suppose, you were confused as to why they feared you, not that you would actually do anything while going to school. You were just a kid after all

~•~

Later in the day, that you basically spent just sitting under a willow tree, contemplating of your life. Where you really that bad? Just a cocky god? A stuck up daddy's girl?

Of course you knew this stupid 'argument' if you could call it that, shouldn't vary of you thinking badly of yourself. You were someone after all. (Even though you didn't want to think like that, you had a life experience of being in the presence of literal gods with gods complex, however stupidly it may sound)

Your life-long session of rethinking your life was cut short, due to a loud thud of a sword crashing with the ground. The same gorgeous girl sat there beside you, scarring you in the process.

"Oh im sorry, I should've asked if I could sit-"

"No no, its okay, its not like I have someone to sit with me in the first place" you snorted placing your head ond your knees wrapped up in your hands "I could use some company, it gets so lonely here."

"I'm sorry, Y/n" the girl placed her hand on your shoulder, you jumped at the sudden touch, scared she quickly took it off. You frowned, missing her soft touch already. "for my friend.."

"It's okay, Chloe."

Yes, you knew her name.

How could you not? she was the captain of the Roar team, you grew to like the swording competitions here, lets say they were entertaining...not just for this one particular blue reason..

"She gets defensive quickly, and looses her temperament even quicker, and she's quite hard to maintain, she didn't meant those words I hope you know, you're like- wait" she stopped her rambling "you know my name?"

"I am a god darling, I know everything" You grinned as she looked away, blushing slightly "But so you know I don't use it to my own advantage, it's not like me to be this 'God' everyone thinks of" you shrugged, hiding deeper in your arms.

"You're actually so nice and wise and nothing alike these rumors, not like-" she began, probably wanting to ramble on again but you cut her off. Even though you would love to just listen to her talk for hours on and on.

"My family?"

"Yes" she took a soft breath in as you looked deeper into her soul.

The wind danced briefly around her curls of hair, brown with a mix of blue, she looked astonishing, Her lightly arched brows and deep dark brown eyes held feelings and thoughts you couldn't quite read.

And did you even want to? You could if you insisted on it,, but these were not your intentions for now. Not ever. You'd love to get to know her thoughts, coming only straight from her blabering cutely mouth.

Her soft, pink, plump lips, parted lightly as she exhaled the air, you admired her every feature.

The blue zip up blouse she wore slightly creasing as she sat in the same position as you, turning her head in the direction of the enchanted lake, Her gaze softening with every second she stared at the view before her, dazed, as almost always when she looked at something she really appreciated.

She looked beautiful. She was beautiful

But even those words were an insult in describing such a masterpiece.

She was a piece of art, a muse, the most precious and fragile exhibit in the museum. She was the moment you wanted to live in forever, take in, tresure. She was more than you'd anticipate heaven to be.

"Could you tell me about them? Y/n?"

The way your name rolled off her tounge so perfectly, so smoothly, almost like it was made for just her to say it.

It made you shiver, although you could not have felt the cold, you did feel the goosebumps on your skin. Nothing has ever made you feel like that. Ever.

"What would you like to know princess Charming?" She was a princess and she certainly was charming, creeping her way to your heart, digging a path through the maze of high walls you put up, just to tumble them down the second she looked into your eyes with that hazed expression. With a smile so bright not even the sun could compare. You could not look away, she trapped you into a trance, her orbs like a big rabbit hole dragging you deeper and deeper in.

"How are they like? Are they even a tiny bit like they are described as? Tyranical? Huge? Terrifying?" she took ahold of your leg, clearly needing some sort of physical touch, like she would die without it. Desperate,feeling like you would dissappear in a second, being just a mist, she had imagined you many times.

"They are not. Not much that I think of" You stated grazing her hand, she deeply inhaled at the sudden touch initiated by you, it hasn't gone unnoticed of course.

You took her ring off as you began playing with it. No protests coming from Chloe, as she just admired how swift you were with it, as swift as the queen of hearts with her deck of cards. She observed. "They are a bit fucked in the head, yes. I mean who would declare a war on their sibling?" You laughed, it was truly funny to you, considering it was not that serious as people might think it was "But, they are also just normal beings"

"My father, the one and only, Zeus, is the best father I could ask for, I might even go as far as to say he is a big plush toy, smiling from ear to ear, with a heart so red of love, a true bear" Chloe laughed loudly, showing her amazingly beautiful white teeth and creased eyes.

She was truly charming, living up to her name.

"Trust me, I know some of it" you both giggled, of course she was a daddys girl too.

"He was always so caring, he would spent every second of the day with me if he could, always showing me the best of both worlds, the mortal and the immortal" you stopped "From the begging he used to say I'm going to take his place at the olympus. He said he just knew i was the right one to carry his great legacy, that I had the power within me, uncomparable to his and those of his siblings" you stopped for a second, throwing a pebble in the water "My brother Hercules gave up on being a god for his love" you stopped again looking high in the sky "A ruler of Olympus could never be with a mortal, thus you have to marry a god, if you want to marry at all"

"But that would mean basically marrying your uncles or cousins, wouldn't it? why would anyone choose to marry their cousin?" Chloe looked confused, you just nodded and sighned.

"If you want to have children, you must marry. But I would nerver do that" you looked at her "I want to be the ruler, I have wanted that since I can recall" a tear fell down your face "But i also want to love"

It was only now she got the hand of your features, she alway admired you but not up this close.

You were truly a god, the soft but strong features confused her, you looked so dazzling at the same time looking like you'd tear her alive if she even was thinking of speaking a wrong word to you. Your eyes darted between the trees and the water of the enchanted lake, throwing pebbles with your hands once in a while. You spoke so smoothly, as opposed to how you carried yourself, your tone of voice was like a melody of million playing harps. Looking into the distance, telling her your life story of how you were the gold stained child, always cherished, always praised, but never too much. About how the gods were truly perfect, perfect parents, nothing alike these she was taught about at school all these years ago. She'd never even excpect some things that came out of your mouth would be the truest of truth a few months ago.

Although she alwas caught you cheering everyone on her tournaments. You never once turned down a sweet treat from Zellie, the sweetest student alive. You were always prepared in class. And you were the nicest person alive. All nothing like the gods described in textbooks.

"I have always wanted to fall in love. I suppose I'm sentenced on hundred years of being by myself" you spoke quietly as another tear fell down the same cheek.

Chloe turned to you, wiping the stain off your cheek, staring at your eyes. Her hand lingered in the same place as if it was glued, only her thumb moved ever so slightly, caressing your skin, almost like a ghost touch. Her little smile prominent. You got lost in her, a full force holding you down, not letting you move as much as an inch, fearing she would let go of you almost instantly. You exhaled sharply as her thumb grazed your lips.

"Would you give up on being a god if i told you I loved you?"

[kookblurx]

" I love you " - cloud pov [ oneshot ]

→ SUMMARY: cloud was never good with his words. a guy who appears to be cold towards others but since a few days he seems .. different towards you. its like something is burning on his tounge.

→ GENRE: fluff; awkward; innocent; confession; mutual feelings; golden retriver energy.

→ RATING: 13+

→ NOTE: i know this is something completely different from the things i normally write. normally i only write about jungkook and taehyung but since FF7 came out .. i found my love for Cloud again. So i decided to write a pov about him. maybe more will follow on the future. also please keep in mind that english isnt my mother tounge, thanks. IMPORTANT; The city mentioned never appeared in the games. its my own interpretation! also my gaming povs mostly never matches with the games.

♡.°₊ˎ SONG FOR THIS ONESHOT

your hands were sweaty as you were sitting outside in front of the old house. it wasnt something fancy, just an old block house deep inside the woods which served as some kind of shelter for your little group. The cold evening air blew a few strands of hair into your face. It would be a while before he would come outside to join you. for a short moment you regretted volunteering for this sort of misson, not that it would be difficult. this wasnt the reason why you suddenly became so nervous. You looked up at the darkening sky with your lips pressed together. A few small stars could be seen here and there, so it was a perfect evening to search for a flower which only blooms once a month on a full moon night. The fabric of your light blue dress began to rustle as you moved back and forth on the tree trunk. its been 20 minutes already, what took him that long? you wiped your sweaty hands on your dress once again. If this continues you would have to go back inside to change again. surely tifa would raise an eyebrow, probably asking herself if that was some kind of sheme from you. making sure that "he" will really come with you. he trusted you, so you trusted him, naturally. but still, you were nervous. This would be the first time in months that you've done something alone together. The others accompanied you on every other mission. You loved your friends but sometimes you wished you had more time alone with him. from behind the old wooden door finally opened but you were too nervous to turn around to face him yet.

"are you ready?" his voice was gentle in your ear which why you finally turned around.

the second you did, you cursed yourself for not preparing a bit longer. the man in front of you was none other than Cloud Strife, your best friend, your companion and the men you had a crush on for so many months now. cloud had always been beautiful in your eyes but tonight he looked completely different. his armor was gone, so he only wore his dark turtleneck tank top, matched with a pair of dark pants. your eyes traveled down on his arms as you noticed that he also werent wearing the gloves which he was normally wearing. compared to him you looked like always. even his blonde styled hair looked a bit messy underneath the rising moonlight.

"whats wrong? did you saw a ghost?" raising one of his eyebrows, cloud crossed his arms in front of his chest. "i- uh no! you just look so different ..." "dont be silly and come ..."

without another word he finally started walking ahead. cloud never talked much, not even with you so it wasnt suprising that he didnt paid much attention to your remark. slowly you started to follow him into the woods. the both of you only heard rumours about this special flower. apparently it glows in the dark whenever moonlight hits one of its petals. beside that it didnt had any powers but tifa really wanted to plant one on her garden. at first you thought you could go alone but the second cloud heard that you were going outside at night, alone, he decided to tag along.

fidgeting with your fingers all you could see was his back in front of you. cloud even left his buster sword at home. looking down at his bare hand a slight glimmer of red crawled up your cheeks. there was only one time were you held hands with him and this only happened because of a small accident. it happened on one of the many Shinra ships. cloud was busy fighting off some of the soldiers while you were busy cracking the code to the main gate. It wasn't a difficult task as long as cloud could distract the others, but one soldier didn't seem to fall for it. suddenly someone grabbed your shoulder and pushed you backwards. you landed roughly against the nearest wall. Of course, cloud noticed this and immediately rushed to your side. he grabbed your hand to pull you behind him. the whole time he protected you, he never let go of your hand. so that was the closest you ever got to holding his hand with him. beside that nothing romantic ever happened between the two of you. after a while you came to the conclusion that cloud, probably, doesnt like you like this. in the beginning this perception was hard and you were heartbroken for days. maybe it was too much to ask for, considering how clumsy cloud is and that he doesnt really talk about his feelings.

"everything okay?" you nearly bumped against his chest, not noticing that cloud has stopped in his steps. were you sighing again? did he heard it? you could feel how your cheeks grew hotter with every passing second. in a fast motion you shook your head as cloud took a step into your direction. "are you sure? you were sighing pretty loudly. are you already tired? If yes .. dont worry we are nearly there"

you wanted to answer something but cloud turned around again. expecting to take up his pace you took a step forward but in the next moment something warm slipped into your hand. suprised your eyes darted downward and at the same time your heart nearly jumped out of your chest. cloud held your hand, he really held your hand. slowly your fingers closed around his palm. Whenever you pictured this day in your head, you never imagined that his hand would be so soft. it was like you were holding a fluffy cloud in your palm, carefully not to crush it.

with a slow motion cloud slowly started to walk again. like usual he didnt addressed the thing he just did and you were fine with it. by now you were too busy to calm down your pounding heart inside your chest. slowly cloud pulled you between some green bushes into a clearing. you could imagine that in this meadow many beautiful flowers were blooming, since its been night most of them were sleeping peacefully. As your eyes scanned the meadow, they stopped in a certain place. You immediately let go of cloud hand just so you could run to that spot.

"hey Y/N! whats wrong?" his voice rang in your ear but your eyes didnt left the spot. this was it, this wasnt a dream right?

suddenly you came to a halt and kneeled down on the ground. right in front of you were the glowing flower. it was so beautiful that you didnt even noticed how cloud kneeled down on the ground right beside you.

"its beautiful isnt it ...?" you asked him as your fingertips brushed over the delicate petals "yes ... more than beautiful" "say cloud how should we-"

the moment you turned your head into his direction you noticed that he was looking at you. cloud's face was so close and yet so far at the same time. from this distance you could clearly see his eyes which looked so beautiful to you. some other people were scared of him because of the Mako in them but for you, it was something totally normal. the glow from the flower was illuminating his face and for the first time you were able to see a slightly red shimmer on his cheeks. was he blushing? slowly you lift your hand up just to make sure youre not dreaming. mid air cloud catched your wrist with his own hand just to place it against his cheeks. at the same time your eyes widen feeling his soft warm skin at the back of your hand. what was wrong with him all of a sudden? why was he so affectionate?

"im sorry. i lied to you Y/N" "w-what do you mean ... ?" "tifa didnt wanted that flower. i just ... wanted to show you something beautiful ... and i thought such a flower would be the perfect thing you would enjoy"

you could see the hurt in his eyes, probably thinking you would be mad at him now. shaking your head you turned your hand inside of his palm into an direction so you were able to cup his cheek. how could you have been so blind? yes cloud never talked about his feelings but he always made sure to show them. especially around you he was always considerate, making sure that you felt comfortable on all their journeys.

a small smile appeared on your face "im not mad. thank you for showing me something so .. beautiful cloud."

the moment you pulled away from him to get up again, cloud squeezed your hand more tightly. in the next second your cheek was met with his chest, the soft fabric of his turtleneck shirt carressing your skin.

"cloud ...?" "Y/N I ..."

it was clear to you that he was struggling to find the right words. with a smile on your face you slowly lifted your head up, the red on his cheeks grew heavier with every second he kept looking at you. anxiety crawled up inside of you as his grip loosens around your body, what if he changed his opinion about you? a nervous chuckle escaped your mouth as you wanted to turn your head away but clouds hand on your cheek forced you to look back. there wasnt much time to contemplate what to say because in the next moment his warm lips met yours. at once your whole body felt like jelly as it immediately relaxed inside of his arms. it wasnt a passionate kiss he shared with you, it was a soft and careful kiss. clouds heartbeat hammered against your chest, it was so strong and loud that you could hear and feel it. as you wrapped both of your arms around his body to kiss him back, he slowly broke the kiss. clouds lips were still hovering above yours, just millimeters away. it was a sweet distraction from the words he finally managed to say;

"I love you, YN"

those words were enough, nothing more needed to be said. with a small nod your head moves forward to occupy his lips again. that was everything cloud needed as an an answer. the moon kept shining down on the both of you, wrapping your bodies in blue moonlight. it was like the whole forest approved of your feelings to each other as all the animals went quiet. around the both of you some fireflies took off from the grass into the sky. this moment belonged to you and cloud, no one could take this away from you anymore.

[helloaugustmoon]

·˚◌༘͙[Michael x Short/s/o]!ˊ

- would like to start this with a relevant tiktok that goes out to all my fellow shorties who’d like to visualise these hc’s more accurately 🫡

- Michael’s like 5’9”, so most people are shorter than him by at least a little bit, but we’ll specifically be referring to an ACTUAL short person who’s 5’4” and under

- it’s worth noting that he wouldn’t ever be more/less attracted to someone based on their height/lack thereof, but your height is something he adores bc it’s part of you

- Michael LOVES the height difference between you

- every time you look up at him, his heart just aches in his chest

- there’s something about that angle of you that really does it for him

- he loves all the stereotypical things, too; seeing you stand on your tiptoes to reach things, seeing you in clothes that are far too big, etc

- will only hesitate for a few seconds to help you reach something bc he can’t deny himself the adorable view of you standing on your tiptoes

- is forever buying you oversized clothes and demanding (lovingly) fashion shows in which you parade around for him

- loves giving you piggyback rides and carrying you around bridal style

- ever a man that loves the class of old Hollywood aesthetics, Michael loses his mind whenever you wear high heels

- sure, they only add the few inches required to make you average height, but your little legs? looking that much longer in heels? and the fact you’re still looking up at him ???

- every time Michael hears the click of your high heels in the distance, he will start running at full speed to find you and literally collapse to his knees in a dramatic gesture of worship

- not kidding

- he does already love getting on his knees to hold your face and give you the sweetest kiss, the gesture of affection always so silly it leaves you both giggling

- your forehead will have an imprint of his kisses btw

- so will your temples

- and the top of your head

- Michael is obsessed with amending normal petnames (and his own unique ones) to praise your height

“Good morning, little love.”

- that’s a classic

- whenever you have the smallest (pun intended) gripe about something, he’s all:

“And why is that, my little lady?”

- then there’s the time you asked him why he calls you variations of ‘star’, ‘little star’, ‘lucky star’, and ‘starlight’

“Stars, like you, appear small but remain to be one of the most beautiful parts of our universe. That, my star, prompts the names.”

[retrocesosdestacion]

INSIDE EVERYTHING. | ingrid engen

ingrid engen x reader

genre: smut, minor disastrous.

warnings: +18 writting, semi-public sex, touching, fingering, r sub, maybe a bit realistic, did not reach the limit, half sex, almost caught.

notes: i'm not a big fan of writing smut but i tried to use all my neurons 🤷‍♀️ also i wrote this when i was sleepy so maybe there are some things that don't make much sense

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: It's shopping day, however you are very doubtful on which denim shorts you are going to acquire.

How to solve? Ask a certain norwegian woman for her impression.

“ You're on my mind, been there all the night. I've been missing my midnight queen. ”

Rosenfeld.

❝ No. ❞ You heard Ingrid disagree before you even got fully dressed.

Arms crossed with some shorts folded, back leaning against the cabin wall and beautiful grassy eyes staring at you.

Engen looked more like a fashion critic than your girlfriend. That was the bad side of being her girlfriend: always having an opinion in what you would wear.

❝ Why not?! ❞ You would need good justifications to ditch those shorts. You walked around completely to make sure it was comfortable. ❝ It's perfect. ❞

❝ Too short. ❞ Worse than having a critical girlfriend? Having a jealous and critical girlfriend.

You and Ingrid have been dating for a year. It are flowers, there is nothing to complain about apart from the midfielder's very few inconvenient attitudes.

After all, you were also a bit inconvenient with her.

Your optical orbs landed on the norwegian, indignant and not convinced that these would be the perfect shorts for your summer vacation.

❝ But isn't that the point of shorts? ❞ You argued, extending a hand to Engen, waiting for her to give you the next shorts you would try on.

❝ Yes, but this one is shorter than the normal ones. ❞ Ingrid claimed as she watched you from top to bottom, mainly focusing on the beginning of the curve of your buttock. ❝ And your ass shows. ❞

You rolled your eyes, unzipping your shorts inside the cabin; Just the two of you, there was nothing to worry about.

You wouldn't even need to face the norwegian in person to find out her reaction, as the mirror that almost completed the wall gave it away.

❝ And what’s the problem? ❞ At that point you were mocking with her, but it was these types of comments that touched the player's heart the most. Your eyes landed on your girlfriend's reflection.

Engen was not happy about this at all. ❝ Are you kidding me? ❞ Her perplexed tone was so noticeable that it brought a silly smile off your face.

The laughter on your face was there for a long time, and so was the silence. Not so much, in reality, the only thing that passed through your ears was the scattered sounds of the store's environment.

❝ Give me the next one, miss possessive. ❞ You whispered without receiving a response. Your brow furrowed in doubt, until you noticed Ingrid's sudden approach to you.

So, you turned your body towards the woman, who suddenly handed you one of the next shorts you were going to try on. ❝ We had agreed that you wouldn't call me that anymore. ❞

❝ How can I not call you that if you live up to your name? ❞ You played again, pulling down the shorts you were wearing while you felt her greenish eyes penetrate you.

Basically, it was completely fun to irritate and pay attention to the norwegian, mainly because she gave in very easily to this type of emotion.

It just wasn't expected that this time would be different. Really very different.

You threw the previous shorts on the armchair inside the dressing room and immediately put on the other one. Sincerely? That was the best.

❝ How about that? ❞ You questioned without looking back at Engen. It was comfortable, probably wouldn't be too short in your girlfriend's opinion, and it wasn't long either.

You gave the norwegian some time to formulate an impression about the shorts. And given how long it took, something positive would probably come out of those lips.

Or maybe because Engen's eyes were too busy staring at your thighs and part of your groin.

❝ Not short. And it's more practical. ❞ Gotcha. Ingrid murmured, immediately placing her index finger inside one of yours side waistbands.

Your eyes finally met the midfielder's, who had a very tempting look on her face. And you knew very well what that meant, but not for that moment.

❝ Practical? ❞ You slowly dissipated the word from your lips, confused by what was said.

❝ To take away. ❞

And gradually you discovered it. Your eyes widened, eyebrows rose in surprise and your head began to shake slowly in denial.

❝ No. ❞ You inhaled, shaking your head faster. ❝ No way. ❞ Your cheeks began to burn with tension.

❝ I didn't say anything. ❞ Ingrid smiled the stupid smile of someone who had the best idea in mind. Suddenly, you weren't the one playing with her anymore.

And yes, she is playing with you.

The finger on the waistband previously pulled you closer to Engen's body, who saw the opportunity to seal your lips quickly.

At first you forced yourself to give in, after all, who would deny a kiss from the woman of your life? Presupposedly, you moved your face inches away, before the norwegian started advancing.

❝ Shit, Ingrid. We are not doing it. ❞ You whispered, placing the palm of your hand on the woman's lips and gently pushing them. ❝ We are in public. ❞

❝ No, we are not. ❞ Engen played with the situation once again, moving your hand away. ❝ Please, it will be quick. ❞

Your optical orbs stared at the stupid malicious expression that the midfielder carried on her beautiful and angelic face.

The long silence without responding to the norwegian was the key for Ingrid to carefully seal her lips again. Slowly, your body was pushed against the mirror on the wall. ❝ The chances of them seeing us are low, Kjære. ❞ (darling.)

Your body was already warm from the closed and small place that was the cabin, and now with your girlfriend touching you? It was like adding gasoline in aflame.

Ingrid controlled her lips so well, being nice and slow until you got used to the situation. The taller girl's long, cold, left-handed fingers slid down your torso, looking for some treasure while the other hand delicately grabbed her jaw.

You grunted between the kiss, perhaps due to the tension, to the lack of breath that was present or owing to the fear of someone opening that door.

Your eyes closed, giving up on the situation you found yourself in. Your mind focused on the sweet flavor of Ingrid's lip flesh and creating scenarios of an employee opening that door.

The only thing that sounded inside that semi-dark room were the sticky lips mixing and the sound of the environment.

❝ Ingrid— ❞ You murmured between the kiss, which slowly broke from the moment Engen led them south.

The norwegian's lips found themselves on the skin of the curve of your neck. And that was the final step for you to finally give yourself to the woman.

Your fingers slipped between the black strands, combing and pressing them each time Ingrid gently nibbled or sucked your skin.

If you were looking at her correctly, you could easily see how the midfielder had a short and emphatic smile.

Lips half-open, echoing muffled sounds and your skin getting chills more and more. It was magnificent, incredible and crazy how a certain norwegian woman could make you ecstasy.

❝ That's a bad idea. ❞ The words slowly came out in a murmur between muffled grunts. Ingrid increasingly enhanced her lips on your skin.

The midfielder had the talent of always studying your body with tenor and affection, it was a gift to have Engen's delicate lips glued to your figure.

But despite this, your concern for the environment was the counter to affectionate touches. Even though every cabin had a door, they didn't lock.

And being inside for more than six minutes was also a danger, at some point someone would enter there.

❝ Trust me. ❞ Engen finally released her lips from your body, but it screamed, begged to have her back.

You hated Ingrid for always leaving you at ease in situations like this, always halfway. At this point, your legs were almost begging to open and let the Norwegian do whatever she wants with you.

It was a fight. You wanted to, but you also didn't.

But in reality, there was no turning back from this; Your needy and passionate side won.

Screw it. You're in public, people should see how much you love each other. People should watch how you loved being touched like that.

Ingrid finally reached her fingers at the beginning of your genitals through your shorts, gradually touching them with just her index finger.

Your body was sensitive, any touch was enough to make you grunt or arch. The norwegian's fingerprint did not rub, but slid, circularly.

Even though the fabric of the shorts is thick enough to not feel the outside touch, Engen had the capacity to do so.

It was the wet lips touching your skin and marking it, it was the slightest touch of the long finger in the region of your genitals; Ingrid wasn't even inside you and your breathing was so heavy.

Your lungs inflated and deflated as quickly as a marathon runner's, a strong struggle between containing the slightest groans and finding breath for the situation.

❝ Do you want me to stop? ❞ Engen murmured between her lips glued to your skin, slowly pulling away and resting her eyes on your face. ❝ We can do this at home. ❞

Despite all this attitude, Ingrid was a person with a strong personality, always putting your well-being first.

The norwegian's fingers, too. They stopped, but without leaving their place.

You took a second breath before confirming your answer. You shook your head negative, finally giving your answer.

❝ Please, no. ❞ Your lips wet with your own drool, hardly satiated because you were busier moaning.

Your body began to release drops of sweat, your sly eyes looked at Engen; carrying the stupid horny smile.

Her left hand slid down to the south of your thighs, pressing your fingers against the norwegian's wrist. You slowly guided her delicate hand into your shorts, unzipped.

Therefore, the midfielder's fingers were a tissue away from her clitoris. Your gaze stared into the greenish optical orbs, somewhat perplexed by his sudden attitude.

❝ Finish what you started. ❞ You brought your lips close to your girlfriend's ear area, enough to whisper.

You freed her wrist, intending to give Engen full consent to touch your body however she wanted. Your arms rose and wrapped around the player's neck.

Slowly, Ingrid wet her own fingers with her lips, lubricating them. The ring finger started the touching, even over the panties.

It was slow, but well done. The midfielder had a lot of experience when it came to creating elation in you.

The circular movements were enough to make you grunt and muffle the sounds on Engen's skin, indirectly begging her to do more and more.

Within seconds, the only thing you could feel was Ingrid's finger invade your clitoris, especially when you noticed your panties being dragged to the side.

Exposed to her and everything, your eyes refused to look at anything other than the cabin door. You had many missions: not to moan so loud, not to grunt and not to make any rough movements.

After all, you were one step away from being in public.

Ingrid's ring and middle fingers did not penetrate, but rubbed against your warm vaginal skin. From side to side, top to bottom.

And that was enough to make you act like she had two fingers inside you. It wasn't a lie when it was said that your skin is sensitive.

With each second it increased in intensity like a sports car starting up, Ingrid moved her fingers so well that you even wondered if that was the woman you knew.

Your face was buried in the midfielder's collarbone, muffling short, sly moans that left your lips.

❝ Damn, Ingrid. ❞ Even though you were busy blocking out the sounds coming out of you, there was still space to murmur your loved one's name.

Engen acted concentrated, rubbing her fingers on you, which inch by inch entered you. But also, the woman's cold lips touched your skin.

Body arched towards your girlfriend, fingers leading towards the long black strands of her. You bit your own lips with each long finger you received, stopping the moans from coming out.

Slowly, you could feel the sweat dripping down your entire body, especially on the inside of your thighs. A sweat so powerful that it was enough to slide.

The heat inside the dressing room was so intense that the mirror fogged up every minute, perhaps due to the control over your bodies.

❝ Relax. ❞ Engen murmured so low that it was difficult to decipher, even close to your ear.

You didn't know what to say and didn't even know what to think: you didn't know whether to moan the norwegian's name, order her to stop due to the tension or beg for more.

And down there, it was impossible to describe what was happening. Ingrid wrapped her fingers around it, took it out and put it back in several times and always increased the intensity as if she knew exactly what she was playing with.

Engen played with your body as if she knew every detail and secret of yours.

❝ Fuck. ❞ You repeated this once, twice, three times, almost increasing your intonation. Your mind surrendered to Engen, surrendering so much that you even forgot you were in public.

Your very long arms pressed more and more around the taller woman's neck, mainly as a bridge to sink your face even further into her neck.

The norwegian brought her lips back to your neck, carefully kissing your skin, but also biting it.

On your private part and now on your neck? This was the perfect combo, but at the same time crazy. It was at that moment that you were sure you were crazy about Ingrid Engen.

But you were so focused on praising her and moaning the norwegian's name that you completely forgot you were in public.

Especially on a Saturday night, where people go out to buy clothes and try them on. Which meant your time was limited.

At that moment, even though you were mentally occupied with Engen's face and fingers, it was very noticeable steps meters away heading towards you.

Your eyebrows arched, immediately pulling the player's hand away; even though she had noticed it too, since she had stopped moving her fingers.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

❝ Men hva i helvete. ❞ (what the fuck.) Ingrid murmured so swiftly that it didn't even sound norwegian. The woman's body reacted so quickly by moving towards the armchair, that Engen seemed experienced in being caught in act.

And you were no different. The only problem is that you only had the opportunity to stare at the door, praying that whoever opened it wouldn't notice anything.

The footsteps approached and stopped, knocking twice on the door and asking permission to open it just a crack.

❝ Yes? ❞ You responded to the touches with a fragile intonation, as you were trying to catch your breath.

❝ Sorry to interrupt, but I noticed that you've been in there for almost twenty-five minutes. ❞ A female voice came from outside. ❝ Is everything ok? ❞

You took a while to respond, as you were more concentrated and having difficulty taking off your shorts due to the sweat caused.

❝ Yes, everything fine. I am leaving soon! I just need... ❞ Your eyes fell on Engen, who carried a stupid smile of someone who was clearly holding back a laugh. ❝ ...Fold the clothes I wore. ❞

❝ No need, just leave the ones you won't use on the counter after you leave. ❞ The door gap has closed. ❝ Once again, sorry for the inconvenience. ❞

An uncomfortable silence remained inside the cabin, you wiped off the little sweat that remained on your own neck.

❝ I knew this would happen! ❞ You finally said something, looking at Ingrid.

❝ If you had known it was going to happen, you wouldn't have accepted it, miss moans loudly. ❞ Engen got back at you, expressing short laughs that were definitely meant to stress you out.

❝ But I— ❞

She got up and walked towards the door, carrying the other shorts you had already worn. ❝ Can we finish at home? ❞ At this point, Ingrid was making fun of you.

❝ ...Fuck you. ❞ That was the only thing you said before pushing the Norwegian; which barely moved. Your cheeks burned in embarrassment.

You put on your own pants, soon carrying the shorts you were previously wearing between your fingers. Now, you were forced to buy it.

❝ We will never do this again, you idiot. ❞

[bluecollarmcandtf]

Ask me Anything...

Today seems just like any other boring day, slaving away in the office, but something different is about to happen. The steady hum of fluorescent lights is broken by the squeaky sound of wheels rolling up behind you. Someone is visiting your cubicle...

"Dude, you ok?" you ask, startled by the sorry state of your coworker.

His name is John. He started working here a month before you did, but he's always labeled you as "the new guy." He's really annoying about it, but you've never complained. It's hard to get mad when you've got a crush on him. It just sucks that he's straight and always teasing you in front of the boss

"Seriously, John," you wave a hand in front of his unresponsive face, "Are you alive? You're drooling all over your shirt!"

His blank expression is unsettling, but seeing him slumped over in his seat like a lifeless sex doll is turning you on. You can't help but stare at the parted lips or the limp body. With a shudder of excitement, you notice the outline of his thick package as his slacks ride up his waist.

His prolonged silence is making you more nervous, "John? I'm starting to get worried..."

Suddenly his head jerks up! His glassy eyes stare blankly in your direction as his lips mechanically form the words, "Do not worry about this man's health. Your colleague will be returned to normal with no memory of this."

His robotic response only puts you more on edge, "John, why are you talking in the third-person?"

Before you get an answer, the man springs out of his chair and drops to the floor, sitting on his knees in front of you without a thought in his head. This can't be the John you know!

Everything about this feels unnatural and wrong. His words sound rehearsed, like they're coming from a machine in his throat. His movements are limp and uncoordinated, like they're being pulled by invisible strings. Someone has taken over your coworker!

"This body is being used as a messenger," he explains from his knees, "He is being used to announce that the Bluecollarmcandtf is now open for Asks. For a short time, you can use the Ask feature to request a story..."

"What!" you gasp and glance around the office nervously. You can't believe that a silly blog you follow has somehow taken over your hot coworker! What if your boss comes out and sees John on his knees in front of you? How is this even possible?

"...you can ask for anything, and Bluecollarmcandtf will bring your fantasy to life. Maybe you want someone in your life transformed. Maybe you want them controlled. Maybe you want them humiliated. Bluecollarmcandtf will take care of it for you as long as you follow him..."

Your mind is racing, and you can barely grasp what John is telling you. Mostly, you're just worried someone is going to catch sight of your coworker kneeling in front of you!

"Ok, thanks for letting me know," you grit your teeth anxiously, "Please put John back to normal now."

"...John won't go back to normal just yet," John answers numbly, "Give him commands to obey. His body is yours to boss around for the next twenty-four hours..."

"Boss John around?" you gasp, wondering what to make him do.

"You have ten seconds to give John a command. If you don't, he's going to start braying like a donkey at the top of his lungs. 10. 9. 8. 7. 6..."

"Ok! Just shut up and kiss my feet!" you blurt it out a little louder than you mean to, but at least John won't start drawing any more attention to you by acting like an animal.

John stops his countdown and lowers his face to the floor, planting a kiss on each of your fancy loafers. The funny thing is that he doesn't stop. I suppose you weren't specific enough with your command because he just keeps mindlessly switching between each shoe, making out with them like it's the most normal thing in the world.

Your mind is racing with what to do next. Already, ideas of how to humiliate him and use him are swimming through your head, but remember what he told you. Asks are open!

Don't be afraid to request taking someone else under your control. Maybe Bluecollarmcandtf could do something about that boss of yours? You'll obviously have to be careful about what you ask. Fantasies can always be misinterpreted...

[lucien0-0]

I hate you?

Hating someone for no reason was normal, right? Or at least that’s what you tried to tell yourself every time your eyes landed on Megumi and an intense, unfamiliar feeling blossomed in your chest, a feeling you associated with anger. But no one could blame you when no one had taught you properly.

Avoiding being near Megumi wasn’t easy; after all, you were in the same class at Jujutsu High, making it inevitable to see him at every moment. However, Satoru Gojo, being the good teacher he was, always brought you together even more whenever possible. He sent you on missions together, often pointless ones, or sent you to fetch something he urgently needed—like sweets from the best shop in Tokyo, far enough away that you would spend a good amount of time together.

This time was no different when he sent you on a mission to exterminate a Grade 4 curse, something much more useful than fetching sweets. However, being alone with Megumi always made you anxious and left your hands sweaty. To your eyes, he was someone arrogant, always acting as if he didn’t care about anything and seeming superior to others; this irritated you and made you feel an increasing urge to curse him out. The way he handled the curse also annoyed you—not that he did anything particularly impressive, but the way he looked incredibly handsome while fighting was just too irritating.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked, finally looking at you for the first time that day, or so you thought.

“I’m not looking at you.” A cough escaped your throat as you realized you were indeed staring at him, and a slight blush crept up your cheeks as you tried to hide it.

The exchanges between you and Megumi were always short or even non-existent most of the time, and the atmosphere was always uncomfortable, with a palpable tension in the air that everyone else noticed.

From Megumi’s perspective, he didn’t have any bad feelings toward you. To be honest, he would say he genuinely wanted to get closer to you. But the angry looks you shot at him didn’t go unnoticed; since you seemed to dislike him, he avoided talking to you too much so as not to make you uncomfortable. It hurt Megumi to know that you didn’t like him, especially since at some point he began to develop feelings for you—feelings that became too deep for him to simply ignore as he usually would.

Megumi always felt happy when Gojo gave you silly tasks because he could spend time with you, even if no words were exchanged and his cheeks were flushed the whole way. His heart would race whenever he was in your presence, and his body would tingle—a new but very welcome sensation. Every day, he found himself wishing you felt the same way he did, that you shared the same sensations.

“Why do you hate me?” he asked suddenly while still staring intently at your face, hoping for a genuine answer.

“I don’t hate you.” Your tone sounded drier than you intended, and your eyes diverted from Megumi’s slender figure, trying to suppress the stubborn tingling you felt whenever he looked at you.

“Then why do you always avoid me, cut off our conversations, and give me angry looks?” He perfectly pointed out everything you did unconsciously.

“I…” The words wouldn’t form in your head, and you didn’t know what to say. You had no excuses or a quick lie to offer; deep down, you knew you did everything he mentioned, but why did you do it? It was a question you were asking yourself in that moment, but unfortunately, it remained unanswered. “I don’t know, okay? I just feel strange when I’m near you.” A sigh escaped your lips as you wiped your sweaty hands on your uniform to dry them, the nervousness lodged in your throat.

“You could have just told me, and I would have tried to change if any of my actions made you uncomfortable,” he sighed, seeming different from the usual Megumi who always appeared oblivious to the world. “I like you, and when I say like, I mean I really like you. And it’s painful to see you always looking at me with so much disdain. I’m not telling you this to make you feel pity or anything; I’m telling you because I don’t want to feel suffocated by my own feelings anymore. If you really want to keep your distance from me, I will do my best to respect that, and I’ll ask Sensei Gojo to stop trying to bring us together.” Megumi felt as if he had finally lifted a weight off his shoulders, feeling more relieved than ever. He watched your eyes remain focused on him, slightly wide, as you seemed to be processing everything he had just said while your mind declared a state of emergency.

And indeed, your head felt like it was malfunctioning as you struggled to truly process everything the other had said to you, the phrase "I really like you" repeating in a loop. It was hard to come up with a good response for the dark-haired boy.

"I don’t know, I really don’t know. I don’t know how I really feel; I don’t know if I truly dislike you. I don’t even have a reason not to like you; maybe it’s just my sense of inferiority or the feeling I get every time I see you." You brought your hands to your face, hiding your confused expression from Megumi’s attentive eyes, who felt as nervous as you did.

"What do you feel when you see me?" The simple question made you feel your heart pounding even harder.

"I-I feel my heart racing, and it seems like at any moment my heart is going to jump out… oh God, I think those are signs of infatuation, right?" You covered your face with your hands, feeling completely silly for not realizing something so simple and clear before; worse, you felt the guilt swell in your chest for making Megumi feel bad because of your own ignorance.

"I’m not the best on the subject, but I think so." A cocky smile appeared on the dark-haired boy's lips, something not so common to see. "So… what do you think about going out with me?" He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.

"Well, I guess I can say yes. However, I’ll be taking you out as an apology."

"I don’t think I need an apology, but I can live with that."

[nephilimbrute]

how do you make your colours so scrumptious... that's a vague ask but it's like, how do you make the colours mash together well and make sure they don't clash against eachother. And when you do designs, what inspires you to make your agent ocs outfits or do you just make them because they look silly.

hmmm... no.1 i stay away from pure black and pure white. i always use an off-white and a dark desaturated color of whatever i'm using, as well as for when i use grays. here's an example vv

^^ all of the colors on my tai lung come from yellow hues in various shades (if that makes sense). same with my lord shen. the red is a reddish-pink, and the black is, of course, a desaturated and darker shade of the red

i tend to stay in the middle area here, i don't really like to use bright or very saturated colors. another example is when i choose an ink color for marina, i don't use something that's TOO bright, but going for something a little darker to pair with the primary color of her tentacles and her skin

now, here's my chameleon vv

her colors were a little difficult to figure out, but i'd say they work together somewhat...they all fall into the category of being desaturated and such. mainly warm colors with the exception of the green, but i made the red a little pinkish/purpleish so it wouldn't contrast as much

it REALLY depends on the character but most of the time my lighter colors will be less saturated, and for darker colors they'll be saturated. this obviously varies, like with undead characters all of their colors would be a little more muted

i also have a theme i keep in mind for my colors. like with my fantasy marina, i think of olive or yellow-green. the only colors that i don't change (often) in the palette are the skin tones. another example is my young craig design, i think of the sepia filter and...old looking colors? like grayish browns and yellows and stuff like tha.t...i dunno

the main way i learned how to color is actually by coloring...normally? the colors all looked weird and had such contrast, but i'd overlay another layer on top with a solid color, set the blending mode to multiply, and lower the opacity. sometimes i'd do this with the mono color filter instead of a solid color

i also take inspiration from other artists! wolfythewitch is one of my biggest inspos for art in general, great coloring and anatomy. if you're looking for an artist with saturated colors that pop, check out bigskycastle!

now onto the second question...if you mean their uniforms..yeah i just went with whatever looked silly. (OLD ART ALERT ERR ERRR) cap3's uniform is intended to be a few sizes larger since it was most likely supposed to be for val before she got fired. and she wears pants instead of shorts since she wants to cover up a lot

not much is different with maggie. other than the fact that she's wearing a uniform too small for him and it ended up looking weird

but if it's for outfits in general i just scroll through the lists of gear on inkipedia and pick whatever i think the character would wear

[withlove-xixi]

hi xixi!! could you write a fic where a normally teasing/silly reader actually gives chilchuck serious compliments and tells him how much they admire him? preferably gn/male reader but i’m not picky (*´꒳`*)

- bard anon

— FROM THE HEART: chilchuck x reader

ᥫ cw: chilchuck is a bit mean, but what's new? ᥫ wc: 946 ★ hello again my dear bard ano-non~! i did something short and sweet teehee :3! wanted to do smth that was chil focused, like w his perspective and him slowly warming up to things and stuff! tho ... idt its how u might've pictured this request to be im sorry but i hope you enjoy ٩(๑`ȏ´๑)۶ cross posted on ao3

— CHILCHUCK’S A BIT TOO SERIOUS SOMETIMES.

[♡]: he saves no time for dillying or dallying, he focuses on what’s important. it was a trait his employers admired him for. sure, it makes him seem more standoffish than he’d like to be, but hey, whatever gets the job done, right? wrong! because as much as he’s planned on keeping his coworkers at simply an arms reach, it seems as if he’s pushed them a bit further than anticipated.

CHILCHUCK ALWAYS SAW YOU AS IMMATURE, how couldn’t he when you could just be so childish sometimes? It’s not to say he doesn’t enjoy your company or admire your skills, but gods, you were just a bit… annoying sometimes. Chilchuck was never a patient man, but with you? It was as if you found new ways to toy with him, to drag him around like a ragdoll in a dog’s mouth. It was aggravating for one, he was a grown man, he deserves to be treated like one. It pissed him off how you’d tease him like you were school kids, how you could just be a bit too carefree at times, especially during work hours.

Now was no different as he pressed his fingers against both temples, rubbing circles on them as you conspicuously watched him work, no doubt wearing that stupid grin on your face. Normally, Chilchuck already hated it when people watched him work, it simply bugged him. He felt cramped, suffocated. Plus there was always the threat of them undermining his abilities as a locksmith, that hurt is pride more than anything. With you, he disliked it twice as much, finding there to be so much pressure with expectant eyes so intently studying the way his fingers moved.

Now was no different.

Chilchuck heaved a heavy sigh, without turning back, called out to you: “you gonna keep staring?” He said it so plainly, though you could tell his eye would twitch in frustration, as it usually did when you pushed the poor half-foot to his limits.

“I just like watching you work, Chil,” you softly said, smiling slightly. You rested your chin on your palm, squatting a bit closer behind him.

Chilchuck sighed again. You could tell he rolled his eyes with the way he shook his head.

Again, it wasn’t that Chilchuck didn’t enjoy your company. In fact it was something he looked forward to, after work hours of course. Post-dungeon crawl drinks at the bar were the carrot at the end of a stick for Chilchuck, and he enjoyed them even more when you were around. You had this way of lightening the mood, easing the tension. Could he truly be blamed if you were simply so nice to be around? But of course, work was different. Chilchuck was different when it came to work. It was something he was certain you noticed, something you’ve learned about him. The change in his demeanor, how he began to smile less, how his eyebrows knit more. It was like Chilchuck had an on and off switch, knowing the right time and place to wise up and when to just relax. And Chilchuck was certain you’d pick up on that, that it would be another thing you learn about him. He’s proven wrong, of course, with the way you leaned forward to get a better view of the lock he’s picking.

He’s about to open his mouth to scold you for doing so, to snap at you to back off and give him some room to breathe or something along those lines. But you beat him to it, cutting through the silence by letting out a soft giggle.

“You’re really cool, you know?”

Five words and he feels his breath falter.

Anybody else, he might’ve lashed out, called them out for patronizing him or looking down on him or teasing him. And honestly, Chilchuck half-expected him to do the same to you. He had fallen victim to your antics far too many times before, a half-hearted, playful quip would’ve been almost natural for him to hear from you.

Except deep down inside him, he knows it isn’t half-hearted, it isn’t playful. He hears it in the way you said it (perhaps his keen sense of hearing helps him pick up on it more). There’s something he’s not entirely used to hearing in your tone, that being pure, genuine admiration. It was the sappy kind he used to get when his daughters would watch him work or cook dinner, the one that was just so awestricken it was almost pure, innocent. And you had said it so casually too, like you were just stating facts and not shattering his world right now, chipping away at the walls he didn’t intend to build so high.

Chilchuck's heart felt a pang of guilt that for even a second he might've thought you were teasing him, because he knew that had you both been in the bar, two or three drinks down, faces flushed, smiles bright, he wouldn't have second-guessed your compliment. He would've smiled a bit wider and blushed a bit more, shoot back some weak response on how you're just joking because he knows you're being serious.

He felt just a bit more guilty when he turned back to meet your face, a gentle smile gracing your lips, staring at him like he had just constructed cathedrals, that he had done something greater than picking a simple lock. It fills Chilchuck with unbelievable warmth and it allows him to entertain the idea that perhaps he's come to be a bit too harsh, a bit too distant.

"Thanks," he says quietly, his eyes quickly averting yours.

He hears you giggle again, louder this time. "Such a cutie." He hears you say with a soft sigh right after. Chilchuck hid his face in his neck warmer, humming in response, afraid trusting his voice would expose how flustered he’s become. He turned back to his work, a small loving smile resting on his face. Perhaps it was time for Chilchuck to take things easy and start to be a bit less serious. Especially when it comes to you.