#put some angst in this thread >D

[burnxngslash]

message within the leaves: 𝐔𝐍𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐃 | "Hey, Kuwabara, can I ask you something? I told Yusuke I wanted to throw a costume party for Halloween and he said no. But I thought that was what humans did on Halloween, or at least the ones that do always seem like they're having fun," she's more used to patrolling Ningenkai on Halloween than celebrating. "So I wanted to ask you, would you dress up for a costume party? Or is it really not a good idea?" | sender: @deathblossomed I 𝙰𝙲𝙲𝙴𝙿𝚃𝙸𝙽𝙶

He wanted to say ‘that’s what you get for dating party pooper’. Though when it came to Urameshi there’s usually a method to the madness..even if it was stupid. But naturally Kuwabara listens to her ‘woes’ and once she was done..he wasn’t sure what to make of it..at least not exactly. ❝   𝐈'𝐝 𝐝𝐨 𝐢𝐭.   ❞  He declares with a simple answer even going far as to put on a big cheesy smile if it’d uplift the situation. “But that’s because I’m the greatest and a pretty fun guy. But come to think of it..over the years Urameshi was never a person who cared for holidays..hell even for Christmas the guy who gave us presents and we never saw him again. If you ask me you’re better off just asking him what’s going on in his head. Even if Urameshi is a grumpy ogre there’s no way he’d be able to resist your googly eyes for too long.”

[hederasgarden]

Under the Influence - Part 1

Summary: While investigating a suspicious pharmaceutical company, you and Clark find yourselves exposed to a drug that forces you to grapple with its unforeseen consequences. Pairing: Clark Kent x F!Reader  Word Count: 3.9K Warning: 18+ only, explicit sexual content. Dubious consent (reader and Clark are exposed to sex pollen), unprotected PIV, size kink, biting, angst and other untagged themes.  A/N: Thank you @ryebecca @clairewritesandrambles and @a-reader-and-a-writer for holding my hand through this and Becca for beta’ing!

Please comment or reblog if you enjoyed this and want to see more. Or scream at me in my inbox. That always makes my day.

Masterlist ♡ Henry Cavill Characters Masterlist

It’s late, and the glittering skyline of Metropolis stretches out beyond the windows of the Daily Planet. The usual hum of activity in the bullpen is absent tonight – it’s just you, Clark, and an intimidating stack of boxes that seem to multiply with every passing minute. You may have indulged in a daydream or two about Clark just like this, but none of them ever involved so much paperwork.

You stifle a yawn, reaching for your coffee, only to nearly choke when you realize it’s gone cold. Grimacing, you set the offending mug aside and try to wash away the stale taste with water. The sound catches Clark’s attention and pulls him from his work. He offers you a wiry smile that you return, struck once again by just how handsome he looks. He makes it all too easy to have a crush on him, even though you know it wouldn’t go anywhere.

“I’ll put on a fresh pot,” he offers, stretching as he stands. 

Despite shedding his suit jacket earlier, and the way his tie is slightly askew, he still manages to look annoyingly chipper despite the late hour. You lean back to pass him your mug, your stiff muscles protesting. They ache from hours of sitting and sorting. 

“Back in a jiffy,” he promises, disappearing down the hall. 

By now, the two of you have been hunched over documents for nearly ten hours. Half of them are so technical they might as well be gibberish, but you’ve found a few leads in the financial papers. Unfortunately, your current stack of documents is so heavily redacted that they’re practically useless. You groan in frustration, resting your forehead on your arms until Clark returns, bringing the rich, intoxicating aroma of freshly brewed coffee with him. 

You accept the mug with a smile but quickly set it on the table when the warmth that seeps through the ceramic nearly burns your fingers. Not for the first time, you wonder how Clark managed to get the ancient coffee machine to percolate so quickly. For everyone else, it typically spewed out lukewarm sludge.

“Bet you're regretting volunteering for this assignment now,” Clark says. 

“Not for a moment,” you reply. “You’re still sharing that byline with me, right?” You question, squinting up at him.

“I always keep my promises,” he says with such earnestness that you’re reminded once again why Perry liked to call him a Boy Scout.

“I’ll hold you to it because this story’s turned into a beast.”

Clark sighs, resting his hands on his hips as he surveys the cluttered table strewn with file boxes and paper.  “It really has,” he agrees. 

When Perry called for a volunteer from the pool of junior editors to help with an expose on Salvation Pharmaceuticals, you jumped at the opportunity and not just because Clark was the writer assigned to the story. Most of your days were spent copyediting stories and arguing about AP style. You were just itching for some hands-on research experience, although neither of you expected the thread Clark pulled to unravel so quickly or so thoroughly. 

What started as an investigation into government kickbacks and dubious congressional dealings rapidly evolved into something far more unsettling. Salvation Pharmaceuticals’ R&D department was embroiled in deeply questionable research, from a gas capable of erasing memories to a potent drug they called a truth serum. All of their drugs had horrible side effects, particularly the latter which worked by lowering inhibitions but also triggered something they called sexual psychosis.

Clark’s freedom of information request resulted in your current predicament. Based on the sheer number of boxes they sent it was clear the company hoped to overwhelm you with an avalanche of data and make it difficult to find what you needed. Unfortunately for them, Clark Kent was one of the most determined reporters you’d ever met. If anyone was going to get to the bottom of the story it was him. 

“Well…once more unto the breach,” you quote, holding up a fresh box of files.

As you lift the lid, Clark offers you a small smile, his cheeks dimpling. For a moment, you’re too distracted by him to notice the cloud of yellow dust rising from the box. It quickly expands, swirling into a thick mist that engulfs you both. Immediately, your lungs begin to burn, and you gasp for air. You push your chair back and struggle to stand as your vision blurs. 

A strong arm around your middle hauls you back, dragging your feet on the carpet. Clark pulls you to the edge of the room, and you lean into him, desperately trying to clear your lungs. Behind you, he grunts, his fingers twitching and spasming against your hip. It takes several moments for the air to clear, but when it does, you watch in horror as the yellow dust seems to melt into your skin.

“What was that?” You ask, voice hoarse.

Clark is silent and looks grim when you turn to face him. “I think that was the truth serum. The reports described it as yellow dust.”

You stare at him, bewildered. “Why would the dust be in there?”

“I don’t know. But I can guess.”

You rub your chest and take a hesitant step back. “I don’t feel any different. Do you?”

“No.” He presses his lips together, a muscle in his jaw twitching with tension. “Do you feel anything?”

You exhale slowly, taking stock of your body. “Maybe?” Your response is more of a question than a definitive answer. You feel oddly warm, but it could just be the adrenaline from the situation. 

“You’re sweating,” he observes, pressing the back of his hand to your forehead. The warmth of his touch makes you shudder and you can’t help but notice how good he smells. “Your body temperature is elevated.”

“Huh?” You look up at him, momentarily lost in his gaze. “You’re hot, too,” you blurt out, mortified when the words leave your mouth.

“I feel fine,” Clark replies, either misunderstanding what you meant or choosing not to acknowledge the slip.

You step away from him, feeling your body buzz with embarrassment. Sweat dots your brow, and you’re halfway out of your thin cardigan before you even realize it. As you pace the room, you realize Clark might be right — the powder could be affecting you. You try to shake off the disorienting feeling that lingers, while Clark tracks your progress with sharp blue eyes.

“Should we call someone? Isn’t there a protocol for dealing with mysterious powders?” It’s difficult to think straight when your body feels like a furnace. “Clark?” You question.

His nostrils flare but otherwise, he doesn’t respond until you say his name again. “Yeah. There’s uh, an anthrax protocol. Perry’s got it in his office.”

Time seems to progress in strange lurches and lulls as you wait for Clark to return. You’re not sure how long he’s gone, each minute dragging as the heat within intensifies and your thoughts become increasingly muddled. There’s a growing pressure in your stomach too, something that radiates down. It’s not exactly painful, but it’s persistently irritating — a prickling feeling that needs to be soothed.

“I made the call,” Clark announces, reappearing. “They said it’ll be 30 minutes until they get here with everything they need. We just have to sit tight.”

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak. If it really was the truth serum, and you’re starting to believe Clark might be right, there’s no telling what might come out of your mouth. Even now, as you pace back and forth, you feel a pressure under your tongue, as though the words are lurking just beneath the surface, eager to spring out. The last thing you want to do is reveal your stupid little crush on him.

“God, it’s hot,” you muttered, staring at the window. You press your palms to the glass. It’s cool to the touch and you lay your forehead against it, almost moaning in relief. You wish you could strip off your dress and melt into the floor. 

“Here.” Clark’s voice is closer than you expect.

You flinch at the feel of his hand on your lower back but let him turn you around to face him. He presses a glass of cool water to your lips, and you grasp his thick wrist as he urges you to drink it all, your gaze never leaving his. The moment you finish your mouth feels dry and your throat itches. 

“You have the bluest eyes,” you whisper. “You shouldn’t hide them behind your glasses.” You reach for them, but Clark stops you with a gentle hand on yours. Embarrassment rushes under your skin, and you draw back. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s happening.”

“It’s the drug.”

“Why aren’t you affected?” You question. “You seem fine.”

“My biology is different from yours,” he says almost absently only to freeze a second later. He presses his lips together and clenches his jaw. For the first time since you met him, Clark looks genuinely unsettled. “The reports said it affected women quicker,” he adds before stepping back.

Your hand falls limply to your side as you watch him. Clark tugs at his already loosened tie, stretching his neck with an audible crack. A dark red flush creeps up his cheeks, making the skin around his eyes glow faintly. He squeezes his eyes shut and lets out a harsh breath through his nose.

“Maybe I should wait in the other room,” he grits out.

“Yeah,” you agree.

Clark barely takes a step towards the door before a sharp, unexpected wave of searing pain rips through your stomach, sending you crashing to your knees. The impact jolts your entire body, but that discomfort is overshadowed by a deep gnawing ache between your legs. You pitch forward onto all fours, struggling as your cunt flutters around nothing. 

“Oh,” you whimper, terrified as your mind recalls the adverse event report for the truth serum with perfect clarity. 

Following an increase in basal body temperature, patients exposed to the drug exhibit symptoms of full-blown sexual psychosis. This condition necessitates achieving climax to alleviate symptoms. Patients who are unable to reach climax experience a marked increase in heart rate and blood pressure, which in some cases progresses to cardiac arrest.

Every muscle in your body tenses, as a fierce, relentless pressure builds. Then, like the tide, it recedes, leaving you curled into a ball on the floor. Through half-closed eyes, you meet Clark’s gaze. He kneels in front of you and his expression mirrors your anguish.

“Clark….”

“I know,” he says quietly. His hands hover at your shoulder for a moment before he finally helps turn you on your back.

None of this feels real; it’s like a twisted wish gone wrong.

“Help me, please,” you cry, the words escaping in broken sobs. You’re too hysterical to feel ashamed about what you’re asking him to do. Details from the report keep replaying in your mind, fueling your terror. You don’t want to die.

Clark looms over you, a sheen of sweat on his brow. You stare up at him, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as the pain in your core pulses and builds. The ache in the body is all-consuming, overriding everything else. Worse is the feeling of emptiness that you know he could fill. 

“Please.” Your voice fizzles out as a strong wave of pain slams into you. It leaves you reeling and disoriented. You claw at his arms, fingernails digging into his skin. 

“I’m going to help you.” He says, his gaze lingering on you as he runs his tongue along his bottom lip. “If-if you want me to,” he adds, and a hysterical laugh bubbles up inside you. Of course you do, you’ve dreamed of him since the day you met him in the breakroom. You just never imagined this. 

When another cramp leaves you panting and desperate you grit out a pained, “Yes.”

His large hand encircles your calf, gently but firmly pulling your legs apart so he can kneel between them. The cool air makes you groan and you try to curl in on yourself again, but Clark pins you to the floor easily. With shaky hands, he drags your dress up to expose your simple black underwear. The sight seems to transfix him and you watch his chest rise and fall with quick, shallow breaths that mimic your own. 

“I have to ah, I have to…” He closes his eyes, inhaling deeply. When he shakes his head his glasses fall down his nose. “I need to get you ready.”

“I don’t care,” you sob. “Fuck me, please.”

Somewhere in the back of your mind, the part that's still you, is horrified by your words. You’ve never spoken to anyone like that, let alone a colleague or the man you have a crush on. But you know with a terrifying certainty that if he doesn’t fuck you, you’ll both die. 

“It’s okay,” he soothes, the calm tenor of his voice betrayed by the way his hand trembles against your thigh. He tears off your underwear with an ease that would give you pause if you were in your right mind.

Shame is a thing of the past as you spread your legs even further, allowing his hungry gaze to drink its fill. He parts your folds and draws two fingers through the wetness gathered there, starting with light, teasing strokes that quickly build to more. When his thumb finds your bundle of nerves, he rubs slow, soothing circles until the pain in your stomach eases a fraction. 

“You’re doing good,” he encourages, sounding breathless. “Doing so good for me, honey.”

You moan his name and he shifts closer, bent forward to watch himself work. Soon one kind of pressure recedes and another begins. You gasp, throwing your head back as Clark continues his slow assault, building in its intensity. When your legs thrash his other hand settles on your hip, holding you still as he works a thick finger inside. Your cunt clenches in response to the intrusion. Above you, he groans and his thumb moves faster. 

“More, oh god I need more,” you beg, keening when Clark pushes a second finger inside. 

The stretch of them both burns but that’s eclipsed by the pleasure you feel. You rock forward, trying to take more of him but he doesn’t let you, controlling the pace. You can hear yourself babbling, nonsensical words streaming from your mouth as he draws you closer and closer to your orgasm until, all at once, it overwhelms you completely. Your orgasm is almost painful and your hands curl into fists, your body contorting in response. The room blurs around you, and every fiber of your being is consumed by the relief you feel. 

When it passes you’re left trembling on the floor, avoiding Clark’s gaze. He hovers over you, his arousal hard to miss with the way it tents the front of his gray slacks.

“Clark.” You touch his chest, inhaling when his dark blue eyes snap up to meet yours. “Do you…” 

You can’t even force yourself to say it now that you’re back in your right mind. Clark shakes his head, withdrawing his fingers. You wince, and he looks pained. 

“We should —” he starts, but whatever he is about to say is abruptly cut off as he grunts and hunches forward, a visible shudder running through him. 

Hesitantly, you reach out and touch his face. When your fingers brush over the curve of his cheek he moans and surges forward, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that steals your breath. He forces his tongue inside and the heat of him is almost unbearable. You push at his shoulder, but he doesn’t relent. His hands travel up and down your sides and you feel that familiar pressure return to your core. It builds slowly, like the spark of an ember that will soon flare into a blazing fire. 

You shift under Clark, drawing your legs up as he swallows down your needy whine. By the time he pulls away, you’re feeling dizzy and gasping for breath.

“We need to,” you begin, squeezing your eyes shut as your body trembles.

“I know,” Clark replies.

He fumbles with his pants and you look up at the ceiling as he pulls himself free. It feels like a violation to look, but without your permission, you find your gaze drifting down. Your mouth goes dry at the sight of his cock, just as big and thick as the rest of him. It’s red and weeping. Your cunt aches, and you toss your head side to side, trying to dispel the pain. 

Clark plants a hand near your head while he lines himself up between your thighs. He pushes inside slowly. It hurts, god, it hurts, but you need more of him, and you need it now. Wrapping his tie around your hand, you pull hard, urging him closer. He snaps his hip forward with enough force to jar your bones, and you wail in response. For one blissful moment, everything is quiet. Your buzzing mind and aching body are finally filled in a way they’ve been craving.

“Fuck.” The curse falls from Clark’s lips and brings you back to the moment. “You feel so good. You feel…” he trails off, his words bleed into one long, low moan that has you clenching around him. 

Above you, his handsome face contorts, his lips pressed tightly together. Tension lines the muscles of his jaw and his dark brows furrow in an expression that teeters between ecstasy and pain. Pleasure skitters along your nerves as he drives into you over and over again to reach some unknown place hidden deep inside. Your second orgasm rises to the surface just as swiftly as your first and Clark is relentless as he fucks you through it. 

There isn’t even time to catch your breath before his hands encircle your hips and he leans back, drawing you with him. The backs of your thighs drag over the fabric of his slack as he moves your body to meet his thrusts. As one orgasm fades you feel another spring to life, hastened by the feel of his calloused thumb on your clit. The need inside you burns even brighter, and a litany of desperate pleas spills from your lips. 

“You feel,” he pants, “just like I imagined.”

When you gasp his name he curls his body over yours, the new angle allowing him to move even deeper. You hold onto his biceps and listen to the desperate little noises that escape his chest with each thrust. His lips find the soft skin of your throat as his fingers dig into the neckline of your dress. He pulls hard and buttons scatter, giving him access to your shoulder. Teeth scrap over tender flesh and your back arches as another orgasm blooms in your stomach.

Waves of pleasure ebb through your body and your fingers tangle in the thick hair at the nape of his neck. Clark doesn’t falter even when you fall still beneath him. Your muscles ache, and your body feels tense and exhausted, but that frenzied need that’s driven you since the dust melted into your system slakes away until you’re left feeling everything. Guilt and horror fill your body like sand, weighing you down. 

Clark groans and you realize he’s still in the throes of the drug's effects. The ceaseless rhythm of his hips has turned painful and your insides feel raw. You push at his shoulder but he doesn’t even seem to notice, hitching your leg over his waist to push himself deeper. 

He shudders, gasping, “like that, just like that.” Then his teeth sink into your neck and he finally stills. 

Tears leak from the corner of your eyes as your breath comes in short little sobs, your heart fluttering in your chest. After a few moments, Clark stiffens and you know he’s come back to himself. He shifts, slipping out of you with a quiet exhale. You can’t stifle your whimper of pain and his gaze jumps to you. For a moment you stare at each other and the silence is deafening. Then he passes a trembling hand over his lips and rocks back, moving to his feet in a fluid motion. He turns from you to tuck himself away and runs a hand through his curls. 

You sit up slowly, drawing your knees to your chest while you hold the fabric of your dress together in an attempt to give yourself some dignity. It’s almost laughable after what just happened. Clark says your name and you stare at his outstretched hand. After a moment of hesitation, you take it and he pulls you to your feet. When he drops his jacket over your shoulders you feel a swell of gratitude. You let him guide you to a chair, wincing when you sit. Everything feels raw and tender. 

He clears his throat. “The response team is downstairs.”

“Okay,” you say numbly. 

“I’m…I’m so sorry,” he whispers. 

You want to tell him it’s okay, that it’s not his fault, but the words catch in your throat. All you get out is his name. Nothing about this is okay. How could it be? 

You wait together, Clark standing half a step ahead of you while you stare at his broad shoulders, lost in thought. He’s the one to greet the men and women in hazmat suits. You don’t catch everything he says, but his eyes drift back to you as he speaks. Before long, you’re separated, and the last image you hold onto is his hair tousled from your fingers and his wrinkled, untucked shirt.

From there, everything becomes a blur; moments merge into a disjointed sequence — being herded into a decontamination shower, the uncomfortable scratch of paper scrubs against your sensitive skin, a distressing medical exam, and then the questions. Endless questions bring back the haze of disjointed memories you’re struggling to process.

By the time you’re allowed to leave, the first rays of light filter through the windows of the bullpen. You watch the soft golden glow and listen to the faint chirping of birds. The city is waking up, bustling to life as it always does, but you feel disconnected from it all until you step into the elevator and turn to find Clark standing there.

He halts the doors from closing, his sad, mournful eyes meeting yours. A powerful wave of emotion rises in your throat as the weight of his guilt and your embarrassment settles inside you like a stone. There’s so much you want to say, so much that needs to be said, but it’s overshadowed by a deep ache in your chest. You feel so lost and unsure, terrified about what lies ahead that tears spill from your eyes, hot and unchecked. 

Clark exhales softly and steps back, but just before the doors close, he whispers your name. In that moment, everything else fades away — it’s just you, him, and all the unspoken words that linger between you.

Then, he’s gone and you’re left utterly alone. 

♡

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[angels-fantasy]

hi!! i really like your work and i was wondering if you could do like a katsuki bakugou x reader where bakugou is putting the reader at risk of being harmed because of her being one of his loved ones and then bakugou purposely fights with the reader and then just walks out on her thinking it’s for the better and then a couple weeks later the reader finds out she’s pregnant and keeps the child a secret for a couple years until she runs into bakugou and then he wants a do-over or something like that 🥹

Second Chances (Request)

Katsuki Bakugou x Fem!Reader

Details/Warnings: CW: Pregnancy Cw: Children, some angst, domestic fluff, dad bakugou, also soft bakugou hahaha.

Word Count: 2.9k

this idea is SOOOO cute i love it sm and it was really fun writing this. i hope i did your idea justice!! thank you sm for requesting anon :D i literally got so excited when i saw it got a request hehehe

Getting with Katsuki Bakugou was a dream come true. You two had been through thick and thin, and you had it all. Great jobs, a home together, and a strong relationship. Everything seemed perfect in your eyes, until one day Katsuki decided it wasn't enough for him.

Well, it was enough for him. It was more than enough actually. He loved you with all his heart and wanted a future with you, but doing that would put you at risk.

Ever since he was a little boy and dreamed of being a hero, he was warned of the risks the job came with. Not only would he be in great danger, but his loved ones too.

For a long time he believed he was strong enough to take on the world and every villain it had, no matter the threats they made towards him.

In his entire career, no villain had ever threatened a loved one of his, until recently. A damned villain had brought you up in the midst of the fight, spewing all kinds of bullshit he'd do to you that Katsuki would never want to even imagine.

For the first time in a long time, Katsuki reached a breaking point.

The disgusting things that villain said about you made him realize that he couldn't continue putting you in danger like this, so he had to find a way to end things.

He knew you wouldn't accept the real reasoning behind the break up, so he had to come up with something else.

You sat across the kitchen table from Katsuki with tears filled in your eyes. Seeing you like this hurt him more than ever, but he had to stay strong.

"How could this not be enough for you Katsuki?" You cried, "How could I not be enough for you?"

He looked down at the table to avoid your broken expression, "How else am I supposed to fuckin' say it huh? I don't wanna be with you anymore."

You shook your head, "Stop looking at the table and look at me when you say that. If you can look me in the eyes and tell me you really don't want to be with me, then you can leave."

It took everything left in Katsuki to lift his head up and look you in your eyes. He tried his best to put on a poker face, but you both knew it wasn't working.

"I don't want to be with you anymore."

Your face scrunched up slightly as you held back tears. "Okay Katsuki. If that's what you really want."

...

Having to hear Katsuki move out of your apartment was just another reminder of your relationship crumbling right before you, and it felt like the end of the world.

You don't know how long you laid in bed crying silently, but suddenly you heard Katsuki's voice from the door of your bedroom.

"I'm leaving now." He said quietly.

You played with a thread on the pillow next to you, choosing to ignore him.

He shuffled awkwardly at your silence. "Um, Bye. I guess."

"Bye Katsuki." You said quietly.

You stayed quiet until you heard the front door shut behind him, then you let yourself cry.

...

It was almost two months later, and you were starting to feel a bit better about the break up. It was hard sometimes, but you had a good support system and kept yourself busy.

Now though you were feeling better emotionally, you weren't really feeling well physically.

When you confided in your best friend about this, she told you words you really didn't want to hear.

"Maybe you're pregnant?" Uraraka suggested after hearing your symptoms.

You shook your head, "No way! And if I am, that's horrible! I can't raise a baby by myself. That's a two person job..."

She stayed quiet, now feeling a bit awkward when she remembered the messy breakup between you and Katsuki.

"I'd be here for you, you know that right?" She said and wrapped her arms around you. "I should have a few tests in my bathroom, do you wanna go take some?"

You bit your lip in thought. "I dunno. I'm scared."

She leaned her head on your shoulder, "I'll be with you every step of the way. You're my best friend okay? You should take the test sooner than later so that way if you are pregnant, you can start taking care of yourself and the baby."

You leaned your head on hers, "You're right. I'll do it."

Moments later after peeing on three sticks and looking at the results, you felt your heart drop to your stomach.

You opened the door and faced Uraraka, who was pacing in anticipation.

"Well? What does it say?!" She asked.

You held up one of the tests, "Looks like I gotta start eating for two."

...

5 years later

After finding out you were pregnant five years ago, you decided you weren't going to tell Katsuki. Maybe it was wrong, but you didn't care.

He had made it very clear he didn't want to be with you anymore, and you weren't going to hold him back from whatever plans he had.

You had also decided it'd be a good idea to move out of Musutafu, at least an hour away from him and anyone else that knows him. You didn't want the word of you having his child spreading around and eventually reaching him.

The only person you told were your parents and Uraraka, who promised she'd keep it a secret from Katsuki and everyone associated with him. The two of you kept in touch and she would occasionally visit you when she wasn't busy with hero work.

So now here you were with your 4-year old little girl, Keiko. She had some of your features, but of course her father's genes overshadowed yours despite him not even being in the picture.

The biggest resemblance between them was their eyes, which you hated temporarily, but grew to love again because of her.

"Mama! Mama!" Keiko called from the top of the slide, "Come play with me!"

You stood up from the bench with a sigh and made your way over to the bottom of the slide. "Okay Koko but be careful up there! I don't want you to get hurt."

She shook her head and scrunched up her face, "I'm strong! I don't get hurt Mama!" and then slid down to meet you at the bottom.

Once she got there, she slid into your legs and got surprised at the light impact but giggled anyways.

You reached down and picked her up, "What are you laughing at huh Koko?" You asked and tickled her.

She continued laughing her little heart out and you smiled at her, loving to see your daughter in such a good mood.

A few hours later, you found yourselves at the grocery store, shopping for new snacks Keiko could take to school.

You held up a pack of yogurt cups to your daughter, who was sitting in the basket.

"You want some of these baby? They have blueberry and strawberry flavor."

"I want blueberry!" She said.

You nodded, "Good choice."

The two of you continued shopping around for a few more minutes, until you felt your heart stop.

Down the same aisle, you saw none other than Katsuki Bakugou.

Just as you tried to quickly turn around, your precious child couldn't help but yell -

"Dynamight!"

Groaning in frustration at your daughter, though you knew it wasn't her fault (He just so happened to be her favorite hero, despite not even knowing he was her father), you tried your best to keep walking away but it was already too late.

You heard him yell out your name, and you quickly grabbed Keiko, abandoning the shopping cart in the process and you began making your way out of the store as fast as you could.

Katsuki, who noticed you and your daughter, did the same and began following you.

Once you were outside, you looked over your shoulder and called out, "Get away from me!

Keiko fussed in your arms at your loud voice, wondering what was happening and why her mother was running away from a hero.

Finally getting to your car, Katsuki was hovering over you as you put your daughter in her car seat.

"Is she mine?" He asked, out of breath from walking fast.

"No."

"You think I'm an idiot or somethin'?" He asked, "She looks just like me and you expect me to believe that?"

You kissed Keiko on the forehead, "I'm gonna talk to the crazy man real quick okay baby? Just wait here."

She nodded and played with her fingers. You shut the door and leaned against it, facing Katsuki.

"Leave us alone. I don't want anything to do with you, okay?" You said sternly, trying not to cry.

His eyebrows furrowed, "When we ended things... were you pregnant?"

You stayed quiet for a moment before answering.

"I didn't find out until a month later."

He let out a breath and put his hands on his face. "Why the fuck didn't you tell me? I would've been there for you, even if we weren't together."

His words angered you, "Why does it take me being pregnant for you to think about being there for me? I still needed you there when you left, but you wanted nothing to do with me!"

"I had to do it! You don't understand, okay?" He yelled.

You put a finger in his face, "Stop raising your voice at me like that. Keiko can probably hear you."

He grew quiet, "Her name is Keiko?"

"Yeah."

He looked at the ground, "Can I get to know her more? Please. There's no way I can live my life knowing I have a kid that I'm not there for."

You felt a tear slip down your cheek. "Okay, fine. I'll give you my number and we can talk about the details later."

"Thank you." He sighed, "Thank you so much. I'm gonna do my best for her, and for you too."

"This isn't about me."

"I don't care. It's what I want to do. It's what I need to do."

"Just give me your phone so I can put my number in."

He fished his phone out of his pocked and unlocked it, handing it to you. While you added your contact, he asked "What does she like? I want to get her something."

"Well she likes heroes, her favorite animal is a seal, and she likes crowns, because she wants to be a king." You said with a smile.

"Not a queen?" He smirked.

You shook your head. "Nah, she says 'king' sounds cooler."

He laughed, "That's definitely my kid."

...

After the accidental meet up with Katsuki, Keiko asked a million questions but you answered as if you didn't know him, and eventually she lost interest.

You decided not to tell anyone about what happened, just incase he decided to leave again. You also didn't want to tell Keiko yet, because you didn't want her to grow attached to him.

She knew her father wasn't in the picture, but she didn't fully understand why yet. You would explain it to her when she got older and grew more curious about who he is.

You had also found out why Katsuki was in your city, and apparently it was because he was visiting some family members (by force of his mother).

It was now a few days later, and you and Katsuki decided to meet up, along with Keiko. You wanted to meet him in public, but he said that was a bad idea because he'd get recognized, so you reluctantly agreed to allow him into your home.

"Keikooo" You cooed, "We have a visitor today."

She looked up from her toys and brushed her hair out of her face, "Who Mama?"

Just then, the doorbell rang. "There he is! Do you wanna go open the door?"

She nodded and skipped down the hall and to the front door, looking back at you for the okay before opening the door.

When she did, she gasped "Dynamight! What are you doing at my house?"

Katsuki laughed, "I came to see you and your Mama, if that's alright with you little lady."

She smiled and opened the door wider, allowing him to walk in. "What's in that bag, Dynamight?"

"It's actually something for you." He said and handed it to her.

She squealed and dragged the large bag behind her to the couch, where she quickly dug inside of it and pulled out a large seal plushie with a crown on it.

"It's a king seal!" She said in awe.

You smiled and sat next to her on the couch, "What do you say Koko?"

She hugged the seal, "Thank you so much! I need to name him..."

Katsuki laughed and ruffled her hair, "You're welcome kid. Maybe we can come up with names later." He then handed you a small bag, from who knows where, and urged you to open it.

You raised a brow but opened it anyways. Inside, there was a jewelry box, and inside that there was a necklace with three small flowers aligned together. It was simple, but pretty.

"You didn't have to get me anything..." You said while admiring the necklace.

He shrugged, "I know, but I wanted to."

You smiled.

...

For the next few months, things continued on that way. The three of you would meet up, Katsuki occasionally bringing you and your daughter gifts no matter how many times you said you didn't want one, and actually enjoying time together.

Currently, Keiko was being carried to bed by Katsuki. She was all tuckered out from today's session of hero and villain (she was the hero, of course).

When Katsuki came back to the living room, he slumped onto the couch next to you and sighed. "Damn, that kid has so much energy."

You laughed, "Tell me about it. It was even worse when I was actually carrying her. She was a kicker."

Katsuki looked over at you, "I'm sorry I wasn't there."

You continued looking forward, "It's fine. You didn't even know, Katsuki."

He smiled slightly at you using his first name, just like he did every time you used it.

"Y'know, I was thinking-"

"Uh oh." You teased.

He tsked and continued on, "I wanna start over again."

You froze, what the hell was he saying?

"Look, I know you're hesitant to and I understand why." He said and slowly grabbed your hand, holding it tenderly in his. "But I'm being serious when I say I haven't been with anyone since you. I still love you and I always have. And now that Koko is here, I love her too and I want to be in her life everyday."

Your lip began to shake, "If you loved me, why did you leave me?"

"Baby I was being stupid. I-I got into a fight with this villain, and he threatened you. I thought that my job was putting you in danger and I didn't want to take any risks, so I broke things off."

The tears were now falling, "You're such an idiot, you know that?"

"I do know. I'm sorry." He said and stroked your cheek, "I'm so fucking sorry for hurting you and not being there for you and Keiko. But please, please let me be here now."

You cried harder and leaned into his chest, and he wrapped his arms around you. That wound he left behind all those years ago was now a scar that still hurts. But so far, being with him these last few months has eased the pain.

"I love you" You cried, "I want you to be here now. For me and for Keiko."

He let out the biggest sigh of relief in years.

...

3 years later

"Keiko! Stop putting cheese on your brother!" Katsuki yelled across the kitchen.

Your now 7-year old daughter pouted and bit into a slice of cheese, "But he likes it!"

Your son, who was a year old, laid on the floor of the living room and laughed at his sister while chewing on his fingers.

After that talk you and Katsuki had, you began seeing each other again. It was hard at first, but he proved himself to you in every way he could.

You two also told Keiko he was her father, and she was confused at first but after a long talk and even some tears, she understood and quickly accepted he was her father.

She also loved being able to say Dynamight was her dad.

She also manifested her quirk, which was of course, the same as Katsuki's. When it first manifested, there was a random boom! that came from her bedroom, and when you two ran in, she was covered in soot and her doll was blown up.

Though instead of crying, she cheered in victory, which Katsuki found extremely funny.

Now for your second pregnancy, that was a surprise, just like your first one. Despite this, you two were still happy about it and decided to move into a bigger house together.

Hiroki looked a lot like his father, of course. But this time, he had your eye color which you were thankful for considering you carried him for almost 9 months.

"Keiko why would you put cheese on Hiroki?" You asked as you walked into the living room.

She shrugged and ate another slice.

"That kid is crazy, that's why." Katsuki said.

She quickly turned around, "No I'm not! You're crazy! Poop face!"

"Hey!" You said, "Don't call your dad poop face. That's not nice."

She grumbled a 'sorry' and went back to eating the cheese slices off of Hiroki.

You smiled and shook your head at your families antics. They could be a bit much, and they had explosive personalities (literally) but you loved them either way.

Maybe second chances weren't so bad.

authors note

this was so so fun! again, thank you for requesting 🩷 if anyone else has ideas or requests, feel free to send em!

i hope you liked this 😸

[justmeinadaze]

Inescapable Part 2 (Steddie X You)

A/N: Yes I stole the Jack Skellington thing from Fargo and yes I'm aware its not Halloween but I need this damnit so :D.

Warnings: Older (Early 30s) Prisoner Steddie (Daddy Steve and Sir Eddie) & Young (Early 20s) Fem Sub college student Y/N, SMUT, Dom/Sub dynamics, home invasion role-play, degrading, light slapping, spanking, choking, overstimulation, DP, LOTS of dirty talk, squirting, aftercare, I think I got everything. This is all consenting and a safe word is established.

ANGST, they did break out of prison to see her, the do play with her a bit (taking pictures to show they're watching), they do get jealous and she does what she can to egg that on (brief), cliffhanger ending because I'm me and I love yalls reactions😈 😉.

Enjoy!

Word Count: 4095

Chapter 1/ Tip me <3

How? They can’t… Are they just trying to intimidate me? Scare me? What…

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the doorbell startling you three feet in the air. After hastily hiding the letter in one of your drawers, you tiptoed to the front door and breathed a sigh of relief when you saw your friends on the other side. 

Gathering some chairs, you all sat outside as the evening began and you prayed none of them would notice how on edge you were. With every snap of a twig or smell of cigarette smoke, your head would quickly turn in that direction to see what was coming for you. 

Normal people would have been scared at the thought of two convicts threatening to appear at their house but you’d be lying if you didn’t say you were excited to see what they had planned until you remembered they were stuck in a cell and your head would hang. 

“What’s wrong, Y/N? You look sad.”, one of your friends asked as he tilted his head to find your eye line. 

“Huh? No, I’m just tired. With school, work, and everything else…I just need a break.”, you giggle as you try to brush off his worry. 

As the boy nodded, his palm reached out to pat your thigh but when it lingered the disgust that filled your eyes was replaced with curiosity. If they really were watching, they would hate that this boy was touching you but more than anything they would be pissed you didn’t push him away. 

Without fully weighing the consequences, you grabbed his hand and threaded your fingers between his. The boy smiled before scooting his chair closer to yours.

I shouldn’t be doing this… There’s no way they are even here to see me doing something I shouldn’t be. Fuck what the fuck is wrong with me…

“Hello.”

A small child dressed like Woody from Toy Story smiled your way as he held out his little pumpkin for you to give him his candy. 

“Trick or Treat!”

Grinning, you gave him two pieces of chocolate and he beamed right back before handing you a red envelope. 

“What’s this, sweetheart?”

“Jack told me to give this to you.”

“Jack?”, you ask but the little boy just giggles as he runs back to his group of friends. 

Continuing to smile, you shake your head as you glance over the piece of paper he gave you. There were no distinguishing markers or anything indicating who it was from. Finding a couple of Polaroids, a shaky breath leaves your lips when you turn them over. 

Within the photos were images of you from outside your window putting on your dress for the evening. Rising to your feet, your eyes scanned around the neighborhood in search for any sign of them or anything that stood out but all you saw were kids and adults trick or treating. 

“Y/N? Are you—”

Powerwalking into your home, you made a beeline for your bedroom as you looked around and found nothing. 

“Y/N? What’s going on, baby?”

“Don’t call me that, Justin.”, you snapped, slightly annoyed that they had successfully rattled you. 

“I’m sorry. I just…I know you’ve been through a lot these past few months with Derek, the internship denial, and then overworking yourself. I’m here if you ever need anything.”

You needed something but it wasn’t anything this man could give you. However, he may be able to help facilitate what you actually needed…

Roughly grabbing the collar of his jacket, you brought his lips to yours hoping he didn’t feel the cringe in your face at the fact that he tasted nothing like Eddie or Steve. Justin’s hands went to work, pulling your waist to his as he backed you towards your kitchen counter and lifted you onto it. 

The sound of something crashing pushed you two apart and you quickly ran outside to see your friends giggling as someone had drunkenly fallen out of his chair and broke the glass in his hand. 

Nervously laughing, you leaned against one of the cars and wiped away the stray tear that had fallen. 

“Ok, guys. I think I’m worn out for the evening.”

“Oh come on, nana.”, one of your friends teased. 

“No, no. I have a class tomorrow afternoon.”, you lied.

Smiling, they helped you gather the chairs, placing them back inside and you watched as everyone left but Justin lingered behind.

“Do, um, do you want me to stay with you? We don’t have to do anything. You just seem a bit jittery.”

“I’m ok but I do appreciate the offer.”

Your friend seemed to buy your smile and you watch as he gets into his car and disappears down the street. As you turn to head back inside, something on your windshield catches your eye. With a shaky hand you grab the Polaroid that was stuck under the wiper and turned it around to see the image of you making out with Justin on the counter in your kitchen. Underneath were big bold letters written in black marker.

“Bad Girl.”

########################

Running through your home, you double checked to make sure every window was locked and bolted your front and back door shut. You weren’t going to make this easy for them and as the adrenaline coursed through your veins you couldn’t help but smirk. 

This is the most alive you had felt in so long.

“Come on, boys! Is that all you got!?”, you shouted into the void. 

A knock on the back window made you jump before sprinting in that direction as best you could in your dress and bare feet, annoyed when no one was there. The lights in your house abruptly turned off and you squeaked as you realized you were now at a disadvantage. 

Tiptoeing backwards into your living room, your calves hit something hard making you wince when you realized it was your coffee table. Something fell in your bedroom down the hall and you quickly ran to the front door with the plan to cut around outside to your backyard but as soon as you turned the handle you were met with a tall, broad figure donning a Jack Skellington mask. 

Fear froze you only for a moment before you tried to slam the door in his face but he blocked it with a loud slam of his palm and you turned to run towards your bedroom to hide. After shutting and locking the door, you turned in circles debating on where to hide, finally deciding on your closet. 

He’s not trying to bang in the door. Why isn’t he trying to come in?

As soon as you opened your closet door, you got your answer as another figure in a Ghost face mask wrapped his arms around you and covered your mouth as you tried to fight him. With little effort, he dragged you with him as he let his friend in who had been waiting patiently on the other side. 

Casually striding forward, the man invades your space and removes his Jack Skellington mask to reveal Steve underneath. 

“H-How?”

Calmly smirking, his strong fingers pinch your cheeks as his forehead presses against yours. 

“You don’t speak unless you’re spoken to or you need to say ‘Red’ to stop. Do I make myself clear, little girl?” 

When you didn’t immediately respond, he pushed your head against the other man’s shoulder who ripped off the Ghost Face mask revealing an equally annoyed Eddie.

“If you want tonight to go smoothly it’s best to say ‘Yes, Daddy’ or ‘Sir’ when you’re asked something and do what we fucking say.”, he growled between clenched teeth. “Now, was what Daddy said fucking clear?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Fingers threaded roughly through your hair and pulled back. 

“Not to me, little girl! To him!”

“Yes, Daddy, I fucking understand!”

“So is this what you’ve been doing with your time, huh. Trying to get your needy hands on any fucking man you can. First the picture you sent us making out with some asshole and now we see you dry humping some asshole in your kitchen. Fucking whore.”

“What picture—”

Steve’s palm collides with your cheek making you gasp. 

“I’m sorry. I don’t remember asking you anything.”

“I’m sorry, Daddy.”

As his angry eyes scan you over, he chuckles as he notices your wiggling in Eddie’s arms start to become less forceful. 

“You don’t even remember sending that polaroid to us do you, little girl?”

“No, Daddy. I’m sorry if I hurt you.”, you mumble as a tear falls down your cheek. You genuinely never wanted to hurt them. 

“Don’t worry, little girl. You’re going to make it up to us.”, Eddie declares before pushing you to your knees between them. You watch with wide eyes as they pushed down their prison sweats and their cocks spring free. The anticipation of the evening had them hard the entire time they spent watching you and as your palm barely makes it around their girths, they hiss and breathe a sigh of relief at the contact. 

Your lips take in Steve first making him grunt as his palm balances on top of your head. 

“Fuck, Y/N. Do you know h-how fucking long we’ve waited to feel your mouth on us?”

Moving to Eddie’s leaking tip, he groans as your head begins to bob while your hand continues to pump the other man. 

“You can f-finally live out your fantasy, Harrington. J-Just—shit—hold her hair like this and…” Gripping your hair tightly, the metalhead thrusts his hips allowing his dick to hit the back of your throat as you gag and squeeze your eyes shut. “That’s it, fuck, and a little whore like her can really take it.”

Yanking you off him, Eddie practically pushes you onto Steve’s cock barely allowing you time to breathe as he fucks your face. 

“And she fucking loves this shit. Don’t you, baby?” After bunching the bottom of your dress around your waist, he aggressively slides his hand under the waistband of your panties and glides his fingers between your dripping cunt. “Yeah ya do. Say it.”

“Yes, Sir, I love it.”

With a smug smile, they take turns using you till your make up and drool streak your face. 

“Goddamn! Her throat feels so fucking good.” Grabbing your neck, Steve pulls you to your feet as his lips roughly crash to yours while Eddie removes his clothes behind you. 

After placing himself on your bed, the long-haired boy wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you on to him, maneuvering your body until you were sitting directly on his face. His fingers rip at your panties, tossing them haphazardly on the floor before shoving his nose between your folds. 

“Fuck, I’ve been dreaming about eating this sweet pussy till you’re begging me to stop.”

You loudly moan as his tongue licks a stripe through you and your fingers promptly cling to his hair beneath you. A hand suddenly touches your side as your dress is lifted over your head and your eyes meet Steve’s before scanning his naked form. God, they both looked so good. 

“Does his mouth feel good, little girl?”

“Y-Yes, Daddy.”

Pinching your cheeks, he glared your way but his eyes soften as they drifted down your neck to your breasts and to your tummy. Sweat was sticking to your skin as your hips rolled and you mewled, shuddering against Eddie as you came. 

Wrapping his arms tightly around you, the metalhead held you still as he continued to devour you. Tears fell down your face as you continued to cum on his tongue but he wouldn’t allow you to leave. You squirmed to get away from him, succeeding only for a moment when you pulled his hair a bit too roughly and he let you go. 

As you fell onto your stomach on the mattress, Steve reached over and pressed his palm against your shoulder blade to hold you down and spank your behind. 

“Hey! Where the fuck are you going? We aren’t even close to done using you.”, he growled as he spanked you again much harder than before. “I would have thought a little slut like you would have wanted to cum on his face some more.”

Lost in his need for you, Eddie pulled at your ankles and lifted your ass till you were exposed for him. 

“O-Oh fuck!”, you groan as he gradually guides his cock into your aching core. 

“How does she feel, Munson?”

He didn’t verbally respond but his palm yanked your hair so your back was against his chest. 

“Fuck, sweetheart. Your pussy is just squeezing my dick. Y-You like this don’t you? Bad little girl letting us stretch out her cunt. I-If someone caught us, you’d be in so much trouble.”

“Oh my god.”

Eddie’s hips slammed into yours and your head leaned against his shoulder as his palm clung to your throat. 

“We—fuck—we jerked off to this moment so m-many times, baby. Do you still want us to fill up your little pussy?”

“Y-Yes, yes Sir, please.”, you whine as his cock continues to punch into the spongy spot inside of you. 

“Beg me, Y/N. Beg for my cum.”

“P-Please, Sir. Please fill me up. I need it!”

You don’t see it but Eddie winks towards Steve as he pushes your face back into the mattress and pounds into you till your body shakes and the coil snaps. As you wait to feel the metalhead’s release, the other boy roughly lifts you off the bed and places you on top of him as he lays back flat with his head on your pillows. 

“Wait, but—”

Fingers wrap around your throat as Steve pulls you down till your nose is to his. 

“What, little girl? You thought after everything you’ve done that we would just give you what you want? You thought you could get away with it because we were locked up, didn’t you?”

“Y-Yes, Daddy. I’m so sorry.””

“Not yet but you will be. Now…put my cock inside that little pussy.” Releasing his hold on you slightly, he allows you to move just enough to lower yourself down onto him, both of you groaning as he sheathes inside you easily. “Goddamn it. You’re so fucking tight. Don’t move…I just want to feel you…shit.”

Your head fell back as you did everything you could to not move your waist. You could feel him deep inside you and any little twitch had him hitting that now over stimulated spot inside you making you desperate to cum again. 

“Hey. What the fuck did I say?! Don’t. Move!”, he growled as he spanked your ass again hard.

“Oh, Steve, you can’t blame her. Little slut like her is just so desperate especially with a cock so close. Right, baby? Say it. Say you’re a desperate little slut.”

“Please… I want to cum.”

“Now she wants to cum. She was just running from it earlier!”, Eddie scolded as he pressed his face to the side of yours. “You wanna cum again you listen to what we say. Good girls do what they’re fucking told.”

“I-I-I’m a desperate little…little slut…” 

At your words, Steve’s palms hold your hips and guide your movements allowing you to grind against him. 

“Good…good girl. We’ll make you deal, Y/N. If you cum again on Daddy’s cock, we’ll fill you up just like you want. We can do it at the same time…” As you bounce harder on top of him, Steve’s hands roam your body and roughly knead your tits. “Has anyone ever taken you here, sweetheart?”

At Eddie’s question, he guides one of his fingers inside of your ass and it takes all of his friend’s energy to not cum on the spot when he watches your mouth fall open in a silent moan as you come undone.

“I’ll take that as a no.”, he chuckles. 

“N-No, Sir. C-Can…fuck…can I have water please?”

After nodding, you watch as he disappears out of your room and Steve searches your bedside drawer before producing a bottle of lube. As you wait you can’t help but reach out to run your palm delicately down his chest. You could feel his eyes watching you as you traced the faded scar just below his neck and down to the darker ones on his side. 

When Eddie came back, he threw his body in front of yours and handed you the glass you asked for, thanking him, and chugging it back. His scars were much darker but like Derek said in his interview with them, they were similar to Steve’s. Just as you had with him, your fingers traced fading marks and every tattoo you passed with fascination. 

When your eyes met his chocolate ones, you rushed forward to capture his lips with yours and without hesitation he took you in his arms, cupping your face to bring you as close to him as possible. 

Mewling, you sink down on to his cock, capturing his own moans on your tongue as you roll your hips. When you freeze, Eddie’s waves tickle your face as he looks behind you to see Steve lathering lube between your cheeks before stroking it along his length. 

“Remember, just say ‘Red’ if you want to stop.”, he whispers.

“Yes, Sir.”

Straddling his knees over Eddie’s thighs and your feet, Steve exhales and guides himself gradually inside of your ass. Your nails abruptly dig into the metalhead’s shoulders as you bury your face into his neck. 

“Hey, hey. You’re doing so good, princess. Look at me, pretty girl.”, he coos as he lightly but firmly tugs at your hair. “There she is our beautiful girl. Are you alright?”

“Hurts, Sir.”

“Do you want to stop?”

“No, Sir.”

Next to your ear, you hear him run his tongue along something before a jolt of electricity runs through you as his thumb slowly circles your clit and Steve inches a bit more forward. 

“Fuck—Good girl, honey. I’m almost…I’m almost all the way in…you’re doing so good.”

“I love you both…so much…I’m so sorry for hurting you…trying to make you jealous.”

When Steve’s hips connect to yours, you shudder as his breath ghosts your shoulder. 

“We—mmm—we love you to, Y/N. Fuck, Ed, I’m not gonna last long.”, he quickly pants out as he hangs his head and does small thrusts to allow you to get used to them both inside you. “Are you ready, baby?”

As you nod your head, Eddie pulls on your hair again a bit more roughly and you know what he wants. 

“Yes, Daddy, I’m ready. Please…I need you both.”

The metalhead’s arms hold you to his chest and Steve’s fingers dig into your hips as they both pump into you in the same rhythm turning you to jelly as you melt into their embrace.

“That’s it, sweetheart, fuck you feel so good. Taking us so fucking well. Who do you—mmm—who do you belong to, little girl?”

“Y-You and…and—fuuuuuck—”

A palm wraps around your throat, pulling you till your nose was squished against Eddie’s.”

“Finish that fucking sentence. Who do you belong to, Y/N?”

“You and Steve.”, you moaned.

“Say it louder, whore, so we know you fucking understand.”, the man behind you growled roughly as he pressed his chest into your back, pushing him impossibly deep inside you. 

“I belong to Eddie and Steve! Fuck, harder, please.”

Both men thrust aggressively into you, Eddie holding you flat against him as Steve’s palm gripped your headboard for more leverage.

“Some…something’s happening…” Your body shook as an overwhelming feeling of pleasure coursed through you and the rubber band in your belly snapped. 

“Oh my God.”

As your arousal warmed him, Eddie grunted loudly in your ear as his pace faltered and you felt him warm your insides. Steve soon followed, circling his arms around you and clinging to your slightly limp form as he emptied inside you. 

##################

You weren’t sure how long you were asleep for but you woke up to the soft feeling of their lips and fingers roaming your skin. When your eyes found Eddie’s in front of you, he gently smiled your way before rolling out of your bed and comically falling to your floor making you laugh as Steve shook his head behind you. 

Bouncing to his feet, the metalhead collected you into his arms and waited for his friend to finish getting the shower ready. After the three of you climbed in, you watched them as they exhaled pleasantly at the water pressure.

Opening your different soaps and shampoo, they inhaled each and every one, even the ones they didn’t use as if trying to capture your different smells in their memory. 

Lurching forward, your arms wrapped tightly around Eddie who promptly tangled his fingers in your hair as he pressed your face into his chest. You immediately felt it within his energy…he didn’t want to let you go and you didn’t want him to. 

Steve gently but firmly pried you two apart, turning off the shower, and guiding you out to dry you off. After placing you on the edge of the bed, he found one of your shirts and playfully pushed it over your head with a big smile that you tried to return but struggled through the tears that were beginning to fall. 

As they began to reach for their prison uniforms on the floor, you couldn’t stop yourself as you ran to grab what you could of their clothes and hugged them to you as you pressed your back to a corner. 

“Please…”

“Y/N, we have to go back. This was for one night.”, Steve sighed as he tried to sound authoritative.

“Make it longer.”

“How? By putting you in danger? Your name is in all our visitors logs and the guards fucking know you by name, Y/N. If we don’t go back, this will be the first place they look.”

“Then let’s leave, Eddie! We can go to Canada or Mexico.”

“And you’d give up your dream of being a lawyer? Just like that?”, Steve responded sternly. “No. We’ve been accused of ruining plenty of lives. I won’t actually be guilty of one.”

“That’s my choice to make, Steve. I can be a lawyer anywhere. Plus, Dustin Henderson and his girlfriend are good with computers. I’m sure they can do something to help.”

At their friend’s name, both their eyes darkened as Eddie took a confident stride towards you.

“If we find out you asked them to do anything, Y/N, I swear to God. Like Steve said, we won’t be responsible for ruining more people’s futures.”

“How Martyring of you, Edward.”, you spit. “It’s ok for your futures to be destroyed as long as everyone else is fucking happy. What about me?!”

“Do you think we want this, Y/N?! Do you think we actually want to leave you?! We spent everything, fucking every cent we had to come be with you tonight! It fucking kills me that we can’t fall asleep with you and hold you. That we have to go back to that bullshit with actual murders and men who have done unspeakable things but… we have to. We have to do this right, honey.”

Sobbing, you slide to the floor and they follow you down, kneeling in front of you. 

“I love you both so much.”

Steve pulls you to his lap, rocking you back and forth as they try to comfort you. 

“Hey, sweetheart. We don’t have to leave until 6 am and it’s only two. How about we lay with you till you fall asleep, baby?”

After nodding, they tuck you under the covers and you promptly lay your head on Eddie’s chest while Steve cuddles your body to him and kisses your shoulder. 

“I love you, Y/N.”, the metalhead coos as he kisses your forehead, his heart breaking as you continue to quietly cry. 

“I love you to, pretty girl.”, the other man tries to sooth as his fingers caress your skin. 

#################

February 5th, 1998

Eddie and Steve, 

I’m sorry I haven’t answered your calls. 

I know after our last visit you both were really worried about me. 

There’s something I’ve been keeping from you… I lied. The prison doctor who looked me over after I passed out did find out what was making me nauseas and dizzy. I thought it was stress but…

I’m pregnant. 

What…what are we going to do?

I’m scared. 

--Y/N

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@lemme-slytherin-that-dick @micheledawn1975 @paleidiot @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @noooah @baileebear @dashingdeb16 @nailbatanddungeon @rockmusiciscalming12 @mikeyswifie @poofyloofy @eddiexmunsonlover @dreamliners

I think I got everyone but if I misses anyone please let me know!

[cybersugru]

❝ follow you ; nick ruffilo

𖥻 pairing: nick ruffilo x female reader

𖥻 contains: angst, comfort, fluff, +18 contents (mental health issues)

𖥻 warnings: inspired by bring me the horizon's "follow you". swearing but other than that mostly none, except for maybe the not-so-happy ending / english is not my first language (+ this is my first ever bo fic) so i am sorry if there are any grammar mistakes or misspellings.

word count — 1.7k

synopsis — healing isn't a linear process and despite your thoughts that tried to convince you otherwise, nick knew that and was willing to hold your hand throughout the whole thing as it was a way of him to try and heal some of his own wounds of guilt. he was willing to do anything for you, as long as he could be with you.

🎀

PERHAPS you should have chosen to be with someone else, someone who didn't have a public life that could directly affect your private one.

as the air began to feel more and more unattainable, and your hands started to intensify their grip on the light grey sheets beneath you, you could swear that something heavy had sat on top of your chest. the thoughts on your mind racing faster than they could be processed properly, the heat and sweat covering your body making it impossible to stay still on that bed and it wasn't until somebody grabbed your wrists while trying to immobilise your legs and calling out your name that you opened your eyes reluctantly, realising it was nothing but a nightmare.

"hey, hey, i's okay, it's me... it was only a bad dream, you're safe." nick's worry was obvious not only in his voice but also lingering on his blue eyes as he looked at you up and down. there were bags under them as well that didn't go unnoticed as it made you wonder if nick was already awake when the nightmare began. if that was the case, why was he awake this late? once he saw your breathing calming down, he let go of your wrists and your legs that he held onto whilst waking you, so you wouldn't hurt yourself with all the fighting you were putting up in your sleep.

"i'm sorry" you mumbled with a weak and confused voice before glancing to your side at the clock on the bedside table. it was 2:30 in the morning and you probably woke your neighbours up screaming. "you can go back to sleep, i'll go make myself some coffee."

brushing your fingers through your hair, after taking a deep breath, you decided to get up from the bed you two were supposed to share every night only to find his side of it untouched. nick hadn't gone to bed with you. but, despite the pang in your chest that came with the realisation, you said nothing about it and continued with your task to head downstairs towards the kitchen.

the bassist argued internally whether or not he should stop you from leaving or if he should respect your desire for space. seeing the person who brought light into his life, like no one ever did before, so low and lost in herself broke his heart in places he didn't even know was possible; even more so considering nick thought of himself as responsible for the pain eating you from the inside out. if he wasn't in your life, none of this would be happening and you'd be a thousand times happier than you were now with him. all the memories from before, of good times, were constantly being suffocated by the fog of the recent events that pushed your relationship to hang by a thread that thinned more each day.

nick watched as you left the room without uttering a single word. he untied his long dark hair and allowed it to cover his face much like a waterfall capable of momentarily hide his anguish.

ignoring the guileful thoughts, he began his path to find you — caring for you was more important than anything else in his life at the moment, more important even than the band or his career, simply because without you he couldn't play like he knew he was capable of.

you sat by the kitchen counter, your back facing him but nick could tell you had your hands on each side of your face — just like you usually did when anxiety got the best of you. the smell of coffee invaded his senses and for a second he thought about pouring himself a cup for he knew he wouldn't sleep at all that night. or any night as long as this ghost stood between the two of you.

"talk to me, angel" the bassist's voice was cut out by one of your cats that meowed to get your attention while looking up at you from the ground until you pat your lap allowing him to sit there. for a second, ruffilo smirked. "please. i'm worried about you."

hearing his call for you made you shift your focus from the furry thing on your lap to your boyfriend who now stood across from you with the counter between you. "what do you want me to say, nick? i mean this honestly: what exactly do you want me to say?"

you blinked away the few tears in your eyes as they connected with his blue ones; once the kindest eyes you had ever seen in your life now carried a sense of sadness and somewhat of a heavy burden. "i just want to know how i can help you. seeing you like this– it's fucking killing me."

"you don't want to know what i am thinking right now. trust me. i'm trying to protect you and save this relationship."

"by pushing me away? how the fuck is pushing me away saving this relationship?" his voice wasn't loud and ruffilo most definitely wasn't yelling at you, instead, he was desperately trying to find an answer; ideally, one that excluded him from the guilt consuming him, even if he didn't know about that desire in him. "i don't want you to push me away, i want to be with you. whatever comes your way. you're the most important thing i have, angel."

"oh, really?" you chuckled and took a sip of your coffee. "didn't really seem like it when those things were happening and you didn't say anything to them."

as soon as those words left your mouth, you regretted them: that was too cruel of you to say. but you said it anyway and now couldn't take it back even if you tried. closing your eyes, you let out a deep sigh and shook your head. "i'm sorry, ruffi... i didn't mean it like that."

the musician looked to the side, poking his cheek with his tongue and staring at the landscape outside the kitchen window before turning his tired gaze back at you. he understood where you were coming from and for that reason, he couldn't be angry at you for lashing out, especially because you had been bottling everything up for the last six months — refusing to talk about your mental struggles to anybody, hoping it would all magically go away. it wasn't your best life choice, but you were scared to talk about what was happening and be judged. you were taking one blow after another and still tried your best to not take it out on nick. one way or another, though, he saw everything, he saw you wasting away with each nasty comment directed your way. and he hated himself for being the reason why that happened to you.

afraid that your emotions would upset your cat, you gave him a little kiss on top of his head and put him down on the floor.

"you're right." ruffilo nodded as the voice in his head cursed him in a thousand different ways. "it was– it is my fault. i should've been a better boyfriend, a better partner. you needed support and protection and i didn't give any of that to you when you needed most."

tears came back almost immediately to your eyes upon hearing his apology. you were frustrated, you weren't mad at him — a part of you also understood his side of things. still, you were hurt and with pain came anger. "i never wanted to drag you through this madness... you've always been so good to me. it's just that this is destroying me, all those years in therapy improving my mental health only for that to just go down the drain."

as you let out a faint sarcastic laugh between the tears, nicholas went around the counter in a rush and so, quickly, he was standing right in front of you. with those gentle hands of his — despite the callouses on them from being a musician —, he cupped both your cheeks, wiping away your tears dry with his thumbs. the blue in his eyes carried more worry than ever.

"it is my fault, angel, i own my mistakes. they're fans of the band i'm in, it was my responsibility to make it clear i hated what they were doing to you, what they were saying and i didn't because i was fucking weak and i'm sorry that i wasn't the man you deserve." ruffilo admired your features as if you were a work of art handmade specifically for him. that devotion only made the guilt worse. you looked up at him with eyes glistening due to the remaining tears and his heart broke a bit more before he leaned towards you to place a soft kiss against your lips. "there's nothing you should feel sorry for... i would go to hell for you, my angel. i love you so much and i don't think i can be away from you. don't go, please"

touching and kissing you like george knightley did emma, the brunette man wanted nothing but to take away all the pain in you caused by the maniac fans of his that went lunatic once they discovered your relationship: what was so special about her? what was it about her that made nick ruffilo fall in love with someone so... bland? those were the kinds of questions that made them feel entitled to destroying your privacy, tearing your mental health apart and turning your love for nick into resentment for what your life had become since you moved in with him six months prior. on his end, ruffilo began to dislike doing the one thing he loved most other than tattooing and as much as he knew it was a very small part of his fans that created this mess, he couldn't help but distance himself from them as a whole. how couldn't he?

"i'm not going anywhere, ruffi" you whispered, brushing a strand of his dark hair that fell over his eye and tucking it behind his ear before caressing his cheeks like he had done to yours. "i just need time... i needed to know you wouldn't leave me alone dealing with this stuff."

he immediately shook his head and furrowed his thick brows. "woman, for christ's sake. i'd let my whole life burn before leaving you. i'll follow you wherever you go."

[modelbus]

Hello!! I LOVE your writing, like I’m obsessed! So, I can’t tell if your requests are open, buttt if they are, I would DIE for some fluff turned to angst of a fem!reader who is in a group with cc!Ranboo, cc!Tubbo, cc!Wilbur and cc!Tommy nicknamed the chaos squad by the fandom, where she is the least popular in the group and a rumour spread that shes only in it for the popularity, so they slowly stoped inviting her to streams and vlogs and ghosting her.

it could start with like three two sentence stories about the group (or something), how it was formed just fluffy moments, and then be like “but it didn’t stay like that for long..” and explain why she was subtly kicked from the group before a scene where shes streaming and gets asked about why shes not been in any videos anymore.

PHEW that was ALOT, if its to long you can obviously shorten it or just not do it- but if requests are open and you like the idea, I would love to see something like this!! <3

PS. You are super cool, keep up the amazing work!! (When you want to ofc)

-✨🌌🌙 Anon

Thank you so much! I tried my best to include everything :D This literally took me out of my writing slump

Part 2 :)

Pairing(s): cc!Ranboo, cc!Tubbo, cc!Wilbur and cc!Tommy x Fem!Reader (Platonic)

Cut Chaos

The feeling of belonging was something nearly everyone chased after. After all, being out of place was simply… lonely. And, somehow, you found yourself slotting into the weirdest place in the world.

A handful of stupid friends.

You always found yourself drawn to dumbasses, in the most affectionate way. Like looks for like, you suppose. And shit, did you find some people that could make you cry laughing even on the worst days.

Ranboo, Tubbo, Wilbur, Tommy. Four people that made the sun rise every day, that dragged you out of bed for the stupidest vlogs to ever exist. Fans adored the five of you together so much that you got a group name for the first time in your career: the Chaos Squad.

Truly, it was a fitting name. The things that the five of you got up to, you’re certain no normal sane person would do. But, well, your job as a streamer already set you apart from the category of “normal” a long time ago, so you definitely didn’t mind the messes you got into with them.

From Tommy dragging the group to an abandoned island, saying it’d be fun to try to escape (you fell out of a tree and Wilbur sprained his ankle), to screaming along at Lovejoy concerts, it felt like the five of you were unstoppable.

And God, did you love them. It didn’t matter how many times Ranboo hit his head on things, you’d still laugh. It didn’t matter that you literally passed out from laughing so hard once, you were still happy. Pure, unfiltered love.

The five of you against the world, forever. You could see it, in those sunny days where you grinned so hard your cheeks hurt (they were the first ones to make you do that—the realization only made you grin harder). The perfect idea of happiness.

Was it any wonder things didn’t stay that way, that perfect, for long?

A rumor.

It always seemed to start with one of those, nowadays. A simple murmur among fans that grew and grew, until you were closing out of twitter at 2, 4, 5 AM, debating if you should just delete the app and put your status on “Do Not Disturb.”

You accepted the fact that being a female content creator was going to be a struggle a long time ago. It was a fact, something you knew you couldn’t avoid, especially in gaming. Having rumors about you online wasn’t new. It would never be new, not as long as you were yourself.

But you thought you’d be past caring about them by now. You thought the tight panic that gripped your heart, made it hard to breathe, was a thing of the past. So stupid.

One private account turned into multiple threads, turned into trends on the trending tab.

Everyone thought you were using your friends, the chaos squad as a whole, just to boost your career. To leech off anyone’s subscribers, just for some money in your pocket.

The idea made you sick to your core.

How dare they? How dare they ever think you didn’t genuinely care for the four? That they were anything less than the lightness in your heart, the freedom on your mind?

Rumors.

You ignored them. Even the thought of addressing them made you feel pissed off like you’ve never been before. It was such an absurd idea! At the very least, you knew your friends would see past the hateful people.

Right?

It starts with an unanswered message in the group chat.

Unanswered messages weren’t new. A stray comment tended to get lost in the general mess that the group chat was, so you weren’t concerned. Just laughed to yourself quietly; it wasn’t important anyways, just a photo of a cat you saw.

Until it happened again. And again. Until more of your messages went ignored than responded to, until the group chat had less and less messages each day.

When the first vlog comes out, the process repeats. It’s on Tommy’s channel, of course. Him, Ranboo, Tubbo, and Wilbur. The chaos squad, just without you. It surprised you, because you never even realized they filmed a video, and normally all of you share upcoming videos.

All the warning signs were obvious, and you were too much of a damn fool.

You filmed one vlog with them after that, exploring a supposedly haunted house, before you woke up a month later and realized you hadn’t talked to them in a week.

One week turns into two, two into three, until you’ve realized what’s happened. You were gone, out of the picture. Happiness had slipped through your fingers faster than you could’ve ever comprehended, and now you were in a dark room—literally.

But what could you do? If they didn’t want you, there was nothing you could do to stop the unraveling of your universe.

So you did the same thing you did before them, defaulting back to what was safe: streaming alone.

Today, it’s just a mindless game. Yesterday was the same, and fuck, this isn’t the same anymore. Not when you don’t have Tubbo in the chat sending messages, or Wilbur using Text-To-Speech.

But you’re here, still streaming. Still going, no matter how tempting it is to just shut off your computer and pretend the last months of your life never happened.

There’s always fans though, and if anything cheers you up, it’s them. So your donations are on, allowing them to be read aloud while you play the silly little unpacking game.

“Where am I putting the diploma guys? Where does this go?” You ask, mouse hovering over the virtual object. “Maybe I’ll just put it under the pillow…”

“StarEmojis donated $15! If up is down and yes is no, how many sides does a triangle have?”

“Thank you, but… uh...” You narrow your eyes at the message. “None, it’s a circle?”

Shrugging, you drag the diploma in the game to under the pillow. The riddle sounds familiar, but not one you know the answer to. It sounds like something Wilbur would send in the group chat at 2 in the morning, honestly.

With that thought in mind, your eyes flicker over the user that donated it. StarEmojis. Not Wilbur.

You’re so stupid for hoping. For the jump in your heart, for the frantic searching.

“StarStarMoon donated $20! Why aren’t you in any Chaos Squad videos anymore? Love you!”

Air catches in your lungs, dread swelling in your chest as your hands still on the mouse and keyboard. That shouldn’t have gotten past the moderators, but it did.

And now you have to answer it.

It wasn’t like you could tell the truth: that you weren’t good enough. That even your best friends didn’t believe you over rumors from strangers online.

Any lie would have a chance of getting back to them though. Not that you can imagine them caring, not anymore.

You swallow past the lump in your throat that’s killing you, taking a breath in before answering. One chance to get the fans to move on, one chance to find the impossible balance between the agony inside of you and cool indifference.

“We’re all just busy.” You say, forcing a smile on your face.

It’s true, at least. Everyone is busy. Everyone except you, that’s it.

“Just scheduling problems. Wil- Wilbur has Lovejoy practices and performances.” You stumble over his name. Did you even have the right to call him Wil anymore? “And Tommy is just always busy. He’s the busiest person, I swear.”

Is that true anymore? You don’t know. He used to be, but you used to help force him to take breaks. Was he taking breaks? You’ll never know.

With another forced smile, you give a half-hearted shrug. “So yeah, just busy, don’t worry guys.”

It’s with baited breath that you wait, eyes scanning chat to see if they bought it. From what you’re seeing, they have.

“Now we need to reorganize these clothes, because they’re killing me like this—“

Your discord pings quietly on another monitor, and you scramble to open it. Just your mods apologizing for letting the donation go through. You send a quick message back to them before pushing the donation to the back of your head just like everything relating to the group you’re no longer part of.

What could you do, anyways?

This was out of your control.

[ghostiexe]

Hello! Could you write some angst about missing Wilbur cause of his touring, but then he comes back and you get to finally see him again and its all fluffy?

Ty<3

yeah of course :D wordcount: 825

You haven’t seen your boyfriend, Wilbur, in months. 

Okay, scratch that, you have seen him. On FaceTime, on Instagram, little clips of him singing on Twitter. Old VODs you’ve been listening to so you can fall asleep.

You’ve seen him, but it’s not enough. You want to hold him, to be held. You want to fall asleep with him on the couch watching movies, and listen to him sing. Not to the crowds, not with his band. The kind of half singing, half humming he does whenever you’re having a hard time falling asleep, or when you’re having a bad day.

You don’t realize you’re crying until you feel the tears dripping onto your hand, and you look down at them blankly, sucking in a deep breath when you realize you’d been holding your breath. 

You glance to the other side of your bed, frown deepening when the sight just reminds you that Wilbur isn’t there. You sniffle and climb out of bed, glancing at the clock and groaning. It’s only like 11:00AM, and Wilbur isn’t meant to be back until 2:00PM tomorrow. You’ve been counting the days since the moment he boarded the plane two months ago, which… probably hadn’t helped you feel less lonely, but at least he would be back soon. 

You sigh and walk to the closet, rummaging through it until you find one of his jumpers, slipping it off the hook and burying your face into the soft material. 

The jumper is probably years old, honestly, and you’ve only seen Wilbur wear it a couple times. It’s thin, with loose threads and what seems to be cat hair stuck to it. You can’t help but chuckle at the sight, then walk back to the bed and sit at the edge of it, grabbing a pillow and stuffing it inside the jumper. You should probably be up and ready for the day at this time, but you don’t really care. It’s not like you have anything you need to do. 

You figure that it’s fine to wallow in your loneliness for a couple more hours.

You flop back onto the bed and roll onto your side, curling yourself around the pillow and burying your face into it, shutting your eyes and squeezing it in your arms. After a minute, you lift your head slightly and grab your phone from where it’s resting near your hand, connecting your Bluetooth to the small speaker on Wilbur’s nightstand, pulling up one of his random podcast episodes and pushing play.

You fall asleep eventually, listening to Wilbur ramble about bugs and little ecosystems. 

–

You wake up a couple hours later to the feeling of the bed dipping, and you mumble incoherently to yourself, rubbing your eyes and starting to sit up. You feel a hand slip into your hair and a hand press against you, gently pressing you back down onto the bed. “Hello there, sleepyhead.” You hear a voice coo softly. You’re immediately wide awake, sitting up quickly and staring at Wilbur, who’s hovering above you with his fingers gently running through your hair. Your jaw drops and you stare at him for a moment before shoving away the pillow and wrapping your arms around him. “Wh-what? When did you get home?” You ask, eyes wide. You turn your head and grab your phone to check the date, leaving you even more confused. He giggles a little bit hysterically. 

“Surprise!” He says, tackling you and forcing you back onto the bed. He starts to kiss you all over your face, and you weakly attempt to push him off of you. “Gah, Wil!” You complain lightly, wrapping your arms tighter around him as he presses a quick kiss to your neck. 

“I know I told you I’d be back tomorrow, I just wanted to surprise you.” He explains, putting his hands on either side of your face and smiling down at you. You match his expression. 

“I wish you’d told me you’d be back today so I can clean up a bit, at least.” You say, lifting a hand to cup his cheek and lean in to kiss him once. He chuckles into it. 

“Well, at least I’m here, yeah?” He asks, dropping one hand away from your face and reaching for your hand, lacing your fingers with his and gently squeezing it. You squeeze him back. “Looks like I was right on time, too.” He notes, dipping his head to kiss your forehead. “You were practically strangling that pillow.” Your face flushes and you smile shyly at him. “Just missed you.” You mumble, pressing your face into the crook of his neck. He sighs softly and lays down, pressing you against his chest and curling around you. “I missed you too, my love.” He whispers, pressing a kiss to your hairline. You smile gently and let your eyes fall shut. 

You can’t wait to make up for the lost time with him.

[darkdemeter]

Dem!!!demy!!! My bestie

This idea has been going around the ol' nogging for a little. But part 2 of A Warriors Armor (punk!human) where the human has been making the horsemen their own punk vests as a way to Keep themself sane. (I imagine this especially applies to death's human after he yeets himself to the well of souls).

I Also imagine that their human takes their measurements with like...a maker measuring tape/hj(everything's easier when you use the maker measurement system,aka: everything is "fuck you" big)

And the horsemen's reactions are priceless. Their little human adopted them into their punk pack??(and maybe its about time they confess)

As always take ur time,Im sure you have a lot on your hands!!

(Pd: looking forward to dark feathers SO MUCH. but take as long as you need!!!/gen)

-Jeri🧡

・issue #2・ STYLE OF WARRIOR II

⚤ Death/Strife/Fury/War x GN Punk!Reader just fluffy content with some angst ✎ 2.6k

✎ a note from the author, Death: throws himself in the well of souls Me, remembering your fic: T R I G G E R E D hahahahha! yes I still get all emotional and upset when I even think about that fic! I gotta read it again.... 😂 here you go, Jer, part 2 for your punk request!

↳ MASTERLIST | ↳ TAGLISTS ────────────────────────

For your dearest Horseman, you'd do all you humanely could to achieve what they asked of you. You'd brave the depths of hell, you'd face off the vanguards of the White City in protest of their declared 'holiness'.

But you never expected this.

DEATH

Having finally taken his measurements, it's all about fitting it to him nicely. precisely... no nasty points--

"Human," Death snarls after you jab him with the needle for the fourth time in a span of 30 seconds. It's not your fault that every time your fingers linger so close it's like his presence possesses them to tremble with violent impulse. And every time you do accidently poke him, you wince and apologise, but at this point, you may as well just stab him with the damn thing if he's going to keep carrying on like a ragged animal being prodded at intentionally.

"Then stay still," you breath back easily and roll your eyes. The insufferable nature of this reaper sometimes. Alright, you may have had to convince him a little but overall, this was his idea - his request. You're just being a good companion.

Placing the needle between your lips, you say, "I'm almost done. Back a little straighter." Your words are muffled but he overhears the tone of it and its enough for him to suffer through the remainder of his fitting in relative, blessed silence; just the way you both like it. Your eyes occasionally lift up to try and capture his expression, no matter how pointless it is with that mask, you can read the eyes at least. His gaze is elsewhere and you decide not to intrude on his thoughts.

You work better when he's not watching you with the eyes of a looming hawk anyway. You weave the last thread through the tiny hole and begin to stitch the final adjustments of his vest, but that's putting a fashion term nicely and you humour him just this once. He didn't exactly want a tradition vest like you due to the nature of his skill set and you obliged in his request, but you still kept some semblance of a vest-like quality to your craftmanship. The design ended up being a sort of an additional shawl that draped over his shoulder, but with a little artistic flare, you made the shoulder portion imitate torn sleeves.

"Are you almost finished?" he asks, almost causing you to flinch and lose control of the needle's point again. With a sigh, you nod. "Almost. Just a little stitch here... and a bit there-- and done!"

You step down off the stool because yes, he refused to crouch down to your level. Stubborn old bastard but you care about him nevertheless. You balance on the heel of your foot, nervousness flickering through the fluster of your beating lashes and the way you awkwardly angle your head down.

"What'cha think?" You suddenly take an interest in the very long, sturdy leather strip you used as a measuring tape. Alya's measuring tape.

"Hmm... I like it."

His confession could have come in an assortment of ways, and you're kind of confused by it still, but his embrace was comforting. "And I like you too."

You've never forgotten that compliment or that confession. The way it brightened your mood and turned your lips into a large smile. You'll always remember the way his eyes smiled down at you, applauding your work in the new addition of his attire.

That's what you think about as you stitch up the patches and sew new relics and decorations into the black fabric. Tears in your eyes, you find it hard to not jab your own fingers, wincing every few seconds when the sharp sting of your needle bites venomously. Now you know just how poor Death felt being pricked by you. Fond memories that now turn dark in this hour.

He's gone now. Sacrificed his very being to revive your species and to spare War a punishment to a crime he did not commit. He gave it back to you before his encounter with the avatar of corruption - his once brother, Absalom. By the time you managed to pry open the doors of the chamber, all that remained on the ground was the placid face of bone, sockets void of that vibrant amber you adored with secret fondness.

You're not sure if he will ever come back or the fate of War for that matter. The tears blanket your vision with a thickness that hinders your work, forcing you to stop. At this point, you're needlessly sewing and threat into it, reminiscing in every little detail and every tiny sensation that travels through your fingers. You begin to wonder as you lower the garb into your lap, haunted by a loud, audible sniffle, if Death knew what his fate was and that's why he finally indulged in your little scattered hints.

You'll wait for him. You'll keep adding these stitches and touch ups until the reaper returns. However long he may find rest in the well, you will wait for him.

STRIFE

The gunslinging Horsemen truly was a marvel at times. Not only did it take him exactly 48 hours to ask you if you would perhaps consider making him a punk vest. Suffice to say, your affirmative answer earned you a bone-crushing hug and a plethora of 'thank you's thereafter. Strife was excited right from the get go and eager to help you find the perfect material that was both strong and big enough to make a vest made for his size. Now to get a form of measurement...

"Alright, arms out, chest out and shoulders back."

He does exactly as you say and maybe a little too well. You take a rough estimate of his limbs and body proportions and when you ask, "Do you want me to make any alterations so it's more... suited for... y'know, your work?"

He shakes his head and his golden eyes flare with a giddiness. "Nope. Just like your one."

Eyes blinking rapidly, you take a short moment to compose your surprise. "Right. Okay then, let's see what we can do about that."

It takes a considerable amount of days but you finally get your hands on the perfect fabric and thankfully, you find some other suitable patterns and clothing to add to it and give it that punk flare. Strife particularly adores this one stripe of pattern that decorates the hem of your vest and so you do your best to replicate it, even going the extra mile in finding a similar pattern to it.

During your small sessions of camp and in your adventurous search for a measuring tape suited for his size, he watches you with that same excitement, almost fawning over your work right there and then, eyes blending to the fire's glow.

"Uh, hello? Earth to Strife." The Nephilim with spiked hair finally awakens from his dreaming stupor and addresses you. You can sense the sheepish smirk behind his mask. "Sorry, where you saying something?"

Your lips fold back into a slight grin as you shake your head. "Nah. Nothing important."

He's in awe of the delicate handle you have with the needle but fucking hell, does he whine when you so much as graze him with the needle point.

"Ow!"

"Quit your whining, I barely pricked you."

"Still... that hurt," he grumbles and you snort a little at that. His visor set aside, you're given full view of his expression which is both a good and bad thing. For one thing you can admire his handsome features, but the other means you can tell exactly what he's thinking. From the slack and slight of his brows and to the bevel between, all the way down to the small dimples that form in his cheeks with a deepened smirk.

"It's good you found a measuring tape for me," you say behind a chuckle, actually taking in just how long it was... "Where did you say you got it from?"

"I, er... found it." His reasoning doesn't add up and his eyes avoid yours.

"Yeah, that's a way to not sound suspicious, Strife." You continue to press the needlework into the craft, adding unique little strips of stitches and filling in any alterations and requests on the way. When you want him to be still, he's like a statue. Which is every tailor's dream client. You remember the countless times your mother complained about her clients being unable to stop fidgeting. Of course, Strife has his moments where he can't help it, but with a warning glare and threatening poise of the needle, he's on his best behaviour until you're done.

Indeed a very traditional vest and to say he wears it well is an understatement. It's like he was meant to be a punk. All he was missing was the vest. With a grin, you take a step back and allow him his space to take in the garment, waiting with batted breath.

"So?" you finally press to ask. He twirls around before stopping hot on his heels with a loud skrrt, flashing you with his signature finger guns and winks.

"It rocks! By the way, you know we're a couple now, right?"

Your jaw goes slack and your eyes increase tenfold in their blatant stare up at him, your face becoming flushed with a certain heat. "W-what?!"

FURY

"You know, you'd probably make a really kickass punk queen - if that was in our culture."

Could you have flattered her more? Here you go again, yapping on about how well her hair suits the culture and how she should think on it at least. It does get a bit boring sometimes when you're the only punk left in the world. After a few nights of noticing your considerable moping, she bit the bullet and upon preparing to leave the next morning, she caves in.

"Would you... like to make me a punk vest?"

With a gasp, you turn towards her in a way that causes her to flinch out of instinct when something moves that fast. "Yes!"

The task now at hand of making Fury's vest is a memorable one. Whilst she slays the hordes of hell, the seven deadly sins and gains mutual alliances, there you are in the background of it all; collecting whatever cool scraps you can fashion together. It's not like she held the jaws of gluttony apart for you just so that you could get that piece of textured fabric. It's a very beautiful piece of studded leather.

Back in the safety of Haven, Ulthan happily allows you to use the maker's measuring tape to your heart's content. Not that he really uses it much, rather knowing his know-how off the tip of his experience but to the younger maker, it could be more useful.

"Ugh, this is taking too long," Fury sighs.

With a raise of your brow, you huff in reply, "It's only been twenty minutes."

Fury only rolls her eyes but she lets you continue. You do well not to get her with the needle, only having done it once and she threatened that it'd be the last if you did it again. And so you go about her vest with the utmost care, cautious about how far your depth goes and where your needle point is aimed at all times.

"Look at you!" Jones taunts from the other side of Haven with a wicked waggle of his fingers, mimicking a playful, mischievous wave. In return, you do the same such to Fury's dismay. It says as much by the slow turn of her head in your direction, the milky whites of her glowing, Nephilim eyes glaring down on you.

Your lips pull into a thinned line and you continue your work in silence, carried on only by the sternness of her gaze that occasionally swept over you. When you finally finish her vest off, you feel a sense of relief that it's finished. Sighing, you gesture for her to have a move about in her new vest, to take it in.

"Ey? Ey?" you hum. It's not your fault that with each passing second you become more consumed by the thought of seeking her approval. Not very punk of you but for the longest time now -- and maybe because of your crush on the female Horseman -- but you have become obsessed with her opinion and moreso, her approval of the punk culture.

"Humans and their pathetic utility to craft such--" she pauses, and then slowly turns. She's observing the vest, now she's look at it closer... and she smiles!

Victory!

"This is actually... rather well made," she says, voice soothing and laced with an impressed purr. Then her eyes meet yours and you feel your heart melt, your chest swelling as the heat in your face surfaces. "I love what you did. I think you were right, I would make an excellent punk."

WAR

To make a vest for War would be putting an extreme limit on his capabilities. Besides, you'd be stitching that thing together for the remainder of your days with the way he throws himself into harm's way and dashes right towards it like a beast on the loose.

So you have to improvise. You decide to pin it here, cinch it there and around the shoulder to connect to the pauldrons and there you have it: a shawl that he can add over the top of his red one. It took many days and many sleepless nights by the fire's light to see what you were doing and your fingers are covered in tiny dots and a few makeshift bandages. But to you, it was worth it. It kept your spirits up and it made dealing with the whole end of the world thing easier to cope with when you have a personal project to work on. And War would watch you, observant but distant.

And finally, time for the final adjustments. When you first measured War, you'll admit - it was a very big undertaking to make him a punk vest. But the way his eyes looked at you like a shy puppy as he softly asked, almost mumbling his words as if unsure of how to present such a question.

You couldn't say no! So you pushed that overwhelming sense of dread when you realised just how big of a canvas you were working with. You would do this for him, to let him have his own piece of the culture and allow him to be a part of it.

By no means did he become impatient. Or at least he didn't show that side of him, but every now and then he'd check in and finally when it came time for his final fitting, you caught the slight blush on his cheeks as he stood still for you.

For the few times you accidently poked him with the needle, apologies poured out of your mouth as if you injured the most precious thing in the world, only for him to brush aside your doting concern. You'd shake and tremble a little out of worry that you'd hurt him.

"There! all done," you announce and brush a hand over your brow as you take a step back to analyse your work. "You look amazing, War!"

"You truly think so?" he asks, his voice unsure. He looks at himself however much he's able to. It's not until you direct him over to an old store window, allowing him to gauge his reflection in the splintered window.

"See?"

"Your craftsmanship is one of a kind."

You stumble over a sentence of half stringed words. Even to you they were unintelligible and so you sweep some hair that fell over your eyes away with a sheepish smile. "Thank you. Do you like it? I know it's not a traditional vest like mine, but I tried my best to keep in theme. I didn't wanna comp---"

His lips caress the delicate space between your hairline and your words immediately cease.

"I adore it. Thank you."

[chaotic-mystery]

Traitor | J.M.

Pairing: no outbreak!Joel Miller x reader!

Summary: This was a request I had received by @livingdeadmaria awhile ago and I finally got out of my funk to write! It’s based on the song Traitor by Olivia Rodrigo.

Word count: 1.3K || Warnings: angst. Angst and drinking and more angst. || notif blog for updates ||

You cleared your voice and took a deep breath, preparing for whatever was about to fall out of your mouth while the phone rang on the other end. Two rings and it went to voicemail but that didn’t surprise you. “Hey…I um… I know it’s late but I had to get some stuff off my chest. You always said I could call..if I needed you.” You sat in silence for a few seconds before you fiddled with your finger against your leg, questioning if you should even say anything. “D-do you remember how you used to read me sections of your book so I’d fall asleep faster because you said something about how sleep is important and I need it for my brain to stay sharp? Not sleeping so great these days to be honest with you..I remember you’d call me sweet pea and tell me to get comfy, it’s a long chapter. So I’d tuck myself next to you and you’d read for hours, even after I was asleep.” Your voice faded on the last bit of the sentence, your hand that was tucked into your coat pocket twirling a loose thread.

“I tried one of those audio books of some story to help me sleep but it didn’t work, she didn’t give the story enough of a monotone like you did. So then I tried music to help me fall asleep. I found out I love piano covers of songs. There’s one song though that could never be covered and that would be the one you showed me-” your voice cracked a little, the sting hitting your throat. “And I Love You So by Perry Como. That’s a good one to sleep to…has a lot of memories tied to it.”

The wind nipped at the tip of your nose and you sighed lightly, the puff of air disappearing in front of you. He showed you that song on the old radio he had tucked away in a shelf in his living room after you looked over his music collection he built over the years. He grabbed your hands and begged you to dance with him just until the song was over. As the short memory faded back into your mind and you were in the present, you stood up from the bench and finally walked inside your home. Taking off your coat and boots while your phone still squished against your cheek, you sniffled slightly.

“I heard that song today for the first time in a few weeks and it made me think of you. Took it as a sign to reach out. But then…I uh-” Hesitation overcame your voice before you continued.

“I saw you downtown earlier. Finally went to that winter festival thing they put on every year, the one I used to beg you to go with me to. Man, that was like pulling teeth with you, Joel.” It was. He said the lights and all the cheerful faces and overpriced hot chocolate wasn’t his thing. Of course you wanted to go anyway and you did go, alone.

“I was going to come up and tell you hi, see how you were…but then I noticed you with someone. Funny enough she looked like the one person you said you’d never date.” Your breath hitched and you made your way to the fridge to grab that bottle of wine you bought earlier to pour yourself a glass. You chugged down the first one and poured a second one before continuing the one sided conversation. The anger started to build up inside of you once more, completely taking over the good memories you had with him.

“I begged for you to tell me you had feelings for her, Joel. You always swore to me you didn’t, that I was paranoid for caring so much. Were you lying to me all those times I asked you anything about her? You didn’t even want to hold my hand in front of her towards the end of our relationship…why is that? I never said a word about what I actually thought was going on, just so you’d stay. I thought maybe, just maybe, if I played stupid you'd be happy with that and still stick with me. I loved you through everything, including your worst. Remember when you were terrified of me seeing you at your worst and you thought I’d leave? Never once did I do that, Joel. I stayed through all the bullshit you put me through, tried to help you be the best version of yourself that you could be. I showed you what love was again. You were the one who told me you couldn’t fall for someone after Sarah’s mom left and yet I stuck around. For you and for Sarah. You left me during my worst. Was I that shitty of a person to you that you didn't care about my feelings at all and thought the best thing to do would be to leave in the middle of the night after a fight?"

“Baby cmon I told you nothin’ is going on. She’s just a friend from years ago, I never had those feelings for her.” Joel followed you into your bedroom as you started to pack your stuff in a duffle bag, cleaning out the drawer he gave you in his dresser. “Baby, stop…just listen to me.” His hands grabbed your wrists and shook the clothes from your clutch, pulling you into his chest. Warm tears fell against his shirt and you broke down finally. All the pent up anger and sadness you had spilled onto the fabric against your cheek while Joel’s hand smoothed over your hair. “You’re my girl, okay? What can I do to make you trust me that she’s just a friend?” “Tell me you’ll never date her if we ever break up. I need to hear you say it.” The idea flopped out of your mouth before thinking it over but it was already out and in his ears. Joel just nodded and gave you a soft smile. “You have my word, I won’t date her if we break up. Which we won’t.” He kissed the top of your head and hugged you once more, his words still feeling a little empty.

That was a month before he broke up with you.

You downed the rest of the glass of wine and sighed, wiping the tears away from your cheeks. “I wish you would’ve thought this through before letting me fall in love with you, Joel. I really do. You betrayed me. You told me-” You choked out a sob and swallowed hard, “you told me you wouldn’t date her and you lied to me. How could you do this to me? Joel..we were together for two years and you left me when the going got tough…you ran right to her. Did anything we did matter to you?” With the tears clouding your vision, you squeezed your eyes shut and shook your head. “I hope you feel good about yourself, I really do. While she’s sleeping in the bed we made, I hope you replay this voicemail in your head and remember everything I said. I wish you’d call me after this to try to apologize for hurting me even more but I know you won’t. You’ll never be sorry for hurting me this bad and I think that’s what kills me so much. I know how kind you can be but it seems I’m not lucky enough to get that anymore. Thank you so much for making this heartbreak so much easier to get over. Just know that I always loved you and I would’ve never hurt you like this, you fucking traitor.” — Joel’s POV

He sighed and looked at the phone screen, the voicemail ending and the screen dimming out. His girlfriend woke up behind him in bed, rolled over and hooked her arm into his, “What’re you doing baby?” She asked tiredly but didn’t sit up to see his phone. Joel coughed and took a deep sigh before deleting the voicemail from his phone.

“Nothin’ sweet pea. Go back to sleep.”

[lostloveletters]

A Long, Lonely Time (David Webster x Reader)

Summary: You don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone, but when Webster returns to Easy Company, you find it difficult to reckon with the very real possibility of losing him again, maybe even for good.

Note: Gender neutral reader, and no descriptors are used. The draft script of episode 3 provides more background on Webster transferring into Easy Company, which isn’t explained in the show for some reason (a shame because they cut out some pretty great scenes), but I included a handful of the details here. This is based on the fictional portrayals in the HBO miniseries and not the real individuals. Do not interact if you’re under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: Hurt/angst with comfort. Mentions of Eugene Jackson’s death. Playing with the timeline of episode 8 a little bit. Probably some other historical inaccuracies. Do not interact if you’re under 18.

Two days. David Webster had only been back for two days, and you kissed him.

Your crush on him had hibernated in his absence, frozen in a forest with the rest of you. It thawed as soon as you saw him for the first time in months.

The other members of Easy weren’t so quick to warm up to him again. No matter, it just gave you more time to spend with him. You appreciated how from the moment the two of you first bonded over your shared love of literature, he was genuinely interested in your thoughts and opinions, assuaging your fears that you’d be a lackluster companion to the Ivy Leaguer.

He could’ve taken the easy route as others with a privileged background like his had done and allowed his social status to get himself a cushy position. However, he, like Caption Nixon, inexplicably chose the rest of you. Unlike Nixon and yet just as inexplicable, he rejected any promotions. Odd, yet admirable, like when he’d approached Winters in Aldbourne after D-Day, requesting to transfer from Fox to Easy to put his skills as an assistant machine gunner to better use.

None of that mattered to your comrades anymore, but as a medic, you appreciated that he took recovering from being wounded seriously. You told him such, and he smiled, confessing that he had used his stint in the hospital for one selfish indulgence. Later, when the two of you were alone; he pulled a brown paper package from his pack, privately presenting you with a gift he got his hands on for you. Ripping back the wrapping, you beamed when you saw the cover of a brand new ASE copy of The Postman Always Rings Twice.

Your worn copy of Jane Eyre had been waterlogged from the snow and rendered illegible. New books were low priority in the Bois Jacques, so you were left without reading material for longer than you would’ve liked.

The book was the first time in what felt like years you’d received a gift. You had almost forgotten how nice it was, especially something so thoughtful. So you kissed him, impulsively, passionately, threading your fingers through his hair to pull him closer, your other hand gripping the book tightly. 

He kissed you back with a tenderness that had long since become foreign to you and felt almost too overwhelming as a result. His lips were soft and warm compared to yours, chapped from weeks of unrelenting cold, but he was undeterred. His hands held your waist, his fingers gently pressing against the skin that’d been exposed as your untucked shirt had ridden up. You shuddered against him, feeling goosebumps rise on your skin–either the cold air, or his touch. Probably both.

Hearing the clamoring of nearby voices, you reluctantly broke the kiss.

“I don’t have anything to give you,” you lamented breathlessly.

His blue eyes seemed to sparkle when he smiled. “I think we’re even.”

“You know,” you began, turning the book over to glance at the synopsis, “all I ever heard when this came out was that it was dirty. Are you trying to tell me something?”

“Books aren’t dirty. It’s embarrassing that Boston even bans them the way they do.”

“Have you read it?”

“I haven’t, but that’s not the point. They’d ban Shakespeare if he were publishing today.”

“I don’t disagree with you,” you said, suppressing an amused smile, “but I only asked because I thought we could read it together, if you don’t mind the company.”

His expression softened. “I’d love that.”

Smiling, you leaned in for another kiss when the door opened, and the two of you jumped away from each other like the other was on fire.

You relaxed when you saw Roe standing in the doorway. He gave you an almost exasperated look, but that was all. For the moment.

“Webster,” Gene said, giving him a nod of acknowledgement before shifting his attention to you. “Will you sort through those supplies Luz got earlier? I gotta check on Lipton.”

“Sure,” you said with a nod. “Thanks again, Web–David, the book’s great.”

He smiled. “Of course.”

You followed Gene out of the room, walking side-by-side down the hallway until you were a decent distance from Webster and out of earshot from anyone who might otherwise eavesdrop. When your best friend stopped in his tracks, you mirrored him, flattering a bit beneath the weight of his disapproving glare.

“Are you crazy?” Gene scolded.

“He gave me a book. It’s not–don’t look at me like that.”

“However wounded he gets, it’s gonna be a lot worse for you.”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t know. This ain’t the time or place.”

“There might not be another time or place,” you argued.

He sighed, either conceding to your argument or not finding it worth wasting any more breath over. For how long you’d known him, he could be impossibly difficult to read. “Just be careful, alright?”

Gene brought you to the recently delivered boxes of medical supplies, desperately needed weeks ago. Better late than never. You rifled through bandages and morphine, hands shaking a bit as you tried not to think about who might have still been there if it’d come in sooner. But Webster came back, even though you’d long been convinced you’d never see him again. At least if the worst happened, you wouldn’t have to wonder if your feelings for him were reciprocated.

The worst. You weren’t sure what, out of everything you’d seen the past few months, could have been considered the worst. Slow deaths, blown off limbs, or men whose bodies and psyche were trapped in that place between life and death. But you couldn’t let yourself spiral, not when so many people were relying on you. Hope seemed increasingly hard to find, and if indulging in whatever you had with David gave you the slightest bit more, you’d take it.

As if materializing from your thoughts of him, he walked into the room, silent concern etched in his face.

“There’s a patrol tonight,” he said. “We’re going across the river to bring back prisoners.”

“Who all’s going?” You figured if he was breaking the news to you, he’d be included. A sinking feeling dropped in your stomach when he answered, nevertheless.

“Most of 2nd platoon, except Liebgott and Malarkey.”

“It’s always 2nd platoon,” you muttered. “So you’re going as translator, then?”

He nodded. “The Krauts won’t expect us, at least that’s what they say.”

“I’m still gonna worry,” you said softly. “Just got you back.”

“Comes with the territory, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, it does.”

“I’ll find you as soon as we’re done,” he promised.

“Can I give you a kiss for good luck?”

“I’ll never say no to that.”

You pressed your lips to his, craving the tenderness he’d given you earlier like it was missing from your veins. You hadn’t realized how much you needed it, soft words and tender touches that made you finally feel something other than numb and tired. Desire that would long remain unfulfilled had settled deep inside of you, and you desperately wished you and David were somewhere, anywhere else. 

Holding onto him just as tightly as you were trying to keep your restraint, you went as far as he led you, open-mouthed kisses burning into your skin until a moan escaped your lips, nearly giving the two of you away.

“You’re the most incredible person I’ve ever met,” he said, giving you a quick kiss that felt achingly insufficient for what you wanted from him.

“Wait ‘til you get me in bed,” you joked.

He laughed, caressing your cheek. “I mean it. I’ve never known anyone like you.”

“Shame we had to meet this way, huh? But then we probably would’ve gone the rest of our lives not knowing each other at all.”

“That’d be a real tragedy.”

“You’re telling me.”

Far too soon for your liking, though you weren’t sure how much time had passed in all honesty, he made his leave as the sound of approaching footsteps grew louder and darkness began to fall. 

You tried to keep your mind off of the patrol, assure yourself that you were worrying for nothing. Sitting on an empty couch, you finally got a better look at the book he presented you with, not having a chance to before. He’d written on the blank cover page, filled the whole thing and then some.

Beneath your name, carefully written in pencil, an inscription, detailing the longing he felt from your absence, his heart growing fonder of you with each passing day but struggling to assuage the loneliness and doubt that began to coil around it. The sound of your voice, your laughter, so vivid in his dreams that he’d wake up looking for you. He’d taken your friendship for granted, he claimed, but though the two of you met during less than ideal circumstances, getting shot was worth meeting you. Your vision began to blur with tears by the time you reached the end of his confession, ‘I missed you before we ever met, and now that we have, I miss you even more.’

You slammed the book shut, choking out a sob. It wasn’t fair. You’d just gotten him back, and in the blink of an eye you could lose him again, possibly for good. In that moment you understood better than ever why medics were supposed to keep their emotional distance, but the pain in your chest, the salty tears that stung your eyes were all worth it for the brief comfort you had found with him. You’d been so lonely otherwise, constantly surrounded by people but still feeling something missing until he returned.

Your name sounded muffled to the ringing in your ears, until Gene sat next to you, putting his arm around your shoulder. 

“Don’t get too stuck in your head. Won’t be able to help no one like that,” Gene said, holding you in the hug. “Don’t think about it.”

“How can I not? It’s all around us–I can’t–”

“Yes, you can. You wouldn’t be here if you couldn’t.”

You let out a shaky breath. “I don’t feel like it sometimes. I feel like I’m just–”

“Just one person and it’s never gonna be enough.”

Something had happened in Bastogne, the last time he went back to the town. He never spoke of it, even when you offered to be an unjudging ear to spill his thoughts to, but you could tell it affected him deeply, even still. Knowing he was speaking from experience was an almost painful comfort.

“Why don’t you get some rest? I’ll be up,” he said.

“You sure?”

He nodded. 

When he left, you set the book aside, silently promising yourself that you wouldn’t read it without Webster. If he didn’t return, it’d stay with you, unread until you met your own demise. An unnecessarily dramatic gesture to only yourself, you hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

The following hours found you in and out of sleep, almost unable to discern your erratic dreams with troubling reality. Footsteps and voices muddled together into unintelligible ramblings that you couldn’t help interpret as the worst in your near fugue state. Your worry was laced with frustration at letting the situation cause you so much distress. You were a medic, after all. You were supposed to be prepared for this.

Still, you couldn’t help but feel a momentary wave of relief crash over you when Webster walked into the room.

“Thank god,” you whispered, throwing your arms around him and kissing his cheek. 

His embrace was stiff, awkward, and the far away expression on his face gave you pause.

“David, what happened?”

“Jackson’s dead. It was his own grenade. He didn’t wait long enough. It just…”

“Oh my god.”

“He didn’t die right away.”

“Why didn’t someone get me? Maybe I could’ve–”

“By the time Sergeant Martin got Doc Roe it was already too late. There was nothing Doc could do—nothing you could’ve done,” he said quietly, before adding, “I’m glad you didn’t see it.”

“I’ve seen worse by now.”

“Why add onto it?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too. That I didn’t write to you, that I didn’t tell you sooner how I felt about you, but it’s no use dwelling on all of that now,” he said. “It can’t change anything, and no matter how sorry we are, it won’t bring Jackson back, or anyone else, for that matter.”

It was settling in, that same bitterness that’d made its home in the bones of your comrades. A taste in your mouth that could be mistaken for blood by anyone else, but you knew it all too well. Your heart ached at seeing it finally get to Webster, too.

“Do you wanna just sit for a while?” you asked.

He nodded. The two of you settled onto the couch, his head in your lap as you ran your fingers through his hair, gently tracing the soft lines that ran across his forehead, betraying that despite his closed eyes, his mind was still racing. 

“This isn’t exactly how I wanted to spend the rest of the night with you,” he mumbled after a while, his eyes fluttering open.

“David, it’s alright,” you said, your thumb brushing back and forth across his cheekbone, trying to pull his mind out of the depths you knew too well. “I’m glad just to do this. I’m kind of crazy about you.”

“Kind of?”

“Yeah, just a little bit.”

“What would I have to do to make you a fully-fledged lunatic?”

“Horrible, indecent things that would get me sent home in shame.”

He laughed. “But crazy about me?”

“Absolutely wild.”

He took your hand from his face, kissing your palm before holding it in his. 

You weren’t sure when you’d fallen asleep, but you awoke the next morning with an unforgiving crick in your neck, and the thought of the recently delivered aspirin tempted you for a split second before you realized you’d woken up by yourself.

He probably slipped out at some point, returning to his bunk so neither of you would get into any trouble. It didn’t stop you from asking around for him until you finally caught him alone.

“Hey, where’d you run off to?” you asked.

“Sink wants another patrol,” Webster told you, watching cautiously as your hands balled into fists at your side.

You fought back tears of frustration. “Then I wanna go too. I’ll make sure nothing like what happened last night happens again. Where’s Captain Winters? I’ll–”

“Winters is going to tell him a phony story about how we went back but couldn’t get any more prisoners.”

You paused, your brain taking a moment to process the information before you let out a weak laugh in disbelief, the tears that’d welled up in your eyes rolling down your cheeks regardless. Maybe you were delirious. Or sleep deprived. And your neck still hurt. “That man is a fucking saint.”

Webster smiled, putting his arm around you and pressing a kiss to your temple. “He is. Especially since that leaves me free the rest of the night.”

“You know, this handsome guy just gave me a brand new copy of The Postman Always Rings Twice.”

“Sounds like he has good taste.”

You smiled. “Yeah, I’d say so.”

[hyunjinners]

✧:･ﾟThe End Justifies The Means → Ahn Jun-ho x reader˚₊· ꒰🌀꒱

꒰ 命 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 ꒱┊Although Jun-ho was in danger of defecting, he couldn't help but visit his lover, whom he was afraid he wouldn't be able to see for a long time.

꒰ 命 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 ꒱┊Ahn Jun-ho x Fem!reader

꒰ 命 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 ꒱┊fluff, angst (?)

꒰ 命 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ꒱┊some blood, mention of death, maybe some bruises from my baby Jun-ho 🥺🤏 (takes place in season 2)

꒰ 命 𝐖.𝐂 ꒱┊2,1k

꒰ 命 𝐀/𝐍 ꒱┊First chapter of the profile! I was a little insecure about posting because English is not my first language, but with the help of a translator, I hope my writing doesn't get so old-fashioned lol ^°^

I finished watching D✰P a while ago and I couldn't help but fall in love with Jun-ho (although I started watching because of another actor, who plays the 'villain')

I tried to leave the chapter with a more Jun-ho perspective, I hope it turned out well. I hope you like the chapter and don't forget to share and say what you think of the chapter. Stick with the chapter and have a good read! 💙🌊

⊹₊˚ʚ❛Masterlist❜ɞ

IT'S been a few days since Jun-ho deserted the army for a greater cause. From the beginning he was aware of the danger he was putting himself in but his head still throbbed every time he…its first and also fails. It cost him his life. A life that could have been saved if not for his carelessness. He thinks about it every day and once he had a thin thread of hope, hoping that he could at least reveal the truth even if he couldn't bring that life back, he couldn't help but grasp the thin, dangerous thread.

He was tired but he wouldn't confess. In addition to working on a plan to reveal the flash drive's catastrophic contents, he was also exhausted from running away whenever he had any chance of getting hold of it. Jun-ho wasn't stupid, he knew how things work and that's why he was cautious and smart in every detail of what he did so as not to be tracked.

However, more than physically tired, he was emotionally and mentally exhausted. He's been through a lot of hard things since he gave you one last hug keeping his promise that he'd be back soon - which was to be expected as they were both aware that not everything is smooth sailing - but he wasn't expecting such a weight to be placed on his shoulders.

He missed you. Every single day. He thought about calling you all the time but his pride got the better of him, thinking he might sound desperate - or maybe the faint feeling that maybe you cared about him too much to the point of making your heart ache. He cared more about you than himself.

And it was this very thought that made him have a slight hesitation at the thought of visiting you. Jun-ho was aware that you knew everything and that you had certainly received a visit from your superiors only to upset you even more. But he needs to see you, feel you. He needed your hug, your words of comfort, your kiss, your way of being. But at the same time that he looked forward to it, he understood that it was risky. But everything good is worth the risk, isn't it?

You were sitting on your apartment floor staring at - or at least trying to - your laptop screen finishing a college essay. It wasn't really working for you, as everything you did, every key you clicked was a thought going through your mind leading you to think of Jun-ho.

You had received a visit from the superiors of Jun-ho, your boyfriend, just over three days ago. You initially wanted to appear strong, not just in front of men, for herself maybe. You really tried, but you couldn't hold back the tears. What if he got hurt? What if I unintentionally hurt other people? What if I can never see him again? These were some of the thoughts that came to mind.

Jun-ho was more than just a childhood sweetheart, more than your boyfriend, he was your soul mate, the perfect being that was specially predestined for you. You didn't believe much in legends or reincarnation, but you knew they were meant to be connected, perhaps by fate, or the red thread that believed to unite you. He was different, unique, perfect. You couldn't live without him and he was aware of that. So what's the point of him doing this to you?

You felt that if he made a misstep you probably wouldn't see each other any time soon. It's been almost two years apart, imagine years being separated by simple and useless bars? Pieces of metal that could destroy relationships for the simple fact of arresting a person who only wanted to reveal the truth that many so-called "superior" feared.

You didn't know about the pen-drive's contents, in fact, almost nobody did. But, if they're not measuring efforts to take power for themselves, even if it might cost Jun-ho's life, so you knew it wasn't anything too nice or light. Definitely a problem. A problem that Jun-ho-your Jun-ho got into because he couldn't stand still when he saw an injustice.

He's always been like that. From childhood, from when you grew up and your father didn't approve of your relationship with him, but he still didn't give up. Because he was stubborn and kind and above all he had a good heart. You love him for small but significant things like that that shape his personality and character. You've always seen it, since when you were just two little beings running around the neighborhood, at the same time, whenever there was a chance, Jun-ho would protect you, even if it sometimes cost him scolding. Always when they did something stupid, he took over, because he wanted to protect you from all the evil in the world. Because he always loved you.

Only now the roles were reversed. And this situation wasn't like when you were a kid, it's just riskier. You wanted to protect him from all harm, from all these evil people who only thought about their own noses and reputation. His heart ached whenever he imagined everything he had gone through so far because of people like that, for all the times - even if hesitantly - he called you because he wasn't feeling well with all the pressure and nagging from his seniors.

Your soul felt that he would look for you just like the nights he called you. And you've just been waiting, be it the doorbell sound or even the phone ringing. 

And like a cue to fate, your doorbell rings. A slight fright invades you, but you don't let go, just getting up towards the door. When she opened it, a tall man had his back turned while wearing a navy blue sweatshirt that covered his head with a hood, preventing anyone from seeing him. He looks frantically up and down the building's hallway, as if expecting someone to suddenly grab him.

"May I help you?" He turns when he hears her voice. It was him. Jun-ho, who had been missing for days. He stares at you for a while, until he raises his finger towards his mouth, asking for silence. He deftly pushes you aside, stepping inside and locking the door behind him. You still stare at him in bewilderment. Not just finally seeing him, of course that was part of it, but he was different.

His hair had grown out a little since I last saw him - he'd shaved it off for the army - he was more robust, his arms were strong and steady, his face had some fresh bruises. You put your hands over your mouth in shock. Her eyes water at the sight of him hurt and tired. He holds out his arms, cradling you in a tight hug.

You reciprocate by squeezing him as if you can no longer see him. She didn't want it to be his last hug, so she held him tight. He didn't seem bothered, on the contrary, he deepened the hug, hiding his face in the crook of her neck. You felt your uneven breathing tickle your neck, but it didn't bother you. I knew he needed this. You needed this, you needed him.

He pushed you away when he felt your jacket wet, not out of annoyance but concern. I didn't want to see you cry, you didn't deserve this. None of that. No one really deserved it. He felt in his skin how much the greed of people who identify themselves as superiors just because of a position or a social position, it can harm people who just want to survive in this difficult world where they fight by their own arm, not stepping on other people to ascend.

He gently runs his fingers - now not as soft as before - pass over her soft skin and now wet from the tears that flowed down through the mixture of feelings that squeezed her chest like longing, anxiety, maybe a little fear. "Don't cry, my love…I'm sorry. I didn't want you to go through this." "Where are you Jun-ho? Do you- do you know how worried I was? I was so, so scared that I would never see you again." You didn't want to sound so desperate, but your voice gave it away. Your face that was now covered by your own hands, rested on his firm chest, which just hugged you again while stroking your hair.

"I'm sorry. Really. I…I'm here now, okay?" He kisses her forehead. He missed her smell, her embrace. The way you cried together and for him.

"Oh Jesus! Look at you, oppa!" Now calmer, you caress Jun-ho's face that was stained with blood in some small cuts, in addition to the slight mixture of green, yellow and purple tones that painted almost imperceptibly in the region of his eye. "Who was the idiot that did this to you? Argh! Come here" you take him to the couch in the living room, running to the bathroom to get the first aid kit and coming back as fast as you can. You disinfect your wounds as carefully as you can, as if your skin is incredibly sensitive. He lets out a low chuckle, watching you in his concentration.

"What is it? Did I hurt you?" You look scared. He cups the right side of his face with his hand, taking advantage of the closeness to place a tender kiss on her lips. "I think it's cute that you're worried about hurting me even though I'm all torn up like that, that's all." You smile toothlessly upon hearing his statement. It was obvious that the situation was concerning but you could still see how hard he was trying to make you comfortable and calm, even though it was a mess outside.

"You'll be fine, won't you?" Her expression changes as she whispers to him, fear apparent in her voice. "I will. I promise you, I will come back to you safe and sound." The ghost of a smile is exposed on her face. "I don't want to ask what's on that flash drive but I'm sure you're doing it for a good reason. I want you to know that you are strong and that you will get through this. I believe and trust you and I know you will do the right thing with the power you have in your hands. Just don't, please leave me. Do what you have to do but…come back to me. I need you." You intertwine your hand in his. Tears form in Jun-ho's eyes causing his voice to crack a little when speaking.

"Thank you for trusting me. I don't deserve your love. I will never leave you, I love you. It's complicated, I don't want you to get involved. Just wait for me." He gets up towards the door, but stops as soon as he hears her announcement.

"...your boss visited me. He asked me to call if you showed up. What should I do?" He turns. A few seconds pass as he just stares back at you.

"Call him."

"What?"

"You can call. I need to talk to him."

"What if you get caught?"

"I won't, I know what to do." He had a plan, you could feel it. You obey, picking up your cell phone and after dialing the number passing it to him. You didn't know what was coming, and you hated more than anyone else just to watch and not be able to do anything, but everything in your power you would do. By Jun-ho.

꒷꒦ ⊹ ๑ ❛original by:: @hyunjinners ¡ Like×reblog❜ =͟͟͞♡ ‧ ˚ ₊

[luffyvace]

may i please have some big brother kurapika hc for the soul? 🤲💕🙏

UM?? OF COURSE YOU MAY ANON!!

THIS IS SO WHOLESOME THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING!!

this is such a sweet topic ♡

(some angst bc of y’all background 😋)

alright so let’s get the angst out the way

you and kurapika we’re the last survivors of your clan so you became even closer once your family passed

he became even more motherly and protective of you than he already was

if your age gap is big he takes care of you and feeds you

he’s a awesome big brother

will put your safety over going after the troupe

has lots of security measures if you two settle and get a place to stay

you took the hunter exam with him because no way were you too separating for so long

what if something happened to the other?

you guys have each other’s backs for sure, even if your way younger

kurapika would d!e to protect you

he loves you more than anything

if your age gap isn’t much of a difference or your the same age he knows you can handle yourself more

but he still worries

he trains you in nen if you don’t already know

(omg most of this is angst let’s more on to cuter times ok-)

with a smaller age gap

you two would train to be stronger and protect each other

honestly there’s nothing you can do to stop his big brother instincts so i hope you don’t mind if he’s a bit clingy

he’s just so worried

you two have deep intellectual conversations

and read together

would prefer if you didn’t want the same path of hunting the troupe down but it’s not so bad having a partner in crime

if your a more outgoing person who isn’t hunting the troupe..

he’d try to make time to go to social events with you and such

but hes pretty busy with his troupe business

he’s glad tho because you’ll likely be safer this way

just for the record

there’s no way he’s letting leorio have you 😭

he trusts him but….yeah no 😐.

for big age gap siblings

he kisses your forehead goodnight

he gives you all the hugs and affection you want to keep you happy

always has time to play with you and if he doesn’t because it’s serious he makes it up to you

with ice cream

going to the park

buying you toys or anything your interested in

leaves you with leorio if he has to be away somewhere for a while

does his best to take care of you

if your a feminine person he’ll let you put bows in his hair and play tea party with you

only in private tho

if your masculine he’ll play cars and video games with you

maybe even some soccer

he teaches you how to cook and be a bit independent from a young age just in case something happens to him

he’d go ballistic if something happened to you

your his last thread of sanity

”kurapika is now drowning in an in despicable emptiness 🤓☝️“

has a tendency to spoil you

lets you play with gon and killua to tire you out

you love big brother’s yummy cooking 😋🤩

would leave you in his friends hands if something ever happened to him

but don’t worry he won’t go anywhere

just like he promised 💖

i enjoyed doing these so much💗💗

i hope you love em as much as i do<3

[krchar]

aaaahhhh thank you for the tag @lumiy-a <333

so let's do this

Fanfic Writer Interview!

1. How many fics do you currently have on AO3?

six :)

2. Top 5 fics by kudos:

Given the number it is, of course, most of them :D But:

The Flute

Of Custom and Flaws

The Scar in His Hand

The Truth in the Garden

Behind the Scenes

3. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes, because I am so happy about them, comments are just so great to read, someone takes time to react to my crap, which I love deeply, it is so great to talk with them about their points and feelings and observations, commenters are awesome.

4. What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

Is it an angsty ending, if the whole thing was angsty..? But I generally tend to search for hope..

Of those on AO3 I'd say The Flute sort of.. (rather searching some serenity in angst). But I used to have one much harsher on fanfiction.net years ago for a different fandom, even if there, too, was some very f*cked up thread of hope

5. What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

Of those actually finished, it may seem weird, but to me The Scar in His Hand was an ending that just made me happy and hopeful if that counts

Ok but to be fair Behind the Scenes ends with an overdose of fluff

6. Do you write crossovers?

Not really so far :/

7. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Not really, some of my blorbos are sexually active and happily so, but it is just hinted at, I never got there

8. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I dont really know about such occurrence :)

Wow now I'm thinking, I googled my name like everyone, but I never googled my fics :O

9. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Some years ago someone translated my fun one-shot (on fanfiction.net) into Russian and put it on some other server (they asked for consent). Meanwhile, I have deleted the fic for reasons, but the translation may be floating somewhere over the internet

10. Have you ever co-written a fic?

Yes, years ago we wrote two different fics with a real-life friend :) We used the strategy of dividing characters for each of us to write. It was great, but we did not finish either of them hehe

11. What's your all time favorite ship?

Ok I know what this blog looks like now, but to tell the truth, I started to ship Himerish/Yarr about half a year ago (it was quite some explosion, yes).

I shipped and ship a lot of pairs (and some threes), but I don't think I ever had like THE ONE

12. What's a WIP you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

Probably the LoTR fic of which I wrote just a part like in 2013, where I shipped Éeowyn and an OC dwarf-woman (I made her a daughter of Dwalin and she journeyed on her own (and without permission) to save her uncle Balin, bc they had no messages from Moria :(( but she got stuck in Rohan. It was pre-canon.)

13. What are your writing strengths?

Uhh.. ok self-appreciation time..

I dont know if mirroring yourself in characters is weakness, or strength, but it might bring some positives..? Like relatability hopefully..?

And I like to explore stuff.. imagining weird situations, overthinking headcanons to fill in the lore.. and such :)

14. What are your writing weaknesses?

Sometimes in search of vocabulary my head starts to boil, so language, English is not my first.. also I think i am sometimes too dramatic. And sometimes I have doubts if I am not talking about stuff that is too heavy and that I do not actually understand.

15. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in fic?

So only by reading answers by previous posters I get that this means like other than the main language of the fic..? I never did that.. why not really, look I like LoTR and its linguistic variety, and I like all the weird sounds in Star Wars, and Im a nerd for all the sounds that real people make, so go for it people, it's fun

16. What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for but want to?

hmmmMMMmmmm... technically I've written for LoTR, but not enough.

17. What's your favorite fic you've written?

Ohhh... ok this is difficult.. I think I'll go sort of neutral and choose sentiment reasons, and will say my very fist fic, which I wrote in Czech, when I was about 14, it was just this silly fun about an OC in HP, red-headed girl, of course, and with some cool features like high tolerance to cold and alcohol

Ok now I should tag someone! So, I think I will tag @aniriargyle, if it's ok..? :) who writes for fandoms regrettably unknown to me, but who wrote me some really nice comments on AO3 <3

[necrophcge]

NAME:

Lee

PRONOUNS:

he/him

MOST ACTIVE MUSE(S)?

// Meddles here is technically my most active, but I'm doing stuff behind the scenes for my lads Brom ( @of-forossa ), and Samuel Whist ( @fishermcn ) so I'll add them here too lmao.

RP PET PEEVES?

// Ah hell man, probably a lack of progression when it comes to replies? When I'm writing a thread with someone, I do what I can to make sure they have enough from my own to continue the story we're telling together. So getting a reply in return that doesn't move things forward puts me in kind of a bind y'know? Matching or similar length comes with that as well, though I don't expect folks to match me word for word so much as giving as good as they've gotten!

Communication is also key! I know that it can be uncomfortable or a bit daunting to try to chat with folks you haven't gotten to know all that well, but with threads being something we create together we really should be on the same page. Even just a little update or the like is preferable to total radio silence rofl.

EXPERIENCE / HOW MANY YEARS?

// Shoot, it's probably been about twelve, maybe thirteen years now? Been on here the whole time and have bounced around to a few different fandoms before more or less settling down into the soulsborne community.

FLUFF, ANGST, OR SMUT?

// I'm definitely an angst kinda guy, though usually in the sense that things are going down or conflict is brewing rather than interpersonal drama. I live for fight-writing and the tension that comes with lives being on the line. Fluff is usually reserved for one and done replies rather than threads because I feel it's more impactful thst way, while smut is... well. I'm getting better at it, but it's definitely my weakest writing of the bunch. That, and I admittedly can get a bit nervous posting it out here in the wild for everyone to see (////-\\\\)

PLOTS OR MEMES?

// Both! Plots and plotting are my preferred go-to for our muses to get to know each other and establish what their relationship will be like going ahead, while with memes I'll usually go ham on a single reply with the intent of further fleshing out what we've pieced together for our muses.

LONG OR SHORT REPLIES?

// If you've known me on my other blogs you already know I tend to get long winded XD. Short replies never feel like I've said enough honestly, and by taking the time to get in depth with them I reckon it opens the door wider for potential interactions (memes) or it gives the other person more room to reply with (threads). Least amount I'll do is around two to three paragraphs.

TIME TO WRITE?

// I'd love to tell you folks that I'm a responsible, orderly guy who keeps a good sleep schedule and has a set time for writing. Unfortunately I'm little more than an animal who's as likely to bump out an ask or reply at 4:00 in the morning as I am to post something mid-afternoon. Ideally though... I prefer the evenings for it. More privacy, more time to gather my thoughts and less demands for me personally to have to address.

ARE YOU LIKE YOUR MUSE(S)?

// I'm a firm believer in the notion that muns typically have something either in common with or identify strongly with their muses in some form or another, and I'm no exception. Meddles might be a conqueror, cruel and malicious, but struggling against a seemingly impossible task and not wanting to be alone in this world... yeah. Yeah, I can relate to that. It helps me put myself in their shoes and understand them better if there's something about them I identify with.

tagged by: @ferinehuntress (much obliged panda :D)

tagging: @yellowfingcr, @hexenjagd, @bcwblade, @rotten-pest, @izar-tarazed, and you!

[lesbianbroadwaynerd]

17, 19, and 71 for the top 3 asks!

17. top 3 OTPs

Gelphie!!! maybe a bit basic what with wicked (and gelphie along with it) becoming mainstream this year because of the movie but truly i love Elphaba and Glinda together so much it might be a little unhealthy. they're just so perfect for each other they match the other so well at every level, the video "Wicked is Gay (and here's why)" by wickedlyqueer on here explains it so well and to quote them directly "simply put, Elphaba and Glinda are opposite sides of the same coin". also they literally are the resolutions to the other's character arch I mean COME ON. anyway I love them so much :))

Danbecca!!! brought to you by my current main hyper fixation :D and I know, maybe sometimes they're a little toxic and maybe sometimes the dynamics are a little fucked up but you know it's my fucked up OTP you don't have to like it if you don't want to, I won't make you (not directly being said to you who sent the ask just in general) also I may or may not be writing a fluffy modern AU centering around them so I might be a bit biased. but besides that yes they have their issues but I think their relationship and the dynamics within it are so interesting, both reading about them in fics other people have written and now writing them and exploring that myself. so just yeeee they're great (:

Danbea/Beavers (?) slightly undecided ship name aside I know that this maybe isn't the most popular ship within the fandom and that some think they're too different but to me that's what makes it so interesting. since they're so different, they have the potential to clash which means: MORE ANGST (which I love) and it just adds to the dynamics and makes everything so much more layered and I am nothing if not a slut for characters/ships that have so many layers they make you want to dissect them under a microscope. also Danny and Bea are some of my favorite characters in the story so just put them together and boom true love (at least to me reading about them together) :)

19. top 3 characteristics you love about yourself (they aren't in order specifically but these are the top three)

my bluntness, I legit have no filter and if I ever had one it's hanging on by a thread. it's just so funny when I tell it to someone how it is and they're shocked that I was so like "this is your pile of crap and now you have to deal with it" sort of thing without any sort of sugarcoating lol. also according to my bsf this is also something she loves about me too yeee :D

the way I always manage to put my own spin on things, like once I had an assignment in my English class where we had to pick a song and analyze it for the tone and mood stuff like that. so me being me went up to my teacher and asked if I could do mine on "Sie ergibt sich nicht" from Rebecca and he was like "as long as the explanation for the lyrics is in English and you put the English translation, sure go for it" so yeah love that for me lol.

my kindness. a lot of people have told me that some small thing I did like just asking if they were ok or if they needed a hug or wanted to talk made their day when they were having a rough time and I love that I can do that and make others happy because I love to make people happy it just brings me so much joy :))

71. top 3 songs of this month

the Whitney Houston version of I will always love you from Dolly Parton but specifically Susan Rigvava-Dumas' cover of it. I have listened to it so many times it is on all of my yt mixes and idk what is is about this specific version but it just scratches an itch in my brain like no other. so yeah definitely up there for this month.

nichts nichts gar nichts from Elisabeth (2012 20th anniversary revival cast rec. specifically) I just love Annemieke's voice in this song and the song itself I just think is incredible, it's a beautiful song and it's one of my favorites from Elisabeth and it's been on repeat all the time lately.

die lieben verwandten from Rebecca, which I know is a bit random because in the grand scheme of things the song isn't all that relevant or plot moving but I just love it. it's such a fun song and I especially love kerstin bald's version, where right before she starts singing there's this little "ahh :D" she lets out and I just think it's so cute and adds to the song, and I just love the character of Beatrice so yeee.

Thanks for the ask dear :))

[stillresolved]

RP BASICS: About the Mun!

Name / Alias: Ferre! Are you over 18?

Yes (& would prefer to write with those over 18) / No

WRITING.

Are you selective about who you write with?

No (anyone) / Semi (most people) / Yes (some people) / Highly (few people) / Private (mutuals only).

Are you selective about who you follow?

No (anyone) / Semi (most people) / Yes (some people) / Highly (few people).

If your muse is canon, how much do you adhere to canon?

Not at all / A little / Some / Mostly / Strictly / Not Applicable.

the nice thing about picking up minor/supporting characters is that you more or less have a blank slate....honestly i applaud ppl who do like, major canon characters i PERSONALLY....get very stiff in my writing when i feel like i have to stick to what i think the author of the character pictured them to be like ;-;

What post lengths do you write?

One-Liners / Single-Para / Multi-Para / Novella / All of the aforementioned.

Do you use icons and/or GIFS?

No / Gifs / Icons / Yes / Sometimes.

if i don't have my hard drive and/or my partner decides to forego the icons, i will too <3

Do you write on other platforms?

No / Yes

What level of plots do you write?

Unplotted/ Open-Ended Plots / Semi-Plotted / Fully Plotted Epics / All of the mentioned

while i do love plotting and have a few partners whom i have done extensive plotting, i have noticed that, i really really have to click with a partner before we can get into extensive plotting....for the most part, i prefer plotted dynamics which gives more flexibility in letting the muses really...be who they want to be in relation to the other.

How quickly do you usually respond to threads?

Very Slow (more than a month) /Slow (3-4 weeks) / Average (1-2 weeks) / Fast (less than one week) / Very Fast (less than three days)

( make that 'snail-paced (more than two months)' :'D i have a life outside and i don't intend on changing that )

What types of themes do you like?

Adventure / Romance / Fluff / Angst/ Violence / Tragedy / Domestic / Family / All of the aforementioned

( again this really depends on the partner...whatever works, works for me! )

WHAT GENRES DO YOU LIKE? ( Feel free to add!)

High Fantasy / Supernatural / Science Fiction / Historical / Horror / Comedy / Romantic / Drama / Action / Smut / Adventure / Espionage / All of the aforementioned

Are there any themes you're uncomfortable writing on your blog? (Not triggers)

No / Yes / Sometimes

i'll put it like this; there are themes i would prefer to explore in my own writing rather than in rp threads simply because i have more control of what point i want to get across than in an rp thread. one exception can be with partners i am close to and trust.

Do you have any triggers? How do you request it tagged?

nah, but i can be iffy when it comes to people who write about SA extensively....and while everyone's experience is different, i've seen some portrayals where it just...leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

SHIPPING.

What types of relationships are you open to?

Romantic / Platonic / Familial / Enemies / All of the aforementioned

this is where i'm going to lose some people. yes, in all technicalities i am open to all kinds of relationships. HOWEVER, i would prefer to only write purely antagonistic/toxic dynamics with those i have very good ooc communication with. it has been in MY experience that antagonistic relationships stress me out (i've always been this way, when i see conflict in tv shows and in fiction, i usually need to pause for a moment/take a mini break just so i can prepare myself)- and when there is little to no ooc communication, outside of plotting, i get very uncomfortable as i cannot tell what the other mun is thinking. especially in an rpc where more often than not you'll get muns who identify a bit TOO closely to their muses, i can't help but wonder if that's what the other mun actually thinks of my muse and of me.

i know this makes me look, uh, very sensitive, but again it's been in my experience, that if there isn't any ooc communication or just reassurance that the mun is separate from the muse (even just talking in the tags helps), the thread...sours. fast.

What types of pre-established relationships are you open to?

Romantic / Platonic / Familial / All of the aforementioned

Do you have OTPs?

No / Chemistry Only / Yes /

both platonic and romantic bby~

Do you have NOTPS?

No / Yes / can you have one for your oc?

interesting question....bc if i had a notp for my ocs i just...wouldn't?? write stuff for them?

What is your muse's sexual orientation?

Heterosexual / Heteroflexible / Bisexual / Pansexual / Homoflexible / Homosexual / Demisexual / Sapiosexual / Asexual / Still trying to figure it out

they're all over the place! will say though, 2024 seems to be the year for wlw ships for me <3 <3 <3

What is your muse's romantic orientation?

Heteroromantic/ Heteroflexible / Biromantic / Homoflexible / Homoromantic / Panromantic / Demiromantic / Sapioromantic / Aromantic / Still trying to figure it out / Depends on the muse you're asking.

again, depends on the muse. this year though again, feels like it's been the year of lesbian relationships :DDDD

Are you comfortable writing smut?

No / VERY Selectively / Yes

i used to write shitty smut, i'm still shit at it, and i don't get the inspo often so i think at this point, i'm just hanging my hat up...it can still be a treat once in a while. i can do drabbles though but again, i think there has to be character development to it.

How early in a relationship do you ship romantically?

Autoship / During plotting / After a couple IC interactions / Several IC interactions / Slow burn / Plot dependent / Never / If it happens it happens

self-explanatory!! these days if there isn't strong chemistry (and usually it's clear from the beginning) then i'd rather not pursue it.

Are you open to toxic ships?

No / Selectively / Yes / I am not sure

uh....depends on the partner, again i really think i would need a strong ooc relationship before starting one.

Are you open to problematic ships?

No / Selectively / Yes / I am not sure

are we talking about taboo relationships? then no.

Are you open to polyshipping?

No / Selectively / Yes / I am not sure

Are you an exclusive shipper?

Never / Sometimes / Yes / I would be open to discuss it

i do!! have muses who are in exclusive ships <3 and i wouldn't change them for the world <3

Does crack shipping ever happen?

Nope / Yes / depends

if it happens it's going to become serious i'm sorry :'D

Tagged by: stole it :) Tagging: if you're reading this you <3