#this garbage took me almost two hours

[lynnical]

I love Strebers voice so much-

[evidently-endless]

being depressed is literally so lame and embarrassing but only when it’s me. everyone else is doing great and i love and support them

[corroded-hellfire]

Prompt Day 17: "This One's For You."

Word Count: 1k

Rating: G

Pairing: Eddie x Reader

CW: None

Summary: Snowed in during a blizzard, Eddie’s daughter Eliza proves just how like him she is.

@corrodedcoffinfest

[As You Wish masterlist]

Eddie hasn’t taken many classes in his life, let alone any philosophy ones, but he couldn’t help but ponder one philosophical question these last three days: how long can someone be locked in the same house as two teenage boys and a four-year-old girl before they go absolutely insane?

The blizzard outside had sealed the five of you in the house together for the third straight day now and it’s becoming maddening. There are only so many activities one can do with a four-year-old that will, one, hold their attention, and two, not make you want to tear your hair out after an hour. 

Some of the things you’ve done as a family have been very entertaining, like when you all played Pretty Pretty Princess and somehow Eddie kept winning and Ryan and Luke were having a great time adorning him with the pink plastic jewelry. The pictures you took of that will forever be cherished—as long as you can keep them out of your husband’s hands. 

Having Luke and Ryan try to teach you how to play some of their favorite video games was amusing as well. The boys more so than the game, though. It quickly became apparent to you that your sons do not possess the patience to teach anything to anyone—let alone a first-person shooter game where they expect you to master the use of a dozen buttons on a controller that you’ve never held before. 

“I don’t think this Hollow game is for me,” you say after “Master Chief,” as your kids called him, gets killed for the fourth time.

“It’s Halo!” both boys shout, one on each side of you so you get it in stereo.

It takes all your willpower not to laugh as you press your lips tightly together to suppress a smile. You remembered the name of the game the second time they told you, now you’re just messing with them. 

An afternoon of you and Eliza looking through an old photo album springs to life an idea in her little mind.

“That Daddy?” she asks, pointing to a picture of Eddie in action up on stage. He’s in the middle of headbanging, so his curls are flying wildly around his head.

“That’s Daddy,” you tell her. “Being a rockstar, showing off in front of everyone.” You smile down at your daughter before playfully poking her in the belly. “Reminds me of you.”

Eliza’s eyes light up at the comment and you can’t help but wonder what sparked in that head of hers. 

“Be back!” she shouts as she hops off the couch. Her tiny feet make thunderous booms as she runs down the hallway, calling out for her brothers. “Ryan! Luuuuuke!”

After dinner, the four-year-old instructs you and Eddie to sit on the couch and to stay still and wait for her. Keeping quiet, you and your husband trade amused looks until the door to the pink princess room opens, and Eliza re-emerges, decked out in her Tinker Bell costume from Halloween. On each of her small legs is a black sock that clearly belongs to Ryan. They are also clearly meant to be knee socks, yet they go up the small girl’s thighs. Finishing up her ensemble is her pink Piglet sunglasses. 

Gripped in her tiny fist is the music player with a microphone that she was gifted as a toddler. The way she enters the room with all the gravitas and confidence of a model walking the runway almost makes you think you’re the one who’s dressed unconventionally. 

Behind her, Ryan has a toy guitar that has been passed down through all three children tucked under his arm and Luke carries the gray garbage pail from the bathroom in one hand and a CD in the other. 

While Eliza takes her place front and center before you and Eddie, Ryan positions himself behind her, yielding the spotlight. 

Luke steps over to the stereo and pops in the CD he was holding before following his big brother’s lead and assuming the position behind the star of the show. Ryan tugs an ottoman over to sit on, the toy guitar resting on his knee while Luke sits on the floor and flips the garbage pail over so he can use it as a drum.

“Are you ready?” Eliza asks, mouth right up against the yellow plastic of her microphone.

“Yeah!” you exclaim.

“Woo!” Eddie cheers. 

“Hit it!” Luke says. 

The music begins, notes floating over from the stereo to this impromptu performance space. It takes a moment, but you recognize the song before Eliza starts singing Part of Your World.

The CD turns out to be a compilation of different Disney songs covered by Disney Channel stars, and Eddie makes a mental note to ask you why the hell you bought that for her. 

Ryan and Luke are surprisingly into it, having fun performing while their little sister hams it up. They’re like their own little version of Hanson. 

The instrumentals of the next song drift through the air and Eliza tosses her pink sunglasses aside and points at Eddie.

“This one’s for you!” she shouts, which is very mismatched with the slow, melodic tune that’s playing. 

You rest your head on your husband’s shoulder as your little girl starts to serenade him with her rendition of Go the Distance from Hercules. 

Once she sings the last note (and you hide your wince as best as possible), Eliza lets the yellow microphone fall from her hand. She bends at the waist, bowing so far down that her curls flip over her head and brush the navy carpet. 

It’s your cue, so you and Eddie both clap, cheering for the adorable performance.

Luke stands and takes a bow next, and Ryan figures he might as well follow his lead. 

Eddie whistles and a rare blush tinges Eliza’s cheeks. 

“Thank you!” she calls, arms raised over her head, addressing her crowd.

The true daughter of a rock star. 

“Goodnight!”

[storiesforallfandoms]

i’m sorry i let you down ~ eminem

word count: 1492

request?: yes!

“Hii. I was wondering if you could do an Eminem imagine where the reader is his daughter who is going through addiction like he used to?”

description: she promised herself that things wouldn’t get bad, but when they do she has to come clean to her dad about her problem

pairing: eminem x daughter!reader

warnings: swearing, mentions of drug addiciton and withdrawals, some use of y/n, rpf

masterlist (one, two, three)

She promised herself things wouldn’t get bad. She knew about her dad’s addiction. She knew how bad it was. He had warned her to be careful when her doctor’s prescribed pain medication to help with post-surgery pain she was having. In fact, (Y/N) was reluctant to take the meds at all. She didn’t want to even risk getting hooked on them the same way her dad did. But, after a day of the pain being too much to bare, she caved and took the meds.

I’ll have control of this, she told herself. It won’t get bad. Once I’m healed, I’ll stop taking them.

She kept telling herself that as she got a refill after taking all of the first bottle. She convinced herself she still needed them as she went back to her doctor to ask for another prescription. Even after she healed and was given clearance to go back to her normal life, she told herself she still needed the prescriptions.

Eventually, she recognized that she had a problem, but by that point it was far too late.

(Y/N) knew she should’ve reached out for help when she realized she had a problem. Especially to her dad, who had struggled before and had already gone through detox and rehab. But she felt too ashamed to tell anyone. She didn’t want to admit that she hadn’t heeded Marshall’s warnings and started taking the pain meds anyways. She knew how he would react, and she didn’t want to let him down. She thought she could handle it on her own. She knew she had a problem, so that meant she could fix it, right?

But the withdrawal symptoms were too strong when she tried to stop. She’d shiver yet be sweating, she couldn’t keep food down, and she’d be awake all night, among other things. She broke down too easily to make the withdrawal stop, and then had to start the process all over again. It was a never ending loop.

And it probably would’ve continued endlessly, if Marshall hadn’t found her.

She was in the middle of a bad bought of withdrawals, hunched over her toilet as the contents of her lunch emptied from her stomach. Because of this, (Y/N) didn’t hear the knock at her front door, nor did she hear the door open and shut. It wasn’t until someone was kneeling down next to her that she realized anyone else was there. And to her horror, it was Marshall.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice full of fatherly concern. His eyes studied her face, slick with sweat and pale from how sick she had been.

She couldn’t lie to him. Not when he was looking at her. He’d see right through her. So, she nodded to the garbage bin next to the sink. When he looked, he saw the empty pill bottle she had flushed hours ago to stop herself from relapsing. Marshall knew immediately and sprang into action. He gave (Y/N) a wet cloth to wipe her face and told her to meet him in the car when she was ready.

“Where are you taking me?” she asked.

“You’ll be better off at rehab. They can help you through the withdrawal.”

When he left, (Y/N) allowed herself to cry.

~~~~~~

A few days in rehab proved to be much better than the weeks (Y/N) had been trying to get clean on her own. The withdrawal was still hard, but like her dad said, they helped her through it. Besides sleep still being an issue, everything else had mostly passed.

Her sisters came to visit after the second day of her being there, and her mom called almost every night, but she had yet to hear from Marshall.

“He’s not mad,” Hailie had assured her. “He’s just glad he found you when he did.”

(Y/N) didn’t believe her.

It was nearly a week later when one of the workers told (Y/N) she had a visitor. When she entered the visiting room, she stopped in her tracks when she saw Marshall had been waiting for her.

He stood, but hesitated a moment before moving to hug her. She gratefully accepted the gesture.

“You look at lot better,” he said as they sat down.

“I feel mostly better. I’m still not sleeping, but that’s it.”

“The insomnia is the worst part. It’ll take time, but eventually it’ll get better.”

(Y/N) nodded. She suddenly felt like she couldn’t look her father in the eye. She was glad he had finally come, but now he was here her shame had returned. Not only shame that she had fallen into addiction, but also the fact that Marshall had to find out the way he did.

“I’m sorry,” she finally said, her voice small.

Marshall seemed shocked. “For what?”

A lump was forming in (Y/N)’s throat. She tried to swallow it down so she could speak. “For letting you down.”

“Honey, who said you let me down?”

She let out a humorless laugh. “Please, dad. No one had to tell me. It’s kind of obvious.”

He was still looking at her in confusion.

“You told me not to take the pain meds,” she said. “You warned me and I did it anyways. I was stupid enough to think I could have a control on them, but I didn’t. I let myself fall into addiction and I let myself suffer because I was stupid and didn’t take your warnings.”

Tears were running down her cheeks. She looked away from Marshall and tried to wipe them away, but it was no use. They were falling so quickly that as soon as she wiped one away, another took it’s place.

“(Y/N), you didn’t let me down,” Marshall said. “You’re not stupid for taking the meds. I didn’t tell you not to take them, I said to be careful taking them. Doctors prescribe those types of medication for a reason, and obviously you needed them if you started taking them in the first place. The unfortunate thing is, a lot of those pain meds can become addictive and some doctors don’t seem to care about that. It’s not your fault.”

“I didn’t want you to be disappointed,” (Y/N) admitted. “You’ve always told us about your problem, and I felt like if I told you about mine that...you would be disappointed in me.”

“I would never be disappointed in you for struggling. We can’t control things like that, no matter how many times I’ve told you about my addiction or how many precautions you try to take. If anything, I was disappointed that you hadn’t told me about it, but I realize now you only did that because you were scared.”

(Y/N) nodded. She had been scared. She knew her dad wouldn’t be the only one who would be upset about finding out about her addiction, but he was the one she was most worried about getting a reaction from considering his past. At the time, she couldn’t bare to think about the look on his face if she had come clean before. Now, though, she was starting to realize that the smartest decision would’ve been to tell someone long ago.

“You waited to come visit,” she said. “I thought - ”

“It was because I was mad,” he finished. “Hailie told me.”

“But thinking more clearly, it’s probably because you were waiting for me to get a little better, right? Mom said that’s why she hasn’t come yet. She was afraid to see me in the early stages of detoxing.”

“Well, there was that. I’ll be honest, the state I found you in still haunts me a little bit. But also, I don’t exactly have fond memories about being in a place like this, so coming to visit was hard.”

(Y/N) almost face palmed. Of course, that made sense. Visiting someone in rehab had to be tough on its own, but visiting after you yourself had gone through rehab had to have a whole other layer of trauma to it she was sure.

“I’m sorry,” she said again. “For everything. I should’ve told you long ago about what I was going through.”

“I don’t blame you for not telling me. I’m just glad that you’re okay, and that I found you in the stages of withdrawal and not something else.”

They both stood and hugged again. (Y/N) was reluctant to let her dad go, but she knew he couldn’t stay all day. The fact that he came at all was a relief, and she was feeling better after their conversation.

“I’ll come back in a few days,” he promised her. “And I’ll visit regularly until you’re out.”

“I’d really like that,” she said. “Thank you, dad.”

“You have nothing to thank me for, sweetheart.” He pulled her in for one last hug and kissed the top of her head. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

[starcurtain]

What do you think Aventurine would be like as a boss?

Aventurine's first character story tells us that people both outside the IPC and internal to the Strategic Investment Department are explicitly racist toward him, so I would say first that I suspect Aventurine's team is much, much smaller than other Stonehearts like Topaz. For example, we constantly see Topaz's dumb "support squad" following her around in most of the events she shows up in, while we've never been introduced to a single "Aventurine support squad" member.

My suspicion is that, between the rampant racism and the undoubtedly common rumors about Aventurine's dangerous behavior, very few people are even willing to be put on his team in the first place. I suspect he's much more likely to be paired up with one or two "strategic partners" (like Ratio) and sent to handle things that way, rather than actually having a large group of underlings he directly supervises.

But just logistically speaking I'm sure he does have a few underlings, and I think... He's probably a very difficult person to work for, for a couple reasons:

He will almost certainly beat assholes to the punch. If a majority of the people who have been assigned to work with him don't want to be there, you can bet he's not going to wait around for new people to prove they are racist garbage. I imagine that, for the most part, he's off-putting and offensive to new people from the get-go. You ask which desk is yours and he just goes "Oh, feel free to set your things anywhere!" then turns around like: "Wowwww. Jim, this rookie is trying to steal the desk you've had for ten years! How inconsiderate our new friend is proving to be~!" New people on his team probably have the worst few weeks of their lives. (Because... If people are going to hate him on principle alone, he might as well give them a reason, right?) However, this has the effect of weeding out most of the people who are incapable of dealing with Aventurine's antics, so I imagine that the few who persevere through the hazing are probably genuinely decent folks. Those that make it past the initial "Let's see how much you hate Sigonians and disrespect me personally" vibe check probably end up on Aventurine's good side, and I think he eventually eases off his newbies after a while. (Not before they've proven their exceedingly high tolerance for shenanigans and even higher ceiling for shock factor, though. If a new employee makes it past the first month of working for Aventurine, literally nothing else will ever phase them. An elephant-sized Warp Trotter could warp them all six galaxies over and they'd just be like "Anyone got a working cell? I need to tell my babysitter I won't be back by 9.")

I think he's just never there. Absentee boss in the extreme. It's not that he ever slacks or doesn't do the work--it's just that he's constantly going off and doing the missions all on his own. It doesn't matter how many times the higher-ups assign him to do a team task, tell him he has to take the full squad... He just scampers off and does the deal entirely on his own, comes back covered in blood, and is like "Hey guys, I took care of the problem; enjoy some comp time on me!" I don't think he drags his average-level underlings into his dangerous gambles; I think he just does all the work with their clients by himself or with a high-caliber partner. You would think this would make him a great boss to work for, but I implore to put yourself in such an employee's shoes: You go into the office every morning only to see your to-do list is empty. Your boss isn't there to give you any new direction. After twiddling your thumbs for four hours, you find out the reason he isn't in the office this morning is that he's recovering from betting he could take an entire pack of Borisin in a fist fight. He's not in the hospital because of the fight (which he won). He's in the hospital because he was then promptly shot in the back by the guy he was betting with. Why is your life like this? Why must you be subjected to the soap opera of your boss's own self-destructive spiral?

Even when he's around, he's probably weirdly awkward. Don't get me wrong, I bet when he's in a good mood he throws all kinds of extravagant parties in the office, and his employees would never lack for bonuses and perks. But I think he has never really bothered to learn--or perhaps simply does not care--about normal managerial behaviors and boundaries. Like, you slip up and tell him your mother-in-law is in the hospital. He comes back five minutes later to tell you he's just bought six bouquets (sent from your address), commissioned a personally embossed card for her with your monogram, and contracted the services of the best-reviewed individualized medical team in Pier Point under your name. He's patting himself on the back for being an incredibly thoughtful boss. You don't know how to tell him that you haven't spoken to your mother-in-law in years, not since her last attempt to poison you. Every six months he buys the whole team new cars. You have no idea what to do with all these cars. It's too many cars. Put some cars back. He calls everyone his "friend," but even after working for him for years, you still have absolutely no idea about his likes, dislikes, or hobbies outside of the IPC. You could not name his favorite food if someone put a gun to your head. Does he exist outside of the workplace? You literally can't imagine him anywhere but on a mission or at a poker table. He's constantly bringing an "I am the party!" vibe to the room, but everyone else is a bored 8-5 worker who doesn't have a drop of enthusiasm left in their veins. It's like when a singer asks the audience to cheer along with a song, but nobody in the audience makes a peep. Absolutely no one in the IPC cubicles can match his particular freak. Aventurine's a smooth-talker and a street-smart cookie for sure, but something about the way his smile looks like it's made out of plastic when anyone tries to engage him in chitchat at the water cooler gives you the vague impression that he's probably never had an actual friend in his life. If "uncanny valley" was a vibe a workplace could have, Aventurine's office would have it.

Long story longer, I think Aventurine has very few people willing to tolerate him as a boss, whether because they are racist or simply because his quirks are just too quirky. However, I like to imagine the few who have hung in there are ride or die. You know they have an "Aventurine Protection Squad" group chat. They probably all wear peacock-teal and gold accessories in solidarity. They have definitely disappeared people for talking shit on their boss before. Aventurine has no idea how much they actually like him.

[archibaldtuttle]

Alien : Romulus - a 7/10 reason to stop making Alien films

This review will be spoiler-free

When I came out of the theater yesterday, after having gone through a viewing of Alien Romulus, I caught myself agreeing with my friends - this was pretty good!

And I am beyond poisoned about the Alien franchise since Ridley Scott got his grubby paws all over it with Prometheus. The only reason I made the effort to move my ass to the theater to see this one was because he wasn't directing (and also I didn't have to pay for it) (thanks sib).

I knew Alvarez from two of his previous films, the 2013 remake of Evil Dead and Don't Breathe. I am pretty mixed on both - they demonstrate solid filmmaking abilities and (in the case of Evil Dead), a deep respect for franchises he's adding to. However they are also a little heavy on the jumpscares for my taste, and in the case of Don't Breathe I just can't praise the film without having to mention that the third act twist is gross in an entirely unnecessary, shock-value way, that does nothing for the film thematically.

That did give me some hope for Romulus however, because that third act twist told me Alvarez likes talking about rape and impregnation. And contrary to Don't Breathe... that's right at home in Alien.

So what about the film then? It's good. Solid premise, I like that we're finally, finally, seven films in, seeing the planet-side society that births all those rundown spaceships. Good pair of main characters with on one side a demonstrably resourceful Rain and on the other a very nuanced look at the franchise's synthetics with Andy. The others are more forgettable but I can't blame that too much on the film - they're well characterized in a few short scenes and that's all I can expect really. The build-up is solid, the various ticking clocks and sources of tensions well established.

What I find particularly notable is the really good setpieces and the use of facehuggers in a way I've wanted to see for a long time. Very good physical effects supplemented by good to ok-ish CGI. The writing is very heavy-handed - I wish more people looked at what O'Bannon did with exposition before they write their own Alien scripts. I do give credit to Alvarez and his co-writer Sayagues for the cool concepts explored and the way they thread Andy's character exploration through them.

The editing is mostly blameless - I wouldn't call it great or even that good, especially with how hectic it gets during some more action-ey scenes, but you can tell Roberts isn't specialized or even used to horror films. I guess he took from his experience on Pressure which would explain a lot... The score is really good, one of the highlights of the film in my opinion - I've liked almost all I've heard from Wallfisch so I wasn't surprised to find out he did this one.

So why did I give this review a very baitey title. It became clear as I was watching the fourth, then the inevitable fifth act unfold, that we were, collectively, scraping the barrel on what can be done with Alien. Prometheus and Covenant, beyond the fact that they were garbage movies, were already trying desperately to find new things to do with the concept. Romulus succeeded, for the most part, in finding new ways to twist it into something interesting, something we hadn't seen before (or at least not entirely). And I'm pretty sure that's it.

I don't want more directors to spend months racking their brains to try and find three or more scene setups that haven't already been done in seven main films, two AVP films and countless video games, in order to string them together into a coherent 2 and a half hour flick. I don't think it's impossible, Alvarez clearly demonstrated that he could do it and I'm pretty sure other people could. But why waste so much time, talent and energy on a series that objectively does not need expanding upon?

I know why, it's because the current studio system is allergic to anything that doesn't have brand recognition. But I think it's sad. And I think it would be a lot more gracious to put an end to a franchise after a pretty good film that did all it could to honor its predecessors rather than try to keep squeezing more out of it until it turns into the horror version of Star Wars.

[cheralith]

and when you catch me ; kaeya alberich

content tags/warnings ; roommate!kaeya x reader, gn!reader, no pronouns used, fluff, slight angst if you squint, modern au, slight fanon characterization of kaeya sry lolol

word count ; 2.4k

now playing ; plot twist - niki

Before you came, Kaeya used to spend his mornings in complete silence. It’d only be broken by the occasional slurps of coffee and the creak of the hardwood floors when he’d saunter across what used to be a lone apartment. 

Before you came, Kaeya used to spend his Fridays and weekends going to bars and flirting with anyone his sparkling eye catches on. He’d have an expensive whiskey in hand, seductively drinking from it with a smirk as he’d never break eye contact with the person he was conversing with, their flusteredness going very much noticed. 

Before you came, Kaeya used to order takeout to suffice for dinner, spending more money on a single meal than proper groceries. He’d pile up the single-use plastic containers and cutlery in the garbage, going faster than them than a box of cigarettes. 

Before you came, Kaeya used to go out on the balcony and fill the night air with the smell of tobacco pushing out through his nose and lips. He’d feel the sting of the nicotine in his lungs, lavishing in its pain masochistically at the stroke of midnight when sleepless nights took over.

Kaeya’s heart was free and unbound. He was an eligible bachelor with no intention of caging himself in a relationship despite the many sweethearts that desired to capture his heart for themselves. He loved the freedom given to him by being single and loose, with no one to boss him around or tell him the correct direction of life. There was no one to take away his third glass of wine for the night, no one to cook him homemade meals, no one to tell him off for smoking nearly a pack of Marlboro in a single sitting. There was no one to sit down with him on a Friday night to watch a 1990’s romcom with cheap popcorn, there was no one to quietly sing out classic jazz in the morning dawn, there was no one.

Until you came. 

When you came into Kaeya’s life, you came into it by accident. He was working with you in a group project and he found you both cooperative to work with and easy to talk to and throughout the period, he was able to genuinely call you a friend. You would’ve been a perfect target to seduce if it weren't for the fact that he would routinely see you for the next month or so until the project was finished, meaning an awkwardness that was waiting to blossom would have to come sooner or later if he did take initiative. You began ending up sharing Kaeya’s simple two-bedroom-one-bathroom apartment when you accidentally slipped out one day whilst working with him that your landlord was going to raise your rent by a hefty amount through a soft laugh. 

Kaeya had looked at you almost amazingly—almost surprised at how you were so calm. He remembers that you went straight back to your laptop after mentioning the feat before he had broken the silence with the simple phrase he didn’t know would change everything.

“Do you want to move in with me, instead?”

Honestly, he should’ve known better. Who asks a person he had known for only three and a half weeks to move in with them? But you were out on a whim, and though you would’ve never admitted it, you needed the help. As if a broke grad student like you could afford a shoebox apartment whose rent was twice the amount of Kaeya’s.

It had taken him a good hour of convincing you to move in with him, telling you that his apartment was larger than life and most certainly needed more people to fill up the void. You were only half-convinced afterwards, but he supposes the glimmer in your eye when you spotted the untouched reading nook with a gaping window sill staring out of the city was the kicker for you to move in. 

It was a quick move—your apartment was so small you were able to move everything you owned into only one trip. Kaeya had purchased most things like cups or bowls in doubles or even triples, so there wasn’t even a need to get more cutlery or furniture. He had always felt like his apartment was meant to be shared considering the large amount of empty space he’d often wander around or how much he’d contemplated actually needing six bowls in the cabinet. 

He wasn’t accustomed to having to do more batches of laundry on the weekends at first—nor was he accustomed to coming home with the TV on, having the kitchen smell faintly of basil, marinara sauce, and meatballs. The evidence that someone else was home besides him didn’t grow on him so quickly. It made him uncomfortable for a bit, even, knowing his personal space was now overlapping with another’s.

But as the weeks went on, as the months went on, he began to grow used to the piling dishes in the sink from the night before. He began being used to the hamper being half full with the week only being a third done. He began to smell the aroma in the air in the evening, trying to guess what you had cooked prior and searching if you saved him some. 

And those silly little habits became routine as you slowly attached yourself to his life without either of you realizing it. 

Kaeya supposes that those little things that you did were the very things that made him lose himself in the one thing he thought he would never get tangled in. 

And damn, did he despise it.

To have someone pay this much attention to him without the feeling of desire and lust is something all too foreign to the libertine. The way you noticed his little things made his heart sting. You had memorized his coffee routine after the first week and never went a day without it having been prepared and ready for him in the mornings. You noticed how he always sets the TV volume at either an even number or at a multiple of five and never changed it to anything else. You noticed how he’d fidget in a sort of nervousness—whether that be picking at his fingernails or toying with the cuff of his sleeves—when he would ask you if you made him something alongside your dinner. And the answer was always. 

Kaeya had eaten alone by himself ever since he blossomed into his teenage years. Adelinde, in the old family mansion he used to live in, was his only company, but even so, she would merely stand idly a few feet away from him as she waited for him to finish his supper only to clean up after him. The conversations rarely lasted a minute between the two anyway.

It traveled to adulthood, eating alone. The company that tagged along with him whenever he’d eat out with friends made him uneasy—talking while eating made him hasty. So Kaeya ended up just skipping friend dinners altogether and would catch up for drinks at a later time. 

But when you had patted the chair next to you on the kitchen island the evening you moved in, that uncomfortability he held so strongly had chipped away ever so slowly with every dinner you had with him. 

Kaeya would find it strange, at first. How do people talk whilst eating without being gross and spitting out food? How do people manage to hold conversations when one should merely focus on finishing their meal? He didn’t understand how you had so much to talk about in a single slice of time with him and still manage to enjoy the meal you ate. That sort of multitasking didn’t exist within him. 

But he slowly realized that it wasn’t the food that connected people as they ate together. 

It was the time spent with each other. Food just happened to always be in the foreground. 

He didn’t even realize he began looking forward to those dinners with you until he had complained you ate dinner without him at that singular time when you nonchalantly mentioned the food was in the fridge before he forced you to eat a second dinner with him or else he wouldn’t let you go to bed. 

“Kae, I’m full—”

“Don’t care,” he huffed, pushing your stiff form from the living room to the kitchen, “We’ve always eaten together and that’s how it’ll always be.���

“Just get the food from the fridge and eat it in the living room!” you exasperated.

“No, it doesn’t feel right,” he insisted and plopped your pouting form into your usual seat near the island. “We’re eating together and that’s final.”

But it wasn’t when you made that little comment that one moonlit evening that you had pulled him into a whirlpool of strange feelings without being conscious of it. 

There was a time that Kaeya didn’t have work while you did, and he ended up sparing some of that time attempting to learn a recipe as a thank you for cooking him lovely homemade meals (it didn’t even turn out half bad despite being a menace in the kitchen when he attempted to help you!). Being the extra person he was, he had covered the island with a satin tablecloth and had picked up a neat flower arrangement from the florist down the street to plop into the vase gifted to him by the elderly landlady that claimed he should one day be her son-in-law. 

The candelabra that held up three candlesticks was perhaps a little too much, he had thought seconds before you had walked through the door. By then, it was too late to remove or add any little details since upon entering your shared home, you had commented on the sweet aroma that wafted the air from the oven, not knowing that it had just finished up baking a simple lava cake. 

It was only after you had finished the three-course meal that he prepared that Kaeya realized what he had prepared for you unintentionally. 

“It’s almost like we’re on a date!” you had laughed lightly.

Kaeya paused as your giggles died down, staring at you almost incredulously, trying to take in what you just said without thought. “H-huh?”

“I mean,” you cleared your throat with the prepared wine and gestured to the preparations. “Look at this. The flowers, the candles, the moonlight. You can’t tell me this doesn’t give ‘ dinner date’ vibes.” 

He could only stare at your blurring figure for a second or so before muttering, “Yeah… I guess it is like a date…”

That pivoting point was what made Kaeya start noticing the little details adorning your being. How you always reached for a specific cup for tea, what you liked to wear according to your wardrobe, those sort of little petals of yourself that slowly fell into his palms began to decor him in your little habits. 

And it was sort of comforting. 

He’d never admit to falling in love. Oh, no, that wasn’t the case at all with him. His little gifts to you and acts of servitude and occasional warm touches to you were not droplets of love… they were mere… favorited affection… as Kaeya would nickname it. 

But love? 

Absolutely not. That’s too much of a title.

Him noting to get you that ivory ivy-patterned dress once his pay cheque came while you both window-shopped in autumn was not love. Nor was idly wrapping himself around you and resting his chin on your forehead as you cooked, breathing in your scent and feeling the softness of your skin. Neither was carrying you to bed after falling asleep mid-movie and tucking you in before counting your breaths as he laid his head next to yours. And don’t get started on how he would get too worried if you still weren’t through the door at the designated time you said you’d be home by to the point where he considered calling the authorities (only for you to graze in three minutes later), because that was just him worrying about your safety like any other ordinary roommate. Love was not embracing himself in your warmth during the coldest of nights in your room, under your comforter. It wasn’t listening and singing to the songs you liked, and it most certainly was not making sure you both had time for an “outing” with each other every Saturday of each week.

Love isn’t wrapping you up in his scarf immediately when you give the smallest sneeze as a chill passes by. Love isn’t excusing himself early with an outing with friends when you text him if you want to catch up on the show you were watching together. Love isn’t contemplating whether the title of calling you his “lover” would suit you, nor were the imaginations of holding your face in his hands with his lips tenderly kissing yours as the flurrying feeling inside him melds together into a pool of amorous yearning for you and you only. 

Love doesn’t keep up late at night a room away from you, wondering if you thought of him as much as he thought of you that day. Love doesn’t make him weak in the knees when you gleam a glorious smile at him at peak happiness—the type of smile where your cheeks hurt a little bit and your eyes crinkle so much, the whites aren’t visible anymore. Love doesn’t make him stare at your ring finger, wondering what size it is and how a jeweled band would look around it.

Love doesn’t make him do any of those things. 

Kaeya Alberich does not love you in that sense.

He is one hundred percent sure of that. 

…

“Kaeya!” you call from the front door, poking your head in with a concerned look on your face. “You said you were ready? Our brunch reservation isn’t gonna eat itself—you know how busy it gets on Saturdays.” 

Swallowing thickly, Kaeya shoves his hand inside his coat pocket smoothly. “I’m coming, I just need to find my wallet,” he lies nonchalantly, “Start the car, I’ll be down in a few.” 

You eye his right hand suspiciously for a moment. “Alright…” you murmur with a raised brow. “Don’t take too long though, I’m getting hungry!” 

With a quick creak of the door and the snapping of a lock, Kaeya lets out a tense breath before pulling his hand out. Opening the modest white velvet box, he glides his thumb on the delicate sapphire promise ring, making sure it’s free of any marks and spare dust before closing the box and tucking it safely into his pocket again. 

With another sharp breath and a quick fix of his hair, he whisks himself out to face what could be the most important day of his life. 

… or maybe he’s ninety-nine percent sure. 

a/n ; this was an old work i had totally forgotten about until i was cleaning up my drive and decided to post merely because i thought there were some tidbits that deserved their spotlight. the original title was actually "and when i catch you", but since it centers kaeya's perspective, i tweaked it a little bit to make it more fitting :>

anyways, thanks for reading as always!! your time, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated and never unnoticed <3

[unspeakable-imagination]

Cigar smoke and Sleepless nights |Part four

Switched gifs cause this one is wider and prettier

Logan Howlett/Wolverine x reader

Reposts and likes are appreciated

Cw: Cigars and smoke, drinking, reader has ptsd. Logan has ptsd, canon-typical violence, references to abuse

Part one two three

For once, you were up 'late,' and by late, it meant daytime. You couldn't sleep, to anxious since your zippo ran out of lighter fluid and you couldn't by more. You sat in the window sill, staring at the fresh snow that blanketed the grass and trees.

Dispite the fox, you felt cold. Maybe it was the lack of your nic fix, maybe it was the absence of talking to any real people. The sun had long risen, and people had been awake for an hour, maybe two. Realistically, you could go out there- talk to someone. Go buy lighter fluid. You had the money from Charles. It was to cold to go outside, you decided. Slipping from the sill, you glanced at yourself in the mirror. Just the same old you.

A lump rose up your throat the closer you got to the door, and it felt like it was burning. To anxious to try to leave your room. What if- What if, so many what's began to fly through your head, but then, they all went silent.

'[Name], it's okay.' A voice. It wasn't Charles? You heard a knock and then opened the door. A lean redhead with bright eyes was looking right at you. "[Name]," she said. "I'm Jean. Charles told me to check on you, and it seemed like perfect timing. He could hear your thoughts from down stairs." You were still confused. It was ger voice you heard in tour head.

"Are you like Charles?" It was the first words that slipped passed your lips. She shook her head,

"No, but I am similar. He can hear just about every one constantly. I'm not like that." She placed her hand on your shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"I will be, I think I just need some tea to ground me." You wished it was bourbon, or whiskey, or maybe any other liquor. Jean snorted and backed away, having heard what you thought. Of course you were unaware. For a moment, you worried she was laughing at you, but she was able to quell thag worry in just a moment.

"I'd best be on my way. Be safe, [Name]. You'll be okay. Just keep that head up." You nodded and watched as she walked away before you stepped out your own door. Stepping down the stairs, minding the flood of people of all mutant sorts, trying your hardest to ignore the beating of your heart from your chest.

You made it to the kitchen, and with no students there, you were finally able to breath, really breath. Grabbing a mug off the rack, you quickly filled it to the brim with water and put it in the microwave to heat. Whole that happened you shoveled through the cabinets till tou found a perfect tea packet. Chamomile and sweet berry.

After tossing the packet on the counter, you spent your time looking for the honey. That was fairly easy. It was in a large squeeze bottle, shaped like a bear. When the microwave beeped, you were quick to pull the steaming ceramic mug out, taking as little time possible do tou wouldn't burn your hand.

Putting the packet in and rigually tying the string to the handle, you squeezed the honey on top thag way it would dissolve and mix with the pinkish tea flowing from the bag.

Sitting there, you patiently waited. And by patiently, you were actually darting around the kitchen, desperate to find something to do. You looked in the sink, in the fridge, freezer, cabinets and pantry, in the fridge again. Anything to keep your mind off of the driping anxiety.

Like a timer went off, you squeezed the rest of the bag around you fingers getting any of the concentrated tea out of the cup and threw the garbage in the trash. Using your finger to briefly stir it, then licked it off you finger.

You took a deep gulp, one that took almost a third of the glass, trying to use it to calm your nerves. What you didn't realize was that the reason you were growing calmer was the scent of tabacco flowing from behind you. It was hard to smell metal with all of the worry, confusing it for the smell of your own blood. That was until someone cleared their throat.

"That's my coffee mug," Logan said behind you. Jumping from you skin, you nearly spilled the tea over your sweatshirt. "Oh my gods," you sighed. "You scared the fuck out of me. I'm sorry, I didn't know it was your mug, I'll wash it right now." You didn't even give him a moment to speak. You grabbed another mug from the rack and poured your tea into it,

"Oh," he said, to slow to stop you. His brows knitted together as he watched you quickly wash then scrub his mug, rather diligently. You flipped it upside down into the drying rack. "Hey," he said. He wasn't loud enough to break through your trance as he watcher you dip around, grabbing the coffee pot.

"Seriously I am-"

"Hey," he shouted. You stilled, the coffee pot dropping from your hand, the hot drink spilling over the linoleum tiles.

"Oh my god," you said, beginning to panic. Logan was quicker than you this time putting some hand on your shoulder and the other on your wrist, stopping you from nearling pulling you your hair.

"Jean," he yelled for the redhead, his jaw twisting over his shoulder. "Jean!" Then, you relaxed, your vision going spotty.

When you woke up, your steaming cup of tea was on your bedside table. Charles sat next to you, his hands folded neatly on his lap. His expression was cross, funn of concern and worry.

"I always try nor to pry into my students head without permission, however you had such a poor reaction to an accident I had to try to help," he said gently. A sour taste filled your mouth, as if bile was rise up your throat.

"What did you see?" He looked at you and you couldn't already tell it was everything. You sat up, glancing to the mug and taking a sip.

"I can take all thoes memories away, [Name]. Usually, I wouldn't offer it, but I feel like it could help you. Wothout living in fear." You raised your hand.

"No, I can't. They make me who I am. They're so important- they show me what not to do." Charles only nodded.

"I know. Don't be afraid to seek help."

[envysparkler]

Ted grinned as Grayson walked away, his shoulders hunched and his hands balled into fists.  He hadn’t bothered laying out the evidence or the proof—both were easy enough to find, connecting Grayson’s disappearances with Nightwing’s appearances was like playing a goddamn match-2 game.

And it was no wonder that Grayson had the highest close rate of the precinct when he could just go and get whatever evidence he wanted.  But Ted didn’t care about that.  Not anymore.

No, he didn’t care that Detective Richard Grayson was Nightwing.  He cared that Richard Grayson-Wayne was Nightwing.  Ted was about to become very rich—if Grayson did as he was told.

Ten million.  He would give Grayson two days to cough it up, or he’d go straight to Vicki Vale.  Or perhaps Arkham, he knew a couple of guards there and surely someone in those cells would pay handsome money to know who Nightwing was under the mask.

Hell, he could even do all three.  He held the cards here.

Ted smiled at Grayson’s pinched face.

Ted gave a parting smirk to Grayson as he left for his smoke break.  The man had begun ignoring him, as if that would make the deadline go away.  He had a little less than twenty hours.

Ted had gone ahead and got a visitor’s pass for Arkham for the day after tomorrow.  He’d worry about specifics after he knew whether or not Grayson would come through.

It was cold outside, late afternoon edging into evening.  He passed by a couple of other officers as he headed deeper into the alley.  He lit the cigarette and took the first puff dreaming about the island vacation he’d be taking.

First class.  Gourmet food.  Five star resort and margaritas on the beach.  Life was about to become much better.

A flicker of movement caught his eye and he turned, unhurried, as the garbage bag ruffled in the shadows, straightening.

Up.  And up.  And up.  Until it resolved itself into a slender figure dressed all in black and most definitely not a garbage bag.

Ted blinked.  The Bats usually only came out at night.  And that they rarely ever ventured into Bludhaven.

Oh, so Nightwing had decided to take a different option out of his little predicament.  It really was a shame—Ted might’ve even left him alone if he’d gotten the money.  Now?  Now it was fair game.  And everyone knew the Bats didn’t kill.

Ted turned away from the figure and back towards the front of the alley—he nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw a figure dressed in black and purple, dangling their legs off the fire escape, grinning down at him.

He picked up his pace a little bit—he’d get back to the precinct and make it very clear to Grayson that his mind games weren’t going to work.  The money, or the Joker was going to know exactly where to strike.

Someone stepped in front of the alley, blocking the entrance and Ted slowed his steps before coming to a stop.

Red helmet.  Red bat.  They didn’t know a whole lot about Gotham’s vigilantes, but the Red Hood was a sore topic for every gang in the city.

Ted slowly, quietly, moved his hand to his gun.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” a voice said behind him, almost breathing on his ear, and Ted shrieked, drawing the gun and twisting around.

He was disarmed before he even knew what was happening, the gun yanked out of his fingers as he was shoved back, hard, sent stumbling back into the dumpster.  Above him, the girl in the black-and-purple suit giggled.

“Hood gets a bit testy about guns.”  A tall figure in black-and-red, removing the clip, the bullet and tossing each piece in a different direction.

“I don’t get testy,” the Hood rasped, low and rough, “If someone points a gun at me, it’s only fair that I get to point a gun right back.”

“We’re trying to get him to stop using guns so much,” the girl said, sotto voce.

Ted turned back to the mouth of the alleyway.  The Red Hood had a tire iron slung over one shoulder.

“What—what do you want?  My wallet?  My phone?  I—I didn’t do anything,” he raised his hands.  He would’ve backed away, but the figure in black was giving him the hives and he didn’t want to get any closer to them than necessary.

“Tt.  We all know that’s a lie.”

Ted literally did not see where Robin had come from.  He’d been staring as the Hood took slow steps forward, he’d blinked, and then suddenly there was a kid in green-and-yellow scowling in front of him.

A kid with a sword.

Ted immediately cast a glance skywards, because where Robin was Batman wasn’t far behind, before the strangeness of the situation settled into him.  He was being menaced by a bunch of idiots in masks, in an alley in broad daylight.

“Look, I don’t know what you want but I’m a cop, you can’t just—”

“You know exactly what we want,” the girl said, swinging her feet.  The all-black one took a single, menacing step forward.

“You messed with the wrong fucking Bat, asshole.”  Hood tilted his helmet to one side.

“If you even dare to touch him—” the katana flashed.  “I will remove your hands.”

“Look, Officer Devins,” the one in black-and-red said, “We’re willing to be reasonable.  Leave Dick Grayson alone, and nobody has to get hurt.”

Ted was itching to shoot one of them—now he understood why his friends in Gotham were so fed up with their vigilante problem.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he lied baldly, “I didn’t do anything to Grayson.  Can I go now?”

[petew21-blog]

Could you do a story with a janitor swapping bodies with his hunky boss, please?

Happy retirement

This is my boss, Mr. Lark. He created his company when he was just a teenager. A company that become now one of the most profitable in town. Which made him a high class person over the years. Unfortunately the more money he had the worse his personality was. He bullied some coworkers, was mysoginistic a mainly spent all of his money on holidays, luxury cars and woman.

When he made a suprise retirement party for me, as a janitor, who worked in this company for over 25 years. Almost since the start.

The party wasn't bad, but as you can see from the photo it was just a PR stunt for my boss. After that he even made me start cleaning after the party "since it's your last day" he said and laughed. What a prick

I went to clean the last room left and that was his office. He always had ton pf garbage. But this time I only saw a few tissues there. The hand cream sat on the table. He was jerking off

Now, I don't do this a lot, but I do have some fettish. I never truly explored what it means because of my age and introverted personailty. But right now, all I kept thinking about was to inhale the tissues.

And so I did. I took them to my nose. I inhaled the strong scent of sperm. The idea that thus was just a few hours ago in my boss dick was extremely erotic to me. Suddenly I found myself eating the tissues like it was candy. And I didn't really mind.

But something else started to happen too. I must have done something forbbiden or I don't know, but my world started spinning and then I fell.

After I opened my eyes I found myself on a boat. Floating in the sea. And definitely not as myself. I was younger. Fitter. Tight and tan skin. Strong muscles.

I already had my suspicion but I needed to make sure. I got up to find out what happened. I look in the mirror and see my own boss.

As I look at my face I was mesmerized by my new incredibly healthy set of teeth and a beautiful face. Suddenly a young naked woman appeared from behind the corner.

"Hey, ready for round two? We can't wait for you any longer. We need you."

Another handsome man got close to her. And looked at me and her seductively:"We want you boss. We need you to fill us!"

Well. This is gonna be interesting.

After some time of nonstop sex, alcohol and partying we had time to relax. I slowly got adapted to my new life as the new 'boss daddy' as the young couple called me.

What happened to my body are you asking?

Well... that is rather a sad story. It seems that Mr. Lark's neurotic personality and my body didn't quite get along. Right now he is in a hospital with a heard failure. Maybe I should rush to the hospital to... you know... say goodbye.

Like I'd ever give up this body. No, I earned it and it's mine and I'm gonna enjoy it as I want. So enjoy the retirement Mr. Lark. Atleast you don't have to finish cleaning after the party

[dfortrafalgar]

I'm Losing You

Having a family isn't always as easy as fairy tales make it seem.

Warnings: Read chapter 1 for warnings. This story is over halfway done now!

Taglist: @phsycochan | @mirillua | @augustanna | @chaixsherlock

Chapter 17

[Prev] [Next]

It had taken about five hours for your body to fully pass the miscarriage, and during that time you were transferred into a more private room in the emergency wing where a labor and delivery doctor from the hospital’s maternity ward assisted with the pain management.  Not like you were psychologically there, and neither was Law.  You had repeated your behavior from previously, your mind’s go-to defense mechanism being to completely shut down, forcing your eyes closed in a feeble attempt to crawl out of your skin and escape reality.  The reality being you, sitting on a toilet in the tiny bathroom of the private room, a bedpan under your body and the L&D doctor, who you wouldn’t speak to, occasionally offering shallow words of support as you hunched in pain with each agonizing cramp that washed through you.  Law kept his eyes trained on your face the entire time, every exhausted contortion of your muscles as ripples of cramps waved through you throughout the seemingly endless seconds of your time in the private room.

When Law saw it, what had left your body, his lunch evacuated from his stomach into the nearest garbage can.  Maybe it was the way it looked, or the fact that the doctor from L&D was holding it in a cold metal bedpan of all things, or maybe the stress of it all finally caught up to the jaded heart surgeon and he settled it by losing his stomach contents.  You didn’t look at it, keeping your eyes closed, desperately wishing to be in your bed at home.

It was clearly going to be a human.  All of the early human-like traits were there.  Two arms, two legs, a head, a body, but it was still so far away from actually being a person.  It barely had what could be called skin, if anything its external appearance seemed more like a glass frog, only a fleshy red color and not green.  That is to say, Law could see the beginnings of organs inside the shape that rested in the chamber pot.

Law started to judge the gravity of calling the fetus an ‘it.’  The doctor holding the bedpan said it was going to be a boy, based on what she called the ‘Nub Theory,’ and was about 12 weeks along, before she cleaned you up and took the almost-boy away to be discarded somehow.  Law’s mind flashed back to the young boy in the CICU who had passed away a few months ago, and the mother who was so distraught that she left Law with a bruise that took two full weeks to fully heal.

He wondered if you cried like that in the ambulance when he wasn’t there to help you.

He wondered if you would’ve hit him, too.  No… you would never.  Not even in your most distraught, vulnerable state would you do that.

Law felt his stomach twist once more for even thinking about you in such a way.

But when he looked at the almost-human in the bedpan, he had to remind himself that the fetus was yours.  That would have been your son.  That would have been his son.

And the actions of that mother in the cardiac ward, hearing her son pass away surrounded by nurses, her screams of agony and despair at having to go home without her little boy, suddenly made a lot more sense to Law.

And for the first time since the two of you had started trying for a baby, he started questioning if he was really meant to be a father.

—

“Give me everything that happened,” Law’s pointed glare and monotone words spoke volumes to Ikkaku and Shachi who sat uncomfortably across the small table in the hospital’s cafeteria.  Robin had arrived after her clinic closed to assess your condition, and Law took the brief opportunity to get the details from the two that were with you before he arrived.

“We were eating lunch outside, the group of us,” Ikkaku started.  “Throughout the day she seemed like she was in more pain than usual, but during lunch it seemed to be getting pretty bad.  She went inside to use the bathroom and apparently fainted in the reception area of the office.  We all came back inside when some of our other coworkers were trying to get her to come to, and she started bleeding heavily so we finally called an ambulance.  I tried to call your phone but it went right to voicemail, so I called Shachi to meet us here.”

Law’s posture was eerily still.  “How was the ambulance ride over?”

Ikkaku was clearly growing uncomfortable under the scrutinizing gaze of her best friend’s husband, but she mustered through her discontent and continued to relay her recent memories.  “She woke up when the ambulance got there, and I think she saw the blood in her pants and started to have a panic attack.  She was refusing to go with the paramedics so they… kinda… manhandled her onto the stretcher.  She was screaming and trying to get away so they tied her down.”  The curly-haired woman used her hands to display a crude image of what she was seeing in her head.  “They strapped down her legs and arms and put her neck in one of those plastic brace things to keep her still, and all of that was before the ambulance even left the parking lot.  She couldn’t even move in the ambulance, but they took off all of her jewelry because they were ‘concerned for her safety.’  I said they were stupid, and they told me to watch my language.”

The black-haired man’s teeth ground against each other in his mouth as he remembered a similar retelling from one of the nurses in your room, the excuse for your wedding ring being missing being out of caution for yourself.  Clearly, the situation was a bit more nuanced, but he didn’t wish to strike up some form of argument with his close friends right now.  Thankfully, your wedding ring had been returned to him a few minutes before you were wheeled to the private room, and was tucked safely in the pocket of Law’s slacks.

Shachi piped up, keeping his voice low.  “When I got here she was still crying and screaming, there was a nurse that came up to her on the stretcher and put her hand over her mouth and told her to be quiet.  I honestly wanted to slap her for that.  I mean, what kind of nurse tells a crying woman to shut up?”

An understandable question indeed.  Law ran an incredibly tight ship in his cardiac ward, with his nurses and fellow doctors being well-rounded individuals who worked incredibly under the high pressure environments in and out of the operating room, and based on what Law had seen and heard throughout the afternoon, he was starting to wonder if his was the only department that behaved somewhat normally.

“Sorry for calling in the middle of a surgery, by the way,” mumbled Shachi, awkwardly rubbing his hand on the back of his neck.  

“Don’t be, you couldn’t have known,” Law replied, his own voice low and pensive.

“Law, are you okay?” Ikkaku asked, reaching her hand across the table and giving a friendly pat to the doctor’s forearm which lay across his side of the table.

The man bowed his head, hiding his clearly bloodshot and exhausted eyes behind the feathery wisps of his black hair.  He could feel his mouth growing dryer by the second, his nose still sore from wiping away the snot caused by his crying, his lips dry and chapped with the way he gnawed on them in the failed attempt to keep his sobs at bay.

“No, I’m not,” was all he said.

Ikkaku and Shachi shared nervous, anxious glances with one another.

The redhead reached his own hand forward now, tapping it gently against the surface of the table in Law’s field of vision.  “Do you want us to bring you anything?  Snacks… water… something to read…”

“No thank you, but if you could go and check on Bepo that would be great,” Law muttered, turning down his friend’s offer faster than he probably should’ve.  “Thank you guys for telling me everything, I’m going to go back to her room.”  He turned his back on his two concerned friends before they had the chance to muster out their goodbyes, hoping that he could hide his face once more to quell the oncoming tears that threatened to fall for a second time.

Law hated crying.  He always hated crying.  Crying left him feeling more exhausted than a 12 hour surgery.  Crying left him feeling weak and defeated, like a dehydrated, shriveling plant that gets left to deteriorate on a scorching windowsill.  Throughout his entire life, he had only truly cried a total of three times.  Once when he lost his family in their house fire.  Twice when his adoptive father figure was murdered before his very eyes.

And three times today, weeping over your form over the baby that was lost.  Again.

The hallways of the main corridor were uncharacteristically empty as Law’s feet dragged his fatigued body down the tiled hallways, his shoes scuffing the floor with each labored step.  He fought desperately to control his breathing, his lungs feeling like they were filling with water, his body fighting for life.  How pathetic he was.  You were the one in pain.  You were the one losing the baby.  So why was he getting so worked up?  Why was he letting himself fall?

In sickness and in health.

“FUCK,” Law lost control of his vocal chords as he shouted into the empty hallway, the only witness to his outburst being the LED lights on the ceiling, illuminating his shame.  He hadn’t consciously registered the way his body contorted, his hand balling into a fist as he drove his limb into the wall next to him, the force of the blow making him grimace.  A sizable dent was left where his knuckles had impacted the drywall, blood beginning to seep from the skin of his tattooed fingers as he let his knees buckle and send him to the floor.  He slumped against the wall, gazing at the back of his hand.

D  E  A  T  H

Law was an edgy undergraduate.  He funneled his trauma, his insecurity, his distaste for life into his studies, drowning himself in textbooks and medical demonstrations, filling the blank spaces in his psyche with music that shared the same disdain for the world as he did.  He littered his skin with marks that spoke to him, the marks of his family and the marks of death.  He didn’t care if the tattoos on his fingers gave him less chances of getting into medical school, he did what felt was right.  He had escaped death more times than a kid ever should have, and the ink in his skin was a testament to that.

You had poked fun at the symbolism on the day you first met him.  A doctor with the word ‘DEATH’ written on his hands was an ironically funny image.  You had said something along the lines of, “I think I would trust my doctor more if he had ‘DEATH’ on his hands.  At least it would make more sense if he happened to kill me.”

Law had scoffed at that.  His tattoos were nothing to joke about.  But he came back to you because of the smile that rested on your lips as you laughed, the way the skin around your eyes creased with your happiness.  You were a magnet pulling him into your embrace.  Suddenly, the blank spaces in his mind previously filled with depressing music were filled with the image of you.  Your smile, your eyes, your bubbly giggle, the alluring smell of your perfume, the way you filled every room with light, the way you brought joy to the lives of your friends, your nerdy talks, your voice as you sang along to his music in the passenger seat of his car…

Hot tears plopped onto the tiled floor, some hitting the skin of his knuckles, making the bleeding wounds sting with the foreign contact as Law remained slumped against the wall, staring blankly at his hands as the wounds on his fist continued to ooze dark red blood.  He missed his mother, his father, his little sister.  He missed the way his mother would wipe his tears away with the sleeve of her shirt, kissing his forehead and ruffling his thick black hair.  He missed the way his sister would cling to him on the playground, relying on her strong older brother for support.  He missed his adoptive dad, the freakishly tall, clumsy, blonde ex-marine reserve who smoked indoors and would leave accidental burn marks on his clothes.  He missed the way his dad would pick Law up like he was weightless, singing praises to the child’s accomplishments, even the most menial.  Law always told you how he wished his family could have met you, how they easily would have adored you for everything you brought into his previously dark life.  He wondered what his family would say to him now, as he sat on the cold floor of the hospital’s main campus, alone, bleeding from his hand.

“They’d be proud of you.”

Law’s golden eyes opened at the sound of the voice coming from in front of him.  Shachi was crouched directly in front of him, a soft smile gracing his crooked mouth as he used his shoulder to support himself against the wall in front of his friend.

“I know you.  You’re thinking about Cora and your family, aren’t you?” he asked, retaining his cheeky personality but flooding his words with an air of unabashed kindness.

Behind him, Ikkaku stood, her own eyes welling with overwhelmed tears, but standing and blocking Law from the lights that shone down on his defeated form.  She too had a small smile on her lips.

Shachi moved to stand upright, grabbing Law’s arm and hauling the taller man to his feet.  Law barely stepped forward to pull his friend into a back-breaking hug, releasing everything he was bottling up into the shoulder of his best friend.  Shachi’s arms supported Law, hugging the man back and squeezing him with the might only a life-long friend could have.  

“You’re doing great, Law,” the redhead whispered.

Nobody spoke a word as the two led the doctor back to your room in the emergency ward.  Law’s tears continued to fall, his hand finally clotting.  

When he rounded the corner of your room, you were standing upright, your body wrapped in a fabric hospital gown, your own cheeks puffy with the force of your own crying.  Robin was supporting your arm as you were about to lay back down on the bed, but as you witnessed Law enter your room once more, supported by your two best friends, you pushed past your doctor and threw yourself into the waiting arms of your husband.  His hands circled around you, your personal shield, your knight, holding you against his trembling body as his tears fell into your hair, as his head dipped down to hide in your shoulder and as your own face buried into the crevice of his neck, your unending tears soaking his shirt.  The world vanished around the two of you as you stood in his embrace.

[reallyromealone]

Spiderfic 3

Warning: male reader, Omegaverse, fluff, hybrid, mpreg

♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️

months had passed since Mikey's rut, (name) now very pregnant and Mikey very very protective.

(Name)s guards now consisted of Sanzu, Mucho and Mochi and followed the Omega everywhere and dealing with the Omega "hunting" for food via "stealing" food from the kitchen as if the chef's haven't been leaving fruits and veggies out for the Omega to sneakily grab. The three alphas found their queen quite amusing as he waddled around for the things his pups may need.

Emma loved (name), often indulging his weird pregnancy behaviour and the two could be found in the nursery that had been expanded for the oncoming pups.

Currently though, (name) was in a bit of a pickle.

Well it wasn't a bad pickle so to say but (name) was stuck by Mikey in the webbing to the nest as the Alpha kissed him deeply "now let alpha do this" Mikey said deeply and (name) let out a frustrated whine as the spider Hybrid took out any foods or things that can and will go bad from the nest "we will build you a birthing nest out in the bedroom but you can't be in there until the pups are born" Mikey said sternly as (name) glared at him, the doctor warned Mikey that (name) would be like this, the omegas mood all over the place "that was mine! I foraged for it!" (Name) said pissed off as a maid took the food from Mikey "it was going bad and you aren't eating it because the smell makes you sick"

"The pups..."

"Darling, the pups are fine"

"No alpha! The pups need it! How can you not see this!?" (Name) was seething and Mikey could feel the mood swing through the bond "get me out of this web!" The Omega said angrily as Mikey freed him quickly, not wanting to further piss off his hormonal Omega who didn't look the least bit intimidating to the predator, Mikey biting back a smile at the pissed off bunny who grumbled and wandered out of the room, Mikey following close behind.

"Stop following!"

"We're going the same direction" Mikey said simply but they both knew that was a full ass lie "stupid alpha..."

The staff always was amused by how the couple interacted, even when absolutely livid (name) let Mikey keep a hand on the small of his back but any lower usually got a hiss when he was like this.

But Mikey usually put him in his place with his own growl, causing (name)s mood to take a wild shift.

"I-im sorry alpha!" (Name) said teary eyed, showing his neck in submission as the two went into a forgotten corner "how about we go find you something sweet, yes?" Mikey said nosing his neck and calming the Omega who now was feeling like garbage about being all angry at his mate who was helping him.

(Name) had a craving that Mikey was more than happy to facilitate, his pups craved Taiyaki like fiends and Mikey couldn't help but be amused at his mate and Draken was annoyed to have to deal with two Taiyaki obsessed royals now.

It was two am, the couple had to sleep on their bed so (name) could actually get out of bed and (name) woke to something leaking "Jiro!" (Name) whisper yelled, shaking the man awake who immediately got up while looking frantic.

"It's happening!" (Name) was panicking as Mikey scooped him up and rushed out of the room as (name) grunted at a contraction and tore Mikey's sleeve in the process "were almost there bunny" Mikey said as guards opened door after door for the Alpha as to make sure they got there as fast as possible.

(Name) was not having a good time as he was set on a bed, it seemed his pups wanted out asap.

"Your knot isn't coming anywhere near me!" (Name) hissed out angrily to his alpha, Mikey having a feeling he wasn't bluffing as another contraction rolled through him "fucking shit!"

(Name)s birth was almost 18 hours and out came three healthy pups, all bearing Mikey's eyes as (name) blearily looked at his family "are those my babies?" He asked softly as the nurses helped him sit up so Mikey could hand two over as Mikey held one at eye level to (name) "they're so wonderful...!" (Name) was now actively crying at his pups who have yet to show their hybrid identities.

Mikey stared in awe at his family, (name) looked fucking stunning holding his offspring and feeding one while the other two slept.

"Sleep Omega, I will keep the pups safe"

(Name) awoke to being set in his bed, the pups in cribs near him as per requested during (name)s little birthing plan Mikey made sure every single person followed.

"Hello beautiful" Mikey said softly as he noticed (name) was awake "are you ready for guests?"

"Who...?"

"My siblings, two have come to visit"

(Name) had heard of mikeys brothers, Shinichiro having stepped down from the crown to marry a neighboring kingdom and Izana the step brother who was head of shinichiros guard.

"I look gross..."

"I cleaned you up, don't worry"

"Alright.."

The three Sano siblings came in, looking at the bunny in awe, two spiders and an arctic fox.

(Name) saw Mikey completely relaxed and decided they weren't a threat "sorry we couldn't come sooner to meet the new queen but it's a pleasure to meet you" Shinchiro was kind as Mikey and Izana glared at each other but before the two siblings could be idiots, Emma grabbed their ears "new parent and pups in the room" she hissed before smiling at (name), the two had gotten closer after Emma's repeated apologies from the dinner.

"What are their names?"

(Name) let Mikey introduce the pups, the Alpha lifting (name)s hand to gently kiss his knuckles.

The Sano siblings watched as (name) passed out, exhausted justifiably as Mikey scented the pillow so (name) could have his scent close as the siblings spoke.

(Name) was put to a strict bed rest as he tended to his pups as Mikey resumed royal duties, the news of the new royal heirs announced throughout the kingdom.

Thank god for Mikey as two of three pups are already producing webs and the Alpha felt a sense of pride at the tiny pups, their little bunny already sprouting a cotton tail.

"Now I know what you would look like as a bunny" (name) said as they held their pups, (name) refusing to let anyone near the tiny bundles due to instincts and almost attacked a maid who got too close to their babes.

And Mikey couldn't be more proud of his mate protecting the pups.

[scretladyspider]

please don’t scroll; I really need your help to reach my gofundme goal of $3500 and not become homeless.

Im Elle, a queer, ace, disabled person with ADHD, depression, and two cats. In November, I lost my job without warning. I have no savings as the job already had me living to the last dollar of every paycheck. I was denied unemployment and food stamps. I cannot work away from home, a physical job, or something with strict hours due to some yet-to-be-diagnosed illness.

this is my story — what’s going on & how I got here. (Smaller text used because it’s a lot of information/a long post.)

In early 2018, I was doing regular walk/runs. In 2019, I stopped being able to run, so I went on walks. Running took hours, then days, to recover from. My body couldn’t produce energy to do it consistently, so, walks. In 2020, I kept going on walks and tried to do aerobics. I was not able to keep doing aerobics. My body took hours upon hours to recover, where before it hadn’t, I was alone for almost all of 2020, and never developed COVID symptoms; it was what happened with running all over again. In 2021, it started to take more time to recover from walks. Then I started to need to take a nap immediately after I clocked out from work— and it was a work from home job. In 2022, I began to go from my sitting desk job straight to my bed most days, laying down exhausted right after work, even sleeping through lunch to get some rest.

On New Year's Eve 2023, I spent 30 minutes cleaning, including vacuuming my living room. I had to rest the rest of the day.

In the last five years, I've gone from running to being exhausted for hours by taking my garbage to the curb.

Imagine you were someone who enjoyed recreational exercise. Now imagine doing 1/100th of that and feeling sick for days. Thats me.

There are other symptoms also. More vulnerability to infection and more trouble fighting infection. Shooting, sharp muscle pains in large muscles such as the thigh or forearm, like a pinched nerve, that come and go at random. Pulse rate that skyrockets upon standing, to go back to normal soon after. Stomach inflammation. Inflammation without major swelling. Headaches. Complete inability to tolerate heat, leading to excruciating migraines that only go away with things like cold showers, electrolytes, and hours of rest in the dark with ice. Muscles that literally don't feel like they're getting oxygen. Random rashes. Face flushing. Being much more easily out of breath, yawning over and over, like I can't get air correctly. Weight gain, no matter what I eat or don't eat.

And just being so, so tired.

In summer of 2018, something… stopped working in my body. I felt sick all the time. I had a low, unexplainable fever nearly every day. Shooting nerve pain would wake me up at night. The doctor said I had a cold. But months went by and I didn’t get better. When my blood work and thyroid hormone level was normal, I was referred to a rheumatologist.

I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia after he made me wait 45 minutes, came in and asked “are you tired?", poked me hard, said I was tender, and left without running tests. This sort of “uhm the standard blood work came back normal, have you tried exercising more? I know you’re here because your body can’t recover from it but have you tried more of that? Also going to sleep at night?” has been the response over and over and over for five years. It got to the point where I even started to wonder if I was somehow making it up. I see a psych nurse. She thinks there's more than just depression, ADHD, and other things - though we both agree that managing those is vital too. She used to be a cardiologist, so this is reassuring. But when I have tried to see other doctors, it goes differently. Most of the time they see I have ADHD, a long history of depression, and hypermobile joints, and say that explains everything. I can't count how many times I've been told "well, you have depression” when the labs, if they even agreed to run them, came back normal. My standard blood work sometimes comes back with anemia, but I take an iron supplement. No improvement had come of it. I’ve had my thyroid hormone levels tested over and over, but never the antibodies. No imaging or referrals have happened, outside of one to a second rheumatologist. He ran no tests either; he just saw my joints are hypermobile and I was “sure taking a lot of mental health medications” (two at the time), and… that was that.

I had given up on actually even getting help until my SIL recommended a doctor she knew. For the first time in five years, when the standard blood work and TSH tests were normal, she told me we would keep looking. I actually cried with relief at that. It’s amazing to be believed after all this time.

Because of …. All of this, I'm trying to figure out how to either work for myself or find a work from home job that has flexible hours I can choose. I literally wouldn't be able to work a retail gig where I have to stand for eight hours, or even a 9-5 where I have to be there for those exact hours, because my body cannot do that right now. I want to get better but it's a long way off. First I need to know what's even wrong. I'm praying for a diagnosis soon. And treatment. At the least, management.

I have heard of EDS and I have been evaluated. I apparently don’t meet enough criteria, hence the diagnosis of JHS instead. It’s in the same family. I have also heard of POTS. I am pursuing testing. Same with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, MCAS, fibromyalgia… yeah. The thing is nothing outside of the standard blood count and thyroid hormone level test, no other lab tests have been done. There are so many things this could be that have never been checked. Lyme disease, for example, is extremely common where I live (it’s actually just extremely common worldwide) and matches much of my experience, but 1) in the USA the initial Lyme test relies on a strain of bacteria cultured in the 80s 2) there are over 100 strains of Lyme disease in the USA 3) in spite of decades of research there are doctors who don’t believe chronic Lyme exists 4) no doctor has ever checked and I only recently learned anything about it so I never asked. But… there are a lot of things to check that I’ve never had checked is my point. Fingers crossed someone can help me get there.

I do not have a partner who can try to support me through this, and my family already supports me however they can. My severance (which was low as I found out I was being paid much less than the rest of the team later) paid only my January rent.

Since my ability to work is severely limited right now, and I've been denied unemployment and food stamps, and I would need a diagnosis and to be awarded disability benefits in court (which can take YEARS that I don’t have), I have nothing in savings because of years of underpaying jobs the cost of living and being disabled and going through prior periods of unemployment due to this and other factors, I am left in a tough spot without help. Without this help, this gofundme... I have nothing.

So... here I am. A queer nonbinary disabled neurodivergent writer, trying my best, living with some undiagnosed illness that's severely impacted my ability to function, who got fired without real reasons (in America they can just do that to you without even telling you why), asking for your help to pay my February rent and January bills so I don’t repeat the trauma of being homeless. Or for you to reblog this.

Thank you for reading all of this.

It’s been on my chest for a long time. Even if it wasn’t for the gofundme, it feels good to talk about and be honest about my health. It reminds me you’re not supposed to feel like this all the time when I tell other people and they tell me I should get help and deserve answers. It’s reassuring to see competent doctors who finally believe me. I hope we figure it out.

no donation is too small— they add up. If just 100 people gave $35, the goal would be met. Sharing is also giving— it means someone who can help is more likely to see it.

You can also help via my venmo — secretladyspider

CashApp — secretladyspider

or find PayPal in my tip jar in my linktree

Goal is $3500 or over. Funds needed ASAP. If it goes over, that’ll help with February.

Thank you for anything and everything.

[amazon160]

“Shit.” Johnathon Ohnn x Reader 🖤⚪️

Just a little something I dabbled down 🤭

“Oh, shit.”

Those words. Those two words. They had such a weight to them that only Linda could understand.

“You had better not be late to another meeting, Dr. Ohnn.” She scowled. A scientist’s assistant was simply expected to pick up every now and then and manage the scientist’s calendar. Help them set up their schedule, y’know? But in the special case of Dr. Ohnn, it sometimes felt like babysitting. This was one of those times.

“Oh, no, of-of course not!” Ohnn stuttered, missing his footing as he stumbled out of his office. Papers were stuffed into a briefcase in a very unorganized fashion. Linda couldn’t bring herself to see how they managed to stay intact and inside the bag every time Ohnn did something like this. Of course, this isn’t Dr. Ohnn’s first time running late. And he went through this exact routine every single time he did.

Dr. Ohnn quickly walked past the other scientists’ offices, striding forward with his long legs. Suddenly, all of the doors seemed to open at once, making Ohnn’s heart race even faster. He glanced down at his watch and not at the people flooding out of those doors. There was a mixture of people from a couple tours going around Alchemax and the employees themselves. Ohnn finally looked up from his watch, which read 10:39, just in time to almost knock into another scholar.

He’d seen her around once or twice. Not enough to be acquainted. Just enough to remember her face. Not like he took extra note of her face in particular. It was a regular human face of perfect proportion and beauty in every detail.

Average.

Right.

Her hands shot up in defense to Ohnn’s speed walking, momentarily setting on his chest, before she maneuvered around him and sent a goofy salute. He could just barely hear her chuckle over the conversing between their peers around them. But it really was just divine to listen to. It almost made him forget he was running late. Ohnn spun around and got back on task, while the woman in particular watched him go for a second.

…

“I don’t get what you see in that guy.” Linda complained. “He’s messy. Sloppy. Leaves his crap everywhere.” She listed off on one finger at a time.

“Smart. Nice. Good manners.” You listed off of your fingers as well. She scowled, only to turn into a friendly smile less than a second later.

“Girl, you can do so much better than him.” She leaned on Ohnn’s desk, gathering up any stray papers left behind and stacking them. “I’ve seen ‘em.” She winked.

“Oh, please,” you rolled your eyes. “This guy looks like a real fun time.”

Linda threw a stray banana peel into the small garbage can in the corner. “Sure.”

“Staawwwpp.” You drawled out. “All those guys were fun, sure, but they were assholes. They seemed more into themselves than they were into me. Johnny seems like a nice change of pace.” You smirked.

“‘Johnny’??” Linda raised an eyebrow, letting her shoulders sag forward.

“Johnathon, right? John. Johnny!”

Linda facepalmed.

…

The cafeteria was bustling just a bit more with the extra students and strangers walking around with their lunches. Johnathon didn’t really like how the tours went during working hours. It was already too hustle-y bustle-y trying to get from place to place and it always felt like you were being watched by these people. Johnathon picked up a bagel and a packet of cream cheese. That should be enough to hold him over.

The walk back to his office was rather peaceful. Sadly, there was plenty of time to reflect on the terrible outcome that meeting was. Upon reaching his office, Johnathon immediately noticed that Linda was gone. Thank goodness, he thought to himself. The sleep deprived scientist leaned against his desk, adjusting his glasses up against his nose. He felt something light slap against his back.

A short stack of papers was being held against his back.

“Oh, shit.” Jonathon muttered under his breath.

“Linda said you dropped these.” You waved the papers in his face with a smile once the scientist completely turned around. He moved the cream cheese and bagel to be held in one hand as he took the papers in the other. “She seemed pretty pissed.”

“She seems pretty pissed whenever someone mentions my name.” He chuckled. “No offense. I mean no offense. If you two are friends. I mean, not assuming you two are friends, but-”

“Nah, it’s fine, Johnny.” His eyes widened some at the nickname. You could see the reaction, and your smile grew just a bit more.

“Ummm…y-yea-yeah? Yeah?” He quickly stuttered. Why was he such a mess under your gaze.

“She’s always pissed. But me, I’m uh..” You hissed and squinted at him. “I’m a little disappointed, Johnny.” You started walking forward. As a quick response, Johnathon started walking back. But seeing that he was leaning against the desk just before the encounter, there wasn’t much space to cover before his back hit the desk.

“Oh?” He squeaked out. You were getting a little close. A little too close for him to be keeping himself composed.

“Linda said you don’t have a lot of free time on your hands. Why is that?” You stopped him once your hips weren’t that far from his and his back was beginning to arch back over the desk.

“I, uh. My job-my job takes up a lot of time-uh-”

You put your arms down on either side of Johnathon, leaning on the desk and leaning in close.

“Friday. 2 pm. The new Foam Party down the street. You know where that is, right?” He nodded quickly. “Good boy.” You let your hips sink in a little bit lower so you just barely grazed each other. Your lips hovered just above Johnathon’s. “If you aren’t able to meet there for whatever reason, I’m always free to talk during lunch. So you’ll be down?” He nodded again.

Your expression turned right back to peppy and bright. “See ya, then, Johnny!” You placed a quick kiss on his cheek. As quickly as you’d pulled in, you pulled out. A flustered, trying to not look flustered Johnathon Ohnn was left leaning back on his desk. You turned the corner and left out of view. Ohnn stood up and processed what just happened. His phone vibrated in his pocket. He fished his hand into his shirt for it and came out with a text message from Linda.

“Check your calendar ;)”

Johnathon looked at the planner, which had already been lauded out on his desk. He didn’t even notice. There was already an event marked down Friday at 2 pm for Foam Party. Perfect.

“Oh, shit”

[gayfanservice]

Dylan Lenivy x Male Reader

Reader teaches kids archery bcuz I want to learn it and think it’s cool (edited lol)

*********

Putting chairs in place, art supplies in the right area, filling up the towel bin or praying the radio turns on for just one more year, picking up garbage that somehow got there and cleaning away cobwebs. Except Jacob, who refused to go into the cabins until the spiders were gone. Whatever needed to be done to prepare for the kids’ arrival.

There wasn’t much that needed to be prepared at the archery corner of the camp, just a little shack cleaning and inspecting the arrows and testing the bows to make sure they wouldn’t break on a kid. There was one bow in particular that the kids were not allowed to touch, and that bow belonged to (Y/N). It looked like every other bow, only having a different color scheme and being slighter bigger than the others. He even had his full name carved into the wood in case the children can read.

“I’m sure Mr. H. wouldn’t mind if I take a few practice shots. Probably. Hopefully… meh.” (Y/N) shrugged, Mr. H. wouldn’t come this way anyway, and there was still half an hour before the counselors had to meet at the lodge to greet the campers.

He grabbed arrows, not counting the exact amount and dropping them on the ground beside him, disobeying his own rules that he will make the children follow. No one’s here to witness his crimes, so it’s fine. (Y/N) snickered at himself, loading the bow and straightening his stance, taking a deep breath to steady his hands, I wish I ate breakfast. his stomach growled. His hand stretched back, the familiar faint burning creeping up his muscles as he aimed towards the round target.

(Y/N) took another sharp breath, straightening his arms and legs as he pulled back the string. The chirping of birds and rustling of the wind drowning into the background, focusing on nothing but the target in front of him.

With one swift movement, his fingers left the arrow and away it flew into the target, hitting the red inner circle but not smack-dab in the middle. So close to being a cool movie character. He sulked, picking up another arrow from the ground and equipping it to the bow’s string.

“Whoa, good job!” Clapping ensued behind him, the sudden noises making (Y/N) literally jump and land on an arrow he left on the ground with a SNAP.

“Fuck!” From both being startled and breaking an arrow.

The guy, Dylan as (Y/N) saw when he turned, wore a guilty expression has he nervously smiled, “Oh shit, sorry, man,” (Y/N) picked up the broken arrow pieces, groaning and thanking god that was the only damage done.

“Mother- fuck me, man.” He picked up the other two arrows, finally counting how many he had.

“Whoa, you want to fuck your mother?” (Y/N) stopped, staring into the void of dumbass-ness (Dylan).

“I- what- huh? Dude,” He stammered, completely dumbfounded at what Dylan just fucking said him after causing him to break camp equipment, even though it was his fault. Dylan still had that goofy smile on his face, obviously trying to make the mood lighter. A smile broke onto (Y/N) face, then cackling as he gave up trying to stone-face Dylan, “Dude, what the fuck?” He laughed, suddenly remembering how Dylan made him quite literally jump and laughing harder, wheezing almost. Dylan joined in, his dorky grin growing. “Bro, why’d you do that? I could’ve hurt myself!” (Y/N) playfully scolded, walking towards the target and ripping the arrow out of it.

“I just wanted to come see how the others were doing, I didn’t know you were a wuss,” he followed (Y/N) to the shack, “besides, isn’t it, like, your number one rule to not put equipment on the ground?” Dylan held the door open as (Y/N) put his bow and arrows away, deciding to hide the broken one and hopefully blame it on a kid later.

“Three, actually,” (Y/N) replied, walking out and locking the shack with the keys Chris gave him. “No one was supposed to see; no witnesses, no crime.” He shrugged, “I would’ve gotten away with it too if it wasn’t for you meddling kids,” He joked as he walked towards the lodge, Dylan following behind, hands in a surrendered pose, “I won’t tell if you won’t,” (Y/N) rolled his eyes, “Sure, buddy,”

“So,” Dylan started, eyes glancing around the trees and trail, “you arch?”

“Huh?” (Y/N)’s face contorted in confusion, wondering what the fuck is going through his head.

“Archery, you arch, y’know?”

“… uh, yea-s?” (Y/N)’s favorite, socially awkward boys. Cute, socially awkward boys.

“Cool, cool,” He trailed off, “So, how long have you been into it?”

“Oh, uh, well, did it on a school field trip once, like, eight years ago maybe? I don’t know, but I liked it so I begged to do lessons and now I’m here.” Good story telling skills.

Dylan hummed, keeping his eyes to the ground in front of him as they talked. “So, is it fun?” He paused for a moment, “Like, just shooting stuff?”

(Y/N) snorted, Just shooting stuff. Sure. “Well, it’s more than ‘just shooting stuff,” he quoted with his fingers, “It’s, uh… it’s kinda just nice, I guess. Feeling the arrow zoom away and hearing it hit what you were aiming for. It could also be a good stress relief.” (Y/N) shrugged, kicking a tiny rock in his path.

“Cool. I’ve always thought about trying it, seems interesting.” His eyes scavenged the area around them, feeling heat rise up his neck and into his face. Probably the heat.

“Well,” (Y/N) started, sheepishly, “If you want, maybe one of these days I can show you the ropes.”

“Don’t you mean ‘string’? Heh, get it? ‘Cause-” (Y/N) interrupted Dylan with a soft punch to his arm, a grin on both of their faces.

“Yes, Dylan. I get it.” Dylan’s goofy smile stayed on his face as he rubbed his arm in fake pain, “So, you in?”

He pretended to be in deep thought, crossing his arm and rubbing his chin as he hummed, “Y’know what? Sure, it’s a date!”

(Y/N) coughed, suddenly forgetting how to breathe as he felt his face become warmer, “Yeah, okay then, it’s a date.”

Dylan’s face began to hurt from smiling so much, but it was worth it when (Y/N) was the cause of it.

“Fuck, what time is it?” The two panicked, not having phones to check the time didn’t help. “Fuck, run?”

“Run.”

*********

It’s short, its bad, i dont care hope someone likes it and maybe request some quarry

[daydream-cement]

so i was thinking about new years and loved the idea of larissa and r being each others new years kiss.

like the two of them are in an urgent meeting discussing something that had gone down with some students before christmas break, them needing to get some reports done and filed. them sipping some champagne, just for festivities. the meeting going on so long they lost track of time, only a few minutes left before midnight, realizing this one of them takes the leap and asks the other to be their new years kiss, and linger on each other’s lips longer than they should

New Years Kiss

Larissa Weems x Reader

“I can’t believe their end of semester prank was to reshuffle the entire filing room…” You sit back against the wall and lean you head back, banging your head gently against the wall to make your frustration known. Scattered around you were the files of the hundreds of Nevermore students, all needed to be put back into place.

Larissa Weems sat next to you, resorting through her file of papers, obviously frustrated with the task at hand. Students had been sent home a week ago and today, December 31st, you informed your boss that the entire hardcopy filing system has been shuffled about. Now all of student and staff information was in the correct place. Both of you had to cancel New Years plans to sit in a small back room of Nevermore Academy until it was fixed.

You kept sorting. Every once in a while you would exchange sheets of paper. You were reorganizing students and she started with reorganizing staff.

Larissa checked her watch, “I’ll be right back.”

You watched her get up and leave, but you turn your head back down to the filing job at hand. You saw Larissa Weems as an incredibly beautiful woman, but you had never expected more than friendship from her. When she returned, she was carrying a small bottle of champagne and paper cups.

“It’s almost midnight. We have officially been here for 8 hours.” She handed you a paper cup, and opened the champagne over a small garbage can in case it overflowed, “I kept this little guy in my desk for emergencies.”

Truthfully, you had only been working a couple of those hours. When you were together, sometimes your conversations would veer off into philosophy, politics, or educational dilemmas.

“We should have started drinking when we started.” You stated, holding your cup still for her to fill yours and then her own. You held your cup up to her as she stood above you, “Cheers.”

“Cheers.” She tapped her cup against yours, throwing hers back like a shot. Larissa took a seat back down by you. For the next few minutes, you took turns refilling each others cups and drinking.

11:58

“No New Years kiss this year.” You lean into Larissa’s shoulder, enjoying the light tingle in your skull from the alcohol.

“Who said no New Years kiss? You can kiss me.” Larissa questioned and stated, making your eyes widen. You wouldn’t object to kissing her, this was just unexpected.

11:59

“Okay. I mean, yeah sure. I-“ You were a little nervous at your automatic response, you didn’t want to seem overzealous, but you couldn’t pass up the opportunity to kiss her.

Larissa glanced down at her phone, your eyes glanced down at the time, 11:59. Do you kiss now or-?

She leaned in first. You wondered how she was so fearless or were you just too fearful? You met her halfway, pressing your lips to hers.

You hadn’t been this close to her before. She smelled so nice. Larissa brought up a hand to your cheek. Her hands were soft too. You reached a hand out, grasping at the fabric of her jacket to keep her close.

Her mouth opened a little, you felt her tongue graze your bottom lip. You deepen the kiss a little more. It was when Larissa placed a hand on your leg that you both part slowly.

12:02

She glances down at her phone again. Its 12:02. Had your kiss really been that long? Larissa picks back up the champagne bottle, drinking some before handing the bottle to you, giving you what was left.

Larissa’s face was flush. She was embarrassed by how she behaved during your kiss. You saw the redness in her face as she pretended to busy herself with the paperwork once more.

“Thank you for that…” You say, trying not to embarrass her too much more. You turn back to your paperwork at hand.

Both of you sat much closer together now, your thighs touching. You wondered what your relationship would look like from here on out.