#this happened to me the other day and i was reeling myself in like a lost cause

[rottenish]

i do not beg easily. if you hear me say please and start to beg unprompted and unbroken? you need to run, i have become insatiably horny.

[thebirdandhersong]

I think the problem. the problem is that I have always been afraid of not being invited into the inner circle. and am always wanting to be part of the inner circle. inner circle being the circle of love and companionship and communion. of course being a TCK and a bit of a sheltered homeschooled oddball child has nudged this further along over the years. but I didn't realise how STRONG that desire still burned. to actually be wanted.

[krisseratops]

HE'S BAAAAAAACK!!!!!!

HOLY FUCKING SHIT

🤍🖤🤍

[binnie]

you guys.... i'm going down a spiral and I need advice

[pukicho]

What's the weirdest dream/nightmare you've had?

Pukicho story time???

This happened in 2004, I lived in Ireland. I had one very particular dream that I still often think about to this day:

It started in an unusual flat, somewhere up high. It was modern for the time, it felt decidedly Y2K. Every piece of furniture, the walls, the lamps, they were all bright pink. It was so trendy that it almost felt like a parody of itself, but I was a kid, and my mind wasn't clever enough for the act of parody. I would've simply forgotten this flat ever existed if the latter-half of the dream didn't leave such a permanent mark on my memory - now I can recall every last detail.

I asked a stranger to use the restroom. The toilet was downstairs, so I opened up the door to a utility stairwell and began heading down, alone.

I could look through the center of the staircase column, it was pitch-black and there was no visible bottom. I remember going down the staircase for hours, literal hours - A dark, oppressive hum from pipes and vents blinded my ears and shook the inside of my stomach with its volume. I remember thinking how long the dream felt in this moment, I recall getting consciously impatient, but I kept going. My eyes couldn't adjust to the nearly invisible-darkness surrounding me so I put my hand against the walls and handrail for guidance and shuffled downward like a blind man without his walking-stick.

Finally, only a moment before the tension would have juddered me awake, I found the door to the bathroom. I opened it up; to my relief there was light. The room was rectangular, on one end was a boxed-shaped shower with fogged glass, on the other end, a toilet. The floor and wall were decorated by the same beige tile - it all looked hastily plastered. I sat down to do my business. At this moment, the ballooning anxiety I had felt outside had dissipated almost entirely. I sat in silence - I remember acknowledging the sheer contrast in volume between the AC-hum in the bathroom to the oppressive roar from the stairwell.

It was good to be sitting there. I remember feeling as though the dream had slowly turned into a nightmare - but consciously, everything felt right again. Nothing happened for a long time. It grew so boring and tame that my mind stopped focusing on the dream entirely, and I began fading into memoryless sleep. And then the lights went out.

At this point, sitting in a darkness even blacker than the one I had just emerged from, not even a hum could be heard. The only noise I could hear, and just barely, was my own brain-matter hitting against the sides of my ears, bellowing a deep subharmonic hum from within my own skull. Suddenly, every semblance of safety was ripped from my chest, and I sat there, feeling in greater danger than I ever had before. I felt a pressure so omniscient that it choked me -- but nothing came, nothing happened. I waited for minutes - minutes where each second could be counted down in scrutinizing specificity, but nothing happened.

Suddenly, and with no presumption, I felt coarse electricity pumping through my chest. I wrangled with myself in my own bed, feeling what felt like infinite pain pass through me. I could feel myself yelling from within the dream through the vibration of my lungs. A cacophonous buzzing bled into my ears as thousands of people screamed from within my skull. The cries of a falling choir ran-through their screams, like angels falling from heaven.

At the very same moment, a body appeared in the shower. It glowed yellow, so bright and irradiated I could hardly look directly at it. It caressed itself, clawing into its body like it was reeling from immeasurable pain. It moved unnaturally, squirming and spasming as if fast-forwarded. The glass blurred its details, but it did nothing to mask its energy. It was as if it held the sun inside of its own stomach. I felt as though an intruder entered my own mind and I had no power to stop it. Just being near it was enough to kill me, and I was already dying.

The wall of sound lasted not even one full-second - and then - a piercing zap shot me up from my bed, and that was it. I can't remember anything past that point, but I assume I went back to bed shortly thereafter, forgetting what had just happened, if only for that one night. I must have had a vapid dream, worthless and memoryless, unknowing that I had just lived a dream so dreadful that it'd stick to my psyche like tar for the rest of my life.

No other dream has ever felt that way since. It was as if a second-soul decided to visit me, a soul stronger and more omnipotent than mine. Surely a dream is just a dream, regardless of the feeling it gives you, but now I go to bed every night, wishing I'll be the only soul residing within its story.

End!!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Death Wish 4

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of crime, violence/abuse and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Bucky Barnes

Part of the mob drabbles au

Summary: you’re desperate for a way out of your life and you ask a powerful man for help (plus!reader)

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Photo Inspo

You close the cupboard and nearly jump out of your skin as Adrienne stands on the other side of it. She stares at you soberly before she cracks a sheepish smile. You show your fright with a hand on your chest. 

“Ade,” you huff. 

She laughs, “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to.” 

“No problem,” you assure her. “What’s up?” 

Her nostrils flare and her smile dulls, “it’s been a week.” 

One week. Your father’s been away for a whole week. He’s rarely been gone that long. His jobs are never more than a couple days. And you haven’t heard from him, but that’s not unusual or disappointing. 

“Hopefully it will be another,” Kitty says as she walks into the kitchen with a half-finished glass of water. “It’s calm around her. Isn’t it?” 

You nod. A silence rises around the three of you. You think back to the one memory you have of a peaceful house. When it was the three of you and your mother. 

“He got that kidney stone,” Kitty says. “Had him in the hospital for days. Ma said it was barely the size of a bead.” 

“Best days of my life,” you agree. 

“I don’t remember,” Adrienne says. 

As the youngest, she doesn’t remember everything and you sometimes think that’s better for her sanity. Even your memory is splotchy. There are fractures of noise and vision. Sometimes you only see, other times it replays like a record on a player and crawls through your ears. 

“So, Ade, why are you so concerned?” Kitty inquires. 

Adrienne hesitates. She shrugs and looks away guiltily. She’s a bad liar. You all are despite the typical consequences. 

“Mitzi wanted to see a movie. They’re screening Breakfast at Tiffany’s at the Golden Reel.” 

“Audrey?” Kitty preens. “My favourite.” 

“You can come. I was going to ask both of you but I thought if daddy came back--” 

“And we’re all gone...” you add. “You two go. I can deal with him.” 

“That’s not fair,” Kitty says. 

“Really, go. I can’t focus on a movie right now.” You insist. “Have some popcorn for me, alright?” 

“He probably won’t be back,” Kitty argues. 

You wave her off, “really, it’s fine. You know I hate crowds. That theatre is tiny and it’ll probably be packed on a Friday night.” 

“Okay, but I’m bringing you back raisinettes. I know you love them.” Kitty insists. 

“Have fun. Tell Mitzi I said hello,” you turn back to the cupboards and run your hands over the laminate.  

You’ve been restless. You clean just to keep yourself busy. To keep from thinking. And when you lay down at night, you’re not kept awake by your usual dread. It isn’t your father standing on your chest, it’s Barnes. In your dreams, he doesn’t strut into the bakery, but into your house. And he sits at the table where your father would usually be and sits silently, waiting. 

That’s why this calm unsettles you. There’s always a storm to come after the quiet. It will unfurl soon enough. 

“Hey, you okay?” Kitty’s gentle touch makes you wince. 

“I’m good,” you assure her and nearly gag on your tongue. For a moment, it wasn’t your voice, it was your mother’s. That same lie she told for so long. You both hesitate at the echo of your lifetimes. “Really,” you face her, “you know I’m dying to have this place to myself. When does that ever happen?” 

She stares at you then smiles. “Yeah, enjoy it while it lasts.” 

She falters again. It’s what you’re all thinking. You want to milk every bit of joy out of your father’s absence.

Kitty turns and grabs Adrienne’s hand, quickly redirecting from the threat of inevitability, “Ade, what are you gonna wear?” 

You take out the flour and all the other ingredients you need. For once, you can afford to spare a bit extra. When you were really young, your mother made her own bread. That stopped shortly after she had Adrienne. She changed after that. She was exhausted with all three of you. 

You measure out every part before you begin. Your precision has always tied you in knots. You find it hard to get anything done unless it’s entirely orderly. In a house full of chaos, that means often you don’t get much done at all. 

As you knead the dough, Kitty and Adrienne’s voices garble on the stairs. They stomp down to the first floor and call a goodbye to you through the doorway. You holler back but keep your hands working. 

You get the loaf in the oven and clean up the mess. The empty house is eerie. You can’t remember the last time you were all alone. Really alone. Ever, if at all. 

You wash the bowls and the whisk and the roller. You put it all away, step-by-step, running through every single detail. The timer counts down, the small windable egg-shaped device your mother always had going for one way or another. Tick, tick, tick. 

It goes off and you jump. For a moment, you’re back in your memories. You’re a little girl at the table, watching your mother rush around the kitchen. Kitty’s beside you with a colouring book and Adrienne’s in her high chair. 

Your mother limps from the fridge to stove. She doesn’t let it deter her. She bends to take out the pan of food as the timer buzzes. Adrienne wails at the noise as you cover your ears. The smell of cigarette smoke singes in your nostrils. 

You twist the timer so it goes silent as you return to the present. The scent of tobacco fades as the fresh baked bread wafts through the kitchen. You open the creaky oven door and use the stained oven mitts to take the pan out. Your mother always wanted a new stove. You assume she wanted a lot of things that she never got. 

You put the pan down and shut off the oven. The doorbell pierces the air and you spin, your back hitting the counter. It wouldn’t be your father; he wouldn’t ring the door. He always comes in screaming, even in the middle of the night. 

You put the oven mitts on the table as you pass and step out into the hall. You near the door, a shadow on the other side of the marbled glass. It’s a man. Your heartbeat spikes. Your father is a criminal and a strange man knocking at your door could be dangerous. 

Is death so bad when living is terrifying? 

You open the door. A wash of deja vu flows over you. It isn’t a strange man, it’s Steve Rogers. Again. That doesn’t ease your worries. 

“You. Come.” He orders you. 

You hold your breath. That is unusual. Your father’s associates come and go, most times they barely acknowledge you, they’re just there to talk shit with him or drag him off on some caper. This is different. Different is dangerous. 

“Yeah, you,” he snaps his fingers. “Look, I don’t got all day. Let’s go.” 

You look down. “My shoes...” 

“Get ‘em,” he sighs and crosses his arms. 

You step back and leave the door open. You step into a pair of scuffed flats and turn back to him. You don’t even grab your keys as you step outside. You’re shaking. 

“Is it my father?” You ask. 

“No questions.” He snarls as he turns and marches down the narrow walkway. 

You follow him at a bouncing pace, struggling to keep up with him. He leads you to the car and opens the back door. It’s then that you notice the woman in his front seat. Her eyes are skittish as she peers back out at you. 

“Get in,” he opens the door. “And be quiet.” 

You put your head down and obey. The look on that woman’s face is enough to keep you in line. Besides, your father prepared you well. There’s an order to things and you’re at the very bottom. So keep your mouth shut and do what you’re told. 

[daydreaming-nerd]

The Bonds That Break Us (Rhysand x Female! Reader) Part 1

Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Final Part

Request: "Would you do a Rhysand x fem!reader series? Maybe fem!reader is Rhysand's mate and Tamlin's sister? So secret love?"

AN: I just got this request and I absolutely LOVE it. I have no idea how many parts it will be because it's really parking my imagination. Please feel free to leave a comment! Hearing your guy's feedback is what motivates me to write!

Summary: It was almost as if the cauldron liked to play games, as if it had sensed years of boredom and predictability and begged to be entertained. Its method of absolving its melancholy? Mate the High Lord of the Night Court to the younger sister of the High Lord of Spring. 

Warnings (so far): SA

Word count: 2765

(all photos are from pinterest)

It was like being born, even though I was the ripe age of 435. Well, ripe in the years of fae. It felt like being born, in the sense that I can’t really remember what came before that passing shade of violet. The way his eyes bore into me, and in that moment I knew he felt the tug too. 

Mates. 

I reeled for days, the peonies of spring my only console, my brother had always been so absent minded and utterly consumed with being High Lord. How could the cauldron be so cruel? To mate me to the High Lord of the Night. I spent the next week thinking it had to be a mistake, that my bored mind was playing tricks on me. Yet when the council met the week following, his eyes found me immediately, and I think in that moment I saw him for the very first time. 

I didn’t dare approach him, far too shy and afraid to approach the Lord of Night. Not just  because of what he was, but because of what my brother would say. By basic necessity Tamilin was a good brother, he doted upon me, kept me safe, gave me free roam of the palace. But there was a darkness about him I couldn’t place. It started when he disappeared with our father one night only to come back with two sets of Illyrian wings. I knew whatever happened was wrong, but as a woman in the spring court, I knew better than to open my mouth. Needless to say, Tamlin became High Lord of Spring shortly after, and from the wings mounted on our family walls I knew we had but one enemy, the night court. 

It wasn’t until the third council meeting (the third I was allowed to attend, after I begged my brother to let me go) that the High Lord of Night finally sought me out. 

My brother was busying himself with the politics of Day and Summer, talking the heads off of Helion and Tarquin. I kept to the shadows naturally, avoiding any untoward advances from other High Lords. I tried to stay hidden in my pocket of introvertedness, but then I felt him, and my skin buzzed, like it needed to be touched, to be held.

“You felt it too right?” he purred into the shell of my ear causing the buzzing of my skin to become electric.  

“I did,” I admit pathetically. 

“And you feel it now too,” he whispers as I finally turn to face him. The violet of his eyes pierce my soul and I’m left speechless and unable to move from their gaze. He’s otherworldly, he’s everything, and he’s also completely forbidden. 

“Do you?” I ask, hoping that whatever answer he gives can validate the fire in my bones. 

“I do,” he muses like he loves the game. “Your brother killed my family. He is my sworn enemy and I should hate you.” he breathes. I can feel his resolve slipping along with mine, for every statement he makes I can make an opposing one, “but all I want to do is kiss you right now.” he finishes. 

Fire runs through my veins as a sharp breath passes my lips. I feel my brother's presence and I evade myself from the High Lord of Night’s cage. My brother whisks me off to the Spring Court once more, but not before I glance back one last time to see that shade of violet I had already learned to look for in a crowd. 

That was a week ago. 

I stand in the foyer of the castle with my brother and Lucien as we prepare to join the council once again this week. 

“You look ravishing as always,” Lucien muses, eyes wandering me like they’re hungry. 

“It’s not often my brother lets me out of the house, I have to make a good impression somehow,” I say backhandedly. All I get in return is a sideways glance from Tamiln as we are taken to court. Today the meeting  resides in Tarquins’s court. It changes once a week to allow all High Lord’s to have the upper hand. The sea salted mist hits my face and the warm rays of the sun tan my skin as we walk into the council. 

When we arrive he’s already there. He stands out amongst the rest, not just because he’s dressed in black, but because he’s the most beautiful male I’ve ever seen. The definition of a forbidden fruit. As if to tempt me, Tamilin unknowingly  sits directly across from the High Lord of Night making it so I can’t lift my head without meeting the violet of his eyes. If you had asked me to recall the events the council discussed, I couldn’t, the only word left on my tongue was Night. Talk of tithes and power checks drifted over my head. The only thing to rouse me from my trance was the scraping of wooden chairs across marble floors, signaling that the council meeting had adjourned and that the more foundational political talks of High Lords would begin. 

I took it as my queue to step out onto one of the many terraces of the Summer Court. The room where the council was held was stifling. I thought that the breeze of the ocean might cool my skin, but no matter where I went that deafening heat followed.  

“I was hoping I would see you again,” purred a voice from behind me. 

I turned to find that piercing violet once more. “Of course why wouldn’t I be at the council meetings?” I ask, trying to act like I won’t be replaying this conversation in my mind when I return to bed tonight. 

“You’ve only been to four council meetings now, and your brother has a habit of keeping you locked up in the Spring Court.” he trails, drawing closer to the railing of which I’m leaning upon. 

“Well I intend to be at all of them from here on out,” I state.

“Any particular reason why?” he asks with a playful tone in his voice and I know what he’s insinuating. 

“Because I wish to be a part of the governing of my court, even though I am just a woman,” I say, evading his innuendo. 

“That’s a shame if you were part of my court you wouldn’t have such phrases like ‘just a woman’” he states almost as if he’s upset with the phrase. 

“I highly doubt that, women aren’t equals in any court,” I scoff. 

“What about Kallias and Viviane?” he asks. 

“What about them?” 

“Kallias sees Viviane as his equal, she is his mate and his High Lady,” he explains, stepping even closer to me, close enough that my skin starts to buzz again. 

“Viviane is special, everyone knows that,” I justify. 

“And you’re not?” he muses and my skin goes from buzzing to electrifying in three words. I feel his fingertips grazing my hand as if asking for permission. 

“My Lord we can’t do this,” I breathe out. 

“Call me Rhysand,” he says, stepping even closer. 

I step to the side, avoiding his advances, “My Lord, I won’t do this, I can’t do this.” I affirm. 

I see him bristle from my reluctance to call him by his name, “You’ll give into the idea of us. When you’re lying in that cold bed high up in the spring court thinking of all the ways I could warm it for you. When you’ve spent the week with nothing but this conversation on your mind,” he leans down to whisper in my ear. “This time next week you will beg for me to touch you, and I’ll happily oblige, mate.”

I’m so taken aback by his words that I can’t even form a quick witted response, I simply slid away and tried my best not to look back at him as I felt his gaze pierce my back. I nearly slam into Viviane and Kallias. 

“Y/n are you alright?” Viviane asks. 

“Yes, just feeling the heat of the summer court,” I lie, fanning my face. 

“Then you should come home with us today, it’s been so long since we had a girls night. I wish for your company." She smiles while taking my hand. 

“Shall we go home sister?” Tamilin appears, Lucien in tow. 

“Actually I think I’ll spend the night in the winter court with Viviane, she’s right,” I look at her and smile. “We haven’t had a girls night in quite a long time.”  

“Very well, I won’t get in the way of your sinful gossiping,” Tamilin smiles and leads Lucien away with him. 

If the summer court is sea salt and sun, then the winter court is pine and fresh fallen snow. Though they are opposites in every way, they are stunning in their own right, like all courts are. I’ve been here many times before to sit and talk with Viviane, she’s one of the only other ladies of nobility my age and a fierce friend. It’s not uncommon for me to spend a couple days here in the winter court, with Viviane and Kallias. 

I sit among a bed of furs near a warm fire adjacent to Viviane as Kallias pours both me and his mate a glass of red wine. 

“Thank you dear,” she smiles, kissing him on the cheek before he leaves us to gossip. 

“You and Kallias really are a perfect match,” I beam and Vivianane knows me well enough to know that there's a sadness there. 

“You’ll find it too someday, your mate. I know you will,” she assures me. “Now tell me, what of Lucien?” 

I roll my eyes taking a sip of my wine, “He’s still insufferable. The other day he backed me into a wall and if one of my ladies maids hadn’t walked in I swore he would’ve had his way with me.” 

She lets out an airy laugh, “I still can’t believe Tamiln allows him to play with you like that. He’s so fiercely protective of you with everyone else.” she says, taking a sip of her own wine. 

“Lucien is his best friend, he wouldn’t deny him anything, even his little sister.” I point out. 

“I suppose you’re right,” she smirks. The night is filled with goblets of wine and laughter as we continue to talk about the high lords of Prythian. We even go as far as to talk about her and Kallais’ sex lives, to which Kallias promptly came in laughing taking his wife to bed. 

I trudge down the hall to the bedroom the High Lord and Lady had set aside just for me a few years ago. I fall into the plush mattress, the world slightly spinning around me. The second I am left alone with my thoughts I recall the feeling of Rhysand’s breath on my neck and I shiver. 

The room spins and I feel my skin grow hot with need, my heart beats faster and my  head is drunk with that shade of violet. My hand subconsciously drifts down my body. 

You’re drunk? A voice cuts through my head. 

I sit up right and look around the room. The only thing I find is the flickering of the fireplace against the walls. 

The same voice chuckles and speaks again, No I am not in the room with you my mate.

“How are you doing this?” I ask in my head.

The daemati gift, and of course, I am your mate. The High Lord croons. 

“Get out of my head” I grumble. 

But you called for me, I can feel your… excitement.

“Then you're mistaken,” I hiss.

We both know that’s not true darling. 

“Goodnight,” I groan, rolling over to go to bed.

Goodnight, darling

The following days are long. Despite my better wishes there is a part of me that yearns to see the High Lord of Night again. I waltz through the spring court, picking flowers for the dinner table and evading Lucien’s advances. At night I find myself obsessively reading the romance novels I keep beside my bed. On one night in particular a certain scene in my book makes my toes curl and my thighs clench. My fingers skim the pages and the roughness of them is almost heightened. 

My my my, what a dirty book. That voice croons into my mind.

“Get out of my head,” I gripe. 

I can’t help myself when I feel your body react as it does. He purrs. 

“How on earth can you ‘feel’ my body?” I roll my eyes.

Like this. 

A tug reverberates through my body. Like there’s a string in the pit of my stomach that he just pulled. The sensation causes me to lose a breath as further arousal goes to my legs. He lets out a dark chuckle. 

“Don’t ever do that again,” I order him

But you loved it so much, He purrs and I can practically feel him smirking in my head. 

“You’re an insufferable bastard High Lord,” I growl at his persistence. 

Call me Rhysand. 

“I see no reason to drop informalities, my lord.” I quip back. 

My name will fall from your lips one day, and when it does I’ll be sure to swallow it with my own. Until then, I’ll leave you with this. Goodnight darling. 

I feel another tug at the bond reverberating through me and I nearly let out a moan at the feeling. I snuggle into my sheets that suddenly feel as if they are constricting around my body. I toss and turn and try to push all thoughts from my mind, but I can’t stop the idea of the High Lord's lips on mine. His night black hair in my hands, the way his moans might fall from those lips.

The next morning I take my breakfast in one of the lounge areas, still reeling from last night. My thoughts still wander to the image of his face, and how his eyes light me on fire. The door opens and a head of auburn hair pokes in. 

“Forgive me, I didn’t know you were in here,” Lucien says like he has regret, yet he sits down across from me. 

“No worries, I'm almost finished eating,” I reply, placing my tea down and getting ready to get up.. 

“And I secretly hoped to spend some time with you,” he sighs, sinking into the couch. 

“Perhaps later, I wanted to read in the garden,” I stand and make my way towards the door. 

“Perhaps now,” he growls. I feel a cold hand grasp my arm hauling me into the wall. 

“Lucien,” I hiss as my back is pressed into the wall, his frame looming over mine. 

“You are such a tease,” he smirks before kissing my neck hungrilly. His hands roam my body pulling me impossibly close. 

“I’ve never once given you any inclination that I wanted you,” I gripe at him. 

“That’s what makes you so desirable my dear,” he practically moans into my neck. 

I gather my strength and push him off of me, “I’ll remind you that I am Tamlin’s little sister and while he favors you his favor only goes so far. One word from me and he’ll send you back to the Autumn Court.” I growl at him, and it seems to be enough as he backs away and leaves me to reel from what just happened in silence. 

I sit down on the couch and take deep breaths to ground myself. 

What’s going on? Are you alright? That voice like glorious night cuts through my mind and I almost feel thankful for how it brings me back to reality. 

“Yes I’m fine,” I say back. 

What happened? I felt your fear through the bond.

“It’s nothing, just Lucien.” I dismiss him. 

Did he touch you? 

I almost swore I heard anger laced in his voice. “Well I am his favorite plaything,” I roll my eyes.

And Tamlin allows him to touch you like this? 

“As long as my virtue isn’t completely compromised so that I am still of value when he inevitably marries me off, yes. He doesn’t care.” I divulge, and quite stupidly I realize. 

As if I needed another reason to hate him.

“He is still my brother, my Lord,” I remind him, though I secretly feel the same. 

Don’t you mean, Rhysand?

“No I don’t, my Lord,” I say, drawing out the last words. 

I’ll see you tomorrow my darling, I relish the idea of seeing you in the golden light of the day court. 

[kaces-graham-crackers]

Stirring the Quiet - (7) Tangled Thoughts, Clear Hearts

Jenna Ortega x Female Reader

Summary: Days have passed since the run-in with Jenna's friends, and Y/N is still reeling from the unexpected "grilling." With the fall festival next weekend, there's excitement but nerves, too. Amid taco nights and family teasing, Y/N's mind keeps circling back to Jenna and where things might be headed. But just when Y/N thinks they’ve got it figured out, a simple text from Jenna hints at something more—if Y/N's ready to take the leap.

Word Count: 3.8k

The familiar chime of keys jingling in my hand as I unlocked the doors to The Daily Grind felt like the start of any other morning. Wilma and I stepped inside, the café still bathed in the soft, early morning glow. It was peaceful, calm—before the chaos of the day began.

Wilma flicked on the lights and headed straight for the kitchen. “I’ll start on the pastries. You got the coffee?”

I nodded, already moving toward the espresso machine. “On it.”

The morning routine was easy, familiar. It helped distract me from the whirlwind of thoughts that had been swirling in my head since the run-in with Emma and Melissa. I knew why they’d grilled me that day—testing my character, sizing me up to make sure I wasn’t playing games with Jenna. The whole thing still made me laugh a little, now that the intensity of it had passed.

But still, it left an impression.

Wilma popped her head out of the kitchen, eyeing me as I spaced out again. “You good? You’re staring off into space like you’re waiting for something to happen.”

I shook myself out of it. “Yeah, just thinking about the other day.”

Wilma raised an eyebrow. “You mean when Emma Myers and Melissa Barrera came in? You still stuck on that?”

“Kind of,” I admitted, pausing to lean against the counter. “I know they were testing me. You know, for Jenna. Just wanted to see if I had good intentions or whatever.”

Wilma smirked, wiping her hands on her apron. “Sounds like they take protecting their friend seriously.”

I nodded, a small smile creeping up. “Yeah, I get it. But they really threw me off. I wasn’t expecting it.”

She chuckled, disappearing back into the kitchen. “Well, it sounds like you passed the test. Guess they know you’re not a player.”

“Yeah,” I muttered to myself. “Guess so.”

Even though I knew they were just looking out for Jenna, it still weighed on me. Jenna was a big deal—bigger than I’d ever thought. And having her friends throw me into an interrogation, even under the guise of acting, made me realize how seriously they took her happiness.

And now, here I was, not just thinking about what Jenna might feel—but how I felt too.

I busied myself with brewing coffee and prepping the counter for the first wave of customers, trying to focus on the normal rhythm of the morning. But it was hard to shake the weight of it all. I didn’t mind that her friends cared so much. In fact, it made me admire Jenna even more, seeing how loyal and protective her circle was.

What I couldn’t figure out yet was how I fit into that picture.

Sure, Jenna had shown interest—at least, I was pretty sure she had. The lingering touches, the way she looked at me, the way she’d said I was different. All signs pointed to something more than friendship. But there was still that little voice in the back of my head, the one that nagged at me, questioning everything.

Would this really go anywhere? Did someone like Jenna, with her fame, her life in the spotlight, have room for someone like me? And even if she did, could I handle it? The attention, the scrutiny—it was all so far from the life I was used to.

I wiped down the counter, trying to shake the thoughts away, but they clung to me like stubborn shadows. As I finished prepping, Wilma popped up beside me, holding a tray of fresh pastries.

“You’ve been in your head all morning,” she observed, her tone light but probing. “Wanna talk about it?”

I glanced at her, shrugging slightly. “It’s just... everything with Jenna. I don’t know, Wilma. I feel like I’m overthinking it.”

Wilma raised an eyebrow, placing the tray on the counter and leaning against the wall. “Overthinking? What’s there to overthink? She likes you, right? And from what I can tell, you like her.”

I sighed, leaning against the counter. “Yeah, but it’s not that simple. I mean, look at her life. It’s so different from mine. I’m just a barista, and she’s... well, she’s Jenna Ortega.”

Wilma gave me a sympathetic smile. “Y/N, you’re not ‘just a barista.’ You’re you, and that’s why she likes you. You don’t have to fit into her world perfectly. If anything, she’s probably looking for something real, something outside of all the Hollywood craziness. And that’s what you give her.”

Her words made sense, but there was still that lingering doubt in my chest. “I guess. I just don’t want to get my hopes up, you know? I’ve been burned before.”

Wilma’s expression softened, and she reached out, placing a hand on my arm. “I get it. But you can’t let fear of the past ruin something good now. Jenna seems like she’s really into you. You just have to trust that and see where it goes.”

I nodded, appreciating her support. “Thanks, Wilma. I just... I don’t want to mess this up.”

“You won’t,” she said with a reassuring smile. “Just be yourself. That’s all you need to do.”

I smiled back, feeling a little lighter. Maybe she was right. Maybe I was overthinking things. Jenna had been clear about wanting to spend time with me, and her friends had given me the third degree—which, in a weird way, was a sign that they cared about her and maybe even wanted to see if I was the real deal. That had to mean something.

The bell above the door chimed, and the first wave of customers started trickling in, pulling me back into the routine of work. But even as I poured coffee and rang up orders, the thoughts of Jenna lingered, like a low hum in the background of my mind.

Later that afternoon, I was taking a quick break in the back when my phone buzzed. I pulled it out, expecting a text from Wilma or one of my brothers, but my heart skipped when I saw Jenna’s name pop up.

I unlocked my phone, and the message made my heart flutter.

Jenna: Hey, what are you doing this next weekend? There's a fall festival in town, and I thought would be fun to check it out. Want to go with me?

A festival? The thought of walking through a fall festival with Jenna, surrounded by cozy autumn vibes, sounded perfect.

I quickly typed back, immediately.

Y/N: That sounds amazing. I’m totally down. What day were you thinking?

A few seconds later, my phone buzzed again.

Jenna: Saturday afternoon? It’s supposed to have food trucks, live music, and carnival games. We could just hang out and see where the night takes us.

I smiled, the excitement bubbling up inside me.

Y/N: I’m in! I can’t wait. Saturday it is.

After sending the message, I found myself grinning like an idiot, unable to stop thinking about how much fun next weekend was going to be. The idea of spending the day with Jenna, surrounded by the crisp fall air, pumpkins, and carnival lights, felt like something out of a dream.

As I tucked my phone back into my pocket and returned to work, my mind was already racing with thoughts of what the day might bring.

Two days later, I was back in the kitchen with Marcus and Caleb, prepping for a taco night instead of our usual routine meals. Mr. Noodles, as always, was perched on top of the fridge, his eyes darting back and forth between us as if supervising our cooking process. Caleb was working on the seasoned beef, adding his special blend of spices, while Marcus was busy chopping up vegetables, humming some random tune.

The smell of fresh tortillas and sizzling meat filled the air, making the kitchen feel warm and homey. But as much as I tried to focus on cooking, my mind kept wandering back to the fall festival and the fact that I’d be hanging out with Jenna.

“I can practically see the gears turning in your head,” Marcus said, breaking my thoughts. He wasn’t even looking at me, still focused on chopping tomatoes. “Thinking about your big day with Jenna?”

Caleb, always the more thoughtful one, glanced over from the stove. “He’s got a point, Ken. You’ve been pretty quiet for someone with a big weekend coming up.”

I shook my head, trying to brush it off. “I’m just... thinking. And it’s not a big deal.”

Marcus grinned, clearly not buying it. “Uh-huh. Just a ‘casual hangout’ with a mega-famous actress. Totally not a big deal.”

I groaned, rolling my eyes. “You guys are making it sound way bigger than it is. It’s just a festival.”

Caleb smirked, stirring the taco meat. “Sure, but it’s not every day you go to a festival with Jenna Ortega. It’s okay to admit you’re nervous.”

Before I could respond, my phone buzzed with an incoming FaceTime call. I glanced down and saw it was from Mom. “Uh-oh,” I muttered, grabbing my phone. “Mom’s calling.”

Marcus’s eyes lit up. “Oh, this should be good.”

I answered the call, and immediately, my mom’s face filled the screen, her usual bright smile greeting me. “Hey, sweetie! How’s everything going?”

“Hey, Mom,” I replied, trying to keep the conversation casual as Marcus and Caleb exchanged amused glances. “We’re just making tacos.”

Dad’s voice boomed in the background. “Tacos, huh? Save some for us!”

I laughed, and just as I was about to respond, my little sister Layla’s face popped into view, her excitement practically vibrating through the phone. “Y/N! Marcus told us you have a date with Jenna Ortega! Is it true?”

I shot Marcus a glare, and he just grinned innocently, continuing to chop vegetables. “Seriously?” I mouthed at him.

Layla’s squeal of excitement pierced the air. “I knew it! You’re going on a date with a movie star! This is so cool! Can you get her autograph for me?”

My face heated up, and I rubbed my temples, trying to keep calm. “It’s not a date, Layla. We’re just hanging out.”

But before I could explain further, Mom’s face appeared on the screen again, her smile even bigger now. “Ken, that’s wonderful! I’m so glad you’re getting out there again. It’s about time.”

Dad chuckled in the background. “You better make a good impression. Who knows? Maybe she’ll be the one.”

I groaned internally, feeling the weight of everyone’s excitement. “Guys, please, it’s not like that. We’re just going to a festival. No big deal. Casual hangout”

“Right,” Marcus chimed in, clearly enjoying this. “Just a casual outing with one of the most famous actresses in the world. Totally normal.”

Layla squealed again. “Y/N, this is awesome! You’re dating someone rich! Can you imagine all the fancy places you could go?”

I facepalmed, the teasing from my family getting worse by the second. “Layla, please. I’m still figuring things out.”

Mom chuckled, her voice softening. “We’re just happy for you, sweetie. You deserve to have fun.”

Layla was still practically bouncing off the walls. “You have to tell me all about it, okay? Even if she’s not Tom Holland, this is still huge!”

I sighed, finally giving in. “Fine, I’ll tell you about it. But seriously, it’s not as big of a deal as you’re all making it.”

Dad grinned, giving me a playful wink. “We’ll be the judge of that.”

As the teasing continued, Caleb and Marcus were grinning from ear to ear, clearly loving every minute of my embarrassment. Mr. Noodles, meanwhile, had managed to sneak closer to the plate of cheese, and Marcus had to shoo him away quickly.

After a few more minutes of chaotic family chatter, I finally ended the call, feeling both exasperated and oddly comforted by their excitement.

I turned to Marcus, narrowing my eyes. “You just had to spill the beans, didn’t you?”

He shrugged, not even pretending to be sorry. “Hey, where’s the fun in keeping secrets?”

Caleb chuckled, handing me a taco shell. “Don’t worry, Ken. We’re just happy for you.”

I sighed, taking the taco and rolling my eyes. “You guys are impossible.”

Marcus raised his taco in a mock toast. “Here’s to your ‘casual hangout’ with Jenna.”

I couldn’t help but laugh despite the embarrassment. Deep down, though, I was already feeling a mix of excitement and nerves about the weekend.

Whatever was going to happen, it was clear that my family—and Mr. Noodles—would have plenty to say about it.

Later that evening, after the chaos of dinner and the endless teasing had died down, I found myself curled up on the couch with Mr. Noodles resting comfortably on my lap. His steady purring was a welcome comfort after the whirlwind of emotions the past few days had stirred up. I absentmindedly scratched behind his ears as I scrolled through my phone, trying to unwind.

It wasn’t the festival yet, but the anticipation still hung in the air, making it hard to focus on anything else. My mind kept drifting back to Jenna, replaying every conversation, every moment we’d shared. Was I reading too much into things? Or was there something real between us?

My phone buzzed with a notification, and I glanced down, expecting it to be another message from Marcus with more teasing. But to my surprise, it was a text from Jenna.

Jenna: Hey! Hope you’re free this weekend. I was thinking we could check out this new art exhibit downtown. I heard it’s really cool, and maybe grab some coffee after?

A smile tugged at my lips. It wasn’t a festival or anything grand, but the idea of spending time with her, doing something as simple as visiting an art exhibit, felt… right. I quickly typed a response, trying to play it cool even though my heart was doing little flips in my chest.

Y/N: That sounds great! I’d love to. What time were you thinking?

She replied almost immediately.

Jenna: How about Friday around noon? We can make a whole afternoon of it if you’re up for it.

Y/N: Sounds perfect. Can’t wait!

As soon as I hit send, a wave of nervous excitement washed over me. It wasn’t just about hanging out with her anymore—it felt like something more.

I spent the rest of the evening thinking about how things had shifted between us, from casual coffee shop chats to this. It was strange, but in the best way possible.

Friday came faster than I expected, and by the time I was getting ready, the nervous excitement had hit full force. Caleb and Marcus, of course, were no help as they hovered around, watching me like vultures.

“So,” Marcus started, leaning against my bedroom doorframe with a grin. “Big day with Jenna, huh?”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t hide my smile. “It’s not a date.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Caleb said, smirking as he fluffed a pillow on my bed for no reason at all. “But if it were a date, hypothetically, you’d want to look good, right?”

I glanced at them both, trying to suppress a laugh. “Hypothetically.”

Marcus gave me a once-over and nodded. “Well, you’re looking date-ready to me.”

“Guys, it’s just an art exhibit..”

“Uh-huh.” Caleb exchanged a knowing look with Marcus. “Whatever you say, Y/N.”

I sighed, grabbing my jacket and throwing it over my shoulder. “Okay, I’m heading out before you two drive me crazy.”

Marcus gave me a mock salute. “Good luck, sis. You’ve got this.”

“Thanks, I guess?” I muttered, shaking my head as I headed for the door. Mr. Noodles meowed from his perch on the windowsill, watching me go with what I could only describe as mild disinterest.

When I arrived at the art gallery, Jenna was already waiting outside, dressed in a casual yet effortlessly stylish outfit, as always. She spotted me and waved with that signature smile that always made my heart skip a beat.

“Hey!” she greeted as I approached. “You ready to be blown away by some modern art?”

I grinned. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

We spent the next couple of hours wandering through the exhibit, making comments about the more abstract pieces and laughing at our completely amateur interpretations. Jenna’s knowledge of art was impressive, though she played it down, explaining how her mom had always taken her to galleries when she was younger.

It was easy being with her—comfortable, even when the conversation dipped into deeper topics. As we moved from room to room, I couldn’t help but feel like this was the kind of moment you didn’t get often—something simple, but meaningful.

After the exhibit, we grabbed coffee at a nearby café, sitting by the window as we sipped our drinks. The conversation flowed as naturally as ever, and before I knew it, hours had passed.

So,” Jenna said, her tone a bit more serious as she swirled her cup. “I’ve been meaning to ask... how are things going? You know, with The Daily Grind, and everyone?”

I looked at her, sensing that she wasn’t just asking about my day. “Things are... good. Busy, but good. And you?”

Jenna smiled softly, her eyes meeting mine. “Same. But it’s been nice... having someone to talk to. Someone who gets it.”

I felt a warmth spread through my chest, a feeling that seemed to be happening more and more whenever we talked. But there was something different in the way she said it this time. Her gaze lingered on mine, and for a brief moment, I thought I saw something flicker in her eyes.

Before I could respond, Jenna shifted slightly in her seat, her fingers tracing the rim of her coffee cup. “Actually, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.” Her voice had a softer, more hesitant edge to it.

I tilted my head, intrigued. “What’s up?”

She bit her lip, almost like she was searching for the right words. “You remember when we first started hanging out? It felt... I don’t know, casual. But lately... I’ve been thinking it’s something more than that. Maybe it always has been, and I didn’t want to admit it.”

My heart pounded in my chest as I tried to process what she was saying. Was she about to say what I thought she was? Was this actually happening?

“I know I’ve been careful about keeping things... low-key,” she continued, her eyes still locked on mine. “But I’ve realized I don’t want to pretend anymore. I don’t want to overthink everything just because of how complicated my life is.”

I swallowed hard, my voice barely above a whisper. “What are you saying, Jenna?”

Jenna let out a small, nervous laugh, running a hand through her hair. “I guess what I’m trying to say is... I like you, Y/N. More than just a friend. And I’ve been trying to figure out if you feel the same way, or if I’m just imagining things.”

I blinked, stunned for a moment. Of all the things I’d imagined happening today, this was not one of them. Jenna Ortega, the girl who had been the subject of all my daydreams for the past few months, was sitting across from me, confessing her feelings. For me.

A grin spread across my face as my nervousness faded. I leaned in, gently placing a hand on hers. "You're not imagining things, Jenna," I said softly, my heart racing. "I’ve felt the same for a while. I wasn’t sure if I knew fully or was ready for it."

Jenna’s eyes widened in surprise, but a bright smile broke across her face. “Really? You’ve... felt the same?”

I nodded, my own smile growing. “Yeah. I didn’t want to push anything, especially since I know your life is crazy and complicated. But... yeah. I like you, Jenna. A lot.”

Her smile softened into something more tender, wrapping her fingers around mine and holding my hand. "I'm really glad you said that."

For a moment, we just sat there, the world outside the café falling away as we looked at each other. It was like everything had shifted between us in the span of a few sentences, but in the best possible way.

“Does this mean...” I started, trying to piece together what this meant for us. “That we’re...?”

Jenna laughed softly, her eyes twinkling. “Let’s just say we’re taking a step forward. I don’t want to rush anything, but I also don’t want to hold back anymore.”

I nodded, feeling a sense of relief wash over me. “I’m okay with that.”

We both sat back, the tension in the air replaced by something lighter, something that felt like the start of something new.

“There’s something else I’ve been meaning to tell you,” Jenna said, her tone shifting to something more serious.

I tilted my head, curious. “Yeah?”

She hesitated, fiddling with her bracelet for a moment before looking up at me. “I’ve been offered a pretty big role. It’s... out of the country, though. And it’s long-term.”

My stomach did a small flip. “Out of the country? For how long?”

Jenna sighed. “Six months, maybe longer. It’s a dream project, but I didn’t want to bring it up until I knew for sure. And now it’s official.”

I blinked, trying to process the information. “Wow. That’s... amazing, Jenna. But... six months?”

She gave a small nod, her eyes searching mine for a reaction. “Yeah, I know. It’s a lot to take in. I don’t even know how to feel about it yet. On one hand, it’s such a huge opportunity, but on the other...”

I didn’t know what to say for a second, my mind racing with thoughts. “You’re going to take it, right?”

Jenna looked down, biting her lip. “I think so. But I wanted to tell you first. I didn’t want to just... disappear without you knowing what was going on.”

I sat back, taking in her words. It felt like a heavy shift, something neither of us had been expecting. Six months was a long time, and part of me wasn’t sure how to feel about it. But at the same time, this was a huge step for Jenna, and I knew how much her work meant to her.

“I’m glad you told me,” I said, my voice steady. “It sounds like an incredible opportunity. I’m proud of you.”

Jenna smiled softly, relief washing over her face. “Thanks. I just didn’t want you to think I was... leaving, you know?”

I nodded, understanding the unspoken weight behind her words. This wasn’t just about the project; it was about us—whatever this was it was getting serious. And while the news felt like a curveball, it didn’t change how I felt. Not in the slightest.

“Well, we’ll figure it out,” I said, offering her a reassuring smile. “Whatever happens, we’ll figure it out.”

Jenna’s smile grew, and I saw a flicker of hope in her eyes for the first time since the conversation started. “Yeah. We will.”

[jammydodger3579]

Young Lust pt. 2

Summary: Y/N needed a break from thinking about Logan... (no spoilers hehe) Read part 1 here.

A/N: Thank you all soooo much for the response to the first chapter, really my head cannot fit through the door. Anyway here is the second chapter, enjoyyy.

18+ for mature audiences only

2800+ word count.

Warnings: smut, oral fem!receiving, lil violence and a lil cursing

Still reeling after the encounter in the broom closet a few days ago, Y/N needed to clear her head. She threw on a jacket and left her room. She found herself in the garage, deciding that a ride on her motorbike would help. Her thoughts were loud. What did that mean? Logan never contacted her afterwards, he didn’t even say anything besides a polite goodbye before she left that night. It left her only longing more. Maybe that's what he wants? Y/N wouldn’t know. She was at a loss, pulling into the carpark of a bar nearby. A drink would do her good. She walked inside and went straight to the bar, ordering her favourite drink. The bar was busy due to a competition they were hosting, so the patrons were rowdy. Y/N scanned her surroundings by instinct. Two exits and a few windows. Y/N didn’t know why she was on edge, Logan kept plaguing her mind. An older man came and sat next to her. 

“Hey pretty lady, can I buy you a drink?” He sounded sleazy, he even looked like a predator. Y/N scoffed and moved away from him. “Hey come on now, is that how you treat a gentleman?” 

“I don’t want any trouble,” She said, getting up. 

“Neither do I, princess” The man stood up and cornered Y/N. Before she could react, the man was yanked back. All of a sudden, the man was pinned against the wall and punched in the face. She got out her handgun and aimed it at the two men before her. Y/N moved the handgun away when she noticed it was Logan in front of her. The bartender started yelling for them to leave the bar.  

“She doesn’t want you, bub” he growled through gritted teeth. The man, whose nose was spilling blood, squirmed away from Logan and left. Y/N finished her drink and left the bar. Logan followed after her. “We need to talk” 

“I don’t want to hear it” 

“What's wrong?” 

“What's wrong?” she scoffed, incredulously. “What's wrong is you don’t speak to me, you criticise me in battle, you fuck me in a closet and then you come in here all knight in shining armour like nothing happened. What is wrong with you?” She went to mount her bike when Logan touched her shoulder. He pulled her into a hug and held her there for a minute. Y/N wanted to sink into his arms and stay there but she pulled away. She wanted to know him like he knew her. “Well?” she pulled out a cigarette and lit it, taking a long drag, “You wanted to talk?”

“I don’t know what came over me, I just didn’t want you to get hurt” 

“You’ve seen me fight, Logan, I can handle myself. I’ve handled a lot worse” She couldn’t read his face. He was like a brick wall and Y/N wanted to tear it down. 

“I don’t know where to start with you” 

“I just want you to acknowledge me, you didn’t say a word to me after we… after that happened. I don’t have the time for games. I want to know you” Y/N took another drag of her cigarette. 

“What do you want to know?”

“I don't know,” She thought hard “Do you often take people into closets?”

“Not for a long time,” Logan said, shifting his posture. “I’m not good with other people, but you, you’re different, you’re…” He trailed off. He wasn’t ready to finish that sentence. “We’re a good team, I think because we don’t talk about it” 

Y/N nodded, understanding. She wasn’t ready to talk about it either. That conversation was a can of worms neither of them wanted to open. Who they are, what they mean to each other. She admired Logan’s ability to read her without speaking. She didn’t want to say it, but she had to. “Casual… we can just keep it casual and see where things go. The others don’t have to know. We can just keep it between ourselves and-” She was cut off by Logan's lips pressing against hers. She leaned into it, wrapping her arms around his neck. 

“I want whatever you want” 

“I want you” she breathed. Logan placed one last kiss on her lips before pulling away. He had a smile on his face. 

“Here?” Logan looked around the carpark, scanning to see if anyone was near. Y/N looked up and blinked. 

“No, not like that,” She said, lightly hitting Logan on the shoulder. “Get your mind out of the gutter” They kissed again. It was passionate and soft. Maybe they didn’t need to have in-depth conversations about their relationship to be on the same page. Just as the kiss started getting heated, Y/N’s phone rang. Sighing, she pulled it out of her pocket and answered the call. It was Yelena. 

“Hey it’s me, Stark called a meeting, he wants us there too. Are you far away?”

“Uhh, a little. I took my bike out. What’s this meeting about?”

“Not sure yet, but the X-men are on their way” Y/N’s eyes met with Logans. They’re probably expecting him as well. She decided to play it cool. 

“Fitting, I’m at a bar and I bumped into Logan here. We’ll meet you at the Compound” and before Yelena could ask questions, Y/N hung up the phone. 

“I’ll follow you, let's go,” Logan said, walking over to his bike. They rode their bikes to the Compound, Logan leading the way. The ride was peaceful this time, Y/N couldn’t help but admire the view. Once they arrived, they parked their bikes in the garage. Together, they walked up to the conference room. The very room where she and Logan had shared their first kiss. It suddenly dawned on Y/N, the jacket she was wearing. Logans jacket. He’d given it to her the night of the dinner party. And he never even mentioned it, that bastard. How embarrassing, she thought to herself. The room was filled, Kitty, Storm, Rogue and Bobby were with the Professor on one side of the table. Yelena, Sam, Bucky, Rhodey and Stark sat on the other side. Y/N took an empty seat next to her best friend. Logan stood near the Professor.

She leaned over to Y/N, “bumping into Logan, huh?” she whispered. Y/N shot Yelena a look that said “Don’t test me” before turning to Tony, who was handing out files. 

“Thanks for coming everyone, we have new intel on who's snatching these mutant kids and where they could be,” He said

“Widows?” Y/N said, taking the file and skimming through the words. Her heart started to beat so fast and loudly, she swore everyone could hear it. 

“We have reason to believe Dreykovs followers are experimenting on mutant girls to make a more powerful type of Widow. His army split up after his death and has been doing this since. They have multiple outlets, all over the world. We’ve been investigating this for a while but we weren’t 100% sure how to tell you two” Tony gestured to Y/N and Yelena. Yelena stood up from her seat. 

“You knew? And you kept it from us?” Her accent was thick, indicating she was angry. “How long have you known?” Tony hesitated. Y/N looked over at everyone, she could see it on their faces. They all knew. She felt embarrassed like she had something on her face and no one was telling her. “How long have you known?” Yelena slammed her hand on the table. This made Y/N jump. 

“Yelena-” she started when Tony cut her off. 

“Three months. When Charles came to us. He wasn’t sure how to handle the situation so he came to us and asked for our help. We just didn’t want you guys to take it too personally” Y/N scoffed. She couldn’t believe any of this. There were no words to describe how she felt. She needed to flee, to get some fresh air. Have a smoke maybe. As she stood up, she felt dizzy. These kids, these girls were innocent, helpless. She had to do something. Putting aside her current negative feelings towards Stark, she spoke up. 

“I’ll help… look if these kids are getting treated the way we did, then the worst has already happened. We have to put an end to this, and stop it from happening again,” She looked at Yelena, who nodded.

“I-I suppose you’re right…” Yelena took her file off the table and left. It must’ve been too much for her. Bucky got up and followed his girlfriend. There was yelling, mostly in Russian, and then a door slammed. Tony looked around at the rest of the group. 

“There’s information in everyone's files about which base they’re gonna take out. Y/N, if you want to help, you can go with Charles and Logan. We have enough beds here if you guys want to stay the night and then fly out tomorrow morning” Stark said. The Professor nodded. 

“That would be great, thank you,” He said before wheeling out of the room. Stark followed, sparking up a conversation with Bobby as they went. It wasn’t long until Y/N and Logan were the only two left in the room. Again. That day replayed in her mind, how the room fell silent as she and Yelena walked into the room. Were they talking about the two of them that day? If they were, how much of her past did Logan know? She wanted to scream, but that wouldn’t be productive. Logan walked over to her and put an arm around her waist but she moved away. She sat down and opened the file. There were photos of men from a lifetime Y/N had long forgotten, holding young girls and forcing them into vans. She recognised some of the Widows that were assisting, thinking they had died. Her heart ached as she read through the files. 

“I would’ve told you” Logan spoke softly. “Charles forbid it, said it could compromise the outcome” Y/N scoffed. 

“I’m not weak, I was top of my class, Yelena and I. I was trained to be heartless” She said, though her words didn’t sound strong. 

“No one would judge you if you sat out, we’d all understand” 

“I said I could do it, so I’m gonna fucking do it. These kids need someone on their side, someone who knows what they went through” Y/N turned around to face Logan. He had a soft look on his face, he was concerned. Y/N didn’t know that Logan knew what it was like to be used, beaten and experimented on. She didn’t know the lifetime of abuse that he had lived through. 

“Why don’t you get some rest, see how you feel in the morning” Logan said as she stood up from her seat. 

“I don’t need rest, I need to read through these files and figure out a plan” 

“We can do that in the morning, Charles will probably figure something out” Logan put a hand on her shoulder. “Come on, let's just take a break from thinking about this” 

“I can’t just “take a break” Logan. This is my life. I live with this every day. All my sisters I let down by not finding them. Now they’re being controlled and used to do this!? I escaped and went to a semi-normal life, these girls didn’t even get a chance. I should’ve gone back and investigated more. I just decided to push it all away”

“It’s not your fault. There's no one to blame except for the men in charge. C’mon, let's get some rest” He held out a hand to her, and she took it. 

“Can you… would you stay with me? Maybe… if you want” She sounded shy. Logan smiled and placed a kiss on her forehead. 

“Thought you wouldn’t ask, princess” They walked hand in hand to Y/N’s room. Once they were behind closed doors, Y/N pressed her lips against Logans in a desperate attempt at bringing him closer to her. Her hands went straight to Logans pants, trying to undo the belt buckle. “Whoa there, sweetheart. Are you sure you want this right now?” 

“Please, can we just forget about whats going on? It’s fine, I want this” she reassured, taking her shirt off. She was in a rush. “Why, do you not want to?”

“No, I want to, just feels like maybe you’d like to talk about how you’re feeling instead?” 

“C’mon now, we work better without talking” She looked up into his eyes before kissing his neck. His breathing hitched, he was enjoying it. Logan picked her up and placed her down on the bed, before taking off his shirt. He climbed onto the bed, his weight making it sink in the middle. Y/N smiled, pulling Logan in for a kiss. It was passionate, delicate. Logan snaked a hand behind her back, uncasping her bra skillfully with one hand. Together, they undressed, tossing their clothes onto the floor. Logan looked at the sight infront of him. 

“You’re so beautiful” he breathed. 

“Shh, no talking” Y/N said, kissing Logan. He moved down, kissing her neck, her collarbone, her chest before attaching his lips to her nipple. His hand went to her other breast, massaging it. Y/N moaned, arching her back to meet Logan. He tugged slightly with his teeth, gaining yet another moan from her. Logans eyes met with Y/N’s, asking silently if that was okay. She nodded for him to continue.  He trailed kisses down her stomach before he lifted both of her legs over his shoulders. He licked a stripe up her cunt, tasting her slowly. Y/N squirmed into his face. Logan smiled, before attaching his lips to her clit, sucking gently. She moaned loudly, swearing his name. Her hips buckled, causing Logan to put both hands on her lips and hold her down. He lapped up her juices like he was starving and she was food. It wasn’t long before Y/N was close to her end, her pussy clenching around nothing. Logan took this opportunity to insert two fingers, curling them up to hit just that spot. He gained a good rhythm, as he continued to eat her out. Y/N was trembling, her orgasm getting closer, closer, closer…

A deep moan escaped from her lips as she grabbed onto the sheets. Her face, a contorted shape of pleasure. She’d never been eaten out like that before. Logan was still going at it, slowing his fingers to allow Y/N to ride out her high. He looked up and his eyes met with hers. She pulled him up to meet her face before hungrily kissing him. She needed him, bad. She moved her hips to meet with Logans, and he quickly got the hint. He stoked himself a few times before he inserted his cock. Logan thrusted in and out, moving slowly at first to allow her to get used to his size. They moved insync, becoming one together. It was intimate, as Logan starred deeply into her eyes. Y/N pulled him down to kiss, wanting to feel every inch of his body on hers. Logan started kissing that sweet spot on her neck, causing her to dig her nails into his back. He leaned back onto his knees, holding onto Y/N’s hips, and he started to thrust in deeper and messier than before. She was getting close again, her eyes locked onto Logan’s as lust and desire filled his eyes. Deep down, she knew this was more than casual. She had feelings for him that she even didn’t know existed. She just couldn’t figure out if he felt the same way. 

“I-I’m close…” she breathed out, breaking her silence. 

“I know, baby” Logan said, kissing her. The contact threw her over the edge, wrapping her legs around Logan’s waist. She didn’t want him to leave and it’s not like she could get pregnant anyway. Logan came shortly after a few more thrusts, riding out his high. He pulled out and layed down next to Y/N, pulling her into his arms. She rested her head on his chest, listening to his racing heartbeat. 

“Thank you,” she said, drawing circles on Logan's abs.  “Anytime, now get some rest” With that, it wasn’t long before she drifted off. Y/N’s dreams were vivid. Images of Dreykov and his followers plaguing her mind. Saying she was worthless, replaceable, disposable. She tried to scream but no noise came out. She stirred, reaching her arms out to find Logan. But he wasn’t there. She sat up in bed, looking around the room. His clothes were gone. He was gone.

Next chapter here

[cuubism]

I REALLLLLLLLLLLLLYYYY LOVE YOUR BELOVED PROFESSOR DREAM FIC!!!!!!!! PEOPLE TEND TO FORGET THAT!!! EVEN IN CANON!!!! HES FULL OF LOVE!!!! AND PASSION!!! AND HE CARES SO MUCH IT LITERALLY DOOMS HIM!!!!! AND IF ONLY HES BEING GIVEN A MUCH MORE KINDER CIRCUMSTANCES!! HE WOULD BEHAVES EXACTLY LIKE YOUR FIC!!! I FEEL SO CRAZT!!!! PLEASE NEVER DIE I LOVE YPUR WORKS SO MUCH!!!

I've grown quite fond of him myself 🥺 @five-and-dimes and I discussed him at length and created more lore for him. It was determined that Dream's earnest whimsy probably got him bullied a lot when he was younger. Not since he met Hob though.... it's probably a coincidence 🤷‍♀️ surely everyone just realized the error of their ways and decided to grow up and be kinder! Dream knew it would happen some day :)

-

Dream is still reeling as he reaches the cafe where he's meant to get afternoon coffee with Hob. He feels a bit shaky, but happy. Joyful. In disbelief.

When Cori had cornered him after class, Dream had been sure he was going to shove him up against a wall, or throw his books on the ground, or any of the other number of things he seemed to get satisfaction out of doing. He'd clutched his books tight, bracing himself.

Instead, Cori had, with halting, uncomfortable words, apologized to him. Actually apologized! Dream had been wary at first, sure it was just another way to hurt his feelings--he's been called gullible many times and he knows there's truth to it--but Cori hadn't taken it back, or suddenly turned on him again like he had every other time Dream had tried to give him the benefit of the doubt. He seemed genuine.

It was what Dream had always wanted, what he had always hoped for, so decided to take it and just pray that Cori wouldn't change his mind again in the future. Or trip him as he walked away.

He didn't, though. And as Dream left to walk to his next class, he couldn't help but feel victorious. He knew he would get through to him eventually! He'd always known that eventually people would grow out of their juvenile pranks and learn to treat others better. And finally it was starting to happen.

None of the other usual suspects bothered him that day, either. Nobody tried to trip him, or snickered when he said something overly sentimental in class. It was like overnight the world had woken up and decided to better itself. It was magical.

So he's still shaking a bit when he sits down across from Hob, who's already gotten him his mocha latte. When he doesn't say anything at first, just takes several long sips of his drink, Hob nudges his leg under the table.

"Everything alright?"

"Cori," Dream says, "apologized to me."

He must have milk foam on his lip, for Hob reaches across the table to wipe it away with his thumb, lingering on the corner of Dream's mouth. "Did he?"

Dream nods. "It- it did not seem to be a joke. Hob, I think he actually learned."

Hob smiles sweetly. "That's great, honey."

"Nobody tripped me today," Dream muses. "Or made fun of what I said in class. I cannot believe it. I knew that eventually people would grow up and learn how to treat others kindly, but it's startling to see it happen in real time."

"They must have learned from your example," Hob says. He takes Dream's hand on the table and starts playing idly with his fingers. Hob is very touchy-feely with him, always holding his hand, or playing with his fingers like they're a fidget toy, or petting his hair while they're lying in bed together. Dream found it strange at first. He was used to others he had attempted to date wanting to rough him up a little. When he questioned it, they would say, with a laugh, you're just too sheltered. Dream didn't think he was, particularly, he just didn't understand wanting to push someone around. At least not without finding out if they even liked it.

When Dream mentioned it, Hob had said, with a grimace, that Dream's kindness could be misinterpreted as innocence, and it made people want to 'corrupt him.' Dream didn't get it, but there were a lot of things he 'didn't get', at least according to other people. In any case, Hob didn't do that, because he knew Dream didn't like it, so Dream is content now. And he has Hob to at least attempt to interpret other people's odd behavior for him.

"I hope it sticks," he says, worriedly. "I would hate for Cori and the others to backslide now that they're finally making progress."

"Oh, don't worry," Hob says, bringing Dream's hand to his lips and kissing his knuckles. He looks at Dream over their joined hands, gaze absolutely sure, a look that never fails to make Dream shiver pleasantly when it's directed at him. "I think it'll stick."

[coolgrl111]

but i’m a tennis player!

tashi duncan x fem!reader

summary: after your family and boyfriend accuse you of being gay, you talk to your close friend tashi to work out these strange feelings.

warnings: use of y/n please forgive me 😭

a/n: idk how i thought of this buttt woohoo!

it felt like any other day, until i walked into the living room and saw everyone gathered—mom, dad, my friends, even patrick. their faces weren’t just concerned; they were studying me like i was something delicate, about to shatter. my stomach churned, but i forced a smile, wondering why the room felt so off.

“y/n, we need to talk,” my mom said, her voice soft but lined with something that made my skin prickle. she gestured to the couch next to her, and as i sat, i felt a weight pressing down on me. the air was thick with unspoken words, and my heart raced.

“we think you might be… confused,” my dad added, his eyes searching mine for some kind of understanding. i glanced around, confused myself—confused about what? then my eyes landed on patrick. he looked at me, but not like he usually did. his eyes were filled with pity, not the warmth i’d grown used to. he shifted in his seat, avoiding eye contact, and that was when the dread really sank in.

“we’ve noticed some… changes,” my mom continued. her tone was too careful, like she was trying to cushion the blow of something she knew i wouldn’t want to hear. “the way you act around patrick, the things you say, how distant you seem.”

i could feel the blood drain from my face as i glanced over at patrick. he wasn’t defending me. he wasn’t saying anything at all.

“and you spend so much time with your friends, especially that girl from tennis,” mom added, her voice dropping like it was some kind of revelation. she was obviously talking about tashi duncan. “you’re just not as… affectionate with patrick as you should be.”

i blinked, trying to make sense of the absurdity. was this really happening?

“you’re a vegetarian now,” my dad chimed in, as if that had anything to do with it. since when did not eating meat mean anything about who i was?

“that’s just part of my diet plan, dad. and tashi is just my friend.”

but they kept throwing out these little things—how i dress, the music i listen to, how i wasn’t all over patrick like they expected me to be. my mind reeled as the pieces fell into place.

they think i’m gay.

it was like the room spun for a moment, the realization hitting me harder than i could have imagined. i felt the heat rise to my cheeks, my heart pounding so loud i was sure they could hear it. they weren’t asking, they were telling me. they were sure. they’d convinced themselves.

“we just want to help you, y/n,” my mom said softly, reaching for my hand, but her touch felt foreign. all of them felt like strangers. and patrick—he hadn’t said a word.

i turned to patrick, my voice trembling with disbelief. “you really believe this, pat?” the words hung in the air between us, the weight of them making it hard to breathe. he still wouldn’t look at me, his eyes focused somewhere far away, like if he didn’t make eye contact, none of this was really happening.

he shifted uncomfortably, running a hand through his hair. “y/n, it’s not like that. they’re just… worried. i’m worried.”

my heart twisted in my chest, and i stepped closer, desperate for him to see me, to really see me. “worried? about what, exactly? because i don’t act the way they think i should? because i don’t hang all over you like some… stereotype?”

his face tensed, and for a second, i thought i saw something in his eyes—guilt, maybe. but he pushed it down, forcing a sigh. “it’s not just that, y/n. they just want to make sure you’re okay.”

i scoffed, feeling the sting of betrayal sharper than ever. “i’m fine, patrick. but you’re standing here, letting them convince themselves that i’m broken, that there’s something wrong with me. is that what you think too?”

finally, his gaze met mine, and for a second, i saw the boy i thought i knew. but then he shook his head, glancing at my parents, his voice quieter than i’d ever heard it. “i just think… maybe it wouldn’t hurt to talk to someone, y/n.”

it felt like the ground had been ripped out from under me. i stared at him, disbelief flooding my entire body. “you really believe this, don’t you?”

��

the next day at school, i found myself gravitating toward tashi like i always did, feeling more anxious than ever. she was leaning against her locker, her usual calm confidence wrapping around her like armor. but when she saw me approaching, her eyes softened.

“hey,” she smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “you okay? you look like you didn’t sleep.”

i let out a heavy sigh, leaning against the locker next to her, the tension from last night still weighing on me. “i didn’t,” i admitted. “patrick, my parents… they sat me down last night. they think there’s something wrong with me.”

tashi frowned, pushing off her locker and standing a little closer to me. “what do you mean?”

i shifted, uncomfortable just saying the words out loud. “they… they think i might be… gay.” the word still felt foreign on my tongue, heavy like it didn’t quite fit, even though deep down, something about it resonated. “patrick barely even defended me. i asked him if he believed it, and he practically said yes.”

tashi’s brow furrowed, her eyes flicking over my face with concern. “that’s insane. they’re just… what, jumping to conclusions?”

“yeah, pretty much.” i rubbed my arm, looking at the floor. “but the thing is… they’re not exactly wrong. i mean, i don’t know, tashi. it’s like they’re seeing something i’m too scared to admit to myself.

her face softened as she glanced around, making sure no one was listening, before stepping even closer to me, our shoulders brushing. “y/n… that doesn’t make you broken. it’s… it’s okay to feel confused about this stuff.”

her voice was so gentle, it almost undid me. i looked at her, seeing the faint blush spreading across her cheeks as she spoke, like she was nervous too, like she was feeling something she wasn’t used to acknowledging either. “you don’t think i’m crazy?”

“no,” she said quickly, her eyes holding mine a little too long, something unspoken passing between us. “you’re not crazy. not at all.”

my heart did a strange flip in my chest. i’d always felt closer to tashi than anyone else, but standing there with her, after everything that had happened, something clicked into place. and when i noticed her blush deepen, her lips parting as if she wanted to say something more but couldn’t, i felt it. maybe i wasn’t the only one confused.

the air between us felt thick, like it was charged with something unspoken that neither of us had dared to confront before. tashi looked at me, her eyes full of uncertainty, but also something deeper, something I couldn’t quite name yet. and I realized, standing there in that quiet space between classes, that I wanted to figure it out, even if it scared me.

“y/n,” she began softly, her voice almost a whisper, “you don’t have to explain yourself to them, or to anyone. but… do you know how you feel?”

i swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry. “i don’t know,” i whispered back. “i mean, i never really thought about it until… until they brought it up. but now? i just feel so confused. and… being around you, it’s like…” i trailed off, my cheeks burning as the words failed me.

tashi’s gaze flickered down to my lips, and then back up to my eyes, and suddenly the distance between us seemed almost unbearable. she shifted nervously, her hand brushing mine for just a second, sending a jolt through my whole body.

“y/n, you can talk to me,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper now, her cheeks glowing with that same blush from earlier. “i’m here. always.”

i didn’t even realize i’d moved closer to her until i felt her breath on my skin, warm and a little unsteady. i looked up, meeting her eyes again, and for a split second, everything else fell away — the confusion, the fear, the expectations from my parents, patrick… all of it faded, leaving just the two of us in that charged moment.

before i could think, before i could talk myself out of it, i leaned in. our lips met, soft and tentative at first, like we were both testing the waters of something neither of us fully understood. but the second her hand slid up my arm, a wave of warmth crashed over me, making my head spin.

then, just as quickly as it had started, panic seized me. i pulled back abruptly, my heart racing, breath coming in short, uneven bursts. “i… i’m sorry,” i stammered, backing away from her like i’d done something wrong, even though the kiss still lingered on my lips, sending a strange thrill through my whole body. “i don’t know what… i just—”

tashi looked just as flustered as i felt, her hand instinctively reaching out toward me before she dropped it, unsure. her lips were still slightly parted, her cheeks flushed, but there was no anger in her eyes, only understanding, maybe even longing. “it’s okay,” she said, her voice soft and a little shaky. “y/n, it’s okay. you don’t have to apologize.”

but i could feel the walls closing in on me, all the doubts and fears from the night before rushing back. “i… i need some time,” i muttered, stumbling back a step, then another, until i was nearly running down the hall.

[ultralightpoe]

Scream Queen - Eddie Munson

Authors Note: Part 9 of my halloween event! ENJOYYYYYY!

Warnings: bullying, pig blood, inaccurate carrie bro

Word Count: 3272

Requests: OPEN

~2024 Halloween Event Masterlist

[Thank you for the gif @trishnell ]

ENJOY!

It was always funny how something can be so wrong than the way you thought it, how you could expect one thing and end up with something entirely different. Though in your defense you didn’t have a real view on the world besides what your Momma had told you throughout the years. Any ideas you had were…. terrifying . 

Eddie Munson for one. 

It was never meant to be a problem, you had spent the first years of your education at home with your Momma as a teacher until that man Benny from the diner reported her though you never understood what the issue was. You knew everything you needed to know, you knew what was a sin and what was the proper way to go. But then you were thrown into Hawkins High Freshman year and that began causing issues with Momma. She grew more and more upset with every passing day. 

“They are gonna ruin you.” She would sob, pressing her handmade cross into your back as you tried to stay silent.  “You’re never gonna get it. He will never accept you into his realm if you do this. You understand me?!”

So you did your best, because you wanted to be accepted into gods kingdom. 

You fasted, you didn’t talk to anyone else, you prayed in between classes and hid your skin from viewing. You did your best. 

But that was when Munson became an issue. 

It had been after school and you had known better than to dally, you should have gone straight home and started your prayers. But you had been upset about something that had happened during gym, feeling silly and embarrassed from what some of the other girls had said and it left you reeling. So you planted yourself on one of the benches outside the school and tried to calm yourself down. 

Like the devil himself stalking after his prey he had shown up, sliding onto the bench beside you easily, smiling like he had no worries at all as you tried not to inhale the scent he was wearing. 

“What’s on your mind?” He hummed, leaning his head to the side like a cat. “Anything I can do to help?”

“Do I know you?” You ask even though you knew too much about him already. Eddie, full name Edward. He sold ungodly things by the picnic spot during lunch and often fought Jason Carver. 

“Sorry I should introduced myself. Eddie Munson. Pleasure to meet you.” He smiled like it was nothing and held out his hand for you to shake, only for you to ignore it. Turning your head to the side like you weren’t at all interested in the many rings he adorned. “Right. Back to my main question, what’s got the pretty girl looking so glum?”

“Nothing.” You snap out, throat tightening at his words. 

“I thought god hated liars…”

“And what would you know about god?” You snap back, finally turning to look at him just in time to see his eyes widen a little with shock before his mouth spreads into a bigger smile. 

“I know a lot of thi-” Before he could finish his sentence a loud scream rung out through the air and both of your heads swiveled in the direction so quickly you were sure you felt a pop as you saw your mother rushing to you. 

Cutting your hair was a sin, and you had always been terrified to do so but you often brushed your hair when your mother wasn’t looking since you didn’t want her to think you were being too vain. The image of your mother and her wildly long and tangled hair was terrifying, or maybe it was the pure malice in her eyes as she surged forward. 

“AWAY FROM THE SATAN WORSHIPER! RIGHT THIS INSTANT!” She wailed, coming to grab your elbow and pull you up harshly. 

“Hey hey hey.” The long haired boy jumped up, rushing to grab the wrist that was holding onto your arm. “You can’t do that to her!” 

Your mother had no care for his attempt to free your arm as she began reciting an expel evil prayer in latin, shoving him away and dragging you forward. 

“Hey, you good?” He tries to ask again, but she pulls you away before you can say anything. And before you could realize she had shoved you in her car and you were pulled away from the school. 

She hadn’t let you back at school for a week. And when you were finally allowed back you’re back was sore with the amount of times she had burnt you with her cross. You couldn’t move really, and when you managed to it was just pain. 

But this was what you deserved, you knew you should have gone home as soon as school let out. 

You were surprised to find the long haired devil worshiper at your locker towards the end of the day, when you had a free period, and you tried wracking your brain with what he could say. Would he make fun of you for what he saw like anyone else would? Would he laugh? Would he grow horns and hiss?

Instead he doesn’t say anything when you walk up, instead he reaches out his hand slowly enough that you can take a second to look at the rings he wore before his palm opened up to reveal a red wrapper that read ‘Kit-Kat’. “Chocolate?”

“I can’t have that.” You shake your head, taking a step back as your mouth waters at the sight. You had nothing but crackers for the past week as a part of your penance, which was right considering you had broken your mothers rules. 

“Sure you can.”

“God doesn’t believe in gluttony.”

“Did he tell you that himself?” He whispers, leaning forward a bit with a fake look of astonishment like he was talking to his very own prophet. 

“You’re mocking me.”

“I’m not. I also know god says that denying a gift from someone looking to extend to a savior is a form of shutting out a chance to save them.” He moves closer, that kit-kat bar still in between you both. “Come on, save me.”

“Are you saying the candy bar is your way of looking for-”

“Sshh. Just take the candy pretty girl.” He huffs and you can’t help but bite your lip as you snatch it from him. You planned to throw it away the second he turned around but he seemed to be ahead of you as he pulled another bar out and ripped the package open, giving you a look to tell you he’s waiting. 

So you rip open your own package and you’re ashamed to admit the first thing you thought of was that it matched his eyes. That thought was quickly taken over the second you tried the chocolate, dissolving into the taste of it as it melted on your tongue. 

You got so lost in the flavor that you hadn’t realized that you shut your eyes, so when you opened them you realized he had a large smile on his face. “Good?”

“I have to go.” And you walk away before he can say anything else. 

But he doesn’t give up, instead seeing Eddie Munson became a regular occurrence. Every day he would be at your locker, talking to you and coming up with reason after reason to be there.  He brought chips, and he brought sandwiches and chocolate. At some point you gave up the futile attempt to deny it all and began talking to him more and more. He showed you books, he showed you music and the world began expanding. 

Over time he became the devil worshiper your mother had warned you about, into your friend. 

But then came the conversation of prom….. or …. The fight of prom. 

For the past two years you had told your mother you were attending after school programs you needed to graduate and she had believed it. You felt wrong for lying to your mother, and you were sure you would be going to hell. But for the past two years you were really spending the afternoons in Eddie Munsons trailer. 

The day you fought you had been curled up on his bed, reading one of the novels he had demanded you read as he pretended to catch up on homework when in all reality he was watching you read. 

“I can feel your eyes.” You whisper, looking up from the book where he doesn’t even pretend that wasn’t.

“I’m waiting for your reactions. You have the best reactions to the books.”

“You’re such a loser.” You smile, watching him stand up and hop onto the bed making it bounce before he crawled up to lay by you and see what page you were on. You read silently for another 5 minutes as he reads the pages over your shoulder before he sighs out in a manner you knew all too well. 

“You have a question for me.”

“No.”

“Then you wouldn’t be sighing in my ear.”

“People say they saw Jason Carver talking to you at lunch today.”

“Where’s the question in that?”

“Was….he?” 

“Yes-”

“Did he say something mean to you? I swear to god I will kill him if he -”

“He said that Chrissy wasn’t feeling good, that she would be missing prom. He wanted to know if I’d go with him.” 

“I’m sorry…. what ?”

“He asked if I would go with him. He said his parents talked to my mom about going and he thought it would help my chances of being able to go if she knew I was going with someone from the church.” You explain, turning to look at him only for him to stand up from the bed quickly and glare at you. 

“Tell me you said no.”

“What?”

“Tell me you said no!” He shouts, hands flying up like he was begging you. “Tell me you are not that stupid!”

Your mouth had flown open during his outburst, but the second the word stupid flies from his mouth it snaps shut as you blink back the immediate tears. “I’m sorry?”

“It’s a prank. You realize that right?”

“Says who?”

“Says anyone with common sense!” He snaps, shaking his head. “You really think Jason Carver is going to go to prom with the Jesus freak? The people who used to laugh at you everytime you walked down the hall? The people who still tease you behind your back?”

“He was trying to be nice!” 

“You’re being so stupid! You’re being an idiot!” 

“Is it really that hard to believe that he would be nice to me? You just think I’m the laughing stock of the school because of my beliefs right? That’s it?”

“Right, your beliefs.” He scoffs. “Nothing but a whacked out cult.” 

“Don’t ever speak to me again.” You seethe, shoving the book you had been reading away and grabbing your shoes.

“No. YOU don’t ever speak to me again.” He snaps back, kicking the book away as he stormed out of his room with you hot on his heels, swinging to the door and pulling it open. “You want to be stupid and fall for this spectacle then be my guest.”

“You want to die alone with no friends then that’s on you!”

“Right, at least i’m not some high school sellout that’s going lose her virginity in the back of a buick. Tell me, do you think your god would approve of that?”

“Don’t ever talk to me again.” You snap once more, walking out his front door only for him to slam the door shut so harshly it shook on it’s hinges. 

You couldn’t stop crying the entire walk home. 

- 

Nervous wasn’t the right word to describe how you were feeling the night of prom. 

Jason Carver had been right, he had convinced your mother that he was godly enough to go to prom with and she would allow it. She had even made you a dress for the evening out of silk fabric. 

Over the past few months with Eddie you had gained some weight that he always said was healthy, and though she made comments about it you couldn’t stop the bubble of excitement in your chest at the image of yourself in the mirror. You had filled out the dress nicely, with hips that flared and round cheeks that held your blush. 

Your hair was soft, thoroughly brushed. She had made you a sheer slip to cover your shoulders and you had just finished putting the look together when Jason arrived to pick you up. You tried not to think about Eddie the entire ride there, and you tried to pretend you were calm as you walked into the gym with him. 

His friends were being nice, they all talked to you with wide smiles. Though they hadn’t spoken to you much before you got a little excited at the fact that they were speaking to you now. 

Jason didn’t want to dance much so you sat alongside him at the table, feet tapping to the beat as you imagined what Eddie would have done if he were here. He would have dragged you to the dance floor, made some off beat dance before making a plate of food and joked about spiking the punch. 

But he hated these dances, he had never once attended a dance throughout highschool. He claimed that it was all full with sellouts and nothing but a waste of time. 

And yet you still wished he was here. 

“Ladies and gentleman…. I’m sorry to interrupt but it is time to announce your prom king and queen.” The principal calls through the mic and Jason practically jumps out of the seat, pulling you with him. He kept a grip on your hand the entire time as you both made your way through the crowd to listen in. “After reading the votes we are glad to announce that your Prom King is….. JASON CARVER!”

The crowd around you screams in excitement as he cries out and runs up the stage, and you feel lost for a second, ready to leave before someone stops you. 

“And your prom queen made for your prom king is…. “ And the world seems to stop as he calls your name, and once you expect people to sit in silence or boo you’re shocked to see people turn to you in excitement as they cheer. They usher you to the stage and your heart beats through your chest so fast you are sure you might be sick. 

The  lights are hot on your skin as they hand you flowers, and tears begin falling down your cheeks as they place the crown on your head. 

Eddie was wrong. 

You think the words as the girl kisses your cheek before making sure the crown is straight. 

Eddie was worried about nothing. 

The principal squeezes your shoulder before stepping back as he announces that you would stand next to Jason for a photo. 

Eddie is going to be proud. 

You realize that Jason was standing a little too far from you, but as you move to take a step to him your vision is blocked suddenly as a gooey liquid covers your entire body. 

“PIG!” Is the only word you hear, shouted by a large group as your hands fly up in a panic to clear your eyes as you take a deep inhale. The flowers fall to the ground and when you move to dash off you end up tripping over them, your knees hitting the stage floor with a harsh thud, pain shooting through your leg. 

“Oh my god, are you okay?” Someone asks as you dash through the crowd sobbing, tripping over the heels once you reach the hall. You rip them off, leaving them behind as you flee. 

You don’t make it far, for at the main entrance stood none other than Eddie Munson wearing a suit with a small bouquet in his hands, staring at you like the world was ending. 

“No.” He whispers, taking a single step forward before it all breaks and you launch yourself at him. Within an instant he has his arms around you, lifting you with ease and spinning you a bit. 

He holds you for a minute before setting you down as you cry,  grabbing your arm softly to lead you to the van and make an escape. No words are spoken as he drives, and no words are spoken as he helps you inside the house. You walk silently in an attempt not to bother his uncle, only for him to shake his head and point to the empty spot where his uncle's car usually is before leading you to the bathroom. 

He leads you to sit on the toilet before leaning to start the water, feeling it with his hand to wait for it to heat up to the right temp while you stared without blinking. Your eyes had tears in them but if you didn’t blink then they wouldn’t keep falling. 

“It was a prank.” You croak out, your chest tightening as you can’t fight off the tears anymore. He is quick to slide over and grab your hands softly to pull your attention. 

“It was an overdone and cliche prank. Honestly if you ask me they just did you a huge favor.” He scoffs, rubbing at some of the red that was on your hand from when you wiped the red off. “I mean, getting carrie’d? Biggest compliment EVER?”

“Carrie’d?” 

“Carrie’d. Stephen King style.” He nods, tapping your chin gently before helping you stand. “Let’s get this off of you.”

“It was homemade.” You explain when his fingers trace down your sides to get to the bottom and lift it over your head. 

“You looked great. Very-”

“Piggish?”

“Perfect.” He responds before slipping it off and leading you to the shower. He gives you a minute to sink into the warmth of the water before he returns in just his boxers, reaching in to help run your hair under the water and get the stains out. The water at the drain was nothing but red as he washed, humming a bit to cheer you up. 

After 5 washes your hair still has some paint stuck in it but you are feeling a little better, so when he pulls you out of the shower and helps you climb into one of his shirts and boxers you’ve stopped crying. Or maybe you just ran out of tears. 

Nonetheless he leads you to his room and you both land on the bed, laying on your sides to stare at each other, he lets you run the pads of your fingers across his face and hair. 

“You came to prom…”

“It doesn’t count. Not in the slightest.” He huffs, rolling his eyes. “I just had to make sure my girl didn’t end up in the back of a buick.”

“That’s for sellouts.”

“Now you’ve got it.”

- 

“Too cliche?” You ask, coming into the apartment kitchen where Eddie sat on the counter stuffing a sandwich into his face. The second his eyes land on you in the costume he smiles from ear to ear and lets out a firm ‘HELL YEAH!’

“Eddie-”

“Right. Right. No hell.” He nods, hopping off the counter to come closer to you and feeling at the makeup made to look like blood. “Carrie’d. This time in style.”

“Freddie Krueger. This time not a pervert.” You smile back, fixing his hat. 

“Ready for your first halloween?”

“You know it.”

-

[Thank you for the gif @drogonstone ]

[kingofspadescos]

Astarion x Reader - All You Wanna Do

Warnings - ANGST WITH GOOD ENDING

TW - Trauma, Sexual trauma mention

ALMOST MADE MYSELF CRY FROM THIS-

So in Six we all know Katherine Howard's (the pink one) song right? '

'All You Wanna Do'

And it goes through her lovers but how they only used her for her body?

Tell me that isn't Astarion.

Imagine after escaping Cazador (or at some point) he tries to get back out into the dating pool. He just wanted something, anything to make the numb feeling go away. And he thought he found it, but every day he'd wake up to an empty bed and every time he could feel more and more of himself break. Its an endless vicous cycle that he tries desperstly to break but fails inevitably.

He gives up, slinking back to the shadows and watching from afar.

But then one day when he slips out at night to visit a midnight market he accidently bumps into someone.

And it just so happens to be you.

He tilts his head when you smile up at him

"Sorry, sir, apprantly the skill of walking has alluded me" you said.

He's dumbfounded, a snarky remark at the tip of his tongue but unable to make it past his lips. How could it? You were truly breathtaking, the moonlight reflecting off your skin in a way he could only describe as ethereal.

And the way you looked at him, oh gods your eyes had him reeling. There was no hunger in them, no want, no lust, just embarrassment and genuine kindness, something he was not used to being the target of.

He could handle pure mindless need, but this? Such a sweet innocent little thing like you? Oh, no, he couldn't handle that. Not when you looked at him like he actually mattered in the world.

He barely managed out a stangled 'its fine' before dashing back to his dwelling...where he proceeded to lock himself away for days.

What else was he supposed to do? His heart was beating to another rhythm, a time that only meant heartbreak, anger, and self loathing. He couldn't handle it, not again.

But then, after a few days, a knock sounded at his door, and with caution he had opened it to find you there, holding his blade.

"Hi! You dropped this at the market a few days ago" you said "I asked around about you so I could find you, which was tremendously easy, apprantly there is only one known vampire around here."

And there that smile was again and those same eyes that had him crumbling.

"Thank you" he had coughed out, gently grabbing the blade. He wanted you out, far away from him as possible, just so he could function normally. But then your fingers accidently brushed his and he was almost done for.

Panic, excitement, fear, and hope came down on him in waves as he looked into your eyes again. He barely manged to stop himself from taking a step back as if the adoration and happiness that were captured in your eyes had physically pushed him.

"Well I should probably get going" you said turning to walk, and a new panic rose in his chest, the fear of never seeing you again.

"Wait!" He said too quickly for his own liking "come in for some tea, won't you? It's the least I could do to repay you."

From there you two go closer and closer, spending as much time together as possible. Each second he spent with you he felt his heart reach out towards you as if to embrace you and never let go.

But the fear was still there, the fear that he would get to close and you would leave him, just like everyone else.

However, the day came when you confessed. A new dagger in one hand and a rose in the other you looked up at him with those eyes. The same eyes he had yet to act normal about and told him you liked him and wanted him to be yours and you to be his.

The cold hand of panic that crippled his heart made an appearance, twisting the fear into his body and causing his knees to buckle. God's, he felt so stupid, felt so vulnerable and useless, but then a warmth surrounded him.

Your embrace.

You held him, arms tightly woven around his body keeping him secure to you.

"You can say no, you can tell me no" you had whispered, and he almost jumped at the out "but if you're willing to let me hold your heart ill shall cherish it til' the sun no longer shines and even then I shall create my own."

You had him in tears, hands clutching at you in desperation and head burying into your neck.

The rest of the night was spent with assurance and love, you guiding him through a simple kiss that led to nothing more.

And in the morning when he awoke, he cried again when he saw you curled into his side, hand clutching his with the intent of never letting go.

[lollytea]

Therapy

(Wrote this in five hours without stopping. Nothing fancy. Maybe sloppy and unpolished. Bon appetite???)

"Leave it alone, Darius," Hunter snarled, slamming down his chisel and wooden shape on the desk as he whirled around to face him.

"I'm doing a load anyway!" Retorted Darius, one hand gripping the laundry basket against the hip and the other holding a graphic tee with the solar system printed on it. "You know it bothers me to walk in here and see dirty clothes tossed all over the floor."

"I can do my own laundry!"

Hunter internally winced at his tone the second it burst out of him.

He sounded like the cranky, whiny child that he had once been, always gnashing nonvenomous teeth in an effort to be taken seriously.

Being treated as a child was one of his most explosive buttons. And the worst part was that if pushed, he always acted up in a way that proved them right.

He reeled himself in, filling his lungs to steady his wrung nerves before turning back to his work.

There was a pause.

"I know you are," said Darius, his voice softer than it had been a moment prior. "But considering you've been letting it pile up for the last few days, I figure I'd lend you a hand."

"I don't need a hand." Hunter took furious chunks out of his hunk of wood. "I'm gonna do it myself. I'm just....busy. Right now."

Hunter was "busy" a lot lately, leaving things such as laundry overlooked, as he focused on one obsession after another. Darius referred to his bouts of productivity as "manic episodes."

It was preferable to the other half of the time when he went borderline unresponsive. Those days weren't fun.

He heard a fwump, which was presumably the sound of Darius dropping the shirt back on the floor.

"Ocellena called," He said.

Hunter's rough attempts at whittling went still. "That's...the therapist's name, right?"

"Yes. Your first session is scheduled for the day after tomorrow. 3pm."

"Right. Okay." Hunter intoned. "Thanks."

When he offered nothing else, Darius pushed a bit.

"I know you're scared."

Hunter wanted to hotly declare that he wasn't. But he felt like the blood of a lie would seep through his words. He said nothing.

"But you haven't been doing well, Hunter."

He wanted to argue that he was actually doing awesome. But Darius was a lot better at arguing than he was, so he'd probably just end up looking stupid.

"And I promise that this is a step in the right direction."

"I said I was sorry," Hunter found himself uttering in a quiet, scratchy voice.

There he was again, that whiny difficult child inside of him. And in that moment, he had touched Hunter's throat, letting out one final plea to be forgiven.

He didn't know what he expected to happen.

Maybe deep down, he desperately wanted Darius to soften up and say to him, "Oh Hunter, what am I thinking? I shouldn't send you to therapy. You don't deserve that."

Darius said nothing of the sort.

Instead, he sighed. "You have nothing to apologize for,"

Hunter felt fingerpads gently drill against his temple. "How do I get that through your stubborn skull?"

His insides writhed with empty dread.

So, apologizing was worthless in this case. Noted.

Before Darius left the room, Hunter's hair was affectionately ruffled. He slid his eyes shut and savoured the feeling.

Every day for the last few months, Hunter was handled with such gentleness by the people around him. It had become so frequent that he had come close to taking it for granted.

He once caught himself wondering if maybe one day he'd forget how it felt to be treated.....the other way.

Well, it certainly wouldn't be anytime soon.

Hunter was, quite possibly, one of Bonesborough's most insufferable roommates. The number of times Darius and Eberwolf were awoken at untitanly hours by the sound of him suffocating on his own serrated screams was embarrassing.

The memories still seared raw and achey, nowhere close to scabbing over.

He couldn't forget.

And now, he was about to experience it all over again. But for morally correct reasons this time.

Hunter exhaled, irritated by the way it rattled. He leaned forward and hung his head in his hands.

There was a persistent gnaw of guilt in his abdomen that he was doing his damndest to ignore.

He did not want to go to therapy. But he knew he'd be a coward to admit that.

This was supposed to be a noble thing, right? Atonement. He was supposed to be owning up to his mistakes like an adult. But, being faced with the imminent appointment made him feel more like a spineless child than ever.

"Do you know what therapy is?" Darius had asked a few weeks ago when the topic had first been broached.

His tone made made Hunter bristle. He felt patronized. Nothing made him shrink in humiliation more than being confronted with the fact that he still didn't know a lot of things.

"Of course I do!" He snapped, not bothering to mention that he had only learned of the concept a few days prior when Steve brought it up in conversation.

"It's so chill, dude," He had explained. "It really made me reflect on all the bad stuff I did as a scout, y'know? And now I feel like I can finally move past all that business without the ol' baggage wearin' me down."

"But what is it?" Hunter prodded. "What happens in therapy?"

"Well it's...y'know,"

Hunter frowned, impatient. He did not know.

"It's just you and them. In a room together. Alone. And...you talk. About stuff..." Steve shrugged airily. "It's just that, man."

The last words Steve uttered sounded like they were underwater because Hunter had mentally blipped out after hearing the words 'In a room,' 'Alone' and 'talk'

His blood had frozen over.

Steve's wrist was promptly squeezed by Hunter's jittery fingers. And when the older scout curiously met his eyes, he said solemnly, "Steve. You don't have to go there."

Steve smiled his pleasant, lopsided smile. "I want to, Hunter."

His voice was so soft, so sure of itself, that a heavy weight of devastation unloaded in Hunter's stomach.

"Sure, it's scary at first." Steve continued, giving Hunter's knuckles a comforting rap. "But over time....it helps."

And then, he said the words that Hunter selfishly wished he had never heard.

"I go to therapy, and I think I'm now a better guy than I used to be."

The rest of the interaction had fallen flat because Hunter suddenly felt very disconnected from his body, and Steve could not reel him back.

He remembered the curt businesslike knock on the door of his castle bedroom. He knew it as the sound of guards delivering a message. A slip of paper from the Emperor himself, requesting his presence in the throne room. To talk.

He remembered the soft-spoken echoey order once he entered.

"Close the door,"

Hunter would obey. And then, they were alone.

'In a room'

'Alone'

'Talk'

Hunter knew how to read between the lines.

He felt stupid. Naive. They had told him that the things Belos had done to him were wrong.

They promised him that it was wrong.

But it seemed as though Hunter had severely misunderstood.

The actions themselves were not wrong, but the reasoning.

Hunter did not deserve to be punished for failing to carry out the dirty work of a vile, depraved man.

Every punishment was undeserved by default, on the grounds of it being delivered by Belos.

But Hunter, idiot that he was, had foolishly believed that he was never going to be hurt like that again.

And if he was, he would at least take comfort in the fact that it was wrong.

The realizations were crashing over him in overpowering waves. He felt pathetic for not being able to take it.

I'd like to leave the Emperor's Coven and never set foot in that throne room again

I go to therapy, and I'm now a better guy than I used to be

There were people on the Isles who hurt you and....and it was right...?

You face the consequences of your actions, and you allow them to hurt you in a way that was ethical, and then....you were a better person.

Of course.

Of course that was how it worked.

How could he possibly believe it worked any differently?

It had struck him the moment Steve had said it, that nobody on the Isles deserved therapy more than Hunter.

The actions of the Golden Guard had been unspeakably cruel. All the times he had stood there, turning a blind eye, as his uncle tore open a living creature. All the carnage Hunter had allowed to happen directly in front of him.

It was borderline brainless of him to ever assume that he could escape consequences.

He desperately wanted to be a good person. He would start ripping his own innards out if it meant he could be deemed a good person.

He'd do anything. Really.

Which was why he had decided to steel his nerves and agree to therapy.

He would walk into that room and his legs would not shake.

He would tilt up his chin, close his eyes, and stomach the consequences he had earned.

And then, Titan willing, he'd be one step closer to being good.

And yet...he would rather be dismembered than admit it, but...

Hunter was scared. He was scared to receive his punishment.

After everything he had done to innocent lives, Hunter had the audacity to be scared of the punishment.

He disgusted himself.

_______________________________

With the Emperor's Coven dismantled, the vacant police precinct currently had a plethora of uses.

Most notably, it was a research facility that Darius frequented. The current project was working on a safe sigil extraction procedure. Hunter gave Darius a headache by asking for updates every damn day, despite the latter's insistence that it would probably take years to perfect.

But today, when Hunter visited the building, he and Darius did not turn right towards the lab, but they ventured down an entirely foreign hallway.

Hunter was doing everything in his power to keep his breathing steady.

"Would you like me to sit in the waiting room?" Asked Darius.

"No," Hunter answered.

They continued to cut through the hallway in silence.

"Yes," He corrected himself, so quiet he worried Darius wouldn't hear it.

He did hear it. "Alright. I think we'll pick up some fatty junk from the market for dinner tonight. I don't feel like cooking."

Darius hated fatty junk.

Despite the terror teething his insides, Hunter's lip still quirked upwards, feeling the tiniest surge of warmth.

He loved fatty junk. And Darius knew it.

His therapy session was not the end of the world. Life would continue afterwards, and there would still be little pleasures.

And he would be a better person than he was now.

Once Darius checked him in, Hunter tried not to squirm in the uncomfortable waiting room chair, debating whether he wanted to pick up one of the trashy magazines on the rack.

According to the front cover of one of the tabloids, a star grudgby player had an organ eating scandal. Typical tabloid stuff.

"Hunter?" Called a soft, docile voice that nonetheless made him glad he didn't eat breakfast because he wanted to puke.

Darius tapped his knee to signal him to stand up, which Hunter did. He managed to not cave in.

He crossed the waiting room and pushed the door open, pretending that he wasn't experiencing alarming flashes of hands and eyes and dripping green blades.

He was ready. He was going to be a good person.

"Hello, Hunter~" Singsonged a small pudgy woman, who was in the process of donning an ankle length cardigan. Occellena. "Do you find it chilly in here, by any chance?" She asked.

Taken aback by the question, Hunter dumbly shook his head.

"Guess it's just me, then. It's a curse. Cold blooded n' all."

She had a head of plump indigo tentacles, and her bright amber eyes were magnified by jar-like spectacles.

"Well, let me know if you catch a chill and I'll turn up the heater."

The heater in question was a crystal ball the size of an ottoman with a blazing flame contained in the glass.

Occellena swept across the room to where Hunter stood and put a hand to the door. "Let's just close this and we can get--"

As far as he was aware, he did not do anything. But something made her take pause, and when she glanced his way, he felt himself jot.

"Or would you prefer to keep it open?"

The question initially escaped his comprehension. It seemed out of the realm of his own reality.

Hunter's throat tightened. And when he tried to speak, he failed.

He nodded again.

"Okay!" She said cheerily, like this was the best thing she had heard all day.

Out of the thousands of tangles in Hunter's stomach, one of them spread loose.

It was faint, but he distinctly felt the way that tangle relaxed itself.

"So, we'll leave the door open for now," said Occellena. "And if you decide at any point that you don't want that anymore, you can just pop right up and give it a swing shut."

Defenses still scaling high, Hunter had no idea what to make of this.

"Anyway," She made to walk towards her own chair, politely beckoning him to follow with one of her tentacles. "Shall we sit? I recently got a new couch. I'd really like some feedback on how comfy it is."

_______________________________

Darius would never say it, but his heart was hammering like a jackalope with worry for that ridiculous kid. His legs kept crossing and uncrossing in the waiting room chairs that seemed specifically designed to be uncomfortable.

Darius had bumped into Occellena on a few occasions in the upstairs kitchen. He had spiked his apple blood while she grounded oyster shells into her tea. He had never been one for chit-chat, but she had been nothing but bubbly with him, in spite of his less than enthusiastic responses.

He couldn't determine her skills as a therapist from just a few conversations, but the extensive research he had done to find a qualified candidate had promised that she was highly competent

But was she 'Golden Guard as a client' competent?

Was anyone?

If all else failed, she was sweet. Hunter loved sweet people.

He needed this to go well. If Hunter had a bad therapy experience, it would both stunt his recovery progress and leave him far less willing to try again for the foreseeable future.

Darius resisted the urge to stand up and pace the room, knowing his footsteps would probably disturb Hunter's session.

He noticed that the door remained slightly ajar, which he found peculiar.

Were they not supposed to keep the doors closed? Client confidentiality and all that mumbo jumbo?

Granted, he could not make out the words being said. The pitch of two voices, definitely, but it was all muffled nothingness.

His nerves were barbed during those first few minutes, in which Occellena carried on speaking for several seconds at a time, while Hunter only offered singular sentences as a response.

It was fine, he convinced himself. They were just warming up.

The moments passed, and the session seemed to take a turn in a positive direction.

The seconds in which the slightly lower pitched voice stretched a little bit longer every time he spoke. Louder too.

At some point, he seemed to take off babbling, presumably having one of those obsession buttons pushed.

Darius could only imagine that Occellena had asked about one of Hunter's many passions. That would certainly work wonders.

He had such terrible control of his own volume when he got too eager, so this was a promising sign.

After that, the conversation took a subdued dip, the silences hanging for longer.

And then, he heard footsteps. He straightened his posture, startled by the session seemingly wrapping up so soon.

But no. It was the door clicking shut.

From then on, total silence. Thirty minutes of just Darius, his trashy tales of organ eating athletes, and the vacant uncertainty of how Hunter's first therapy session was going.

And then it was over.

When Darius saw Hunter emerge from the room with Occellena's hand on his shoulder, his eyes were strikingly rimmed with red.

"So I'll see you next week. Don't worry yourself with telling Jewel, I'll have her put it down in the system. Be sure to take it easy for the rest of the evening, alright?"

Though he looked like every ounce of energy had been sapped out of him, Hunter still pulled up a smile for her, and Darius recognized sincere warmth on that face when he saw it.

"I will. Thanks, Occellena,"

And when he approached Darius, he looked relieved, ashamed, and dazed all at once.

"Hey," He greeted, uncharacteristically quiet.

"Hey," Darius responded, softly incredulous. "Shall we go ruin our skin with your accursed bag of grease now?"

His reddened eyes glinted with light boyish amusement. He nodded.

Hunter did not say much during their quest through the Bonesborough marketplace, and Darius vaguely wondered if he should be concerned.

As much as he complained about the boy being an incurable chatterbox, his silence unnerved him.

Hopefully, the session had used up too much of his blabbering muscles.

It wasn't until they were home and seated on opposite ends of the dining room table that Darius understood.

One of his most strictly enforced household rules was that dinner must be served on an actual plate. No takeout containers allowed on his property.

His nose wrinkled in distaste at the atrocity known as deep-fried eyeballs that were making a greasy mess out of his ornate lilac dishes.

Hunter was rolling the unsavoury little orbs around with his fork.

He seemed relaxed, if distracted, so Darius decided to pop the question, only to fill the silence, if anything.

"Do you want to tell me how it went today? With Occellena?"

Hunter's fork went still, but his eyes never dared to draw away from the fatty dinner in front of him.

When he opened his mouth, his bottom lip wobbled, searching for a voice that he did not seem to possess right now.

"It's alright," said Darius. "What happens in therapy stays in therapy. Isn't that what they say?"

Hunter did not respond to that, not even with a glance or a nod or anything of the sort.

He remained hung up on the struggle of getting his initial words out. The bump of his throat bobbed.

Finally, with a small, feeble voice that cracked around the edges, Hunter said, "I didn't think she was gonna be nice to me..."

The silence that fell was born of complete and utter bewilderment. Darius was so flabbergasted by the statement that he spoke before he fully thought it over.

"Well, that is to be expected from therapy," A touch of laughter rose and fell between the words. "I mean, surely you didn't think she would--?"

Darius cut himself off, his smile dropping as he noticed the visible tremor of Hunter's mouth, which he had forced into a thin line.

"Hunter?"

The boy lifted his head, bright brown eyes already pooling with an open, lost, childlike anguish. Then he blinked and it spilled to his cheekbones. He looked to Darius searchingly, like he wanted to ask something, but he could not utter a sound more.

"Hunter...? What did you think was going to happen...?"

[taeiun]

just a little sick with love.

synopsis: it spills out too fast; hard to contain this blurted confession about you (in other words, txt when asked about you during an interview)

who: txt's choi line x gn!reader

categories: a little smth extra fluffy, interview style scenarios

warnings: might be ooc here? reader is referred to as "pretty" and "beautiful" a few times (not in a physical appearance context really), love and babe and jagiya are used as petnames, use of "yn" in the fic, mentions of food and drinks

word count: 0.9k

interviewer: ...but, while we’re on the topic of romance, i’ve heard through the grapevine that you’re currently in a relationship. now, i’m just dying to know, and i’m sure the viewers are too, about who you’ve been seeing so, what can you tell us about them?

✧ YEONJUN !

yeonjun: well to start, they’re the love of my life. [he laughs and runs a hand through his hair with a hum] they understand me in ways no one else would, not even the other members. i can be choi yeonjun with them, you know? not just an idol on stage, not just yeonjun of tomorrow x together. being with them… it’s like walking into a cold room after being out in the sun all day. 

interviewer: aw, that’s sweet! how did you get to meet them? 

yeonjun: i spilt my drink on them. [he smiles sheepishly] i was in a rush and wasn’t looking where i was going. we bumped into each other and i ruined their shirt. i offered to pay for a new one but the thing about yn is that they’re stubborn. they refused so i asked if could take them out lunch instead. things kind of went from there.

yeonjun: now, they send me tiktoks and reels that remind them of me when we’re away on tour. they surprise me with roses after a show win and always welcome me with a smile, no matter how tired they are. yn is the best thing that’s happened to me and i can’t see myself without them. 

interviewer: wow sounds like i might need to sweep them off their feet for myself! [the interviewer laughs]

yeonjun: [he lets out a tense chuckle that ends in a sigh] ah… yeah no, tough luck buddy. they’re mine and always will be.

✧ SOOBIN !

soobin: hmm [he takes a moment to choose his words carefully] where do i begin? [the interviewers laughs] yn is my other half. i don’t really know how else to explain it other than that. they’re effortlessly kind and the nicest person i’ve ever met. they never fail to cheer me up after a long day and are so understanding of my needs. sometimes i think they know me better than i know myself. [he laughs]

interviewer: when did you know they were the one?

soobin: i think i knew we were going to work out for sure when the group and i first went on tour. yn took care of odi for me and sent me video updates. they don’t like recording their voice so i asked them why they sent videos instead of pictures and messages. they replied, “because i know you can’t sleep soundly without hearing my voice, soobin.” i was already in love before then but i think that only grew after hearing those words. 

interviewer: if you had to pick between your partner and your career, which would you choose?

soobin: i think that’s an unrealistic question to ask. yn made it clear that they’d never make me pick between our relationship and my idol life. they said i deserved to be happy, to receive the good things in life. for the longest time, i thought i could only have one or the other, a relationship or a successful career, and it wasn’t until i met them that i realized those things could coexist. they’re my biggest supporter and i couldn’t be more grateful for that.

✧ BEOMGYU !

beomgyu: oh, y/nnie! [he visibly brightens] it’s crazy. even though we’ve been dating for a while now, sometimes i wake up and i’m like [beep]... i’m actually dating them. they’re so sweet to me. i’m starting to get cavities from just how kind they are. [he and the interviewer laugh]

interviewer: why them? what is it about your partner that caught your eye?

beomgyu: oh it had to have been their smile. they have the prettiest smile i’ve ever seen and their eyes crinkle in the corners when they do. their laugh is the most beautiful thing i’ve heard. i’d play it on loop twenty four seven if i could. their happiness is infectious. i’ll let you in on a little secret [he leans in, forearms resting on his thighs as he moves to fake whisper to the interviewer] sometimes, they’ll dance and sing around the kitchen when they think im not watching. [he laughs, leaning back in his seat] they probably have way more blackmail on me though. 

interviewer: would you say you’re happy?

beomgyu: i’m the happiest i’ve ever been. yn… they make everything i do worth it. i don’t know what i’d do without them. i wish they could see themselves through my own eyes because i think they’re the most stunning and beautiful, in every meaning of that word, person on the planet.

bonus:

interviewer: is there anything you’d like to say to your partner back home?

yeonjun: hey, babe! i hope you haven’t forgotten about our one year anniversary coming up. [he says in a teasing voice] you better be taking care of yourself properly while i’ve been gone. [he smiles warmly] i miss you. tour is almost done, love. i’ll be seeing you very soon. 

soobin: i hope you’re doing well, love. you better be asleep when this program is airing and i don’t want to see a single text message from you until it’s morning in your time zone. you can get more work done when you’re well-rested. [he smiles] just a little longer, dear. i’ll be home soon.

beomgyu: yn! i can’t wait to see you again, jagiya. there’s so much to tell you and i miss stealing the blanket from you when we sleep. [his expression drops to a serious, but playful one] i’m cashing in that cuddling coupon you gave me for my birthday last year when i get back and expect top tier service.

^ . _ . ^ !? hehe was inspired by a couple cute insta reels that came up on my for you. next txt post will be for ot5 hopefully as long as i have the time

© taeiun 2023. all rights reserved. do not copy, repost, translate, modify, or claim any of my writing as yours.

[cathwritestragediesnotsins]

Posting drafts

Bakugou x reader

“Katsuki! What the hell happened?”

The current number 2 hero stood just outside the doorway of my apartment, hunched over, one hand gripping his side in pain and the other clutching the doorjamb to keep himself upright.

“Oh my god, did you just come from a fight?? Why aren’t you at the hospital??”

I reached for him even as I scolded him with my words, trying to help keep him upright while also ushering him into my apartment but he stopped me, pushing my hand away gently.

“Y/n…..” he said my name so softly, with such vulnerability. His head was tilted towards the floor so I couldn’t see the look on his face, but it almost sounded like he was…crying?

He lifted his head to look at me then, his face now inches from mine due to the way he towered over me. I was right, his crimson eyes shone with unshed tears.

“I haven’t done it yet, I haven’t become the number one hero. But I….I thought for a moment I wasn’t going to make it out….and there’s still so much I need to tell you.”

He was speaking so pleadingly, I wasn’t used to this side of him. Sure he had opened up to me before, but I’d never seen the look in his eyes right now before. Like he was begging.

“Kats, what are you talking about? We need to get you help. You’re still bleeding.” I try to reason with him, but I know it’s useless. Whatever it is he’s trying to say he has decided he wants to say it now. And if there’s one think I know about Bakugou Katsuki, it’s that when he’s decided something he makes it happen.

“Just wait dammit” he grits out between clenched teeth. This is the Katsuki I’m familiar with: all harsh words and biting tone. But it’s a weak attempt.

“I promised myself, that one day, when I was number 1, when I was worthy, I would ask you to be mine. I’m breaking that promise now, because I realize that I was fucking stupid. All this time spent waiting, I should’ve just told you how I felt.” His fist clenches against the doorway in frustration. “I thought, if I proved I was better than that dumbass Izuku that you would choose me. But I don’t want to wait anymore.”

My mind is reeling trying to take in his words as well as the fact that the man I love is bleeding on the carpet of my apartment building. I open my mouth to speak but it takes a moment for my brain to form the words.

“Izuku? What? What do you mean?”

He scoffs then, lowering his head again. “You know that idiot is in love with you right?…..we both are.”

Love. Izuku….and Katsuki….are in love with, me?

“Katsuki, stop messing around…” I say, but I know he’s not.

He lifts his head so he’s eye to eye with me again, it looks like it takes more effort this time which concerns me.

“Dumbass” his eyes are soft as they look into mine. “You didn’t know?”

My eyes are filling with tears and I’m not quite sure why. I think back on everything, all of our interactions.

“You…love me?” I say, needing to hear him say the words outright to be able to believe them. Afterall, this isn’t just my Katsuki, this is the number 2 hero in all of Japan, one of the most popular celebrities in the world for his looks and passion.

“Yes.” He says quietly. “I love you Y/n. I always have.” He looks so resolute as he says it. Still vulnerable and broken, but also determined.

I don’t even think about it before I’m reaching to cup his jaw in my hands and pulling him into me. And then I’m kissing him. He’s kissing me. After all this time, waiting, pining, I am kissing Bakugou Katsuki. And he’s kissing me back with just as much passion and urgency.

I try to pull back after a moment, suddenly remembering the situation we’re in, but his lips chase mine. He steps forward into me and captures me into another kiss. I make a noise of disagreement in the back of my throat and place my hands on his chest to push him back. By that time we’re both breathless.

“Kats, you’re bleeding.” I remind him.

He laughs and cracks a mischievous smile at me “It’s not my blood”

I look at him in blank shock for a moment before wrinkling my nose and pulling away “ew oh my god that’s worse”

His chuckle turns into a full blown cackle at my disgust. I glare at him as he laughs until he winces and grips his side.

“Alright, you might not be bleeding but you still need medical attention” I chastise him, motioning to where his arm was still cradling his abdomen.

“Calm down princess” he says, smirking fondly at me once again. “I already checked in with the EMTs after the fight, just a few bruised ribs. They put me on leave for a week.” His hand comes up to cup my cheek like I had done to him moments ago. “You should see the other guy.”

I roll my eyes at his cocky attitude but I can’t help smiling as well.

“So,” he pulls me in so that our foreheads are resting against each other. “Can I take that as an ‘I love you too’?”

I nod, his ash blond hair tickling the crown of ny head as I do so. “Yes. I love you too Katsuki.”