#tw: angst incoming

[gearbroth]

Hollowmind Memory Part 2

Part 1

[occasionallyprosie]

The Look of the Hero

Chapter 1: "Bending the Knee"

After a string of particularly nasty battles, resulting in a deficit of healing items, the heroes end up in Legend's era just outside Kakariko. Only… the supposed relationship Legend has with the town turns out to be just a bit different than what they thought. Warriors especially isn't happy with what he discovers, and he knows Sky and Twilight won't be either.

Next>>

Read On AO3

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Legend had Hyrule slumped against him, his arm looped over his shoulder. The others were staggering behind as he led the way to the closest town and safe settlement despite how much panic it sourced in his head.

His hair was still pink, it hadn't faded since Twilight begged him to change into a bunny while the rancher was sick. He was in his red mail—it was stronger and better protection than his hero's tunic—his hair had grown out significantly—Ravio and Wind like to braid it so he grew it out for them— and he didn't have his contacts in—he lost them in his fight with Yuga.

The panic about his appearance thrummed in his mind as they arrived at Kakariko Village and where it was nestled in the mountainside.

"Is that... Link?"

Legend looked up and spotted the woman who stood at the path, holding a crate of books.

“M—Miss Purah!" He called. "I have wounded, is there—"

"Come!" She said quickly, already rushing further into town. "I'll have the infirmary ready for a dozen."

"There's nine—" he sighed as she disappeared from view. He shook his head.

"Purah?" Wild asked. “I have a Purah too.” His voice was pained, most likely due to the rather deep gash in his side which he couldn’t even rest a bit as he helped Four, who had a broken leg.

"My... An old friend," Legend said. "I grew up in—near Kakariko. Come on. They'll help us."

Please don't let them call the elder.

They filed into the infirmary. Legend made sure everyone got to a bed as the medics quickly began to fuss over them. Just as he got Time into one of the beds, Purah dragged him to the last one and sat him down herself.

She wrapped his bleeding arm in a bandage as they spoke in quiet whispers. She didn't give him a potion—they both knew the elder disapproved of that—but she ran a hand through his hair.

"Link..." she breathed, worry filling her eyes.

"I-I haven't been able to fix it," he whispered. "I became a bunny again and last time it faded to blond but my roots are coming in and—"

"I'll fix it. I'll fix it, Kit," she promised. "Your clothes too, I’m sure I have some spare somewhere. Sahasrahla may be on his way if anyone mentioned your return—"

The door swung open.

Legend knew who it was before he even looked, it was the way the door was opened, the way they stepped into the room with a step, step-thud. Purah shifted to block him, but they both knew it was no use.

"Ah. Link."

Legend forced himself off the medical bed—ignoring both Twilight and Warriors telling him to not to—and dropped down on one knee, propping an arm on it and bowing his head.

"Elder Sahasrahla," he greeted blankly.

He didn't hear a response, but he also wasn't given permission to stand. Pain burned through him, his rib was still injured and his knee in bad condition too, his—Purah hadn't had time to help him bind it, but that wasn't something Sahasrahla would care about.

"So who are our guests?" Sahasrahla asked, moving further into the infirmary. Legend didn't dare move his ears to listen easier, keeping them straight back and hearing the medics continue to work with the other heroes. He begged one of them to speak up, knowing he wasn't granted permission to say a word.

"Kit, please," Purah whispered to him as Warriors spoke up and introduced them. "You’re badly hurt."

He barely glanced at her, meeting her worried eyes and saw her reluctantly give in.

The others spoke up, thank the goddesses, and explained the situation to Sahasrahla. They explained the time travel and the portals they all followed, Legend had hoped they'd mention how sometimes they had no choice but to enter a portal, but nobody did and he knew that dug his grave deeper.

Purah slipped a new bracelet over his wrist, almost silently pleading with him not to lose it in their tongue.

Once Sahasrahla was satisfied by the information he was given, he made that clear.

"I see. I will not bother you all any longer, though I must speak with Link."

"No—"

Purah went silent when Legend hit her leg.

"Was there something else you wished to mention, young Purah?"

Legend needed her to stay quiet, but of course she didn’t. "Elder, Link is still injured. He requires healing—"

"Purah," Legend spoke, daring to break his silence. He didn't raise his head. "I'm fine."

"Link—"

"See, he's fine. Let's go, young one."

Legend rose. He nearly fell back again but managed to play it off as bowing again as Sahasrahla left. He forced himself back to his feet and followed without looking any of his companions in the eye.

The villagers looked sad when they saw him, blood soaking the side of his tunic, the slight limp in his step from rolling his ankle on a rock while fending off a monster.

Sahasrahla led him to the elder's home and Legend promptly dropped to a kneel as soon as they entered, hoping his blood didn't drip to the carpet floor.

Sahasrahla moved around him and he held his breath, preparing for the oncoming scolding and pain.

And like clockwork it came. A hand grabbing his hair and forcing him to raise his head.

"What is this?" Sahasrahla hissed. "And amongst heroes too? I do not know why some wore blue, or red and purple in addition to it, or why one wore full armor, but this is not the look of a hero."

He pulled his hair painfully and suddenly he was ten again, fresh after his first adventure.

"This hair must be fixed," the elder said lowly. "Burn this wretched pink out, and cut it too. This is far too long for a hero. And your eyes—"

Link only barely kept his face impassive and kept the tears from forming as Sahasrahla grabbed his chin now, grip punishing, and further forced his face up so he could see his eyes.

"Red is not the color of the hero. Green or blue are his colors, we were kind enough to allow you to choose blue for your eyes. And that goes for your clothing too."

He practically threw Link's face aside, the kid teenager barely managed not to fall over with the force.

"What was that the woman said? You required medical attention? And that cut in your arm... do not think I didn't see your limp either, Link. Tell me."

"My injuries are shallow and unimportant, they will heal by dawn," he forced out.

"Bah!" The elder's cane smacked his face, breaking open his lip. He barely kept himself from making a sound, or reacting to the hit. "You should not have been injured in the first place! You were trained better than that, boy."

"Yes, Elder."

"You will fix your hair, and your eyes, and your clothes. I best see a real hero next time you enter my village."

"Yes, Elder."

"And remind that woman, Purah, that you are nobody to her. Remember, Link. You are a Hylian, an average nobody, you have no ties to this village other than visiting to sell produce."

"Yes, Elder."

He managed to get back to the infirmary without collapsing, but that meant nothing for the moment he reached the bed.

Legend woke up pained, but to his shock, he didn't see the ceiling of the Kakariko inn. 

He saw the ceiling of a room he hadn't slept in since he was eight. 

It took him a second to realize it, and the moment he did, he shot up.

Any pain that flared through him was promptly ignored as he pushed himself onto his feet and leaned against the tabletop that was once covered in papers and pencils and paints and oils, it still was but far neater and organized.

He knocked over a chair and he knew it, he leaned back against the table, breathing heavily and blinking spots from his eyes.

The door opened and he froze up.

"Schol—Link? Are you alright?" Warriors. The blur of color brought the familiar voice toward him. He shook his head to try and clear the daze of injury and overnight healing.

"Captain?" He had to make sure.

"Yeah—You gave us a bit of a scare there, Scholar," he said and gloved hands guided him to sit on the bed he had near leapt from. "Miss Purah let us stay in her house, she said the old man—the elder, I mean, isn't allowed to enter a home unwelcome no matter his status."

Legend nodded. "It's against tradition, the home is to be protected against all evils, even emotional ones. If someone wished to enter, they can't cause any distress or lead others in the home to feel in danger, and as hosts we had to make sure any guests felt protected."

"The Sheikah are secretive in my time, I didn't know that," Warriors said and finally his vision was fully cleared and he could meet Warriors' eyes. "We need to talk, Link."

Legend grimaced. "Do we?"

"You walked away from the medics while extremely injured. We've had this talk before—"

"I didn't have a choice," Legend snapped, dropping his gaze and avoiding eye contact. "It won't happen again."

"Link," he flinched back from that damned name, Warriors reached out to grasp his arm, "what did that man do to you? You came back with a fresh bruise on your face and a cut on your lip that I know for a fact wasn't there before."

  Because Warriors had been the one to check Legend after the fight, because Warriors was their field medic and knew every single injury shown or mentioned.

Legend refused to look at him but Warriors was moving so he'd meet his eyes. What was worse was he met those bright blue—a soft cobalt color, almost metallic or maybe aquatic in shade—eyes, he felt a surge of fear at the reminder of the absence of contacts in his own.

He brought a hand up to cover them, forcing out a breath and ignoring the small flare of pain when he brushed a sensitive bruise.

"Look, the Elder has certain expectations and I—"

"So he did that to you."

"Captain—"

"No. Did he or did he not hit you?"

Legend didn't respond but Warriors pulled his hand down from blocking his eyes. Piercing metallic blue eyes cut through Legend as Warriors forced him to meet his eyes.

"Link—"

"Stop it," he tried. "It's not—It's not a big deal, I know better—"

"Vet, you’re a kid."

"I'm not!"

"You're underaged in every era that has an age of majority!"

Warriors squeezed Legend's shoulders, trying to get the younger hero to just see what he was talking about. He was one of the few people who Legend actually told his age, which was surprising seeing as they were the least close for a while there.

Warriors had seen how dynamics played out from the beginning. Wind and Legend were a pair from the start, likewise Sky and Wild seemed to get along well while Twilight and Four were near inseparable. Warriors had been happy to have his baby brother—even if he wasn't a baby anymore—at his side again, and Time didn't seem to mind sticking closer, besides, his Sprite seemed to have gotten a Sprite of his own as Hyrule always seemed to follow after Time.

As time went on, Warriors had noticed the dynamics shift. Wild gravitated more towards Legend, who also attracted Hyrule into their little trio. Wind latched onto Time. Warriors found himself finding a strong feeling of camaraderie in Twilight and Sky. Four flitted around each group with ease.

And things kept shifting, generally reverting back to their very first pairings, but they came to a balanced mix where everyone was mostly comfortable with everyone.

 Yet, it took a long time before Warriors could actually connect with Legend. After he did, it was a night they needed to gather information and they were paired off, that Legend confided his age to Warriors.

The captain never expected their veteran to be seventeen, much less sixteen when they first met and turning seventeen within a couple months of gathering together, but that was the case. It became more obvious with time, but nonetheless, the teenager sitting in front of him was mature beyond his years...

That didn't mean he wasn't still a kid, and people who'd known him since he was little would know that.

Even if he didn't, the elder had no right to strike Legend.

Warriors squeezed Legend's shoulders gently and spoke fast enough that Legend didn't get a chance to argue without interrupting. "I'm not calling you a child, but you’re still a kid and even if you weren't, he has no right to raise a hand to you."

Legend scowled. "It was a cane, first of all—"

Warriors gaped. "A cane?!"

Legend seemed to realized that was not the right thing to say if he wanted Warriors to stop worrying or pushing. "It doesn't matter! It's not a big deal and it was perfectly avoidable if I was just—"

To the captain's surprise, Legend floundered for a moment, scrambling to find words, which was extremely uncharacteristic of their scholar.

"—if I just—I know better than to come to Kakariko like this." He gestured vaguely.

Warriors frowned. "Like what, Link."

He didn't like how Legend recoiled at his own name.

"Like... red and-and... not... not green," he said weakly, trying to hide his head in his hands again but Warriors quickly caught his face in his own hands. He was careful not to touch his injuries, but gently made him look up.

Red. Red like his eyes, dark and deep like rubies, in certain light they looked like fire, lava at the depths of volcanoes, and in other light they glinted like pools of blood.

He brushed his thumb under Legend's eye, gentle and careful. "Red like these?"

Legend grimaced and nodded. "I... I have contacts—I had contacts, blue ones, I lost them when I fought Yuga and Ganon last time but... I-I thought... I hoped I didn't need to replace them."

And if he wasn’t supposed to come here without them, he didn't intend to come back to Kakariko at all.

"Red like your tunic too?" Warriors added, raising an eyebrow and Legend nodded. "Why can't you wear red or let your natural eye color be there?"

He winced. "Because heroes don't look like the shadows they defeat."

"Who told you that?" Warriors asked.

Legend gave him an incredulous look. Warriors sighed.

"Did others than the elder tell you that?"

"Most of the old folk," Legend huffed. "Only Momma and Aunty said I shouldn't need to change to be a hero."

Warriors studied his face, the way his shoulders were drawn in and how he avoided eye contact. The way he spoke, quiet and almost hushed rather than just soft.

"Okay—Listen, your appearance doesn't define how much of a hero you are," Warriors told him firmly, well aware he was being hypocritical. "We can get Sky and everyone else who came before you, whoever they're making you emulate, talk to him and handle this."

"You can't—"

"You've never mentioned a mother before, Link."

Legend flinched again and Warriors wondered if he just shouldn't call him by his name.

"I... I don't have a mother," he corrected himself firmly.

“Then who told you that you didn’t need to change to be a hero?” Warriors needed him to stop holding onto this now-obvious lie he was expected to tell. Someone, the elder, had done something to make Legend deny his own mother. “Kid, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we aren’t exactly the most homogenous group, goddesses, the only ones with blue eyes are the Rancher, Champion, and Sprite. The Sailor has green, Traveler’s and Smithy’s are brown, mine are gray, and the Sky Knight’s, I swear, jump between blue and white.”

Legend snorted. “White? He isn’t the Old Man.”

“There’s a difference there and I stand by my words.” Warriors grinned a bit, he got him to laugh. “My point is, would you expect any of us to change our appearance for the sake of… what? Tradition?”

“No…” He almost smirked at how petulant Legend looked for a moment there. “But that’s—That’s different! You’re all—You…”

“We’re what?”

“You’re hylian,” he near whispered. “I…”

“I’m part Gerudo,” Warriors admitted. “My great grandmother was a Gerudo. Not to mention that the Skyloftian is human, and the Traveler’s half fairy. Kid—“

“But you’re part hylian, both you and the Traveler. Sky founded Hyrule, he’s the Chosen Hero, you think anyone debates whether or not he’s a hero?”

“Why does our blood matter? Why does our heritage matter?” Warriors pressed. “Come on, we both know that you don’t care that much, you’re just trying to justify it. Why are you actually worried about this?”

The long beat of silence that followed proved Warriors was right, the way Legend hunched in on himself.

He whispered something, far too quietly for Warriors to hear much less understand.

“I can’t hear you, kid.”

He glanced at him, then—still quiet, still barely a whisper, but just loud enough that Warriors could hear—repeated himself.

“He said he’d exile them… my mother and my aunt… Aunty could survive, she’s a warrior, we—they’re trained for survival. But Momma…” Legend trailed off. “She’s a scholar, not a warrior, she knows the theory but… Not to mention, Sahasrahla has all of the warriors under his thumb, Sheikah assassins, and if I… if I go too far, he’d send them after them.”

He was being threatened. His kid brother was being threatened, forced into this role by an old guy in power.

Warriors held back his fury to push pink locks back, and guide Legend to stop looking down at his lap to look him in the eyes.

“We won’t let him, you hear me? I’ll take Sky and the Rancher, and we’ll have a talk with him. We won’t hurt him, but we’ll handle it.”

“You’ll handle it?” Legend looked almost scared, eyes going wide and staring at him. "You can't hurt him. He's not--He isn't a bad person, Captain, he's just... set in his ways."

Ignoring that Legend was literally defending his abuser. “We’ll handle it, and I swear, he won't be... physically harmed, I can't vouch he won't take a hit to his ego though." He knew the other two would be absolutely ecstatic to… talk to the elder. “Do you trust me?”

“I do! I do, you’re—Of course, I trust you, all three of you, you’re my—But—you can’t just… Can you?”

He gently squeezed the back of his neck, pulling the younger hero closer and pressing his lips against his forehead. Legend went slack, inhaling sharply.

“We’ll take care of it," he said softly against his forehead, pulling away to look him in the eyes, "just trust me.”

“I… Okay,” Legend nodded slightly, something sad and resigned in his eyes. “Okay. I trust you.”

Next>>

[backstabber128]

Here's some fluff sketches to further prepare us all for the angst that awaits in season 2 🙏❤️‍🩹

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

The world is recently post-apocalypse. The phone satellites are all down and many, many buildings have been destroyed. Whumpee — for whatever reason — got sliced by glass. They are bleeding heavily and know nothing about first aid.

They are panicked but somehow got themself into an abandoned department store. There, they quickly rummage through the store to find first aid supplies and a book. They sit on the floor and examine the wound, comparing it (through scrunched-up eyes) to the book’s diagrams. There are tissues deeper than skin showing. The first aid book indicates that the type of injury Whumpee has will have to be treated in this way:

“‘Apply constant pressure to the wound until the bleeding stops and call emergency services— Emergency services?!” Whumpee, even more of a sobbing mess than before, throws the book at the ground, “So I guess I’ll keep ‘applying pressure’ until I FUCKING DIE.”

[cr1ms0nesp3ra-ac3]

Hi u all, thought of sharing something that ur probably gonna listen... ahem.

Of course, after all of the thinking,I decided to do my first and ever Harvest Moon Series! But that's not all, I love tragic and angsty stories.. so I think trying this will do. Yep, I am making a tragic sad based Harvest Moon series.

And yes I already set this title out right now, it's called Harvest Moon: Ballad of the Young Farmer ! So here are the concepts that makes it different:

So here it is, this is is the protagonists,Noelle and Sage. Two main characters you can choose, and you can also choose a sibling! Aka Nathaniel and Sara.

I already like how this turns out tho hehe—

So, for the plot to start.. things are not gonna go happy for the beginning..

Plot:

15 years ago, at Roseheart Village.. life was a very happy-go-merry moment between the villagers, they were all happy until.. On a traumatic faded night, something happened.

A forbidden name which people called the "Shadow Magician" had first entered the village during a silent night, they say that he is the evil entity who cursed young teens that is planning to make their dreams come true. And it chose you.

But after that.. You did not realize that you're cursed, because either your left or right eye is different. You don't understand why, until a voice called you out.

60 DAYS...

And now, 3 years for now on. You are in danger, as you are the farmer who is now terribly cursed, about to die on 60 days.. and you had two jobs, to either start a farm or don't tell anyone and keep your darkest secret ever.

You're not sure if there is a cure to remove this, but the best way is to find the Shadow Magician right now to not let your curse go worse,and most importantly...

Will you survive for your sake?

And that's the plot! I am also planning on showing new characters, new bachelors and bachelottes! Now i'm gonna put the warnings on this series of mine:

This contains.. [ Character Angst,Character Death,Mild and Slight Violence,Mental Health,Mentions of 5 Stage Grief,Angsty Endings because there is like 3 of them,Mentions of Grief,Emotional and Mental Trauma, Mentions of Emotional and Physical Abuse,Su1c1d3 and $H. ]

And that is all!! If you have questions about it, don't be shy to do so!

[capcavan]

Thinking daily about how easily ravens would fall into addictions

One in for drugs and they all would be ruined in nest with its lack of proper support and stimulation outside of rigorous training

Welp down the rabbit hole I go

Riko would microdose just to go through the days and deal with the pain physicall and emotionall

[yanderenightmare]

Bakugou Katsuki

♡ TW: implied and/or present elements of dubcon/noncon, yandere, kidnapping, captive reader, quirkless reader, mentioned death of important character, discrimination, drawn comparisons between quirklessness and disabilities, implied bakudeku, drugging, needles, mentions of hypochondriasis, also angst

♡ manga spoilers in a way, but also not really. anyway, read at your own discretion.

♡ gn reader

Sharp crimson eyes assess the fresh scrapes and swelling ruining your soft skin. A deep scowl on his face.

“Tch—look at all this…” he grumbles disapprovingly to no one but himself—too upset with you to acknowledge you, yet treating you no different than if you were glass. “These are gonna last weeks.”

You’d tried running away again—tripped and slipped up all on your own, stumbling through hallways and tumbling down stairs in your panic, only to stop short at the locked door—bolted and padlocked beyond all sane reason.

He was disappointed with you, sure. But that’s not the reason for his current anger.

“Sit there while I get bandages,” he orders, getting up from his crouch, pointing a strict finger at you in threat. “Dare move, and it’ll be bed rest for a whole ‘nother week.”

Bakugou’s obsession with your quirkless nature started a couple of months ago…

It was okay at first—he was hardly the first person you’d met who addressed you with patronizing resolve—but he got weird about it quickly.

You worked at another hero agency he was going to be collaborating with for a big upcoming mission. You weren’t a sidekick or anything grand like that, but a simple pencil-pusher—because they need those too, you know? And you liked your job. You got to work along with some of the greatest heroes in the world, see them up close, and help them out with those things they didn’t have time for—paperwork like budget justifications and incidence reports. Yeah, you might have been somewhat of a pushover, but hey, the salary was good, the environment was lively, and even though you don’t have one yourself, you got to see some really amazing quirks in action. It was, out of what you could hope for, your dream job.

The place was in a real buzz when they heard the number one hero would be joining them for a couple of months. You were excited, too—it wasn’t often your smaller agency would undertake big missions—especially not ones that required such big hero names.

DynaMight wasn’t one to share much of anyone’s enthusiasm. He was strict and down to business and otherwise had a major pet peeve for unnecessary rabble loitering around. He’d stopped mid-meeting at the sight of you, seeing as you were obviously no fieldworker, and had gone as far as to demand you tell him your value as if your presence had been some big distracting nuisance.

Luckily, your Pro-Hero coworkers had stepped in on your behalf and told him you were a transcriber keeping track for later reference. It was probably only a slip-up that they’d added the fact that you were quirkless.

You don’t hold it against them, or well… you did a little, but you couldn’t really blame them either. Evoking the explosion hero’s rage must have made them flustered and desperate to play any sympathy card available to them in the spur of the moment.

Of course, it wasn’t their card to play, nor would you ever have played it yourself, but if the humility was worth anything, it successfully managed to calm the top hero down. Actually, he didn’t say anything for the rest of the meeting. And if you hadn’t been so busy taking notes, you would have noticed his lingering stare.

A couple more incidents had occurred in the office after that. Among others, he’d caught an incoming paper airplane your coworker had thrown your way—stepped right in out of nowhere and cremated it with a controlled explosion before it could hit you.

You’d been speechless for a moment—the entire desk area along with you—confused by his strangeness and, at least in your case, even somewhat appalled by his utter lack of consideration—in your office space, no less. Seriously, top hero or not, you can’t just barge in and incinerate stuff?

“That was an important document,” you'd informed—brow quirked—no regard to how offending him could probably make grounds to have you fired. You'd only slightly regretted it after having said it. But geez, you thought—shouldn’t the top hero have some semblance worth of self-control?

“You shouldn’t be playing around,” he'd stated—tone just as sour as the stink of burned paper tainting the air. “Someone might get hurt.”

You’d almost scoffed at him but had held your tongue until he walked away.

Back then, you’d thought it was an offhand insult directed at you and your respected coworker—that the explosion hero had just called you both unprofessional to your faces, like the biggest scumbag to ever walk in through your humble doors. But looking back at it now, you realize he probably might have meant it in its most sincere regard.

His over-protectiveness knows no limit, you’ve learned—calling it patronizing would be a joke in comparison. He treats you as if anything in proximity might make you shatter by association—like a bubble made from the most thinned-out solution of water and soap.

You’d woken up in your well-prepared pillow room shortly after your agency’s collaboration with DynaMight had ended. It didn’t take long for you to piece together his sickness after that.

At first, you’d thought it was a more severe case of benevolent discrimination. After all, most people treat you with some amount of pity after being privy to your being quirkless—treating it no less than a disability of sorts.

But Bakugou’s view of you was increasingly more unsettling than that—suffering from some type of delusion that has him fully convinced you’re utterly inept without him.

In some odd ways, it would have been better if he was just faking—if he was doing it all, treating you as an inferior for some sick sense of deriving his own sadistic pleasure. But no, you think he actually fully and whole-heartedly believes you’re a danger to yourself and that anything, if not monitored in the perfect conditions of the controlled environment he’s established for you, will result in your fatal illness or harm.

He’s a full-sworn hypochondriac concerning you—even as he himself dregs home some of the worst injuries you’ve ever seen as if it were nothing but a splinter in the rough of his worn soles. Meanwhile, he’s scared that if you leave the bed without socks on, it will give you pneumonia.

You were sure you had a couple of control freaks at the agency, but nothing measures up to Bakugou’s mania. How he dresses you is one thing—how he feeds you is another. An assortment of pills first, all vitamins and supplements, a spoon of cod liver oil, then a balanced meal reminding you of those tragic trays you’re served at the hospital—four times a day without fail—breakfast, lunch, dinner, then supper—he also keeps track of all the water he’s decided you need to drink—all things perfectly regulated according to your size and age.

Then there’s the sleep schedule with a set number of eight hours—no more and no less. Exercise is also necessary—workout plans designed and dictated by him. Nothing too severe, though—he’s afraid your quirkless constitution won’t be able to handle anything beyond thirty minutes max.

And then, of course, there’s hygiene.

You sobbed and fought hysterically the first time he’d washed you—in the tub with him after he’d stripped you naked. In fact, you’d made such a fuss he’d had to fetch a sedative.

Even in your drowsed state of complete numb delirium, you’d still heard how he’d fretted over it—the tiny needle hole he’d torn in your arm—as if that was the real violation, even as he’d thoroughly molested the entirety of your body with different cloths and sponges for no shorter than a full hour.

You’d been terrified, of course—horrified by his meticulous routines and odd nature. Yet strangely, despite his rigid rules, he won't ever get violent to enforce them.

You had expected it of him—being known for his brutality—the hero without mercy—the symbol of retribution. You know he's no stranger to leaving the battlefield bloody. But with you, he won't so much as harm a single strand of hair from your head.

He will instead bargain with you, sometimes for hours. Eat what he tells you, and you’ll watch a movie afterward. Go to sleep, and he'll escort you out to see the sun for a few hours in the morning. Let him ensure you wash correctly, and he’ll allow you to dry and dress yourself.  

And in those moments when you leave him no other option, he subdues you through the help of a needle again and never ever by manhandling you—it was as if that weren’t even a viable option. It was obvious he regarded the sedative as the uttermost last resort, always muttering on about chemicals and whatnot under his breath. It seemed he would rather avoid it at all costs—but also, that if it stood between allowing the disturbance of the schedule he felt was needed to keep you healthy and forcibly putting you to sleep, he knew without a doubt which option he considered the lesser evil.

He was certain of it all. And at some point or another… you had even begun sharing his fear of attracting some sort of illness yourself—even something so small as a common cold. But no, it wasn’t the same. Yours was not a fear of the actual disease itself but of what he might do if he caught you sneezing and coughing. You could only imagine the upgraded pill table he’d have in store for you then and what other measures he’d instill due to his excessive ideas of necessity.

And that’s why you’d tried running again even after what must have been a couple of months since the last time. The thought of his inane insanity having affected you so badly you’d started playing along was all too much a painful realization—you’d felt compelled to reject it—run away even when you knew you’d never be able to make the door open if you could even reach it.

You knew it would be in vain, and even though running headfirst into something you know isn’t going to work might be the first signs of madness—you’re still relieved to have found some remaining worth of fight still in you, even if it couldn’t amount to anything.

He comes back as quickly as he’d left, still muttering to himself, cross about the damage you’ve sustained—like you’re one of the collector’s items he keeps up on the mantle in his office—green costume and a big bright smile. You remember the exposés—they’d been rather gruesome, about the hero who’d died in battle not so long ago—a couple of years back now, give or take. He had the number-one spot before DynaMight.

The current top hero retakes his spot at your feet, sighing deeply once he starts dabbing your minor bruises with disinfectant, followed by unnecessary bandages. You’re silent as you watch him work—all so diligently as he does everything, cutting no corners and running zero lights.

His efforts, done with the very epitome of care, all disgust you.

Your lip curls. “I’m not what you think I am…”

His keen glare stops obsessing over your wounds to look up at your face—he’d already tended to the ones he could see, but he’s sure more would blossom and swell in a couple of hours. It’s beyond worrisome—but it’s his fault in any case. He should move you to a place without stairs—it’s way too dangerous for someone as accident-prone as you.

You make eye contact, and his anger fades at the sight of tears welling in your corners—softening as if he’s convinced even a harsh look will have you shatter in his hands.

“I’m quirkless. But ’m not weak.” You’re sure you preached much of the same back at the beginning of your stay, though then you’d hurdled it at him—screamed it from the top of your lungs until you’d lost your voice, unknowing that it’s a statement he’s heard a hundred times over spoken by different lips from yours.

It’s a funny thing almost… how your eyes remind him of his—so soft and yet brimming with determination—a determination that will only get you killed.

He’d put faith in those words before, believed them beyond himself, and it had cost him everything.

But even so, he can’t fault you for believing in them yourself… they’re what makes him love you, after all.

He smiles gently—a most gut-churning sight from the all-scowling man.

“I’m sure you think so.”

He doesn’t relay it with any type of harshness but pity—gross concern and better judgment—overwhelming oodles of it in his garnet eyes, weighing them down with something so awful as compassion and… you don’t exactly know… but it looks like grief.

♡ part two ♡ more thoughts on this ♡ BAKUGOU KATSUKI masterlist ♡ BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA masterlist

[phantomdrummcr]

( damn sometimes i forget the fact that alex doesn’t know that his younger sister is a mom now AND that his older brother was literally fucking m.urd3red. good times. i hate myself 🙃 )

[calicoheartz]

Write one where Paige & reader get into a heated argument lots of angst happy ending

From Ashes to Affection ; Paige Bueckers ﹒⟢

꣑୧ — summary | you and paige were known for your self-deprecating jokes towards one another, but after tension builds and threatens to boil over, will your relationship spoil or will you manage to save it?

wc ; 662

— warnings | swearing , arguments , lots of angst but w a happy ending (yay) massive tw : self deprecating joke about anxiety

my master list ㇀♡

a/n : ooof I feel like I haven’t been writing as much angst lately so it was very fun to write ! enjoy ◡̈

After a long week of final exams and nights filled with books sprawled across your desk, you took the opportunity to spend the eve of the incoming weekend with your girlfriend Paige.

Your differing schedules and commitments had left tension to build for weeks, simmering beneath the surface until it finally boiled over. It started with a harmless comment, a joke that was meant to be lighthearted, but it was taken the wrong way, triggering a chain reaction of hurtful words and unspoken frustrations. 

Paige knew how much you struggled with your anxiety, it was something that had plagued you for a majority of your life. You two had always made self-deprecating jokes at one another, the atmosphere was light and loving, giving you hope that maybe you were moving past the rough patch of your relationship. All until…

“Well thank god having bad anxiety isn't an olympic sport because you'd definitely have a gold medal.”

You felt your heart sink, you felt tears threatening to spill out of your eyes, due to the shock at the words the blonde had just said.

"I can't believe you would say that, Paige," you said, your voice filled with hurt. "I thought you knew me better than that."

Paige's expression hardened, her own hurt turning into anger. "Maybe I don't know you as well as I thought," she retorted, her words cutting like a knife.

The argument escalated quickly, both of you saying things you didn't mean, words fueled by hurt and anger. Before you knew it, Paige was storming out of the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the shattered remains of your relationship.

You packed a bag, leaving your promise ring on the bedside of the blondes bedside table, and headed towards your best friends house in order to calm down. 

Days turned into weeks, and despite your best efforts, the rift between you and Paige only seemed to grow wider. You missed her more than words could say, missed the way she would smile at you, the way she would hold you close when you needed comfort. But you couldn't bring yourself to reach out to her, to try and mend what was broken.

And then, one day, you received a letter from Paige. In it, she poured her heart out, apologizing for her part in the argument, for the hurtful things she had said. She admitted that she missed you, missed the way things used to be between you.

Torn between anger and longing, you found yourself faced with a choice. Could you find it in your heart to forgive Paige, to try and rebuild the trust that had been shattered? Or was it too late for the two of you, the damage done irreparable?

With a heavy heart, you penned a response to Paige, laying bare your own feelings and fears. You admitted that you missed her too, missed the way things used to be. But you also expressed your doubts, your fear that history would only repeat itself if you were to reconcile.

Weeks passed, and as the days turned into months, you found yourself thinking more and more about Paige, about the possibility of a future together. And then, one day, you received another letter from Paige, this time with a different tone, a tone of hope and determination.

"I understand if you can't forgive me, can't trust me again," Paige wrote. "But I want you to know that I'm willing to do whatever it takes to earn back your trust, to prove to you that I've changed. Please, Y/N, give me a chance to make things right between us."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you read Paige's words, words filled with sincerity and love. And in that moment, you knew that despite everything, you still loved her too. Taking a deep breath, you picked up your pen and began to write, ready to take the first step towards healing and forgiveness.

sorry for the short post my loves !! ive been super burnt out from writing and have been suffering from writers block so I hope y'all enjoyed this one <3 as always, thank u sm for reading !

[songmingisthighs]

[15.41] bf!wooyoung × reader

⇀ your boyfriend means business and no amount of illogical ideas, and no matter how crazy those ideas were, was going to get in the way of him spending time with you

⇁ wooyoung taking charge as he should

tw : wooyoung getting mad? kinda slightly suggestive maybe (mentions of wooyoung being sexy, wooyoung slipping something into mc's bra, mention of making out

genre : slight angst, lovers, fluff-adjacent at the end ?

wc : 1.3 k

It's not often for Wooyoung to come barrelling into your place hot on his trail. Usually, when it happened, it was because you two had been separated for too long or if he wanted a little bit more TLC that may or may not include some sort of helpful equipment.

So it scared and annoyed you when Wooyoung roughly opened and closed your front door, causing you to jump slightly on the couch.

"Get up," he demanded, standing before you with his hands on his waist, "Get up now." You glared at him with determination and huffed, "I told you I'm not going anywhere, I already explained why I can't." Wooyoung scoffed and rolled his eyes, "And I told you I don't care and you've drained all of the patience I had in me while I was waiting in my car for the past 30 minutes so you are going to get off this couch, wear something cute, and go out on a date with me." The mention of the date made your face red not in anger but embarrassment because, at that point, he was forcing you to repeat something that to you was rather embarrassing. "I can't, okay? I told you I don't have money to go out!" you exclaimed, throwing the pillow that was on your lap down and it landed by Wooyoung's feet. "When do you ever have money?" Wooyoung scoffed but you knew it wasn't him making fun of you, it was just him repeating what you usually told him.

At that point, you just wanted to evade him and hole yourself up because you had been stressed over feeling like a mooch in the relationship what with having a boyfriend with a big career and big income while you were still working a regular job trying to make ends meet. So you told him that you were going to treat him on a date that exact night, planning and saving up for a month and you were about to do it when your stupid laptop decided to break down and you were forced to spend the money you had saved up to treat your boyfriend so you could work and it broke your heart and it made you feel more than guilty.

"Not funny, Wooyoung, I'm serious," you were trying to hold back your anger because all the tears had been shed the day before when you finally took the courage to look at your bank statement. Wooyoung slumped on the single-seater next to you and sighed loudly, shaking his head in frustration because he couldn't comprehend your point. "I really don't get this, I don't get you at this moment because I usually pay anyways and I never made you pay for anything so why are you suddenly acting like this?" "Because I told you I was going to pay for our date today! I already made such a big deal out of this and I really do want to pay after having you pay for everything since the beginning of our relationship and even before that. So I just can't go out because I can't pay!" though you tried, your voice still raised even if it was slightly and it made you feel even worse.

Wooyoung sighed in exasperation and leaned forward with his elbows resting on his knees, "So that's the whole issue? You wanting to pay for our date?" and you meekly nodded, avoiding eye contact though you predicted that Wooyoung was going to throw his hand in the air and stood up, towering over you, "Well you can just use my card and pay! When the bill comes, or when we see something either one of us wants to buy, YOU will pay for them with MY card!" he said,. This time, you scoffed and shook your head, "That's not the point, Wooyoung. If I do that then it wouldn't be my money we're using!" you argued back but you kind of understood the logic of his solution.

You were about to explain the whole shpiel behind your logic when Wooyoung crouched down in front of you with his eyebrows furrowed. "Do you really think that I'm the kind of man who would let his girl pay for me on our date? Do you really think I'd let you spend even 500 won on me even on milk? I work hard because you are my motivation, I make my money for my future and you better get into that thick, beautiful head of yours that it includes you in it." Though he was being serious and firm with you (which was a whole type of sexy on its own), you couldn't help but feel butterflies in your stomach and feel your cheeks warming up. Wooyoung then reached into his back pocket, pulled out his credit card and put it out for you to take, "We will go out tonight because I miss my beautiful, wonderful, albeit slightly crazy girlfriend and you will pay for it using this card and you will not worry about anything."

As much as it was a solution to the issue you were facing, you were still hesitant because not only did the issue happen but you felt like you had ruined the mood. However, deep down you knew that once you and Wooyoung had dinner, all animosity would be lost and you both would laugh at this the next day. Your hesitance didn't go unnoticed by Wooyoung so in a last desperate attempt, he reached into your shirt and slipped the card under your bra strap despite you yelping in surprise (not because Wooyoung never suddenly felt the need to peek at your boobs but because it was more because he slipped his card there). "What the hell?" you squeaked as you pulled out the card and tried to put it in Wooyoung's hand but he just parried your hand away with one hand as the other tapped away at his phone. "Wooyoung, take this back, I sw-" Before you could finish your words, Wooyoung showed you the screen of his phone, showing you what he had just done while you were distracted, "Now you have my credit card AND money in your bank account in case you don't want to use my card so you don't have an excuse to not go out with me because damn it, I look good and I made myself look good for you. I even put on the cologne you said you liked on me so we are not being wasteful because then the environment suffer." Eyes widened, you slapped him on the shoulder, "Wooyoung, that is far too much! That's more than what I had saved up! Are you crazy?" but he simply rolled his eyes at you, "You really think there is a numerical limit to my provision? And you call me crazy," he scoffed incredulously.

The next thing you know, you were being pulled up to your feet by Wooyoung and he gently, but firmly directed you to your room. "Now, you're going to put on something other than the hoodie you stole from me and those raggedy sleeping shorts you claimed you have an emotional connection to, forego makeup if you must because I can't deal with another man glancing at you every 3 seconds tonight, and we'll go out, have some fun, and later make out in the car. Does that sound good to you?" You swallowed the lump in your throat, suddenly nervous under Wooyoung's stare, but you managed to frantically nod anyway. "Good," he then turned your body around and sent you off inside to change with a firm smack on your right buttcheek, "I'll be out here calming down, okay? I'll be waiting." Then he shut the door behind you, leaving you rather confused yet flattered at what he did.

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[greycaelum]

Kaleidoscope Series—Clouds and Mochi Chapters { Blue }

—Gojo Satoru X Wife Reader

𑁍 Synopsis: a date with Satoru and finally knowing your Sunshine's gender

𑁍 Genre: family theme, fluff, very mild angst if you squint, comfort

𑁍 CW/TW: (2.6k)—pregnancy, domesticity, suggestive content, kisses, mild profanity, mentions of pregnancy fear, overall fluff

𑁍 Grey ✒️☕: this chapter is dedicated for { @afortoru } thank you for being here pretty one, I'm delighted to meet you and know you even in such short time! So for now let this be your bookmark in this lil'corner and my good luck charm for you —XOXO

Satoru diligently packed several tumblers of the chilled fresh orange juice in the bag along with some packed lunch and oranges. He knows how cute you look whenever your cravings are satisfied. After all, no one wants a grumpy pregnant wifey.

Now, he just has to wait for you to get ready, so both of you can go.

Having two children, naughty ones at that, and with an incoming one or more, people often wondered how the two of you are doing in your marriage. Hopeless as he is, Satoru knows he's often away and he has to make up for it.

"Love, helpppp!" You hollered from upstairs sending him to a mini heart attack, traversing the kitchen to the bedroom in one warp.

There you are standing in front of the mirror in a powder blue maternity jumper dress, holding a pair of socks with a pout on your lips. He could see the little beads of sweat forming on your temples, telling your struggle before you called out for him. Your 26 weeks bump, which he could say is a little bigger than usual, is making it harder for you to bend.

Pretty little thing. You're gonna make him crazy with your antics. 

"Really? We're inside the house and you go warping around?"

"Well, someone's trying to give me a scare with her bloody scream." Satoru chuckles and takes the sock in your hand, guiding you by the hip to the nearby chair while he kneels and holds your swollen foot.

He has seen you swollen with his child two times and still seeing you waddling around with your pretty baby bump gets his nerves giddy and his heart fluttering.

"What are you grinning about, Love?" You owlishly blinked at him.

"Mnnn, that you're really beautiful." Satoru smiled. And he meant it, so much that after all these years he thinks his crush on you never faded. The way you giggled at his compliment as he kisses the peak of your bump is so calming he wants to keep you in his arms all day long.

But that's for another time. He's got plans for you today.

"Could you now tell me where we are going?" You stare at Satoru and huff. He never told you anything about this date. Only telling you to dress comfortably and dragging you to walk somewhere you don't know.

"Later you'll see."

Your arm loosely hang around Satoru's waist, while the other held your orange juice occasionally sharing a sip with Satoru while waiting for the green lights at the crossroads. Satoru held your shoulders to keep you from bumping into anything, while his other arm carried your bag.

From time to time gazes fall on the two of you, walking past the neighborhood. It's not usual to see a couple walking around leisurely. Satoru paired your look with his loose white button-up shirt tucked in his blue chinos and a pair of white topsider going for a cutesy blue and white palette for your date.

"Oh, is that your first? Such beautiful parents for a little one." One of the grandmothers in the neighborhood greeted the two of you. Walking around, there are times pleasant people greet you for small talk, especially seeing you with a baby.

"Thank you, it's actually the third." Satoru grinned proudly, his hand that was on your shoulder slid down to rub your belly.

Show off. You snorted and thanked the lovely lady.

"Really 'Toru, where are you going?" It's not the usual district you go strolling around. It's been a while since you had a walk around the town. Being swollen and pregnant easily exhausts you, opting you to be a couch potato in the house after sending off the kids to school.

Satoru knows that that's why he arranged this little excursion for the two of you. Away from looking after the kids, and just simply as a couple.

"We're..." Satoru trailed off and halted in front of a tall building. "Here it is, ta-dah!"

"Palettes & Paint" you read the artistic signboard of a cozy-looking cafe with floor-to-ceiling window walls and inside is a vintage brown vibe space.

You let him pull you in, donning the apron over you, and sat on a corner with different kinds of paint and paper. While you're not particularly inclined to do this, watching Satoru focused on his canvas, mixing paint and all is a sight in itself. Besides you are snacks and some creamy drinks Satoru ordered.

"Why painting, Love?" Mindlessly you brush the stray hair over Satoru's forehead and propped your elbow to support your cheeks.

"Nothing, just thought it'd be nice for Sunshine to enjoy art." Satoru turned to you and grinned. "You're staring, Baby"

"Uh-huh, which baby do you mean?." You smiled and went back to your canvas.

"My first Baby."

Satoru inches closer and press a kiss on your cheeks, and went back to his work with a boyish grin. Satoru watch your lips pursed, hiding the smile blooming on your face.

"I'm going for a doctor's appointment, they said we can finally see the gender. Do you have time this Friday, Love?" Carefully you draw a cute snout on your painting.

Satoru has been looking forward to this moment. Kouki and Saika have been bantering about the little one's gender. For Satoru, he is fine in any way, he's just so happy right now that he can't think much of the gender. 

"Of course, I need to be there. What do you think of our Sunshine's gonna be?"

Your hand froze, and setting down your brush you look at the painting you made. It's a cute white wolf, with equally blue eyes as Satoru has.

"A boy... I guess." You chuckled lightly. Poor Saika if that ever happens, she'll have a riot every day with all the boys in the house.

A boy huh? Satoru brushed his chin.

Lately, he has been visioning a little girl looking so much like you. Crawling all around the house. Saika and Kouki would fawn at her so much, knowing those two were asking for a sibling that has your hair. And he too, wants to see a baby looking so much like you.

"Love? You're spacing out."

Satoru snaps out of it and laughs to himself. Thoughts of babies with you are his distraction.

"I think it's a girl."

"Really?" You laughed. "Kouki's gonna be overpowered by his sisters."

Looking at you right now. Glowing and happy like this, he thinks that maybe he should bring you out more often. There's that trend going on about a babymoon. Going to the ocean with you and the kids sounds nice. But he thinks that if he sees you in a bikini, Satoru would go batshit feral. Seeing his wife is all sexy and pregnant with his baby, even for him is too much.

You're the best mother for the kids and the best wife to him. Always making sure the house is ready when they get home. Arranges stuff that he can't handle in the Gojo Estate. Your patience must be that of a saint, knowing Satoru is often away and you have to deal with more than you can handle. Having obligations is already enough, but watching over two kids as well...

You're really strong and smart to handle it all and still love him without hating his lacking.

"We should go together in your Lamaze classes." Satoru brush away the stray hair on your cheeks. "I only got to do it thrice with you."

Once with Kouki, and twice with Saika. His schedule back then was such a mess that even on weekends he has work. Satoru's eyes landed on your baby bump.

But for this little one, time couldn't be more perfect with the relatively peaceful period.

"Oh, by the way, what are you drawing Love?"

"Hmmm?" Satoru showed you his canvas. "Hey! What's with your constipated face? This is art y'know!"

"No matter what you say it looks more horrible than a grade 3 student's doodle." Perhaps it's time Satoru accepts the only thing he's good at mixing colors is his curse techniques.

You promised the two munchkins that you'll pick them up from school after the doctor's appointment. Satoru has to slip in a little more bribing just to ease up the two cats who were ready to sulk after hearing they can't come with you to see their baby sibling.

"Hi Mrs. Gojo, are you ready to know your baby's gender?"

It was a split second but you certainly felt someone stiffened. You turned to see Satoru smiling at you, except that his forehead is a little sweaty even with the air conditioning.

Silly one...

The sonographer applied the gel and the transducer and let you relax. Satoru held your hand, while his eyes are so focused on the monitor. The sonographer is explaining the position of the baby.

"Is that the eyes?" Satoru's jaws fell open. "He just opened his eyes!" Satoru looks at you, shock written all over his face. You could swear he grew pale by several degrees. You have to hold his hand a little tighter because Satoru is too blown away that he doesn't notice his palms are sweating coldly.

"Ah yes, the baby's eyes are partially open by 26 weeks, but don't worry it's not yet the final shade of his eyes." The sonographer kindly explains this to your flabbergasted husband.

"Hey, Love. Are you okay? You're so pale." You chuckled as Satoru brought the back of your palms to his lips, kissing it over and over again. It's not like it's his first time, but damn does it makes him so nervous.

Seems like the sonographer can tell as she finally asks the question.

"Would you like me to write down the gender—" but the sonographer froze all of a sudden, all eyes glued to the screen.

"Uhm, is that another head am I seeing?" You blinked several times to confirm your vision.

"Uh, I think we need a second opinion here." The sonographer looks at you, nodding at your question.

There are cases of pregnancies where you're pregnant, and got pregnant again, maybe days or weeks apart, but certainly carrying two babies at the same time. There are very rare cases called superfetation. In most cases, it was made possible by artificial reproductive technology, but yours was simply a miracle.

"So I'm technically pregnant at the same time, but it's not twins?" You look at your ob-gyne. The fear starts to creep in with the sudden revelation.

"Yep, that is right. And judging from your ultrasound, they're growing one week apart. The little one here has successfully hidden behind the older one until now." Your doctor smiled at you.

Satoru has been listening, and he's blown away by this.

"What do we need to do to keep my wife and babies safe? Complications? Treatments? Does she need medicines? Listen the money doesn't matter. I just need my wife and kids, safe." He's adamant about this. Desperate is an understatement. There's no way he'll gamble about you or his kids.

"Love calm down." You reach for his hand. Even if your mind is reeling too.

"To be honest, the thing that we should look out for most is the babies' growth. The older one may be ready for birth while the younger one is still not. But seeing that they're only one week apart, that lessens our worries." You Ob-Gyne assured you with a bright smile. "I know this sounds very daunting, but despite this unseen situation, it's possible for both babies to be born fully developed and completely healthy."

Several thoughts are running through Satoru's head. This is fine, he has to support you. This is totally fine. There are cases of mothers pregnant with four kids at the same time. That's right, he should be more mindful so he can keep an eye on you and your delicate situation.

But damn, were his little swimmers that strong to get you pregnant twice? Guess, staying up all night romping on the bed really did a number on you.

Flick

"Owww!" Satoru rubs his forehead and looks at you, your brow raised at him.

"Seems like Mr. Gojo is too excited to even listen." Your OB chuckled and opened a small paper. "So, would you like to hear the gender?"

"Can you just write it Doc? We wanna open it with our kids." Feeling the way Satoru grips your palms. You couldn't agree more with him. Satoru discussed more with the doctor while you waited. He was meticulous about your vitamins and symptoms he should look out for. Seeing him going through almost everything somehow eases your nerves.

But really you're scared. Can you handle two children at the same time? What if you can do it? You'll end up neglecting one or the other, or your body can't take all at once that you'll—

"Shhh, I'm right here." Satoru brought your head to his chest, feeling the reality sinking in as the clinic doors close. "I'm right here, Baby."

You nodded, just listening to Satoru's heartbeat and cooing until your emotions and hormones calm down.

Leaving the hospital you're feeling clammy with the sudden news. You're never ready for this. Is this why you're more adept at your cravings? Or feeling more clingy with Satoru in the morning... 

The chauffer discreetly pulled up the partition to give his madame and sire privacy.

"Baby." Satoru brought you out of your trance. "The kids are in the house, do you want me to pick up a cake or something on our way?"

You nodded absentmindedly. Satoru could see your thoughts are still suspended in the air.

"I know this is scary for you, for us. But I couldn't wish for more, and just so y'know, I would do everything in my power to protect you, the mother of my kids, and these little ones here." Satoru protectively laid his palm over your belly, caressing the bump before pressing a soft kiss on your lips. "And you two in there, better not give okaa-chan a hard time or else otou-chan's not gonna share my strawberry daifuku with you anymore." Satoru huffs seriously.

It's gonna be alright...

Your lat your head on Satoru's shoulder, inhaling his scent. This time he really did took a bath with the soap you gave him, so he's not stinky.

"I want to eat chiffon cake 'Toru. I'm so hungry."

"Hai, hai, anything for you Honey."

"And we should make a bet, the loser will change the diapers."

"Yes Ma'am." Satoru shakes his head. Even if he wins he knows he'll be the one to change the diapers anyway.

The car didn't even pull up but the front door busted open with Kouki and Saika running to greet you both.

"Mama! Mama! How was it? Is it a sister?"

"It's a brother, right Mama?"

Satoru ushered you three inside the house while holding the chiffon cake.

Kouki immediately ran to the genkan and help you out on your slipper while Saika held your hand to keep your balance. Kouki did the same for his Papa.

"Mama are you okay? Does it hurt anywhere?" Sai look at you with a worried look on her face as she climbs on the couch beside you.

"I have orange juice Mama," Kouki ran to the kitchen bringing you a tumbler of chilled fresh orange juice immediately lightening your mood.

"Mama's fine, sweetie. Thank you sweetheart. You see, Mama and Papa has a surprise for you!"

You glance at Satoru bringing out the cake with a lit candle on it. Totally unnecessary but who are you to question your husband's shenanigans? Even if you said no, he'll do it anyways.

You brought out the envelope from the ob-gyne and the kids are squealing in excitement. Kouki clung to your arm so tight and Saika was giggling as she waved at her Papa to sit down.

"Let's see." Satoru set the cake down on the table and joined the huddle, putting Saika on his lap while Kouki curled under your arm.

"It's a girl..." Saika gasp.

"It's a boy!" Kouki cheered.

They were jumping up and down, realization finally sinking in until they stopped and looked at you and their Papa smiling so wide.

"Why is it two?!" They chorused.

You hit Satoru's chest, keeping your laughter contained, while Satoru chuckled sweeping in to kiss you senseless.

—GreyCaelum

PLAGIARISM IS A CRIME

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your home is the sea, my home is you ~ pirate! giselle

a/n: after almost seven months (good LORD), we have a third pirate aespa fic!!! and everyone cheered!!! this may be one of my favorite works of the year, there's something so tender and sincere in this fic that I can't quite put my finger on. anyways, gonna go watch Hugh Jackman edits on repeat until I get more fic ideas! 🫶

tw: mentions of robbery, violence, and other crimes associated with being a pirate, a LOT of swearing, the faintest hint of winselle, it's not angst but it gets sad at times???

summary: Your idea for your latest novel has you ruminating on your previous relationship with the woman who haunts your dreams, Giselle. Giselle's longing for a missing piece of her heart leads her to your front doorstep. She just has to hope that you won't close your heart to her, just as she did to you years ago.

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A cool ocean breeze wraps around her neck as the chill of the night starts to seep into her bones. Every part of her is screaming to run, to go far away from the things that scare her.

But what is life without a little bit of adventure?

You watch the pendulum in your grandfather clock swing forward as the next words flow easily onto the paper.

She wanted to experience the adventure of the ocean, to let her heart travel with the ocean waves that beckoned her forward. But what was she to do? Abandon her family? Leave the familiarity of her hometown behind?

Leave them behind? The one person who supported them through thick and thin?

The pendulum swings back as you stare at the candlelight in your bedroom.

Rosella had a choice to make, one that would decide her entire destiny. A friend, or a lifetime of fulfillment?

Their call was strong, but the ocean’s was stronger. 

~

With one hand on your naval revolver and the other on your bag, your feet hit the ground with increasing frequency as you run towards the docks. You had a deadline to meet with your time and your writing. The traveling night market was in town tonight, and within their merry caravan of travelers was your editor. A shrewd old woman with a sharp tongue who had been your mentor since you had abandoned your studies to pursue writing as a career.

I would’ve stayed if Giselle stayed.

You shake your head at the thought of your childhood best friend - you were nothing but a fleeting nostalgic memory to her, so she should be the same to you.

The book, the market - I have to hurry.

Unfortunately, the night market only accepted incoming foot traffic until midnight, and according to your grandfather clock, it was a centimeter past eleven-fifty. Your home was ten minutes away from the docks - you’d be cutting it close if you were simply walking.

~

“You’re early.” The guard jokes as you pull out the business card that Merrin, your editor, gave to you. “She still edits your books?”

“As long as I keep writing them.” You fold your arms as the guard stares at the card. “Can I go in?”

“Try to make it quick - she’s in one of those moods again.” 

You pluck the card from their hand before waving at them.

“She’s always in a mood, but I have to hope that it’s a good one.”

You greet the various merchants and regulars that pass by you - most of them are familiar with your work, even if you use a moniker instead of your real name. It isn’t hard to deduce who the newest novelist on the block is when you know their publisher by name.

“When’s the new novel coming?” One shouts at you as you chuckle to yourself. “The last one really pulled on my heartstrings, and I need a bit of a pick-me-up before I go for a second read.”

“You’ll get your hands on it as soon as everyone else does.” You reassure them as they jokingly scoff and walk away.

Oh, the bliss of only being recognized by a small crowd of people.

You stop in front of the last tent on the docks - a large purple cloth hangs over the rods and poles that make up the foundation of the tent. Angry red vines dart over various parts of the tent, but none dare to cross each other.

You take a deep breath before entering the tent.

Hopefully her mood won’t sour mine.

“You’re earlier than usual. Did you get sick and tired of begging the guard to let you in until I would show up and save your ass?” Merrin, dressed in a conservative, frilly white dress, lights a candle with one hand as she balances on her cane with the other.

“Does your bad mood have to do with whoever’s wedding you interrupted?” You bite your lip as she slowly turns toward you.

“If my glasses were on me, I’d knock you to the floor with my cane.” She hobbles over to another table to light another candle as you approach the middle of the room. “And I thought this dress looks nice on me.”

“Yeah, if you were a fourteen-year-old noble who was forced to marry a man decades older than her.” Another sharp look from Merrin causes you to shut your mouth before she fulfills her early promise. “Are you in the mood to read something I’ve written?”

“Depends on if it’s better than the utter shit I’ve been reading all day.” Merrin sets her cane aside as she sits on one of the two chairs near the middle of the room. “Hand me my glasses, will you?”

“Don’t hit me with your cane, you old witch.” You pick her glasses up off of the floor before handing them to her.

“Why, I ought to-” She quickly grabs her cane, which causes you to immediately sit in the chair on her left.

You’re both playing with each other - she won’t hit you that hard, and you won’t completely piss her off. It’s just the way that Merrin is, and if you’re careful, you can break down her walls and see the woman behind the anger and sass.

As you look over to her, Merrin lightly taps your ankle with her cane as a rare smile appears on her face.

“How’s the novel coming? More progress than scribbles and midnight thoughts, I hope?” She looks surprised as you pull a bundle of parchment from your bag.

“I managed to get a chapter out, but it’s a rough draft, Merrin.” You remind her as you hand her the papers. “It isn’t very good-”

“-that’s for me to decide.” She says as she grabs the papers and adjusts the glasses on her face.

“I-” You interject before she gives you a pointed glare.

“Shut your damn mouth so I can read in peace.”

~

Sometimes you wonder why you chose Merrin as your editor - a form of punishment, perhaps?

That’s what you feel like you’re doing to yourself as she carefully scans every single word on the pages that you scribbled on. A spotlight has closed in on you, and you’re sweating under the pressure. What will you do if she rejects you again after this draft? Will you finally part ways with the woman who helped you find a path when you were nothing but an empty wanderer?

Merrin clears her throat as your attention snaps back to her.

She thinks it’s terrible - I’m never going to live this latest failure down.

“This is quite good.” She softly says as she reorganizes the papers for you.

“I beg your pardon?”

“And I thought I was the one with bad hearing, being old and all.” She snorts as you reach for the papers from her extended hand.

As soon as your hand touches them, Merrin snatches them out of your reach with a knowing smile.

“I have one question about the main character.” 

“Alright, lay it on me.” You sigh in relief as you can mentally prepare yourself for her critiques.

Rosella was hardly fleshed out, and she had little-to-no dialogue to give perspective into her motivations, ideals, and personality. Perhaps Merrin could help you with that?

“What woman inspired you to write Rosella?” She asks as you furrow your brows in confusion.

“Excuse me?”

“Answer the damn question.”

“I, uh…” You nervously look around, trying to think of an escape route. “She’s based on a friend, from long, long ago.”

You stress that this woman was long behind you, and there was absolutely nothing to worry about. It’s not like she would show back up in your life after years and years of silence.

“Well, if you see this friend from a long, long time ago,” She stresses the words the same way you did, “tell her that she’s one hell of a protagonist.”

“I will.” You grit your teeth as your mind wanders to the woman in question.

I hope I never see her again.

~

Giselle scribbles various notes onto the map within the captain’s quarters. She used to be the primary navigator when the Red-Hair Pirates were nothing but an idea in Winter’s head.

“One day, this boat will be filled with pirates and friends we’ve collected in our travels,” Winter looked over to Giselle before placing a hand on her back, “and I’m going to need you to be by my side, every second of every day.”

Winter paused for a moment, before walking towards the ship and extending her hand to her.

“You have everything you ever need here - a good education, family, friends, and stability. I’m offering adventure until your heart's content, enough money to set your family up for life, and every kind of booze imaginable.”

“Even rum?” Giselle tilted her head at Winter, who gave her a toothy grin.

“Especially rum. So, are you in or what?”

“I’m in, I just… have to say some goodbyes first.”

Now, her role within the crew was more muddled, somewhat lying between weaponsmaster and navigator. Usually, she would sort out her navigating affairs in the morning, and then keep up with the weapons in the afternoon. The nighttime was reserved for merrymaking and hell-raising - just as Giselle liked it.

But there was a part of her missing, something she had been chasing with booze and adventure that couldn’t be replaced.

What was she missing?

“Giselle!” Karina barrels into the captain’s quarters as she nearly collides into the table.

“You’re still drunk.” She chuckles. “You can’t handle your liquor for shit.”

“And you prefer in that way, so you can scam me out of my money.” Karina scoffs before loudly hiccuping.

“Alright,” Giselle stops working and puts her hands up in the air, “I am a bit of a trickster, but we’re pirates, remember? It’s kind of our thing.”

“Eh.” Karina shrugs before throwing a book onto the desk where Giselle was working.

“What’s this?” 

She studies the book for a moment before looking at Karina

“A gift from the Captain. Winter says to come see her after giving it a read.” Karina stumbles out of the door before loudly shutting it.

“Riveting conversation with a drunk Karina, like usual.” Giselle mumbles to herself. “I wonder why Winter would want me to read this?”

Her hands gently trace the spine as she studies the author’s name in bold ink.

It’s not one she recognizes, but perhaps she might know the writing style? Curious, Giselle carefully opens the book and begins to read.

~

It was mid-afternoon before Giselle exited the captain’s quarters, much later than usual. When she does, she immediately charges towards her quarters in a fury.

It takes every bone in Giselle’s body to stop her from ripping her room to shreds to find the letters that she had locked away years ago.

The letters that reminded her of you. The letters that had the same cadence and writing style that you did. Those letters tied you to her, and, at the moment, pointed to you as the author.

More than that, Giselle had come to the realization that Winter knew that the two of you were connected.

And that was more terrifying than confronting someone from her past.

Giselle finds the letters under her bed, and they’re carefully tied together with a bit of rope. She snatches them within an instant, and she tucks them under her arm before beginning her journey to find Winter.

“Giselle!” Ningning calls out to her as Giselle appears on the upper deck. “I had a question about some of the knives that I found in the gunroom.”

“Not the time.” Giselle charges right past her as she spots Winter on the quarterdeck. 

“Is that the book Winter asked me to get you?” 

Giselle, with no hesitation, turns on her heel to face the assassin.

“Of course she did!” She sighs before turning around. “Am I the one finding this out last when it’s my business?”

“If it comforts you, I didn’t ask for any details. I just grabbed the book and gave it to her.” Ningning plays with a knife in her hand as Giselle tightly squeezes the book in her left hand.

“Thanks.” She grumbles before calling out to Winter, “Hey, you have some explaining to do!”

“As do you!” Winter copies her volume, but she waits until Giselle comes closer to begin speaking in a softer tone. “Are they the reason why you tried to send letters back to your hometown from the different ports that we stopped in?”

“You knew about that?” Giselle stares, absolutely befuddled.

“I know when my friends aren’t themselves. I did a little digging, and I found a gold vein.” Winter looks out to the ocean. “You could’ve told me, you know. We could’ve worked something out.”

“But you needed me-”

“-I did, but I wouldn’t have asked you to come if I knew that your loyalties lied with someone else.”

Giselle physically deflates before confessing the truth to Winter.

“So you know that I was a part of the naval academy before I joined you.” Giselle looks away in shame, like a small puppy. “They were too, but we quit together-”

“-so you could chase your dreams together. You, an acclaimed mapmaker. Them, an accomplished novelist. Do I have the narrative right?” Winter raises an eyebrow at Giselle.

Not quite.

“I loved them.” Giselle bites her lip. “I love them.”

Panic covers Giselle’s face as she opens her mouth to speak.

“There it is,” Winter smirks before yelling to the crew, “Set sail to the west.”

“I’m doing you a favor, mind you. You need to figure this out before it ends with you getting yourself killed. I can’t stand to watch my crewmate, my friend, drink herself into an early grave.”

“So we’re doing this?” Giselle asks.

“You’re doing this.”

~

“The pirates are coming! The pirates are coming!” A man on a horse repeats the same phrase over and over as he passes by your estate.

Pirates? Here? Why?

No, it can’t be those pirates.

Your head snaps towards the nearest window that faces the docks. In the distance, you can see a large pirate show approaching your humble town.

And wouldn’t you know it, the flag on the ship shows a dead skull sporting some fire-red hair.

The Red-Hair Pirates.

The crew that Giselle’s a part of.

Shit.

You can see a group of villagers approach the docks from your side, and you’re sure a fight will break out - no, a bloodbath will occur - if someone doesn’t get down there and stop it.

Maybe that naval training will come into use.

~

“Your kind isn’t welcome here.” A villager points a large shotgun at Winter’s chest, and she seems unphased by his outburst.

“We’re not here to loot, we just want to rest.” She pulls out a gold coin and flips it into the air before grabbing it and offering it to the villager. “Our coin is good here, no?”

“I-” He pauses before studying the coin. “One night. And the only place that you can shop is the night market.”

“That sounds like our kind of place, right?” Winter turns to her pirates, who cheer loudly. “I’ll make sure they’ll behave, I swear.”

“You better.” He scoffs before spitting at the ground. “C’mon, we have better things to do than guard open docks.”

The villagers disperse, which causes Giselle to sigh in relief.

That’s a battle I didn’t want to fight.

“Alright, everyone, back on the ship until nightfall. We aren’t welcome here until then, so this boat better be spotless in a few hours!” Winter commands, and her crew scrambles back onto the ship as Winter pulls Giselle aside. “Do you know where you’re going?”

“I do, and I don’t need backup. I’ll be back before nighttime.” Giselle softly says before Winter grabs her shoulder.

“I’d like to meet your friend, if they want to meet me. Perhaps it can help explain why you left - take some of the blame off of your shoulders,” Winter shrugs, “Or I can just have a drink with a friend and a friend of a friend. Either works for me.”

They’re… leaving?

“Not sure I’d call us friends, but I’ll see what I can do.”

~

You watch from a distance as the villagers, your neighbors, disperse with varying emotions on their faces. Some look relieved, others seem pissed, but most appear to be indifferent.

As if killing another wasn’t a brutal act that weighed on your soul for as long as you lived.

A woman with striking red hair turns to the pirates on the dock, and with only a few words, she sends them back onto the ship.

Their captain - Winter, the pirate queen of myths and legends.

Infamous doesn’t even begin to describe Winter, as her face was neatly plastered on every wanted board across the nation. Her reputation of brutality nearly exceeds her generosity and kindness. She took from the rich government ships and gave to the poor towns that she traveled to.

Almost like a storybook character. Perhaps my next protagonist can take some of her qualities.

Before all of her crew can go back to the ship, Winter pulls one of them aside. A girl with blonde hair, but a face that you recognize. Not from the wanted posters that showed her with black hair and a devilish yet charming smile.

But a ghost from your past, the woman who you were hoping to escape from. The girl who had invaded your dreams every night since she left.

Your Rosella.

Giselle.

You want to turn away, to run back to the safety of your home, but you can’t. Not because you want to see Giselle, but because she’d follow you back home.

After all, it was her home too.

With a deep breath, and as much courage as you can muster, you let your feet carry you towards Giselle.

Towards your destiny.

Giselle’s eyes widen as she sees you walking towards her with an unreadable expression on your face. You’re not completely pissed, which is good, but you don’t look happy. You’re not sad, but there isn’t any longing in your eyes. There’s no indifference in your face, but when your eyes meet hers, a twinkle of nostalgia appears briefly.

~

Perhaps you missed her as much as she missed you.

“You look…” Giselle pauses as the two of you meet in the middle of the road. “Well.”

“Thanks.” You nod before looking out to the ocean. “I like your blonde hair. It suits you.”

“Thanks…” Giselle trails off while hoping that the road would open up and swallow her whole.

Why was it so hard to talk to you? She thought of a million things to say to you, but none of them seemed right.

So let’s start with the simplest one.

“I’m sorry.”

When the words leave her lips, you look over in surprise.

As if you thought that she meant to hurt you.

A dagger slices through her heart, as the wound that is your shared history is reopened again. She’s going to let herself drown in bad blood unless she says something else.

Something that will make this right.

Nothing will, she knows this. But why not try?

“I’m sorry for leaving you with such a shitty goodbye. I’m sorry for convincing you to leave the naval academy with me and then leaving you behind. I’m sorry that I never was able to return your letters.” She pauses to hand you them.

“You kept them?” You tilt your head at her. “After all of these years?”

“Of course I did.” She says before softly laughing. “It was the only reminder I had of home.”

“I thought the sea was your home.” 

“No, my home was always you.” Giselle quietly mumbles. “I wanted to explore, to see the world, but I wanted to come back home.”

“Why didn’t you write me back?” Your voice is laced with hurt, and Giselle wants nothing more than to hold you in her arms.

But you’re not that close, not anymore.

“I tried to, but no letter carrier would take my money. Turns out that people aren’t fond of pirates,” She scoffs, “but I kept them all in my quarters. Perhaps you’d like to see them?”

A light smile appears on your face - you’re actually contemplating her offer.

“Would you like to see the home first? I don’t know if it has changed much-”

“-that sounds great.” Giselle lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

A peace offering. An olive branch. Perhaps you can begin anew?

~

Months ago, you would’ve sworn at Giselle if she had set foot in your town, let alone in your house. That was before you finished the book, before a character in that book taught you something about forgiveness.

“Will you ever forgive me, my dear?” Rosella says to her beloved. “I know it’s been years, but I can’t help but yearn for you. Our souls are intertwined, and no amount of treasure will ever make up for losing you.”

“I… I don’t know. I don’t know if I can ever truly forgive and forget, but…”

“But?” A flicker of hope appears in Rosella’s eyes.

“But maybe there’s room for us to start again. If we’ve both healed from our past wounds, then what’s the use of bringing them up again?”

You watch Giselle comb over your bookshelf as you take a seat in the living room. 

“You really didn’t change this place, huh?” She says before sitting at a chair on the opposite end of the room.

“It didn’t feel right. This is still your home, after all.” You say.

“Our home,” Giselle corrects you before her eyes widen, “shit. I didn’t mean to-”

You wave away her concerns with a charming smile.

“No, it’s alright.”

An awkward silence spreads over the room - what should you say to her now?

“Do I make you uncomfortable?” Giselle softly asks before looking in your eyes. “I don’t want to intrude if I’m not welcome.”

You take a deep breath - it’s time to address the massive elephant in the room.

“Giselle, I don’t want to do this back-and-forth with you. I want to talk about what happened between us.” 

You’re surprised at how mature you sound, how non-malicious your words are. You had gone over this moment a thousand times in your head, but none of them were this nice or friendly.

“What is there to talk about? I ruined your life, no, our lives. I promised you that pirating was only a temporary thing, and you can see how that ended-”

“It pains me to see you tear yourself up about this, Giselle.” You calmly say as she pauses and reflects for a moment. “How can we move forward if we’re stuck reliving the past over and over?”

“You want to start again?” 

Giselle looks dumbfounded as you nod.

“We might not be that close again, not for a long time, but we can try being friends. Then we’ll see where it goes.” You shrug your shoulders as she thinks for a moment before responding.

“Why would you let me get away with what I did to you? I left you alone for years, with not a word of my health and well-being. Why put yourself through that again?”

You chuckle to yourself as familiar words come to the front of your mind.

“Maybe there’s room for us to start again. If we’ve both healed from our past wounds, then what’s the use of bringing them up again?”

“From your book.” She responds wistfully before her eyes widen. “You wrote yourself as the love interest?”

“Uh-huh.” You nod as the realization comes crashing down on Giselle.

“And the girl, Rosella, who is strong, beautiful, and kind. The girl who messes up time after time yet she still manages to redeem herself - that’s me?”

“Yup.” You’re quiet for a moment, to allow Giselle to process everything. “Do you know why I chose you as my inspiration?”

“Why?” She leans forward as her voice quivers in anticipation. “Why me?”

“Because no matter how much I hated you, I could never get you out of my head. You haunted my every dream and nightmare. I couldn’t escape your grasp, so I wrote about the woman who had completely transfixed my mind, body, and soul.” 

A breathy chuckle escapes your lips.

This is just like a confession that I would write in my book. The next thing she would say is I love you-

“I never stopped loving you.” She confesses before standing up.

You stand up to meet her gaze.

“Neither did I.”

~

“To be completely honest,” Winter says as you and Giselle approach the docks, “I didn’t expect you to come back.”

“You’re still my captain, Winter.” She smiles before gesturing to you. “This is my friend, the one I told you about.”

“Friend,” She stares at your intertwined hands, “right. Excuse my staring. It isn’t every day that you meet an author of legend.”

You feel your cheeks heat up.

“Ah, that’s sweet of you to say.” You nudge Giselle’s shoulder. “Why can’t you be as charming as her?”

“Hey-” She tries to defend herself, but Winter’s laughter cuts her off.

“Oh, I like them. They’d be a good addition to our crew.”

Your mouth hangs agape as you blink rapidly.

“You… you can’t be serious.”

“I’m afraid so, unless Giselle objects?” Winter turns to Giselle, who glances at you.

“It’s your decision. I won’t force it on you-”

“Yes,” You quickly answer, “but I’m not sure what use I would be to your crew.”

“We could use your writing and organizing skills to keep track of weapons, finances, maps, food, and other supplies on the ships. That means that you would be working closely with Giselle and I.” Winter explains as you nod along. “Plus there would be plenty of time for you to continue writing your latest masterpiece. I know you’re good with a gun - I can see the Navy’s engravings on the handle, so combat won’t be an issue for you.”

You quickly hide your gun holster with your coat.

“I hope you don’t take offense to my weapons background,” You say before leaning over to Giselle, “how the fuck does she know all of that?”

“Long story, I’ll explain after a drink or two,” Giselle whispers back, “but I’m glad that you’re going with us. It’ll be nice to show you to all of the places that we’ve been before.”

“Got it.” You smile before letting go of Giselle’s hand.

She reaches out to grab it, but you instead maneuver around her hand to give her a kiss on the cheek.

“I, um…” She struggles to articulate her feelings as a furious blush appears on her face.

Winter laughs loudly before gesturing towards the ship.

“We still have a few hours before nightfall. Perhaps we can celebrate with a drink?”

“Sounds good. You in?” You ask Giselle, who can’t even look you in the eyes.

“Yeah, I’ll be there.” Her face is still red as Winter walks to the ship.

“Feel free to join me when you’re ready.”

You go to follow behind her, but Giselle stops you by catching your arm with her hand.

“Hey, I-” She pauses to regain her composure, “Thank you, for this. I needed it.”

“It really isn’t a problem,” You say before leaning in to tease her, “but don’t expect me to kiss you every time you need a pick-me-up.”

“Damn, you know my schemes before I can properly plan them.” Giselle smirks before pulling you closer. “But I can always kiss you, right?”

She closes the distance between your lips before quickly pressing a kiss to your neck.

“Tease.” You grumble as she leans back.

“You started it, and I ended it.” She shrugs before her hand slips into yours. “We shouldn’t keep Winter waiting - we don’t want her to have a bad impression of you, right?”

You nod as Giselle leads you on to the ship.

As her crewmates greet you and welcome you onto the ship, you wonder if this new chapter of your life will be something to write about.

Maybe it’s time for my story to be told.

[coolprettyleo]

be in my heart? - will smith

wc: 1.2k

tw: depression, anxiety, family angst? therapy, episodes, mental health, etc?

will smith x oc celebrini sister!

this is me trying au

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

lola's summer had been going fine. she would never admit it out loud, but she was finally seeing a therapist who was actually helping her work through her dark thoughts.

she was prescribed anti-depressants, and they had definitely helped with her mood, but she had reason to think a certain curly-haired blonde was also contributing to her overall newfound happiness.

the two had been texting, calling, and facetiming any time either of them had the chance, and the girl wasn't in any way complaining. he had been making her feel things she hadn't felt in a long time, making her realize she had been longing for that feeling.

she was currently sitting at dinner with her parents and brothers as she texted will with pink cheeks and a cheesy smile, occasionally letting out little giggles at the stupid videos he would send the girl. her brothers looked at each other with knowing eyes before smirking.

"lola," aiden said in a sing-song tone as she let out a 'hmm', eyes still glued to her phone.

"who are you texting" their little sister, charlie, smirked, joining in on the teasing.

"no one. stop looking at my phone," she said moodily, pushing her sister's head away. and finally putting her phone down.

"a little birdy told me something a few days ago." macklin smiled. her father looked between the siblings hoping to gosh they wouldn't set his daughter off.

"shut up," she said with a glare, picking up on the fact he had somehow heard of her and will.

had he been telling people?

maybe it was all some kind of joke.

her insecurities began to creep up and claw at her skin, quickly.

"c'mon, it's not bad, but imagine my surprise when I had to hear it from a stranger at the combine" he kept teasing while her sibling snickered, while lola glared.

"boys, stop bothering your sister" her father let out. knowing it wasn't long till they set her off.

"lola, how's it going with you and will?" her mother asked cluelessly asked when she came back from the bathroom. the siblings letting out laughs and 'there it is' while the girl turned pink.

"good" she mumbled playing with the bread

"that's wonderful; I have a feeling about that boy; I like him," her mother said as she took a bite out of the bread.

"me too. lola's not as mean anymore," her little brother joked as her family nodded and laughed, not knowing the spiral that little comment was about to send his oldest sister to.

lola looked at her brother with furrowed eyebrows as she excused herself and basically sprinted to the nearest bathroom. she locked the door before taking a good, long, and hard look in the mirror. seeing nothing but a shell of the person she used to be. the person her siblings used to know. the girl who would hang out with them, drive them places, and play video games, was no longer there; instead, it was a heartless bitch, and they knew and saw that.

in no way did she ever think about how they must have felt. she thought back to every time she unknowingly probably hurt their feelings. when she told charlie 'hell no' to the idea of a sleepover at her new apartment. or that time she couldn't get herself out of bed and missed RJ's sixth-grade promotion that he begged her to go to, or when she refused to fly to boston to see her brothers when they moved away. all those things added up, and it was no wonder they had deemed her mean. she deserved it.

she sniffled as she saw a call from will incoming. she cleared up her voice before answering.

"hello?" she tried her best to sound fine.

"lo? are you okay?" will say right away, hearing the shakiness in her voice.

"not really," she answered with a sniffle as she saw that will was trying to facetime her.

"what happened?" he asked worriedly. the two had been texting for weeks now, and he had finally got the girl to open up to him, so he knew she went through episodes; he just didn't think he could ever get used to seeing them.

"it's literally stupid-"

"it's not stupid if it's making you cry," he told her as she sighed.

"i'm at dinner with my family, and you know how family is. they're nosy. they started asking about you and they said something that really hurt my feelings, and now I'm crying in the bathroom"

"about me? do they not like me?" he said feeling a bit insecure.

"no, it's not you. they love you-- it's just RJ made a joke and said that ever since we've been like a thing, I haven't been as mean. and I know he only meant it as a joke, but it really hurt my feelings but I mean, I deserve it-" she sniffled, looking away from the camera.

"don't say that. you're not mean-" he stopped the girl

"compared to the old me, i am," she said

"there's no 'old me,' lola; people grow up and evolve. and if anything they know you better than anyone, they understand you're not okay all the time-"

"I don't think RJ and charlie do. they're younger they wouldn't understand it-"

"you're not giving them enough credit. from the stories you've told me they sound pretty smart," he said as she sighed.

"i feel like you always know what to say," she said

"i try," he said with a cheeky smile that made the girl giggle.

"this is embarrassing. I look like shit," she said, realizing her eyes were puffy and red.

"you're beautiful, and if I have to spend every hour in the world telling you that till it's engraved in your mind, I will," he said as lola turned a light shade of pink.

"stop," she said, covering her face as she heard will chuckle.

"i'm really excited for next week," she said dreamily as she stared into the phone. will and his family were planning to visit san jose, to scout apartments and that meant a reunion for the two growing lovebirds.

"me too. you have to take me to all your favorite spots" he said as she nodded.

she was cut off when she heard her mother's voice come from the other side of the door.

"lola honey, are you in there?"

"i'll call you later. bye beautiful," will said as she waved goodbye to him before hanging up.

she stood up and opened the door to see her mother's worried face.

"i'm sorry if we bothered you, i can have the car take you home, or even back to your apartment if you want to be alone-" her mother was cut off as lola threw her arms around her.

"I love you, mom. I'm sorry," she said softly as her mother hugged her back.

"sorry for what?" she asked concernedly

"just, for everything. i know i'm not the easiest to deal with, and for that I'm just sorry" she said as her mother shook her head

"you were never something i had to 'deal' with. I love you, and I just want you to be okay," she told her daughter before squeezing her again.

"me too," she said into her mother's neck. promising herself to change her ways. hoping to god he'd help her accomplish that promise.

[malarign]

silence

contains: crush!Riki x fem!reader | genre: fluff but with angst at the beginning | tw! yn is totally blind man idk what to tell you, mild argument with a reconciliation :)) | wc: 1,0k

reblogs are highly appreciated!!!

author’s note: i just thought it would be nice to write some continuation to shoulder nap, so hope you enjoy!

You shifted in your sleep as the sound of a ringing phone reached your ears. Scrunching your face in tiredness and lassitude you opened your eyes that soon got bigger at the sight in front of you. Just inches from your face was Riki, who slept soundly with his arms wrapped around you. You froze realizing you must have dozed off on him. What if you made him uncomfortable? Why didn’t he just wake you up?

Your living room filled with the sound of an incoming call, so you wanted to see who that was but Riki’s grip around your waist tightened.

“Don’t go,” he mumbled half awake and nuzzled his face against yours.

Freezing at his small action you felt how blush tinted your cheeks. What the hell is happening?

“Riki, it’s really late and I think it’s your phone not mine,” you reasoned, hoping it’ll make him let you get up but he lazily shook his head.

“I don’t get to spend time with you almost at all,” he said, voice low from his sleepiness. “And I hate it. If I knew I won’t be able to hang out with you as much as we did earlier, I wouldn't have become an idol.”

“You don’t mean it,” you said after a solid minute of being at loss for words. He dreamt of standing on a stage since you could remember. And now you could see a new side of him, a new smile that performing in front of seas of fans created. You loved watching it, just like you loved him.

“I don’t mean what?” His eyes met yours in the darkness. “Hating not being able to spend time with you or not becoming an idol?”

“Both?” you said quietly, but unfortunately loud enough for him to hear. How he wished he didn’t though.

“When will you finally realize?” he sent an ask into the ether.

You got up nervously and handed him his phone, pretending you didn’t hear his confession-like question. Riki looked up at you slightly sad and resigned and with a sigh took his phone which started ringing again. Accepting the call he heard Jungwon, who was either extremely nervous or furious.

“Riki? Where the hell are you?” His voice reached even your ears through his phone.

“At Y/n’s place, where else?” he snapped back.

“Do you know how late it is? Do you know who gets massive nagging from our manager?” Jungwon asked helplessly, but not hearing any response from the younger he continued after calming down a bit: “Send me her address, I’ll get you a cab.”

“No need to, I’ll get it myself.” Riki ended a call and without a word walked past you to the front door.

“Riki,” you called him before he could step out of your apartment. “Are we okay?”

His eyes filled with hurt looked straight into yours. Not wanting to say too much, he decided to not say anything. He just turned around and closed the door behind him leaving you confused, with a single crack on your heart.

Days passed and not even a single message was exchanged between you two, unusual for your long term friendship. The silence killed you from inside and in frustration of being ignored by him you decided to pay him a surprise visit. Greeting the security that by now knew you pretty well from all the times you watched their dance jam lives or other activities you made your way to the dance studio they always used.

“Y/n?” You heard Jungwon’s voice when you were about to step in. He looked at the determined expression that painted your face and without questioning you he said: “He’s alone. Please solve whatever happened cause he’s being unbearable.” Mumbling the last part he left you in front of the practice room.

You could hear music coming from inside accompanied by a few frustrated grunts. Taking a firm hold on a handle you stepped in. As soon as he saw it was you he stopped his routine and turned around to face you. Looking at him you tried to stay mad, but just like the day you last spoke his eyes showed hurt, making it almost impossible. But somehow you managed to spit out: “Are we gonna talk or you’re going to ignore me again?”

He lowered his head and glued his eyes to his feet. Already familiar silence suffocated you. He finally said weakly: “I like you, Y/n. Screw this, I love you. And I don’t know what else I have to do for you to finally realize that.”

Now it was him who searched for answers in your eyes. But the impact of his words dumbfounded you. So your stupid feelings were reciprocated this whole time?

“What?” you asked in a whisper. Tears brimmed abruptly in your eyes not believing what you just heard. “Say that again.”

The face you put on brought a smile to his lips. He stepped closer to you to the point the tips of your shoes touched.

“I love you.” His hand brushed the strand of your hair away and made you let out a shaky breath.

“Again.” Your voice was even more quiet.

“I love you.” He raised your head by your chin to face him properly.

“Again.”

Riki leaned in, laying a soft kiss on your lips. It took a while for you to respond but when you did both of you melted in each other’s touch. He cupped your cheeks as you placed yours at the back of his neck. Pulling away he leaned his forehead against yours.

“Can’t believe you didn’t see how crazy you made me feel throughout our friendship,” he suddenly chuckled.

“How was I supposed to know?”

“I literally said I wouldn’t become an idol for you, I think it’s quite telling,” he reasoned. “And please, I let you fall asleep on me, why on Earth would I let you do that?”

“Because we’re friends? Friends care about each other,” you said tilting your head.

“I cuddled you, in my arms. You think I cuddle Sunoo to sleep?” He tried to argue convincingly.

“You don’t?”

thank you for reading! back to the masterlist

taglist: (open) @nicholasluvbot, @en-chantedtomeetyou, @skzenhalove, @nfrgirl, @kpoprhia, @redm4ri, @jaelaxies, @yenqa

[ttttobistuff]

HIHI I saw you write for gravity falls :) I was wondering if we can get something with Grunkle Stan?? Maybe a NB reader? :0

Night of the Undead

( Stanley x GN Reader )

TW: A bit of angst

A/N: I apologize for taking so long, but I hope you enjoy it! I really like this episode, and Stan looks undeniably good.

Running your fingers through his soft hair, Stan’s head balanced as he tried to stay awake. You helped him stumble his way to the bed, after he once more fell asleep in the office.

Lately, organising the income of the Mystery Shack turned into a nightmare. Firstly, he tried with Wendy…of course, she failed in her task. Unfortunately, he then tried with Mabel, which went worse than expected. Abraham Lincoln did not enjoy glitter over his face.

After staying up night after night, he became cranky during the day. Fights would spark out of the blue, and you’d calmly end them. Usually, you could remind yourself that he was simply exhausted. Other days, it was considerably harder. For example, today.

You began to recall every time he simply exploded. Not once, nor twice, nor thrice.

Each time, he simply shut his mouth quickly and then turned around. Storming out of the room was not the best way to stop a fight, but at least it worked…you simply accepted it. You felt hurt, of course, but you didn’t wish to be another problem for Stan.

Tonight, when you curled up in bed, it was cold. The sheets were smooth, not a single wrinkle. You missed his face, his skin over yours and his warmth. The bed felt too big without him, merely empty. You waited for him, but then one hour went by, and then two.

Shivering, your legs moved across the Mystery Shack. Searching him in the place you knew he’d be, you pushed open the door. Turning the knob slowly, so as to not disturb him. Lucky enough, Stan was just staring at a myriad of dollars. Not doing much other than looking rather tired.

That’s how you ended up having to assist him to bed. But you did not mind much—you would do far more to be able to snuggle between his arms into his chest during those freezing times of the day. But nothing mattered anymore. The fights didn’t exist any longer, every scream, every hostile look. You began slipping into sleep while listening to his heartbeat, holding him close and tight.

The sudden burst of a sunbeam awoke you hours later, but for your liking, Stan’s voice was the first thing you heard.

“Today, it’ll be different. I promise,” raspy and deep, it made you blush, “the party will go well.”

Immediately, the word party alarms you slightly.

“What—what party?” Foolishly, you asked.

Stan chuckled in response, and as his face approached yours, you stopped caring. His lips were placed, and his hands softly held your face.

“The grand re-opening for the shack, remember?”

He then proceeded to unwrap his arms around you, and stretch lazily. Dragging his legs out of the sheets, his expression remained fixed upon the door. You were curious why he looked exhausted, even after sleeping in for two hours more…

“C’mon, get up,” the man pulled your arm along with your whole body, “we have to prepare everything”.

And, as he just had stated, Stan did not waste a single second. Cleaning, rearranging, and buying food. Of course he did none of these, he was too busy with money. You began feeling fed up with it, yet you bottled it up. After all, there was not much to do—Stan only wished to keep proper order within the shack for the first time in ages.

You took upon yourself to clean, meanwhile the twins decorated everything. Well, Mabel did. Dipper was a bit too distracted with Wendy, but you couldn’t do anything but look at the painful, embarrassing conversations between them.

Couple of swipes and shiny stars after, the Mystery Shack was finally ready. And, as the sun set, you began admiring how quickly people filled up the empty space.

Still, something nagged you. Something was ticking you off, and there was no way you could enjoy the party without figuring it out. But as you investigated, the only unusual things you found were empty chairs. Except, Wendy and Dipper were supposed to stay sited all night long in those chairs. Leaving the lonely table, you wandered around. In an attempt to catch a glimpse of the two teenagers, you stumbled upon an outside window to Stan’s room.

Standing near it, you crouched near the floor. What if Stan was there? What was he doing? …is it weird to be spying on your partner?

You allowed your curious mind a peek. But, to your surprise, the only interesting thing within were the two teens you had initially been searching. Although Stan was there, his frown indicated anger. Yelling confirmed your suspicions, as well as Dipper sprinting through the door. Wendy looked remorseful, but there was nothing to be done.

Stan’s eyes travelled to the window, and your eyes met his. As for now, luck was not on your side.

He seemed displeased, and to worsen the situation furthermore, his sigh was your last straw. This morning, he promised a thing, and in a matter of hours, he had thrown it all away.

You stopped crouching down, and simply stood up. Slowly walking backwards to where you came from, his nostrils widened with fury. As his mouth you once kissed twisted, your heart begged you to run. And, so you did.

At this, Stan realised his mistake. Though, it was far too late.

Knees against your chest, and back against a tree trunk, you hid away. Unable to process your own thoughts, breathing became harder. The party loudly roared in the distance, but nothing could bring you back inside.

The night turned suddenly darker, and a goosebump crawled over you. The moonlight shined through your lids, and forced your eyes open. That same feeling, something was wrong again. Though, that time, you wished it had been Stan’s attitude…

From beneath the ground, a filthy, thin hand reached to the sky. Landing around your ankle, your instincts help you kick it off your skin. Moments later, dozens if not hundreds more began digging themselves up. Catching a few breaths of the cold night air, the undead desperately struggled through.

Soon enough, an odour drove them deep into madness. Flesh, fresh and warm. Jumping to your feet, you sprinted through the infinite trees. The further you went, the worse it looked.

Finally, you stood in front of the Mystery Shack. A gruesome scene unfolded before your very own eyes. A dreadful scream helped you snap out.

The twins were trapped upstairs, and judging by their frightened expressions, neither of them knew how to stay alive. Neither did you, but you would do anything it took to keep those kids alive. So you ran, and nothing could stop you.

Entering the house, and sailing your way through the rotting bodies drenched in dirt, you reached the stairs. Staring down at your ripped clothing, you thought of Stan. You thought of how badly his suit must look now. You thought of his messy hair, and manic eyes. His trembling hands, or the cold sweat dancing down his throat.

As you let down your guard, the undead begin to notice. Mercilessly, they launch at you. With all their might and hunger, they reach for you. Looking at what seemed to be the ending, your arms covered your face in terror.

One second later, then two, nothing had happened, except the strange sound of a punch…

This time, Stan was not late. He was right there, ripped suit, messy hair, manic eyes, and sweaty skin. Yet, his fists were firm. Not a single tremble, you noticed anything but an ounce of doubt.

“Go! Get the twins!” He shouted, between grunts of effort.

“I will not leave you,” you yelled back.

“Do you trust me?” And, of course, you answered yes.

“Then, go upstairs and wait for me…NOW!” Following his orders, you turned around and followed Mabel and Dipper’s screams.

It only took Stan a few minutes to reunite with you. You could not hold yourself from wrapping your arms around his chest. Holding his face down for a kiss, you forgot about every frown those lips had ever given you. His mouth tasted like rum, and his cheeks were reddish.

“Hey, we get it, both just forgave each other but let’s leave the kisses for after the apocalypse.” Spoke Mabel, with those abominable creatures in mind. You looked at Stan, and he looked back, but no more did his eyes show hate.

One pop song later, the undead’s brains were everywhere. It was a horrifying mess, but the twins and Stan were still perfectly fine. With a few wounds, but nothing serious.

Gazing down at the grass tinted with crimson blood, a pair of hands pulled you closer. Stan’s lips felt welcoming, and the alcohol in them eased your worries.

The twins looked at you both; Dipper seemed uncomfortable, Mabel snatched a photo for her album.

It for sure was a night you would never forget, but now, the only thing you wished to do was drink and kiss away every sense, combing your fingers through his soft hair.

[lemongrass-and-peppermint]

Semi-Realistic Simon “Ghost” Riley Romance Headcanons!

Only semi-realistic because I'm delusional about this man

TW: mentions of angst, drugs, violence

Doesn’t go out looking for romance or dates—you’re most likely to meet him at a pub (the other TF141 boys will introduce you) or at a gym ( probably will only talk to you if you need help with some equipment).

I headcanon the man to be on the aroace spectrum in the sense that he just has no interest in either romance or sex whatsoever until he actually Meets someone. Like he can feel attraction but doesn’t pursue that at all.

And then even if he does fall in love he will not take initiative bc he’s genuinely fine just being friends.

If you wanna date this man then you need to take all the initiative, both romantically and sexually.

He won’t be completely cold though! Will initiate physical touch and affection all on his own. Depending on your size, he will either sling an arm around your shoulders or your lower back, likes to hold your hand.

Won’t be as touchy in public as at home but he will tolerate pretty much any touch from you! Doesn’t get embarrassed easily so if you start dancing in the streets he’ll mostly just keep watch to make sure nobody walks into you or you don’t trip. Will let you use him as a dancing partner even if he’s as still as a pole.

I think he gravitates to people that are both strong physically to some degree and also traumatized or a little fucked up. He might not know abt any of that for sure when u meet but he has a sixth sense for these things.

Regardless, he will make sure you know how to take care of yourself. Marksmanship training and workouts incoming, plus self-defense classes. It is a must, especially if you’re a woman or otherwise fem-presenting/visibly queer/vulnerable.

If you use mobility aids, he might get a *bit* overprotective of them and you. Will be grabby with wheelchairs until it is sternly explained to him to Not Do That. It makes him feel better when he can help you, but he understands and respects your independence!

If anything happens that will cause you to need mobility aids (such as a car accident or physical illness) this man’s taking a long ass leave and staying with you to help you out. He probably knows of some retired military men with mobility aids and assistance needs and will contact them to get a better idea of how to help you.

I see him as someone who likes to work with his hands so I can imagine him straight up building you mobility aids or wheelchairs and walkers and stuff like that. It might take him a couple of attempts until he makes something serviceable but he’d get there.

He is generally extremely calm, naturally just quiet. Still very much a family man (have you seen how he’s with his family in the comics????). He’s very soft, likes to be helpful and take charge of the household like a housewife more than ‘head of the family’ (you're most likely to be the 'top' here).

Will request control of finances if you’re a spender. Might forcibly take control over finances if you're really shit at them.

As calm as he is though, he is still a military man, and they are statistically likely to be… less than stellar partners. Ghost is never violent and if he gets mad he prefers to leave the house, put some distance between the two of you to calm down.

He will be especially prone to disappearing while mad/upset if you’re a woman/fem-leaning, because due to his upbringing he struggles with intrusive thoughts of violence towards women.

If you are the type to throw things, hit things, or degrade/insult him during arguments, he is permanently leaving and not coming back. No amount of apologizing is going to change that decision. He has self-respect and will not stand being abused or mistreated like that. His feelings for you disappear into thin air if you’re that type of angry person.

His toxicity would mostly come from him being emotionally unavailable and thus neglectful. He just has a hard time understanding how some actions come off. Will need long, mature conversations about it that will be difficult for both sides to get things settled here. Willing to hear and understand and change though! But you’d have to give him very clear instructions and behaviors to model.

Ghost’s brother, Tommy (rip), was addicted to drugs and almost died because of them, was quite the piece of shit—which Ghost rectified by forcing him into sobriety and getting him a wife. As such, Ghost hates drugs because he knows what they can do, and doesn’t partake in any. Even medical drugs, especially ones for depression (which he should be taking) are pushing it for him.

However, if he ever starts spiralling—which is rare but can happen—he goes for them real quick. Like, he jumps off the deep end. The spirals very often lead towards suicidal ideation and within a day he can go from “doesn’t even look at drugs” to overdosing on heroin.

Will be in a horribly fragile state for at least a week afterwards. Will need a lot of care and comfort to stay in a relationship (especially after the first time he spirals with you present), cause he’s still eye-deep in self-hatred and needs help to see past it. Grows extra clingy in that period if he has been Convinced. Like, hands on you all the time, following you to every room. He almost lost this??? Let him appreciate it now that he can do it again.

He’s gonna need some time to return to himself. Especially if he was in a hospital. He hates that place.

Will go to therapy but is not happy about it. If you’ve been together long, he might request that you come with him but listen to music so you can’t actually hear anything—he just wants to hold you like a stress ball.

Will melt if you go out of your way to do romantic gestures. He doesn’t do these often himself—at least not the stereotypical ones like flowers—but if you do it for him??? He might not show it with much enthusiasm, but he grows very quiet and soft and smiley, obsesses over the gift for as long as it lasts and needs to stay close to you for a while after. It’s a very small joy but it is marrow-deep and warm, soothing and comforting.

Overall I hc him as being very reserved emotionally but a pretty good boyfriend! If you have rejection sensitive dysphoria I can imagine you going thru the trenches with this man tho—curse his lack of facial expressions ToT