#💕 dont ask him how he got back up 💕

[duketibbitswaifu]

🌸 Selfshiptober 🌸 💗 Day 25 : Rest 💗

🌸 Hihihihi~!!!!! ❣️ ✨ I got this art from @catptapathy!!!!!!!! 😊 💕 He's so cute here. 💕 🛻 We drove about 2 hours out of Echo to go to this one park where the fall colors are gorgeous~!!!! 🍂 🌸

💗 🎃 I never had fall colors where I come from, 💖 ✨ so I was super happy~!! ^-^ 🍰 ✨ We played around in the leaves a bit 🌺 before deciding to just lay down in the leaves and talk about things. 💗

🌸 Here's a pic I took while we were there!!!!: 😊 🌸

[grabby-smitten]

I feel so conflicted. I’m so happy but sad, empty but so full of joy, crying and laughing at the same time. Moby’s owner, you wrote such a beautiful story.

Error 404: (Self-Aware!AU, Sylus Edition) – Pt. 10

Summary: A LADS self-aware!AU featuring Sylus and a player. That’s it, that’s the plot. Tags: player!reader x sylus, fem!reader x sylus, reader x lads, self-aware!au, strong language, family issues, generational trauma, self-growth, personal issues (and dealing with it), hurt and comfort, hmmmm…. let’s leave it at that for now :) A/N: Final chapter, guys! Thanks so much for reading <3

Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Pt. 3 - Pt. 4 - Pt. 5 - Pt. 6 - Pt. 7 - Pt. 8 - Pt. 9 - Pt. 10

“Oh, what the hell—since when do you cook?”

“Bitch,” you laugh, nudging past them, the ceramic pot still steaming in your hands. “Do you want the risotto or not?”

The scent of garlic and pecorino permeates the air as you stand in front of the small foyer of the duplex where your friend—questionable, at the moment—lives. Your most recent culinary masterpiece, deemed safe (enough) for public consumption, rests between your hands in silent offering to the skeptic figure who’s barring you from crossing the threshold. 

It’s still warm, and you’re not one to brag, but you think you’ve outdone yourself with this one. Not that it matters—everybody’s a fucking critic these days.

“Risotto?” Khol parrots in disbelief. “You don’t show up in forever, suddenly you’re all cuoca straordinario or some shit. Get out of here with your Mario ass–”

“Don’t mind them,” Anna interjects from behind your biggest hater, all cheer as she plucks the pot from your hands. “This smells amazing, actually. Come in!”

With that, she vanishes inside, leaving you and Khol alone in the doorway. You give them a knowing look.

“Oh wow,” you remark, all mock surprise. “You live together now?”

Khol rolls their eyes, already tired of you. “You missed the biggest arc of the last five months, but yeah.”

You step inside, and right away, something feels… different. It could partly be due to how much time has passed since you last visited, and it’s clearly still their place—the brooding industrial-emo aesthetic remains intact, still suspiciously close to resembling the lair of an angsty comic book antihero on acid—but it’s been overtaken by bits of boho-chic scattered all over the space.

Where there was once nothing but charcoal, vinyl, and concrete, there are now textures. Colorful woven throws drape artfully over the arm of the leather Eames sofa they won off a Craigslist bid. Tasseled pillows have multiplied across every seat surface like some kind of fabric-based contagion, while pothos vines dangle lazily from macramé hangers, stretching towards the moody Edison bulbs like they’re trying to escape the existential crisis of living here.

And then there’s the rug. Oh god, the rug. 

A comically massive tufted ‘Flower Power’ rug sprawls across the center of the room, a swirling explosion of pinks and oranges—a final, cutesy fuck you to the apartment’s formerly depressing atmosphere before Khol’s new roommate staged her cheerful coup.

It should’ve been a hilarious sight, like a chaotic school art project where every kid picked a different medium to color and refused to compromise. But somehow… it works? 

Against all odds, the goth cryptid and the hippie gremlin have found domestic equilibrium.

“Love what you did with the place, Anna,” you call out, toeing off your shoes at the door. “It doesn’t look like a twelve-year-old’s fantasy bedroom anymore.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Khol laughs, shaking their head. “As if you’re one to talk. Last time I visited, you still had that stupid-ass sofa. Is it still there?”

You sniff haughtily. “Excuse you, but that’s a custom piece. You wouldn’t get it.”

"Alright, you two," Anna says, leaning against the archway between the living room and kitchen, one hip propped against the frame. "Both of you have terrible taste in decor. Now, I have a fabulous Prosecco to pair with the risotto." She tilts her head, shooting her partner a pointed look. "Khol, darling, be a dear and grab the crystal from the cupboard?"

"Whipped," you sing as Khol, predictably, does exactly as told. They don’t even bother with a comeback, just flashes you a lazy middle finger over their shoulder as they disappear from view.

You grin, shaking your head. The moment stretches into something easy, comfortable. It’s nice—being here, bantering like no time has passed. You let yourself sink into it, tugging off your beanie as you cross the room.

The creaky couch welcomes you like an old friend, and you flop down unceremoniously, stretching your legs out, rubbing your feet against the oversized monstrosity of a rug that is... honestly, pretty fucking comfortable, actually.

Anna follows suit, settling beside you with far more grace, tucking one foot under the other.

She watches you for a moment, expression warm but slightly inquisitive. “We haven’t seen you in a while.” 

You exhale, tipping your head back, staring up at the beams on the ceiling. "Yeah, sorry. Been a little out of it these past… couple of months, I guess."

Anna makes a quiet noise, something between understanding and acknowledgment. "You’re doing okay now?"

The easy answer sits on your tongue—yeah, of course. An automatic response, a reflex built from habit. Another front to put up, another lie to slip behind.

But you’ve been working on this. So instead, you take a breath and say,

"Not… really." 

The words feel foreign, heavy, but oddly freeing as they leave your mouth.

Your gaze flickers to the side table—framed photos of Khol and Anna, smiling, sunlit. You don’t linger.

“I mean, better now compared to, maybe, a few weeks ago. I’m getting there.”

Anna’s brows lift slightly—not in surprise at the sentiment itself, but at the fact that you admitted it out loud. There’s something thoughtful in her expression, something softer around the edges. “Good. That’s good.”

You can tell she means it. Maybe even more than you expected.

"Yeah."

There’s a brief lull. You catch yourself tugging at the edge of your cardigan—a nervous habit you never quite broke. The warmth of the apartment is settling in you quite comfortably, but there’s something about sitting still under Anna’s gentle scrutiny that makes you restless.

From the kitchen, there’s the unmistakable clink of glass, followed by a muffled, “shit.”

Anna exhales, long-suffering. “I don’t know why I even bother buying nice things.”

“‘Oy,” Khol’s voice carries from the other room, “get in here and help. We have, like, seven things to carry.”

You take that as your cue, trailing after Anna into the kitchen. Between the three of you, it’s quick work—bowls of warm, brothy risotto in hand, glasses of white wine balanced carefully between fingers.

By the time you step back into the living room, Khol is already dropping onto the blue accent chair near the window with all the dramatics of someone who’s worked far too hard for far too little.

You settle into your usual spot, Anna beside you. You don’t touch your food. Your appetite’s still in remission, though it’s been steadily improving lately.

Khol notices. “Now, why the hell aren’t you eating?” They shoot you a side-eye like you’ve personally offended them. “I knew it. You put something in this, didn’t you?”

��Jesus, Khol,” Anna sighs, exasperated, already two spoonfuls in. “Your diet was literally gas station burritos and eight-pack Coors before I moved in. You’ll live.”

She pauses, though, casting you a look. “Don’t get me wrong—this is really good.”

“Ha,” you retort as Khol prods suspiciously at a floating mushroom. You glare. “Are you fucking kidding me—”

“Alright, alright.” With an exaggerated sigh, Khol finally takes a bite. They chew once, twice—eyes narrowed in concentration, acting like some hard-ass seasoned judge from Top Chef. You can practically see them digging for something snarky to say—until, begrudgingly, they nod.

“Shit. This is actually pretty good. Who are you?”

You preen at the praise.

For a while, there’s nothing but the quiet clinking of spoons against ceramic, the occasional satisfied hum. It’s… nice. Comfortable in a way you haven’t felt in what feels like forever.

You’ve missed this.

Missed being here. Missed being with people.

Somewhere between the second glass of wine and the last few bites of risotto, Khol angles their head toward you, their curiosity piqued. “How come you’re free today? You on leave or something?”

You swirl the drink in your hand, watching the light catch on the amber surface before answering. “Oh, I quit my job.”

There’s a beat of silence. You don’t know what reaction you were expecting, but Khol just blinks at you. "Huh. Finally."

Anna looks mildly more concerned. "You quit?"

You nod, stretching your legs out beneath the coffee table. “Yeah. The OT was getting ridiculous, and they had me working night shifts again. That was kind of the last straw for me.”

Khol grunts in agreement. “Good fucking riddance. That job was killing you.” They pause for a beat, turning serious, contemplative. “You’re not hung up about it, are you? You’ve been bitching about that job for ages.”

You exhale through your nose, staring at the rim of your glass. “Yeah, no. I’m glad I left.” The words come easily, and they’re mostly true. But still—there’s something about suddenly having all this space, this aimless in-between, that makes you antsy. 

A thought strikes you, and you glance up. “Hey, you know if Marion's still looking for someone to work part-time at the bistro?”

Khol raises an eyebrow. "You looking to apply? It’s minimum wage, just telling you in advance."

"That’s fine," you assure them. "I just need something on the side. I’m doing freelance work right now, I just want something to fill in the gaps."

Anna perks up at that. "I think that’s a great idea. I can hit up Marion later, but I’m pretty sure they’re still looking."

Khol stares at you, and for once, they don’t have a quip lined up. No sharp-edged humor, no quick banter—just a quiet look of something almost foreign on their face. Pride. Maybe even relief. You’ve worried them. The realization jars you like a pebble dropped into a clear pond, sending ripples through the stillness of your self-imposed isolation. You hadn’t meant to, not really. It wasn’t like you deliberately wanted to disappear... But you did, didn’t you? You let the days blur into weeks, then months, telling yourself naively that no one would notice if you just—vanished for a while. Five months, to be exact.

You press your lips together, clearing your throat against the tightness creeping in. “Thanks,” you say, quiet but sincere. “Really.”

Khol snorts, and the moment shatters. “You can show your thanks by knocking ten percent off the cocktails when we visit.”

You roll your eyes, feigning exasperation. “Get me the job first, and I’ll see what I can do.”

Anna grins, raising her glass. “Now, that’s the spirit.”

––––

You get the job.

You stand in front of the fogged-up mirror, dragging your palm across the wet glass. The reflection that stares back is warped, smudged—half-formed, half-there—but unequivocally yours. 

A month ago, you wouldn’t have been able to say that with certainty. Back then, the figure in the mirror had been more ghost than person—distant, spectral. Fractured. Someone you watched from the outside, not as a host of the flesh you inhabit. 

Now, though, the pieces are starting to slot back into place. Some are still missing, and others don’t quite fit as they once did. You doubt it will ever return to how it was… But slowly, a familiar shape is coming back into focus. More than the shadow of a woman, but you.  Time moves like water carving through rock—gradual, barely perceptible, but steady. Inevitable.

The shifts are diminutive. A morning where you wake up feeling less crushed by the weight of grief in your chest. An afternoon where you suddenly break into laughter, and you realize it’s the first time you’ve heard it in weeks. A quiet night where you go to bed without feeling like you’re stuck frozen in an endless loop of wishing, waiting for the impossible.

You’re here, alive. Present. And for the first time in what feels like a lifetime, you’re doing more than just holding on.

(You think he’d be proud of you.) And the thought doesn’t leave you aching the way it used to.

––––

“You think I can handle taking care of another living thing? Like a plant?” You ask Maru, glancing at him lounging by the window, right where a sliver of afternoon sunlight spills across the floor. “I mean, I raised you well enough, I think. But you’re pretty self-sufficient anyway.” Maru looks unimpressed. His tail flicks once—dismissive, uninterested—before he returns to grooming himself, utterly indifferent to both your question and your sudden enthusiasm for gardening. “Well, if your dad can grow plants in that dungeon he calls a base, I’m sure I can manage,” you mutter unconvincingly. “How hard can it be?” 

–

By the middle of the second week into your little project, you begrudgingly admit that your tiny repotted begonia isn’t exactly thriving. You don’t want to be a pessimist, but the (browning) margins seem to curl inward—more than they should, if the reference pics on that “Indoor Succulents” blog you’re subscribed to are anything to go by. 

You eye it dubiously, trying to stay gung-ho about the whole thing, forcing yourself to look up care tips again. It’s just a plant. Not rocket science. So you do the research, gather more supplies, and give it another shot. You reposition it closer to where the sun lands—earning a disgruntled hiss from the sunbathing feline—and sprinkle a careful amount of water just beneath the leaves, closer to the root. Then you lean back, waiting, tapping your foot impatiently like it’s supposed to just... fix itself.

–

The next few days pass with you watching it more than you’d care to admit—checking, hoping, second-guessing yourself. 

You narrow your eyes at the leaves, more russet than Inca Flame red, still hanging limp like a sad testament to your lack of skill. 

But you keep at it, because you’re nothing if not stubborn.

–

A single flower has bloomed.

You stand there, spray bottle in hand, caught in quiet awe at the metallic pink sprout peeking through the foliage. It’s small, delicate, barely more than a bud, but unmistakably there—nestled among heart-shaped leaves that, for the first time in weeks, look alive. Brighter. 

A faint smile tugs at your lips. It’s not groundbreaking, not by a long shot. But it’s something.

The fragile blossom clings onto dear life, stubbornly seeking the sun rays, inching toward the warmth it needs to grow—larger, stronger.

You can’t wait to bear witness to it. 

––––

You’re not entirely sure how you ended up in this situation; all you could recall past the sweat blurring your vision is the memory of being in front of the reception desk, pen in hand, scrawling your name onto the sign-up sheet for beginner boxing lessons. 

It’s not… something you planned on doing, really. You’d been showing up for the past week, trying to convince yourself that fitness was something you could get into. Something you could stick with. But this one’s more of an impulse decision, fueled by a mix of post-workout endorphins and the misplaced confidence that sometimes follows after an extra few—unpremeditated!––minutes on the elliptical. 

It all started with a casual glance at a flyer taped to the wall beside the water dispenser.

GET TOUGHER, FASTER, STRONGER! SIGN UP NOW!

The cheesy tagline stared you down as you were in the middle of refilling your teal green AquaFlask. And for some dumb reason—sheer curiosity, definitely not because it reminded you of a certain someone—you thought: Why not?

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you’d marched straight up to the nearest staff at the counter, credit card in hand, and asked to sign up. Now, as you stare at the buff woman currently goading you to hit harder, reality sets in and you feel a little lightheaded. Even slightly delirious.

“Up, up–” your trainer urges, somehow not even remotely out of breath, despite being thirty grueling minutes into the session. Meanwhile, you’re standing there, red-faced and sweating like a fucking pig. “Keep your arms up at all times, alright?”

You pant, nodding weakly, fixing your posture. She gives you an approving nod in return.

It’s part of the whole self-improvement thing, anyway. Pushing yourself. Fitness, jazz, and all that. You’ve never had much inclination for sports or anything remotely physically taxing, as far as you can recall.

…Or maybe that decision was made for you the moment you tried out for volleyball in high school and took a spike straight to the face. A memory so humiliating, that your brain did you a favor and buried it deep in the recesses of your mind. 

But things are different now! You’re trying new things. You’ve done wall climbing, aerobics, even pulled a hamstring attempting HIIT Tae Bo. And if getting punched in the face is the next step in this… wellness journey, then, well, so be it. You’ll take it with a brave face and, hopefully, minimal bruising to both body and ego.

You slog through two sets of combos and thirty jab-straight-hook-uppercuts, punching like your life depends on it. You’re wheezing like an asthmatic child, and you’re about one bad punch away from toppling over.

Then, mercifully—

“Okay, that’s enough for today.”

Oh, thank god.

“You did good,” she tacks on, flashing you an encouraging smile, like you didn’t just spend the last half hour flailing at the focus mitts with all the grace of a wrecking ball.

You stare at her, unconvinced. Did I? Because from where you’re standing—wobbling, really—you’re pretty sure you looked closer to an overstimulated toddler throwing hands with gravity, but sure. It must’ve been in the fine print, to segue in a little positive reinforcement. Probably to keep people from bolting after the first session. 

Not that you’re planning to. No, of course not. You’re just... reevaluating some things. Like your life choices. And your capacity to lift your arms tomorrow. As you trudge your way out of the yoga-studio-turned-boxing-area, still gulping for air and very aware of the soreness settling into your limbs, someone calls out.

“Hey! Wait up!”

You turn your head, blinking in confusion. A guy—mid to late twenties, give or take—jogs up to you, looking offensively too fresh compared to how you feel. “Oh, hi. Sorry, do you mean me?”

He laughs as he slows to a stop, running a hand through his shaggy hair. “Yeah, you. I’ve seen you training with Coach. Just wanted to say—you’re improving.”

You blink. Wait, what?

A wave of mortification rolls through you. Shit, you didn’t know you had an audience. “Uh—thanks, I guess?”

You shift your weight awkwardly, clutching your boxing gloves tightly against your chest.

His grin turns sheepish, as though he realizes how that might’ve come off. “Fuck, sorry. That came out weird, didn’t it? I swear, I’m not, like, watching the whole thing or anything.” He makes a vague gesture to his left. “The studio’s right in my line of sight when I’m doing TRX reps. Hard not to notice.”

You force a smile. “Ah, yeah. Figures.” 

“I’m Byron, by the way,” he offers, sticking out a hand.

Now that you get a proper look at him, you notice he’s got this kind of… geeky charm going for him. Curly hair, sleepy brown eyes behind round, rimless glasses, and shy boy-next-door vibes—except for the fact that he’s jacked.

(Honestly? Work.)

You give him your name, still smiling awkwardly. You’re about to wave goodbye and turn away when— “So, what are you doing later?”

Um.

You hesitate. “I’m, uh… heading straight home after this?” Your voice comes out a little more uncertain than you intended, mostly because you’re not really sure why he’s still talking to you.

“Yeah, ‘course,” he replies quickly, glancing down like he’s suddenly nervous. “I just… thought I’d ask if you’d wanna grab coffee sometime?”

Oh.

It takes a moment for the question to fully register. The first thought that pops in your head is: Wait, how does he know I’m a barista?

… The second thought is one of pure disbelief. Holy shit, did I just get asked out? At the gym? By the Temu version of Peter Parker?

Your face burns hotter than it did mid-workout, caught completely off guard.

“I—woah, um.” You stumble over your words, eyes quickly darting away from him. “Sorry, I already have… a boyfriend. If—if that’s what you’re leading up to.”

You say it like a question. He picks up on it.

“You don’t sound too convinced,” he comments with a light chuckle, shaking his head. “If you’re not interested, you can just say that, you know.”

A prickle of irritation flares up, followed by something sharper—something that stings. You push it down. “No, he’s just… not around.” “Ah.” He clicks his tongue sympathetically. “Long distance?” “…Yeah.” You have no idea.

He shrugs, undeterred. “Alright, no pressure. We could always just hang out as friends, if you want.”

I… don’t think I do. “Um, maybe?” you answer instead, forcing out a laugh.

“Oh, come on,” he says, his grin widening. “You can even introduce me to your boyfriend,” he emphasizes the word out, “when he gets back. Does he work out? We could all hit the gym together.”

Social anxiety is afraid of this man, you think belatedly. Unfortunately for him, you’re the very embodiment of what fears him.

You’re so out of your element that all you can manage is, “He boxes too, actually.”

“Yeah? He any good?” 

That gets an involuntary snort out of you. Unthinkingly, you say, “Could probably beat you up.”

Byron laughs, startled but amused, shaking his head as he raises his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright—message received.” He flashes you a wide smile. “Well, if you change your mind about the coffee, I’ll be around.” He jerks his chin toward the pack fly by the corner. “There, usually.”

Okay, nerd. Despite yourself, you can’t help but find the whole thing slightly hilarious. Then again, you find humor in the dumbest things. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

You offer him a quick, half-hearted wave, trying (and failing) to mask your embarrassment with an exaggerated, too-casual show of nonchalance. It’s so painfully awkward, you can feel yourself internally dying from cringe. 

Without another word, you spin on your heel and start speed-walking away, practically running back to the safety of your personal space.

Smooth.

––––

It’s another relatively easy night at the bistro. You’re on the last two hours of your shift, and you’re carrying a single glass of roseberry mule to serve at table four. As you round the corner, you catch sight of a student, glasses perched low on her nose, completely absorbed in a thick coursebook on Programming Languages. Papers are scattered across the table, and she looks to be utterly engrossed in her readings, unaware of the world around her. 

You don’t want to bother her more than necessary, about to set the drink down on the only clear space—by the iPad propped up on a tablet holder to her right—when something red catches your attention.

A familiar pair of crimson eyes stops you dead in your tracks.

For a moment, you feel like you’re suspended in time. The sharp memory of a similar instance where you’re in her place, and he’s there, keeping you company while he’s polishing a gun burns through your brain, and you don’t–you can’t think—

You stand there, rooted to the spot, wide-eyed and unmoving. Then, the girl’s gaze shifts to you, and a hot flush spreads across her cheeks, betraying her surprise.

With swift fingers, she locks the screen with a quick flick on the power button, pulling you away and breaking you from the echoes of the past.

“Oh, shit,” she giggles, a nervous edge to her voice. “That’s embarrassing.” 

You shake your head, forcing yourself back to the present moment. “No—no, don’t worry about it,” you chuckle weakly, setting the drink down beside her with shaky hands. “Cute guy, honestly.”

That makes her giggle louder, her eyes bright with an almost conspiratorial glint. “Oh my god, you have no idea.”

Fuck—you can’t breathe.

––––

The night hangs thick with stifling heat, accompanied by the steady ticking of the clock as you catch your breath, your broken moans too loud in the heavy silence. The sheets cling to your feverish skin, damp and uncomfortable, as your body moves in a rhythm that feels unnatural now, but still—but always—familiar.

Your chest rises and falls in shallow, rapid breaths as you force the draconic toy deep inside you. The heat, the fire—it licks at your skin, making your whole body yearn for more. To chase more of the feeling, to chase more of the memory of him. 

Errant strands of hair stick to your forehead, your chest flushed and burning, a quiet throb spreading through you with every friction, every desperate movement.

Your body aches, a relentless thrum urging you to push deeper, to find something—anything—to fill the gaping hole inside you, a wound you’ve tried to stitch shut over months, now threatening to tear its way open again, once more ripping from the seams. 

A sharp pressure builds inside you. Your body stretches too far, too much, struggling to take in what it can’t quite handle. It burns in a way that hurts, but you need it. You need to feel more, to fill the emptiness, to grasp at something that feels real.

“Yours, yours–” you tremble, desperate. “Yours. Just yours. Please.”

-

-

-

You lie in the wake of it—pleasure fading into something heavier, regret creeping in like a shadow, waiting as always.

“I miss you,” you whisper in the dark. You always do.

You try to ignore the pull of it, the sharp descent that comes with the high.

You were doing so well.

But it’s fine. You’re fine. 

Everything’s fine.

The words swirl and echo in your mind, until they’re swallowed by sounds that ring hollow. You let the moment wash over you, sinking beneath the weight of the tides, where sorrow and longing blur with the fleeting warmth of what you can’t keep.

Tomorrow will be another day. Another chance to try again.

For now, you let go of your grip on the fragile raft of sanity you’ve built, painstakingly, for months on end.

Tonight, you let yourself drown once more in the somber depths of loneliness and despair, confined within these four walls that feel—once more—like a penitentiary.

––––

The plane begins its slow descent, and through the window, the world comes into view—large swathes of land interrupted by winding roads that seem to follow no rhyme, nor pattern. A river glints faintly beneath the fading sun, while the sky turns a dull blue, a washed-out slate, streaked with the last embers of daylight.

Below, the small city stirs.

Tiny specks of color flicker to life, lanterns strung along the streets like beads on a thread, marking the season, an ending, and the inevitable turning of time. A chill hangs in the air, the wind whipping past you from the half-open window of the taxi, sharp and crisp in a way that you can only find in the province.

Your hometown. 

It all rushes past in a blur of light and shadow, an eclectic mix of old and new—some buildings unchanged, others unfamiliar, as if they’d sprung up in the years you’ve been away. It’s been a while since you last came back, long enough for the roads to feel... foreign, almost. Though muscle memory stirs when the car takes a turn. One you could have easily navigated even with your eyes closed.

Only your sister lives here now, her and her family—a couple of hundred miles far. Far enough to feel like another world, yet close enough for the past to catch up the moment you lay eyes on the old two-story house tucked away on the quaint cul-de-sac of this suburban neighborhood. 

The residential property was left to her, scrawled onto the title in an act of generosity, perhaps. Or maybe as a weight your mother never intended to carry, something meant to anchor her eldest child while she carved a different life for herself elsewhere. Free-spirited as she is, she left with the ease of someone shedding an old coat, slipping into the shoes of another, barely a glance over her shoulder.

But houses remember. And as you step out of the vehicle, your feet meeting the rough asphalt that once belonged to your childhood, you wonder if they remember you too.

"Maru, Maru!" Your five-year-old niece cries the moment she spots the grumpy feline peering through the mesh of his portable prison.

"What—no excitement for me too?" you tease, ruffling her hair. She giggles, scrunching up her nose.

"Auntie, hi! Hi!"

You snort at her enthusiasm, setting the carrier down. The second you pull at the zipper, Maru springs out, landing with a soft thud before stalking off with his usual air of disdain. Your niece shrieks with delight. 

"Ah! Cat!"

"Well, there go the chances of her socializing with her brother," your sister remarks dryly from the doorway, sauntering closer. "Hey, stranger."

"Hey," you greet, hoisting a handful of paper bags. "Where do I dump these?"

She eyes the bags. "Any of those for me?"

"You have three kids, and one of them insisted on a Lego set. Do you know how much those cost?" You shoot her a flat look. "You’re getting socks."

"Wow, stingy." She huffs but takes some of the bags anyway, hitching one onto her hip as she grabs your other hand-carry.

You step inside, and the house greets you with a riot of lights and color. Plastic tinsel and bright string lights drape across every visible surface—along the bannister, around doorways—leaving no space untouched by the festive chaos. A Christmas tree stands proudly in the corner, nearly buried beneath an avalanche of baubles and sentimental ornaments collected over the years.

The room feels swallowed by the exuberance of it all, an almost overwhelming jamboree of holiday cheer.

It’s gaudy, excessive, and completely over-the-top, but beneath it all, the bones of your childhood home remain unchanged—familiar in a way that settles deep in your chest. The Narra wood floors are still scuffed with the marks of time, there’s still the distinct tang of turpentine mixed with waxy resin and citrus you’ve long since associated with home, and the odd decorative masks still line the far wall, their painted expressions frozen mid-celebration.

Your eyes land on the canvas floater above the mantel—a whimsical cross-stitch of three women flying kites, their stitched dresses rippling in imagined wind. You remember it well, though you never quite understood why your mother had chosen that particular scene to painstakingly sew into existence. Still, it belongs here, another piece of the house's patchwork history.

Your gaze shifts to the couch, where Andrew, your sister's husband, is sprawled out, one arm lazily draped over the backrest, the other holding his phone.

He flicks his gaze up at you, offering a half-hearted wave before turning back to whatever has him so absorbed on the screen. Beside him, your three-year-old nephew is perched on his knees, bouncing with energy as he mirrors Bluey's movements on the TV with exaggerated enthusiasm, his tiny arms flailing in childlike glee.

You sigh inwardly, rolling your eyes. Typical.

“There’s a few more hours before dinner. Want to hang out in the kitchen while I roast the ham?” She asks casually, setting down your bags by the foot of the stairs. “Actually, scratch that—you’re in charge of the punch.”

“You just want a head start on the drinks,” you tease, the banter flowing easily between you. “Hey, where’s the little squirt?”

She points toward the small crib, near the island counter. “She finally stopped crying, thank god. Don’t wake her up, or you’ll be the one in charge of putting her back to sleep.”

The two of you slip into the kitchen, where the air already carries the promise of dinner—cloves and brown sugar blending nicely with the lingering scent of citrus. A tray of ham sits on the counter, prepped and ready, the scored surface glistening under the fluorescent light. 

Your sister pulls a bottle of Luisita Oro Rum and Agimat Gin from the second-to-last cupboard and places them on the counter in front of you.

"Go ham," she quips.

You give her a flat look. "You think you’re funny.”

She shrugs, unfazed, and turns her attention back to where she’d left off before your arrival. 

The two of you fall into a natural rhythm, the kind that comes from years of cooking together. You work your way through cans of Del Monte, the metallic clinks filling the space as you drain the syrup and dump chunks of mixed fruit into the large punch bowl.

Your sister leans against the counter nearby, arms folded, her gaze fixed on the oven door, as if sheer willpower alone could make the meat cook faster.

In the background, the soft drone of the TV drifts in from the living room, punctuated by your nephew’s occasional giggles.

There’s no rush, no need to fill the silence with anything more than the occasional clink of utensils against glass and the low humming of kitchen appliances. The day is winding down to a close, and for now, everything is alright.

“So, Mom called,” she says casually, one arm braced on the counter as she leans in, glancing at you. “Kept calling, actually.”

“Mm.” You reply noncommittally, shaking the last can’s contents into the crystal bowl, watching as the fruit chunks bob lazily in the pool of alcohol.

“She’s worried about you.”

You don’t answer.

“She was. She is.” Her voice shifts, more serious now. She watches you closely, noting your lack of reaction. “You know that, right?”

Your fingers tighten around the can opener, but you pull your gaze away from the bowl. “I know.”

She sighs, resigned, already familiar with this song and dance. Familiar enough to know there’s no winning this one, not tonight. Not anytime soon. “I am too.”

You blink, before looking away. “Oh.”

And maybe she does worry—your mother. But any hope of truly knowing is swallowed by the chasm between you, the one that keeps your conversations at surface level, never breaching the depths beyond. 

Your body, born from hers, perhaps more alike than you realize, might have been brought into this world with the same pains that she’s carried. The pains of separation. The unresolved hurt of being unwillingly removed from your person—her former husband, your father—and that if you and your mother were closer, you could have opened up about your own situation. Perhaps then, you wouldn’t feel like a ship that has lost its ballast, drifting endlessly in the same turbulent seas for the longest time.

But you are your mother’s daughter, and she is her mother’s daughter. There is the truth that the women in your family are not the best communicators, nor do they wear their hearts on their sleeves. So you were born mute and overly sensitive. Pain drips from you, unnoticed, like a purposeless leak in the heart. You’ll carry it with you until you die.

“But you look… okay,” she observes, cocking her head. “Are you okay?”

You swallow. For the same reason you compare your mother to a storm you can't outrun and your sister to an intermittent drizzle, you find it easier to admit, “I haven’t… been okay for a while.” 

Not wanting to bring the mood down, especially on a day like today, you quickly add, “Things are better now, though.”

She huffs out a laugh, shaking her head. “Could be a little more specific there, but I’ll take it.” She gives you an exasperatedly fond look. “You let me know if that changes anytime soon, ‘kay?”

Your lips quirk in the faintest semblance of a smile. “Yeah, okay.”

–

It’s ten minutes before midnight.

You’re leaning against the island counter that separates the kitchen from the living room, nursing a glass of the fruit punch (though it’s mostly gin, with the teensiest amount of fruit), watching your sister’s family at a distance as they eagerly wait for the clock to strike twelve. The blinds of the large living room window have been pulled up, giving an unobstructed view of the sky, ready for the first firework to light up the dark.

For a moment, you feel like an outsider, watching through a lens, as if you’re not quite part of the scene. There’s a strange sense of detachment—voyeuristic, almost—as though you're peering in on a private, intimate moment. 

Your sister cradles the infant in her arms, and that all-too-familiar pang stirs to life—the same one that always does when you look at her.

You can't quite place what you're feeling, exactly. It’s tumultuous, and it’s complex. Andrew’s practically dozing off in his seat, and you see your sister shake her head in mild annoyance. Your nephew, fighting to keep his eyes open, starts to fuss.

Something tightens inside your chest.

“Andrew,” she hisses, startling the man awake. He blinks, disoriented, before spotting their son and the early signs of an explosive tantrum.

He sighs, and pulls the boy closer to him. “Hey, hey, little guy. Look at the sky. In just a couple of minutes, the lights are gonna go boom-boom.”

Your nephew sniffs, his eyes blinking up at him as he processes the words. “Boom-boom?”

“Yeah! Just like the one we watched on TV!”

The kid’s face visibly perks up at that, bad mood quickly forgotten. “Boom-boom!”

You watch as your sister’s gaze softens, and a small smile replaces the earlier frown on her face.

And in that instant, you understand.

You look at your sister and, for a brief moment, all you see is a wretched mirror of yourself. She is all of your fears, all of your failures, and all of what you could’ve been rolled into one. Barely in her mid-thirties, and yet already carrying the weight of a family: three kids, a husband who feels like a faded echo of your father—a man who didn’t quite measure up, who never did, and just as unreliable. 

You feel the suffocating weight of it all, of being tied to a place that’s meant to be a home but feels more like a tomb, marking the passing of dreams unspoken. She’ll grow old here, buried in the same soil you both sprang from, fading into the landscape of this town that swallows its own.

You look at her and you almost feel the repressed pain of missing the last semester of college to give birth, the lament of a missed opportunity that life has stolen from her. 

You feel her pain as if it’s yours. You feel it in the marrow of your bones—her blood flowing through you. “3…” You look at her, and it feels like seeing someone bound, held down by an anchor around her foot, unable to break through the surface of freedom. You look at her and you see dreams once aglow, reduced to cinders. You look at her and see—

She glances up at you.

Oh. “2…” In the fleeting moment where your eyes meet—eyes you two share with your mother—you feel so small.

Just a kid. Shortsighted and unfairly dismissive. Too blind to see your sister’s quiet victories, too selfish to admit you’ve diminished them just to feel less alone about your own. A child grasping for meaning, unfair in the ways only children can be. “1…” And in the fraction of a second before midnight, it's as if you’ve been doused awake. 

You see her anew—what seemed like monotony is really the bedrock of stability; tenacity in place of routine. An almost single-minded doggedness to make something out of this life. You see the steadfast strength she possesses, the kind that gets her up every morning, to face the world and all its demands without question. With purpose. 

You see resilience. Compassion. Traits that you’ve always lacked, that you’ve long resented, the same traits your mother never learned to embody.

And now you see your niece in her arms, born from this, and you name the indescribable feeling that dwells in you—borne from the pure look of adoration in your sister’s eyes for her youngest daughter—as envy.

You know, with utmost certainty, that she will be okay, because she has your sister as her mother, and she is so, so loved.

As you watch them, something inside you shifts—a deep, aching realization. 

You see… home. Something you've always longed for but never truly found. “Happy new year!” The spell breaks. The two of you startle at the sudden eruption of fireworks, the distant chorus of car horns blaring from the streets outside.

Your niece and nephew jump and shriek, their laughter ringing through the room, celebrating something they barely understand but find joy in anyway. The baby in your sister’s arms lets out a wail at the commotion, and she is soothed instantly with murmurs of soft assurances. Her husband struggles upright—then, with no small amount of effort, leans forward to press a kiss to the crown of her head.

The image before you is far from perfect, but it’s theirs.

“Auntie, auntie!” The little rascals cry out in unison, their voices overlapping in excitement. “‘appy n’year!”

A breathless, almost pained laugh escapes you. Still, you smile as you respond with your own, “happy new year!”

You’re tired—tired of running, of measuring yourself against the ghosts of your past. Tired of carrying the weight of a childhood that’s left you with more questions than answers, of making excuses for wounds that should have healed long since. You've spent so much time mourning the growing pains, the irreparable, that you never stopped to see what’s in front of you. 

This moment, this realization, feels like the final missing piece in the fractured puzzle of who you are.

The new year arrives, marked by the crackle of fireworks and the loud cheer from your family.

This time, you won’t hesitate. You’ll choose to embrace the change, both good and bad, with open arms. With the quiet resolve of someone finally ready to move forward.

You lift your gaze just as a brilliant burst of red explodes into the night sky, its iridescent glow bleeding into a softer silver before fading into the dark. 

A warmth settles deep in your chest—bittersweet, but steady. A quiet peace.

Happy new year, my love. . . . . . . .

.

.

.

.

. . .

The air at the threshold of Vagrant’s land is restless. Volatile. A hazy distortion ripples through it, folding and unfolding, like a lost mirage—an area of transition between worlds. Porch collapse, he calls it. 

Sylus has stood here countless times, watching the way this anomalous disturbance twists the very fabric of this reality, how it flickers in and out of form, erratic. Impossible to predict. 

It had taken him longer than he likes to admit to understand the phenomena for what it’s truly worth. 

Not just an alternate space caused by some spartan energy field. Not just any other protofield. But a thread. A connection. A door. 

A fault line between realities, an entryway that hums with the possibility of you.

Since the moment the idea took hold, he had thought of little else. It has consumed him in every waking moment; his entire being seeming to bend toward a singular purpose—getting to you. He had torn through endless streams of data, followed every unstable pulse of energy, mapped its fluctuations down to the smallest inconsistency.

Nights bled into days, and days bled into weeks, until he can no longer keep track. Not that the passage of time meant much to him at this point. 

He’s worked tirelessly through the stillness, through the storms of uncertainty, through the aching silence left by your absence. Ever since you’ve exchanged your temporary goodbyes. 

He had measured everything he could—the unstable frequency of radio signals streaming through the interstice. He had traced the influx in real time; recording the rate of deterioration, isolating the waveform, and filtering out outside interferences. 

But for all the data he gathered, for all the precision in his calculations, the core of this phenomenon remained just out of reach. His knowledge on the matter is rudimentary at most. He could waste years observing for abnormalities, trying to decipher how its presence has disrupted the very threads of this universe, but the why and how of it all will still elude him. 

Still, theory matters less than function. He doesn’t need to understand the full depth of it. He only needs to harness it.

It’s a gamble.

Contrary to whatever reputation he’s earned for himself, Sylus has never been one to play his cards recklessly. He deals in certainties, in probabilities stacked in his favor, in risks that—while dangerous—are still within his grasp to control. He has never been the type to leap without knowing where he’d land.

But this is different.

He has never needed to, before. Never had a reason to throw himself into the unknown with no assurance of survival, no way to predict the outcome.

He had no reason to—until you.

Now, it matters less whether or not the odds of his survival are abysmal, that he has no precedent to follow. That your world might reject him entirely. None of it matters. Because if the choice is between staying and never reaching you, or plunging into the great, endless unknown—

He’ll take the leap, every time. Without hesitation. 

He’ll leave this world behind, step beyond the edges of everything that has ever defined him, and venture into lands unseen, uncharted. Unknown. He doesn’t know what awaits him on the other side. If he’ll make it there in one piece. If he will make it there at all.

Sylus has never really questioned why he’s the anomaly in this world. The curiosities of his existence are yours to ponder. After all, he finds that he doesn’t care much of the answer as much as he cares about being with you.

Because wherever you are—that is home. 

He takes a step forward, and the universe dissolves into a blinding light.

-

-

-

Sylus wakes to the sensation of weight.

Something presses on him heavily, sinking into his limbs like gravity itself is wrapping around him for the first time.

The ground beneath him is unfamiliar, uneven—tangible in a way he’s never felt before. His fingertips press into the damp earth, leaving the faintest imprint, yielding beneath his touch. The scent of soil rises around him; a rich, bitter brown. 

This world does not recognize him, yet it cradles him like its own all the same.

Above, the sky erupts.

Fireworks split open the night, streaks of color exploding and dissipating in an instant—too fleeting to hold, too bright to ignore. A flashbang of incandescent reds and fluorescent greens, followed by bursts of crackling gold and shimmering silver scatter into tiny pinpricks before fading into the darkness.

The air is heavier here, denser in a way that feels almost… alien. It clings to the contours of his new form, seeps into his lungs with every breath. 

And oh, how it burns. Not in pain, but in its sheer presence. It rushes into him not as mere oxygen but as something real. Something palpable. He’s lost in the sensation. 

He exhales. Then winces. 

Immediately, he feels it—the weakness. The brittleness of this new body. Gone is the invulnerability he once wielded so effortlessly, the certainty that nothing could touch him unless he allowed it. 

That certainty is gone now, stripped away the moment he crossed the threshold.

He is flesh and bone. Finite. Mortal.

A lesser man might have feared it.

But in the middle of this empty field, miles away from civilization, Sylus can only laugh. 

He tips his head back, reeling from the sheer impossibility of it all, eyes tracing the brilliant display above—as if committing it to memory, a coronation of sorts. Of existence. Of arrival. Of a life finally his own.

Reborn. And for the first time in his existence, he is alive.

––––

It’s summer—the summer that marks two years since he left. 

Two years. It’s enough time to feel the weight of it, but not enough to make the events feel like something that happened a lifetime ago. 

The seasons cycle once more, as they always do, pushing time forward with a steady, indifferent rhythm. And with that change comes a familiar pang—a bittersweet ache, neither grief nor regret, just the weight of knowing that nothing stays the same. Mono no aware. 

You’re closer to thirty now, and the thought doesn’t terrify you as much as it did before. Your hair’s in a pixie cut—short and sleek, although the edges are a little ragged from the half-assed trimming you gave it a few days ago. 

It would have made you feel stupid, once upon a time, for trying out something drastic for a new look. Instead, you just take it for what it is—one more thing you did because you wanted to. Like the rest of the choices you’ve made over the past two years. It’s yours. Uneven, impulsive, maybe a little questionable. But yours.

It’s liberating. Even if it makes your head look like a pencil. 

The voice—the one that picks at your face, your body, your thoughts, everything down to the last imperfection—never really shuts up. It’s quieter now, easier to ignore, but it still lurks in the background, waiting for an opening, a moment of weakness. Maybe it always will. Maybe that’s just the price of being human.

But you don’t fight it anymore. You don’t let it drag you down to a breaking point. You carry yourself differently now, you'd say. No pep in your step just yet, but you don’t feel the need to drag your heels either. Literally and figuratively. 

The change has come in waves—sometimes gentle, sometimes harsh—but it’s there, marking you, marking the passage of time. Just like the earth, just like the seasons, you’ve shifted and grown. And perhaps that’s enough.

The sky is ablaze now, a deepening canvas of pinks and purples as the sun sinks lazily to the west. The fiery orange light spills through the large windows, bleeding into every corner of the room, and the world outside seems to slow, caught in the hour before dusk.

You’re behind the counter, wiping down plates with the kind of ease that comes from repetition, the motion so ingrained in you that it barely registers anymore. It’s all routine—the rhythm of it, the quiet hum of the bistro, the clinking of porcelain. The air is thick with the sticky smell of warm pastries, and it’s the sort of evening that feels almost liminal. A moment suspended in time.

You hear the soft tinkling of the door chimes, signaling the arrival of another customer. 

It’s a soft, unassuming sound, barely noticeable against the evening lull. You swipe your hands across your apron, turning on instinct, your mouth already forming the usual greeting. 

“Hi, welcome to—”

The words die in your throat.

It’s a slow unfolding—almost a gradual realization that stretches across the seconds like the last rays of sun dipping beneath the horizon. He stands in the doorway, a figure outlined in gold, and his presence fills the space between you, no barrier that separates, and it feels... impossible. Unimaginable. Inevitable. 

His height is the first thing you notice. He’s taller than you expected, and you know he’ll tower over you, even at a distance. His hair is dark now, the color of midnight, almost—not the silver you once traced with your fingers in your mind. The cut is still similar to what you’ve always known it to be, though a little more unkempt, as if he’s lived in this body long enough for it to take on its own wear.

Then his eyes. The red is gone—no longer the shade of crimson that used to see right through you, those sanguine pools you once loved. In its place, a stormy grey, deep and impossibly expressive, pulling you in like an undertow. The color is striking, alien in its own way, yet there’s a warmth buried beneath it—and the familiarity of it tugs at you.

Even with the changes, even though you’ve never met the person standing in front of you, you’ll know him anywhere. 

There’s a shift in the room, a subtle, yet unmistakable change in the air. It’s as if the whole bistro has drawn in a breath—and you with it. Time stretches thin, each passing second expanding into what feels like an eternity.

Your eyes lock—and for a moment, nothing else exists. 

It’s as if the world has shifted off its axis. Or, perhaps more accurately, it’s as though a piece that’s always been missing has finally snapped into place.

Something settles in you, something foreign and indescribably familiar at the same time.

Sylus smiles.

“Hello, my love. Have I kept you waiting?”

It feels like home. 

____

“Now I found myself this kind of love, I can't believe it I'll never leave it behind I thought I'd never get to feel another fucking feeling But I feel— This love, this love, this love Oh, I feel it.”

End A/N: So this is done! Wow! I'm kind of proud of myself for writing something this long in the span of, idk, three months? Basically, the entire duration of my "vacation" back home. Now, with another term and a busier schedule coming up, I really wanted to finish this series before life catches up to me. *sobs* Anyway, I'm so, so happy about the reception of this fic, and you've all been so sweet :') Again, thank you for reading! I'll see you in the spin-off, or whatever shit I put out next haha <3 Tagging: @xxfaithlynxx @beewilko @browneyedgirl22 @yournextdoorhousewitch @sunsethw4 @stxrrielle @mangooes @hrts4hanniehae @buggs-1 @michiluvddr @ssetsuka @imm0rtalbutterfly @the-golden-jhope @beomluvrr @bookfreakk @ally-the-artistic-turtle @sapphic-daze @sarahthemage @cchiiwinkle @madam8 @slownoise @raendarkfaerie @sylusdarling @luminaaaz @greeenbeean @vvhira @issamomma @shroomiethefrogwhisperer @blueberrysquire @lovely-hani @fiyori @peachystea @aeanya @sylus-crow @queen-serena88 @xthefuckerysquaredx @rayvensblog @poptrim @goldenbirdiee @amerti @angstylittleb1tch @reiofsuns2001 @j4mergy @touya-apologist @gladiolus-mamacitia @btszn @wrimaira

[daydreamerswriting]

hiiii!!! do you think you could do something with the gang (separately) being protective of reader? its okay if you dont want to though!!! totally up to you 💕💕

The Gang Being Protective

The outsiders x fem!reader

an: I tried to give them all different plots so it wasn't repetitive. Thank you for the request and sorry this took SOOO long. (This request is so old and this took me WAY too long I'm sorry 😭) please leave more requests guys!

W: men being gross and creepy, swearing, not proof read

Darry Curtis

Darry Curtis normally isn't one for parties, but you convinced him to go to one with you. He was, unfortunately, not having the best time. But you were. You were drinking and dancing and having the time of your life. You pulled Darry around with you as you chatted with your friends, acquaintances, total strangers, anyone.

Some time into the party, the two of you got separated. You were getting another drink and talking to a old classmate from high-school. A guy approaches you, and you immediately get a bad feeling.

"Hey sweet thing." He slurs with a smirk.

You grip your drink tighter and it takes everything in you not to show your disgust on your face. "Hi."

"You look good enough to eat. Let's get outta here, yeah?" He steps way to close to you.

Ew. "No thank-"

"No, she doesn't." A familiar, stern voice cuts you off as a muscular arms is wrapped around your shoulders.

You glance up at him. He's glaring daggers at the man who talked to you.

The man scoffed. "Who the fuck are you?"

"Her boyfriend. Now why don't you back the hell up?" His voice is stern, deep, and angry.

The guy scoffs again, rolls his eyes, and walks away. "Whatever.."

Darry turns his attention to you. "Are you alright, y/n?" He asks tenderly.

You nod. "Thank you."

"Of course, darling, you don't have to thank me." He kisses your forehead.

Sodapop Curtis

"Can you hand me a wrench?" Soda asks you as he sticks his hand out from under the Curtis's truck. The poor old thing had broke from the hundredth time and he was in charge of fixing it.

You grab a wrench out off the tool box beside you and hand it to him. "Here."

"Thank you, sweetheart."

The only reason you're here, sitting on the curb while Soda fixes up the car, is because you had come over to tell him something. You were a little nervous to tell him. You've heard stories from your friends about how their past boyfriends weren't cool with stuff like this.

"Hey, Soda?" You say while staring down at your hands.

"Yeah?" He calls back from under the car.

"I'm going with my friend tomorrow, so we have to cancel our date."

"Oh." He slides out from under the car and sits up, looking at you. "You can't go any other day?"

You shake your head. "He's only going to be in town a few days, and tomorrow is the only day he's free." You explain.

His eyebrows furrow and he looks untrusting. "He?"

You nod. "We were friends in elementary school, but then he moved away."

"Oh." He thinks this over for a minute. "It's not like a date, right?"

Youre taken aback. "What? No, of course not. We're just hanging out as friends, babe."

"Good." He nods and ponders this again for a moment. "Can I go?"

"Do you not trust me?" You ask, feeling slightly hurt.

He shakes his head. "No, of course I trust you. I don't trust this guy I've never meant. Plus, if he's your friend, I wanna meet him." He smiles. Soda did like knowing all the people in your life. He had wanted to meet your family and friends as soon as possible.

"I- I don't know. I haven't seen him in so long, and it might be weird with you there. He doesn't know you, you don't know him. I want you to meet him too, but I don't want to make it awkward with you there the whole time. Don't you think it's annoying when people drag their partners to every hang out."

"Yeah, okay. Hm.. how about I drop you off and meet him when I drop you off." He smiles, knowing that that's a good suggestion.

You smile too. "Sure. That sounds like a good plan, Soda."

Steve Randle

Shelves don't restock themselves, so Steve was stocking them while complaining to you. You ate some chips he bought you while he ranted.

"I got this job so I could work on cars, not restock shelves." He told you.

"Do you want me to help you?" You offer.

"No, no. Its my job. And I don't need us both losing our minds cause of how boring this is."

You laugh. "Okay."

He finishes stocking everything in the box he had, so he goes into the back to get another. He kisses you before going.

You crumple up your empty bag of chips and look for a trash can to throw it away in. The bell by the door rings, meaning someone entered the gas station. You find a trash can and toss the chip bag from a short distance, but somehow, you miss. So, you bend down to pick it up.

And then you hear a whistle. You think it's Steve trying to tease you for a moment, until you turn around and see some random guy. He was smirking at you too. What the hell?

"What the hell?" A familiar voice asks angrily. You turn your head and see Steve walking over to you while glaring at the guy. "Why're you whistling at my girl?"

"Hey, man. I didn't know that she'd been claimed." He raises his hands.

Claimed? You scoff.

"Claimed? " Steve says, "She's a human being, not a, fucking parking spot or something. Why don't you get the hell outta my store." He crosses his arms.

The guys shoves his hands in his jacket pockets and huffs. "Whatever." Then he turns and leaves.

"Fucking asshole." Steve shakes his head then looks down at you. "You okay?"

You smile. "Yes, thank you."

He uncrosses his arms and reaches for your hand, taking it in his. "You don't have to thank me, baby."

Two-Bit Matthews

It was a chilly afternoon, and you and Two-Bit were walking around town together. You were wearing his jacket and his arm was around you. You were talking about random stuff and laughing together. The two of you had just left a diner and were now walking to your house.

You always had a blast when you were with Two-Bit. He was funny and surprisingly sweet. He made you feel lighter and just being around him calmed you down. He was familiar.

The two of talk about school, friends, life, anything that pops into your minds. All is going great until you pass a guy who's leans against the side of a building, smoking a cigarette. He whistles at you. A somewhat small sound that was absolutely unnerving. It immediately made you uncomfortable. And of course Two-Bit heard it and noticed your change in energy.

"Has that ever worked for you?" Two-Bit asks the guy angrily as he wraps his arm tighter around you.

"Huh?" The creep looks you the both of you.

"I said, 'has that ever worked for you?' Because I'm guessin' it hasn't." Two-Bit had stopped walking and was looking back at the guy.

"I- fuck off, man." He turns to leave.

"Leave girls like mine alone, wacko!" Two-Bit calls as the guy walks away. Then he turns his head to look at you. "I'm sorry, baby." He says.

"Oh, it's okay. I'm fine." You say as you two begin to walk down the sidewalk again.

"But it's not okay. Guys shouldn't be whistling at or cat calling you, baby. Ticks me off." He lets go of your waist and holds your hand.

You squeeze his hand, appreciating his concern and protection. "Thanks for standing up for me."

He shrugs. "Don't mention it, I owed you, you got lunch."

Dallas Winston

Dallas loves to show you off. He loves getting to let people know that you're his. He loves watching other guys disappointed faces when you're all over him.

You were hesitant to wear such a short skirt to the party at Buck's, but Dallas was quick to reassure you.

"You look absolutely gorgeous. Good enough to eat, doll." He held you from behind as you gazed into your mirror. So it was settled. You wore the skirt.

Unfortunately, that meant you got stares.

One man in particular had been staring at you all night. At first, you thought you were imagining things, seeing him the corner of your eye, but you kept making eye contact with him. It was making you uncomfortable.

"That guy over there is staring at me." You whisper to Dallas, peeking over your shoulder at him.

Dallas tightens his arm around your waist. He looks in the direction you're looking. He makes eye contact with the man, causing the man to look away.

"I'll talk to him."

Only Dallas Winston doesn't "talk" to people who have pissed him off, and he's clearly pissed off. Now, you'd be happy to see this guy get slugged, but you really didn't want Dallas getting into a fight. So, you grab his hand when he starts to walk away.

"Dallas–"

"I'm just gonna talk to him, I promise." He squeezes your hand then pulls his away. He walks over the man and you lag slowly behind him, really hoping this doesn't end in violence.

Dallas approaches him. "Hey man, my girl doesn't like being stared at by creeps like you. I think should you cut it out."

The man scoffs. "Maybe she shouldn't dress like a that then. I can look if I'd like."

"She can dress how ever the hell she pleases, doesn't give you any right to watch her like a fucking creep."

Oh boy was he getting mad. You walk up behind him and put your hand on his shoulder. "Dal, it's not worth it, c'mon."

The man smirks at you. "Well, hello sweet cheeks."

Ew. "Excuse me?" You say at the same time Dallas's fist lands on his face.

Johnny Cade

Johnny trusts you mote than anyone he knows, so why was he so worried? Sure, you'd hung out with a friend for yours that happened to be a guy and didn't tell him, but that guy's just your friend, right? Well, he better be. Johnny knows that he should talk to you about it, but he's not sure how to bring it up. Luckily, you do one day while walking through the park with him.

"Last weekend I went to see this movie, Viva Las Vegas, that new one with Elvis in it, with my friend Aaron. It was just okay." You say.

He hesitates then asks, "Who's Aaron?"

"My friend." You say simply.

A faint smile appears on his face from your answer. "Well, yeah, but who is he? Why're you going to the movies with him?" He feels awkward asking.

You can tell what he's thinking about, and you feel a bit guilty for making him worry. "Oh, it's nothing bad, I swear. Me, him, and this girl, Margaret– we were all three going to go together, but Margaret never showed. We learned on Monday that she'd been sick."

"Oh," he nods. "I mean, I don't really mind that you're hanging out with a guy alone. If it was Soda or Steve or Ponyboy, ya know, I wouldn't care. It's just cause I don't know him, that's all."

"Yeah." You pause then smile. "You were jealous." You tease as you take hold of his arm.

"I'm wasn't–" He pauses and looks at you. He sighs, "I was worried about you. I trust you, but I can't trust people I've never met."

You think quietly for a moment, then make a suggestion. "How about, next time we make plans, I'll ask if you can come, so you can meet him."

He smiles and nods. "Okay, that sounds perfect, sweetheart, thank you." He slips his arm out from your grasp and instead puts in around your shoulders. He pulls you in, towards him, and places a kiss on your forehead.

An: idk why this took so long. Please leave me more requests! The more specific, the more fun!

[dovenskin]

i luvv💕ur work

may u pls do a bill x reader with reader whos just as much as of an asshole as he is -- like they dont put up with his attitude, ignore him, block him whenever they feel like it, and force bill into pathetic actions for her forgiveness?? 💗💗

⋆

bill dickeyノ

cw : no warnings just bill being bill // bill x gn reader with feminine qualities

✦ Title: Let Him Suffer

an: yess!! omg i’ve prayed for a bill request and thank uu!! xoxo

© dovenskin

Bill was always mouthing off.

That was nothing new. You’d gotten used to the endless stream of smug corrections, petty gatekeeping, and the incel-core commentary that tumbled out of his mouth anytime he felt challenged—so, constantly. He was basically a walking online reporter with a superiority complex and the emotional regulation of a wet sock.

The two of you were in a thing, sure—one of those “off and on, don’t ask questions” relationships that was somehow real and a joke at the same time. Not that Bill would ever call it a relationship without choking on the word or throwing up sarcastic air quotes like they were part of his mutant power set.

“Yeah, my ‘partner’,” he’d grunt at Pete or Jerry. “Don’t get used to it. Casual arrangement.”

And yet the second you wore a tank top out without checking in? He got possessive like you were his limited-edition signed ‘The Joker’ poster

You’d shown up to Free Comic Book Day dressed as a vampire hunter —tight leather, stylized thigh straps, and detailed sigils you’d painted by hand. Weeks of work. And before you could even enjoy the look, Bill peered at you from behind a stack of longboxes and barked:

“That skirt is two inches too short for any functional loadout. You look like a slut. And I’m pretty sure those sigils are a bad rip-off of the Bloodlines expansion. Try harder next time.”

You blinked once. Then turned and walked away.

Bill Dickey had never met anyone who could silence him with a look. He hated it. Hated how you rolled your eyes during his continuity rants. Hated how you blocked his number every time he called you a “poser bitch” for having an opinion that didn’t match his. Hated how you always came back when you felt like it—like his tantrums meant less than nothing.

He called you sensitive when you called him out for saying “female-led media is inherently weaker.” You laughed in his face and walked off.

He told Pete and Josh that the only reason you kept winning at Magic was because he “let you win to keep the peace.” You threw your drink in the trash and left mid-game.

And when he told Jerry—fucking Jerry—that your art wasn’t real fanwork because your posts got “thirst likes from brain-dead coomers”? You were sitting right there.

He looked you dead in the eye and said it.

And you? You stood up without a word, grabbed your bag, and left.

He didn’t follow. Not then

But that night? The spiral began.

First, texts:

““You know I was kidding.”

“Fine. Act like a bitch.”

“C’mon, don’t be so emotional. You females are always so emotional over nothing. Pick a new struggle.”

Blocked.

A day passed.

Then two.

On the third morning, you opened your curtains to find Bill Dickey in your front yard with a busted Bluetooth speaker duct-taped to a messenger bag, fumbling with wires like he’d tried and failed to play something from your favorite album—pathetic and obvious.

You opened the door an inch.

“I’m sorry, alright?” he shouted. “I’m not good at this relationship shit! I said stuff I didn’t mean! C’mon… s—sweetheart…” He hesitated like the pet name burned his tongue. “I brought the speaker!”

You slammed the door without saying a word.

Over the next week, he sent more emails than an ILOVEYOU virus

Subject: “Just read this???”

Subject: “I messed up—okay??”

Subject: “Say something. Anything.”

Subject: “I’ll delete the forum post about your ‘Bloodlines’ sigils. Please.”

He lurked outside the comic shop during your usual visits,flannel flared up, pacing like he knew he wasn’t welcome but refused to leave. You walked past him without flinching.

One night, as you stepped over the curb, he trailed after you.

“Okay—okay, I get it. I was a dick! But I miss you. I like you, alright? I—fuck—I love you. Is that what you want to hear?”

You didn’t even turn around.

Behind you, Bill stood frozen on the sidewalk, red-faced and hunched over like he’d just been hit by a boss fight cutscene. His backpack slipped down his shoulder. His mouth hung open, useless.

“…Please,” he called out. “I don’t know what to do without you.”

But that wasn’t your problem.

Because it was never about whether he liked you. It was about whether he respected you. And Bill Dickey?

He didn’t deserve shit.

Let him suffer.

[thirteenheavens]

can you write about joshua and pillow princess reader tysm i love ur works dont die 💕💕

Notes: hope you guys enjoy sorry I’m so distracted today I’m starting from the recent requests today tho! <3

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.

Joshua had always loved taking care of you, but he especially loved it when you were feeling lazy and wanted him to do all the work. He knew exactly how to please you, and he was more than happy to oblige.

He laid you down on the bed, a smirk on his face as he looked down at you. "My pretty pillow princess," he teased, running his fingers through your hair. "You look so tired already." You pouted up at him, giving him your best puppy dog eyes. "I am tired," you whined, making yourself look as cute as possible. "I just want you to take care of me, Josh."

Joshua chuckled and leaned down to kiss you. "Don't worry, I will," he promised. "I'll take good care of my princess." He began to kiss his way down your body, stopping to pay extra attention to your sensitive spots. He knew all the places that made you moan and squirm, and he took his time exploring them one by one.

As Joshua slowly pushed into you, he made sure to be gentle and careful. He knew that you were still sensitive from earlier, so he wanted to give you plenty of time to adjust to his size. He looked up at you, watching your face for any signs of discomfort. "Is this okay?" he asked, his voice low and husky. "Tell me if it's too much."

"Shhh, it's okay," Joshua soothed, reaching up to stroke your cheek. "I've got you, baby. Just relax and let me take care of you." He continued to thrust into you slowly, his movements deliberate and controlled. He wanted to draw out your pleasure as long as possible, making sure that you were completely satisfied before he chased his own release.

Joshua wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as he continued to thrust into you. He buried his face in your neck, inhaling your scent as he nuzzled against you. His hands roamed over your body, caressing every inch of skin he could reach. He loved feeling your body pressed against his, loved the way you fit perfectly in his arms.

"You feel so good," he murmured, his voice filled with adoration. "I love being inside you like this." Your moans grew louder as Joshua continued to thrust, his pace gradually picking up speed. He could feel you clenching around him, your body responding to his touch.

"You're close, aren't you?" he asked, his lips grazing your ear. "Cum for me, baby. Cum on my cock like a good girl." Joshua sat up, holding your hips in place as he continued to pound into you. He loved seeing the look on your face as he took control, loved seeing the way your eyes rolled back in pleasure.

"You're so beautiful like this," he praised, his grip on your hips tightening. "So perfect and submissive for me." Joshua couldn't help but smile at the sight of you, looking so comfortable and content beneath him. You were completely at his mercy, and he loved having you like this. He leaned down to kiss you again, his lips moving against yours hungrily. "You're so spoiled," he teased, his hips snapping against yours. "You know I'll give you anything you want, don't you?"

You nodded, too lost in pleasure to form words. You knew that Joshua would always take care of you, always give you what you needed. He smirked at your response, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you. "Good girl," he said, his voice low and possessive. "You're mine, and I'm going to make sure you never forget it."

He began to thrust harder, his pace becoming more erratic as he chased his own orgasm. "Cum for me," he commanded. "And then I'll fill you up." You couldn't hold back any longer, your body tensing up as you reached your peak. You cried out his name, your nails digging into his back as you clung to him.

Joshua groaned as he felt you clench around him, his own orgasm following shortly after. He buried himself deep inside you, spilling his hot cum inside you. He collapsed on top of you, both of you panting heavily as you tried to catch your breath. He gently stroked your hair, placing soft kisses on your forehead and cheeks. "You did so well," he murmured, his voice filled with affection. "You always do."

Joshua chuckled as he pulled out of you, carefully rolling onto his side so that he was facing you. "My little pillow princess," he repeated, a fond smile on his face. "You really are spoiled, you know that?"

[miraclecherryblossomsblog]

I hope I'm not annoying you

Had another thought how would some autobots/decepticons react to their human darling just casually popping/cracking their joints

I can only imagine they're like

Darling: cracks joints

Auto/decept: concerned look

Darling: this is normal just some air bubbles stuck in my joints

Auto/decept: surprised pikachu face/ excuse me WHAT!?

Annoying me???? r u kidding AM LIVING for these ask u send op pls I LOVE THEM SO MUCH

Also LMAO YES they would be so freaked out about it cuz like for them hearing noises in their joints when they move means they either got rust which i feel like its an uncomfy pain for them or that they need oil like when ur door creeks

I remember i had a friend that would twist their headtoo high up to make it pop and legit i looked at them like this the first time they did it infront of me

that's them. that's ur cybertronian s/o being traumatized by our weird human quriks

TFO B 127: He would go from fear to amazement.

Like he was just chatting ur ear off like he always does, telling stuff that happen today in his missions or something that was like centuries ago (i headcanon he sometimes repeats stuff he's already told you cuz he kinda forgets sometimes but u dont tell him that most of the times cuz he just looks so happy 😭💕💕💕)

And you listened to everything he said, some of the stuff was hard to understand cuz u know...alien stuff BUT ANYWAY- ur back was starting to scream at you cuz u been sitting for a while now, twisting yourself to stretch, your bones letting a pleasingly loud POP!

I can imagen him letting a squeal and backing away like he just saw a rat or something 💀

and it got u asking whats up and he just points at u and ask what was that noise and u just basically tell him that human joints have air pockets and when moved or stretched they just pop, "its just a human thing, nothing unusual to us" you say shrugging to him as he slowly closes his distance to you "but doesn't like....hurt?? it sounds like it does...wait you're not in pain right now are you?!" he starts to ask in worry already thinking into carrying you to ratchet, quickly you shut his worries telling him again its just a human thing and it doesn't bring any sort of discomfort as it for us it rather helps us when we feel ache in our bodies

and feel like this would go on him asking more questions about how our bodies work, if u dont got any medical knowledge then you might just pull ur phone to answer him cuz i feel like he would ask the wildest shi fr 😭

all and all he becomes more and more fascinated by humanity the more he learns from you, specially if its from you.

[noctunis]

Hey, How are you? Just read so many of your DMC head canon and I liked them, good work don't think it's against your rules, if it is, just ignore this.

But wanted to request Dante with fem! Reader who just had a baby girl.... Dante's reaction to having a girl and how he is with a newborn.

dante with a baby girl 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

dante (dmc) x reader (?)

┊ ˚➶ notes ｡˚ 🎼

this has been sitting in my inbox for so long, my apologies!!! this was a really cute request and i love dante sm ugh i have dante brainrot rn

┊ ˚➶ warnings ｡˚ 🎼

babies n mentions of pregnancy ( obviously ), intended lowercase, lmk if i missed something!! 💕

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄

❥ let me tell you how cute i think this actually is.. like dante with a little baby girl??? it’s??? just so?? cuteee??22?2?2

❥ i can honestly see dante as a boy and a girl dad, but since we’re talking about girls here!! let me just shed some light on how awesome of a dad dante would be regardless of what gender his kid is.

❥ as a newborn, i can see him being both super goofy or uncharacteristically careful. dante is literally so scared to do something wrong so he leaves most of it to you, but if you use formula for your baby or if.. part demons don’t need milk (?).. then he’ll take over that. it should be easy enough, he says, right? right???

❥ wrong. he let you have some time alone to let you go out and actually be baby-free for a little while and he partially regrets it. the only reason why is because he’s stuck on the couch rocking the baby back and forth while she cries because dante doesn’t know how much to feed her.. which is how he ends up calling you on your alone time

❥ dante’s behavior as a dad depends on how old he is ( what game we’re talking about ). as in dmc 1-3, he’s more so carefree and although he’d know being a dad is a lot of responsibility, he’d still have somewhat of goofy, dumb mindset within him. meanwhile as he progresses in dmc4, he’s learned a lot and has gotten better, so i think this would be the start of a really good era to raise a baby. and then finally in dmc5, peepaw still got it, okay?

❥ while i see dante enjoying his beauty rest, i can also see him sacrificing his sleep to get up and take the fall of a crying baby rather than wake you up and ruin your sleep schedule. dante’s pretty good at entertaining babies for some reason, what can i say?? they just love the guy i guess

❥ even before you’ve had the baby AND after, i feel like dante would pick the goofiest outfits for her omfg. like, you’ll be sifting through the clothes and looking for some cute onesies or something and all of a sudden you hear, “babe—!” and you turn and it’s dante holding up a baby tee with a cannabis leaf on it

❥ dante would absolutely remember his baby’s birthday, and on the off chance he doesn’t and he only remembers because you or nero brought it up or something, he will run on the other side of town just for her. you’ll call him and be like, “you got the cake, right?” and he’ll be like “ohhh, yeah— don’t worry, i got it” and he’s literally fighting like six antenora and hellbats rn but dont worryyy!! afterwards he’ll just stop by the bakery all bloody and ask for the cutesiest cake available and he’ll start showing the baker photos of you and his baby girl. he’ll be like “ugh, they grow up so fast 😊” as he’s picking out demon blood and residue from his air

❥ read a post where it was headcanons about if vergil and dante had a baby that had blonde hair like eva’s and WHOAAA. if dante’s daughter somehow received a recessive trait and she has blonde hair like eva’s, it will pull at dante’s heart strings from birth. he thinks it’s a sign, a sign that she’s still watching over him and that’s she’s there— she’s there enough that you’ve acquired her hair color. he believes her love is just that strong, and that makes him try a little harder every day. he will not let her memory be forgotten, and he’ll tell you and his daughter whatever stories he remembers from when he was a kid, especially ones with vergil ( partially to spite him ).

❥ growing up would be the hardest thing for dante to accept. he’ll always love her unconditionally but it makes him sad knowing that this is the youngest she’ll ever be and the oldest she’ll ever get ( if that makes sense ). but, he’ll always love her even when she’s not a baby anymore. he’ll love her when those onesies turn into t-shirts and he’ll love her when that teddy bear turns into an algebra textbook or a phone or jewelry.

❥ dante will forever cherish his family, and he yearns for that domesticity you two have created with your children. he’ll love you and his daughter regardless, and he’ll always come back for you. he is the legendary devil hunter, of course.

[prttykittes]

staying anon for this bec i feel disgusting indulging in this.

i’m big on dark/dddne stuff and yet I feel terrible reading it so i’m kinda glad i found somewhere i can kindof have a place to express more extreme stuff.

anyways big sis beidou wants to be your first so right when you turn 18 she takes your virginity :3

or dad zhongli sees that your bf is not what he thinks a BF should be like to he takes him out and makes you his. i mean this is more of a possessiveness than actual NSFW. i dont know😭

Stoner kazuha roofies you (with prior consent tho w this one)

Diluc gives you too much to drink so he fucks you instead.

i have so much more.. and if i ever do come back i’ll be “:3 anon”

do what you want w any of these 💕

Woahh:0, there's alot so I tried my best to do everything blog, I won't shame anyone for liking these things kind of stuff!!<3

ෆ Big!sis Beidou, Stoner!Kazuha, dad!zhongli, diluc X Afab!Reader [you/your]

— Synopsis:: multiple characters x reader, yeah

CW. Incest(father/child, Sister/slibing), smokes, weed, roofies, consent(Kazuha), dubcon(for everyone else), possessive sex(zhongli), drunk sex(Diluc), age gaps, fingering, Dom!characters x Sub!reader, reader wears pants in kazuha's part

A/N :: Multiple sexy characters :4— written by a minor

[MASTERLIST] — ╰⁠(⁠⸝⁠⸝⁠⸝⁠´⁠꒳⁠`⁠⸝⁠⸝⁠⸝⁠)⁠╯ works in link!

BIG SIS! Beidou ! — She was so happy for you! It was your birthday! She got off her boat and went to your parents house! She saw you, you were still gorgeous as ever! She tears up, she was with for 18 years, her lovely slibing.... Oh how she dreamed about this day, she wants to be your first. So she's going to take you to her boat since you had always wanted to go on the water with her! She would spent time with you on there, just you and her. She celebrated your birthday, then she asked if you wanted to go on a ride. You said yes, now your both on her boat but instead of familial love it was filled with romantical love. She was half she was your first, she at first toying with your nipples. She went lower, she can hear you breathing heavily. Your eyes are hazy, your mind cloudy. Her hand was your sex, she rubbed it. She sees your lovely juices on her fingers, she can't wait to claim you as hers. Her sweet, lovely slibing all hers!

STONER!Kazhu— The smell of weed brunt your nose, he was smiling at you. His hand on his chin, his eyes were slightly red. He had his eyes on you, you sat down next to him. "{Yourname}" he says, you tilt your head in confusion. He gets up, his legs slightly trembling, he wraps his arms around you. "Can I?" He said, you knew what he had wanted to do. You never went this far in your friendship with him! You did have dreams and did wish for him to like you, you also had sexual dreams about him. You can't believe what your going to do with him, he smiles. He grabs some pills, he was going to roofie you but instead of doing it without consent. He has your consent, you close your eyes and take it. You gulp and your head feels weird, your eyes become hazy. He smiles and gently lies you on the bed. He is on-top of you, he lays soft and gentle bites on your neck. He continues to do while his kisses gets lower, you close your eyes and let yourself into the pleasure. He toys with your chest, rolling your nipples between his fingers. He pulls down your pants and touches your sex through your underwear. His finger going up and down, pressing on it. "Your so cute..." He mutters, he take soff your underwear and Lena's down and licks at your sex. He smiles when your sex twitches. He coats his fingers in your pre-cum, then he prods his finger at your hole. His fingers scissor your virgin hole, making you more open for dick. You can feel his clothed dick against your leg while he continues to finger you, after some minutes. He stops and and pulls down his pants so his underwear shows and he slides his underwear down and his dick jumps up. He aims his cock at your hole, your hole clenches around nothing as you anxiously wait for it. He grabs a condom and enters you, his hard dick inside of you. He moves once you get used of his size. The motion is lazy and tried but it still feels good. Your virgin hole is not a Virgin anymore!!!

DAD!ZHONGLI !— He doesn't deserve his sweet baby! He stares at you and your boyfriend, he isn't a boyfriend. His boyfriend ideals for you are something like him!! He angrily glares and judges your boyfriend from afar. He can't believe that you chose someone that is trash, he gets so mad that he gets rid of your boyfriend... Oh I wonder how he got so bloody and why he is covered in blood.. don't worry it's not his!!don't worry baby, no need to worry about anything~ he comforts you after you find out your boyfriend is dead, shhh.... You still have him, your daddy is always here for you!! He won't leave you, he is going to make you his, not like you weren't his from the start! His kisses start form your temple to near your lips, his hands on your thigh to inner thighs. You sniff as you lean into his touch, just enjoy his touches. he slips his hand into your pajamas pants, touching your underwear. He continues to kiss your neck, wanting to mark you with his kisses and his touches. His fingers touch your sex and he slips his hand into your underwear, he smiles as he can feel your sex being wet. He pleasures you with his touches, he can't wait to claim you for his own. Emptying his seed inside of you!

DILUC !— He watches you, you weren't this drink from the start but you know... Things change, he continues to give you more. You were worried about the drinks because you wouldn't have enough to pay but you don't care anymore. Your drunken state, it exitces him but it's only with you. He gives you two more drinks and you drink it up fast like you want to please him... Your flustered face makes him want to kiss you and fuck your face but he can't bring himself to do so~ you let out hiccups and you lay your head on the table. He cleans the empty cups and gives you one more, you grab it weakly as you managed to drink it. You rant to him about annoying people and troubles in your life, he smiles as he listens to you. Your face still on the table, your hands are in a fist but then it goes limp. He hears soft snores from you, he walks around and rubs your hips. He blows in your ear, you still don't wake up. Your body is asleep and he could take advantage of it. He groans while he moves you over to more of a comfortable spot. He takes off your lower clothing and slides down your underwear. He sticks his finger in a cup as it is soaked with the alcohol, he pushes inside of you. Your loose and not tight, your whole body being loose. He kisses your forehead and continues to finger your hole, he lets out a grunt. His dick is really hard, he pulls out his cock and aims it at your hole. He can't wait anymore, he spits on his palm and rubs it on his dick. It's unsanitary but whatever because he is going to be inside of you!! His dick enters you, he lets out a groan, he moves his hips. It feels so good, he should do this more often to you until he gains courage to ask you out!!

[maybanksprincess]

hii new follower here!!!👋💓 im in love alreadyyy☺️ can i request where instead of pope catching jj and kie on the boat its reader , it doesnt matter if its kook!reader or pouge💖

thank you sweetheart, your so kind! 🥹 thank you for following, and i loveeee this idea so much. thank you for the request!! 💕

you were on the way back to the outerbanks after being on the deserted island for the last several months, everyone thought you had all been missing, maybe dead

after the escape from singh, your on the boat with jj, contemplating your life choices at this point.

"so your sure you didnt tell him where the diary is?" he asks as he adjusts the ropes on the boat, blue eyes locking onto yours.

you meet his gaze, watching his blonde hair fall on his forehead. "i told him i'd seen it, but i didnt tell him where."

he swings back into the inside of the boat, walking over to where your standing "so why does Singh want it so much?" he sits down beside you, on a couch cushion

you look down at him from where your standing "singh said that he thinks the diary has a clue; to the location of some city of gold."

you throw your hands up, not understanding the concept either. "like the gold on the merchant was just a small part of it." you say furrowing your brows

jj looks at you as he speaks, "okay, so the diary we have leads to a 500-year-old treasure that no ones ever found?"

you both look equally confused, not understanding it one bit.

"pretty much." you say simply, nodding your head. you turn your head from the ocean, to meet his eyes again.

"im in. its kind of like- my best option at this point, so... definitely beats sitting in geometry class." jj was never fond of school, never showed up, and when he did, he got horrible grades.

jj stands back up beside you, ruffling and fixing his hair

"yeah, beats boarding school." you say as you tap your hand on the surface in front of you.

"i mean, i dont even know what'll happen when we get back to the obx; nothing good. i can tell you that." he says, scratching the back of his neck.

"shits gonna suck for like a year." you reply, shaking your head.

he grabs the handles on the top of the ceiling of the boat, hanging off of them.

"at least you dont got a restitution, though. No job. No parents. Yeah arrows are gonna be coming in hot." he turns to look at you with those blue eyes, meeting your gaze.

"but you know what we do when arrows come flying?" he questions with a smirk on his face, trying to lighten the mood.

he starts making childish gun noises, and hitting the air, then pulling himself up by the handles on top of him, and kicking the air

"-uh, quick!" you say, pointing a finger at him, cracking a smile.

he walks back over to you, still being childish

"and you shoot right back at 'em. and that spear comes at you, you plant, grab," he says while hitting his thighs and grabbing an imaginary spear, to prove his point.

you look at him still smiling, but furrowing your brows

"disarm, straight into the jugular, finish them off" he makes yet another childish noise, hitting the air. then he turns to look at you as you walk over to him

then the boat hits a wave, and you both stumble, his hand instinctively going to your waist to cushion you incase you fell.

your hand went to his back, now your faces inches apart

your still smiling a little, his eyes drifting down to your lips.

"you know, whatever happpens, were gonna handle it together. like we always do..." you say nodding your head, looking into his eyes.

"y/n." he says lowly, his gaze still drawn to your lips, leaning in.

as soon as you two were about to kiss, pope comes around the corner and calls out to you two.

"hey." pope says. he then connects the dots, and sighs.

jj knew how much pope liked you, but you didnt reciprocate those feelings, and he knows it hurt pope, even more so to find you two about to kiss.

jj opens his mouth to say something, but no words come out.

pope clears his throat, "just wanted to let you guys know that we should probably stop for gas." he gives a forced smile

jj looks around nervously, not knowing how to press this subject "pope, i, uh... yeah. uh-"

"-yeah." pope turns and walks away, not wanting to see anymore.

jj immediately turns to pope and starts to take steps toward him "Pope. Hey, pope."

he stops walking when pope doesnt respond, and he sighs, looking down. "shit." he whispers.

you look at jj with a sympathetic expression, but quickly look away, being a little hurt by the way jj pulled away so quickly.

"ill talk to him" jj says, never looking back up.

all you can do is nod, and look away.

im so sorry if this is bad, im kind of bad with angst!! i hope you liked it, thank you for the request babe!

[cloudcountry]

Hello, I wanted to ask if you could please write something with Eiland or reader confessing their feelings to the other? It could be intentional or accidental, completely up to you.

I would really appreciate it if you could, but I understand if you don’t have the time. Thank you for reading and I hope you have a lovely day and everyday forward! 💕

SUMMARY: you have a reason to stay in mistria now.

COMMENTS: OH OF COURSE I CAN WRITE THIS <333 I LOVE EILAND MWAH i wrote this in like forty minutes sobs im too tired to edit if you see a typo no you dont

It’s your soft breathing and the way the back of your hand brushes against his that makes his stomach flip, his heart fluttering anxiously in his chest. Eiland isn’t sure how much longer he can hold on to the emotions swelling in his chest, begging and pleading to be set free as if they’ve been imprisoned inside his chest for the better part of two years.

In some way, Eiland supposes they had.

You just look so nice tonight, the most lovely thing you’re wearing being your smile, flashes of teeth as you laugh and the delicate curve of your lips catching his eye. Your laugh is like a siren call, and he finds himself recalling everything he knows about the Mermaid’s Comb in the museum to calm down. While it’s technically not related to sirens, it's the closest thing his scrambled mind can think of right now.

It does little to help when all that blasted comb does it make him think of you lovingly brushing his hair as the fireplace crackles in the background and he tells you about his latest archaeological discovery.

“Eiland?” you whisper, soft as the night breeze and the muted hollering from the Inn.

He makes a noise of acknowledgement, looking over at you. You’re looking at him too, eyes wide and bright, and his heart shudders when he sees the stars from above reflected in your pupils. He swallows, finding the courage in his heart to press the back of his hand right against yours. You gasp, soft and surprised, and Eiland feels so warm.

“There’s...I received an offer from the Capital.” you murmur, voice shaking as you try to maintain your composure, “They heard about my accomplishments in Mistria and wanted me to take on some higher level jobs for some nobles.”

Eiland's heart drops right out of his body, slamming into the cobblestones beneath his feet.

No.

He opens his mouth and you grab his hand, giving him a meaningful look. He shuts his lips tight, pulling them into a thin line, cheeks heating at the touch.

“It got me thinking about...where I want my life to go. I’m not getting any younger.” you admit, “And I don’t want my life to be at the Capital at all. They’ve been badgering me about new jobs and they keep raising the money I could earn but it’s...it’s not enticing.”

Eiland’s eyes are searching yours, unaware of what you’re trying to say, his brain processing your words over and over and over again, trying to find your meaning. Your thumb is stroking the back of his hand and it makes him shiver—if you asked, he could blame it on the wind, but he knows how desperate he is for you to be near him and how badly it affects him when you are.

“I wanted to tell you this first because...well, I’m not sure if you’d feel the same way or not...but I don’t want to leave here. I’m satisfied with what Mistria has given me. I came here for the land, but that land has become my home. And I want to share it with someone someday.”

Him reading to you by the fireplace. Having Adeline over for family dinners. Watering your crops in the morning before you get out of bed. Making you breakfast every morning. Cleaning the house while you’re gone. Having his own home library, a mixture of your tastes and his. You being an in-law to his aunt and sister.

“I was thinking...if I was going to stay here, and if I was going to share my life with someone...well, I...”

You hand feeding him sweets. You two sitting in rocking chairs on a rainy day. You calling him baby or honey or boyfriend or love or darling or husband. The two of you visiting the General Store to pick up groceries. The whole town knowing you’re together.

You swallow, as if preparing for something.

Eiland’s imagination is too far away from him now.

“I would want that person to be you.”

Eiland freezes, flushed cheeks burning and pretty lips parted. His eyes are wide, unbelieving, and with the way his heartbeat pounds in his ears he thinks he’s died and gone to heaven.

“What?” is the only thing he can muster, shaking fingers intertwining with yours, darting eyes searching yours like a man gone mad.

“In other words,” you tear your gaze away, flustered at the proximity, knowing anyone could walk outside of the Inn at any given moment and see you, holding hands with Eiland, nearly pressed against his chest, “I want to be with you.”

Eiland’s face brightens, his arms pulling you into him and you crash against his chest. His arms soften your fall, holding you up and he squeezes you close, nose pressed to your skin and hair tickling your face. You can feel his excited breaths against the warmth of your cheeks and you squirm, flustered and unused to the proximity.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m just so happy.” he sounds like he’s about to cry, hands pressed to your back like you’re his salvation, “I’ve liked you for so long. I didn’t think you’d felt the same.”

“I do.” you confess, wiggling his hold just loose enough to free your hand, running your fingers through his hair, “You’re a treasure Eiland. I like you very much.”

Eiland pulls away and laughs, joyful and boyish, his grin infectious.

“To think, you would deny the Capital for me!” he places a hand over his heart, eyes crinkling in the corners as he gazes upon you adoringly, “My dear, I am smitten with you!”

[spideysbruh]

chicago

a/n I MISSED MAKING THESEEE

liked by tchalamet, yourfriend and 3,188,773 others

y/n 💕

view all 88,729 others

tchalamet forever and ever

liked by y/n

y/n and always

shawnyn god WHEN

wonkaswhore if they ever break up I'll kms

tchalamet just posted a story!

~~~

@ceoofynandtim tweeted- it's kinda been a while since they posted each other huh... im scared. I MISS THIS ERAAA

@teddyyn replied- DONT EVEN THINK THATTT

@girlyyn replied- am I the only one thinking they're engaged? 🤭

@aliveyn replied to @girlyyn- but why aren't they posting each other at all!??!?!? it's v unlike them...

~~

@celebnews just tweeted- BREAKING ‼️‼️Timothée Chalamet and Y/n L/n have broken up. Verified by a close source, the pair have split after four years together.

@phasesyn replied- NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO💔💔💔💔💔💔💔😭😭😭😭😭

@wonkaswhore replied- love is dead.

@nightlyyn replied- no one touch me. my parents just got divorced

@ynxpaul replied- the way they spoke about each other... jesus how did this happen. never saw two people more in love.

@ronxyn replied- so we're all just believing this ?😭😭

@girlyyn replied- well. no reason to live now tbh

liked by dylanminnette, sabrinacarpenter and 2,817,278 others

y/n if it's real, then can you show me?

view all 87,288 comments

pepperyn omg. that song.

yourfriend you're too gorgeous

rachelzegler MY PRETTY BEST FRIEND

sabrinacarpenter my shirt looks good on you

biyn LESBIANS !?!?!

dystopiayn girl they are friends 😩💀 sab has a bf!

liked by florencepugh, billieeilish and 2,276,827 others

y/n trying to get in my horror era

view all 94,655 comments

rachelzegler the horrors persist but so do we!!

y/n I love you

ynscurtains you're already a scream queen !!

harryynpot im literally a child of divorce omg

modernyn Timothée fumbled omg

chalsyn they both fumbled 💀💀

@celebnews just tweeted- Y/n L/n in a recent interview talking about her split from Timothée Chalamet: "We had a few months before the whole world knew, so I got to kind of heal and process everything in private without people looking at and analyzing my every move. Breakups are rough no matter what, whether or not you're public about it. There are days that feel worse than others, and.. it is because I really, truly, thought i was forever done with that whole dating portion of my life."

replies have been turned off

@tchalametupdates just tweeted- Timothée seen recently greeting fans! When asked about his and Y/ns breakup he responded with, "Some things you just have to get through by yourself. I'm glad that you're all sending me love and support, but I'll be okay!"

@timschal replied- CRYINGGG 😭😭

@laurieslaurence replied- bro he seemed so sad 😭😭

@ynsstan replied to @laurieslaurence- well he broke up with her so idk why he's so hurt 🙄

@steelyn replied to @ynsstan- omg didn't know that you were part of their relationship too... dumbass

@ynxtimmy replied- I still think they're soulmates like they're gonna get back together watch !!!

liked by florencepugh, sabrinacarpenter and 4,188,938 others

y/n took myself out for valentines day this year. it was actually quite romantic

view all 99,927 comments

sabrinacarpenter beautiful girl

liked by y/n

rachelzegler we should've gone together

y/n next year 🤭

timmytimstan MAKE HIM REGRET IT

ynscurtains you're literally a timmy acc hello ? 😭😭

ynsheadphones kms cause their valentine posts were so cute

ynsshoes FRR their captions were always the cutest 😭😭💕

y/n just posted a story!

caption- single girl era 💕💕

@ynupdates just tweeted- While promoting her newest movie, Y/n was asked about Timothée, she expressed how she still has love for Timothée and doesn't hold anything against him. "He was the best person I've ever had the pleasure to love. I hold no negativity in my heart for him. Truly, I wish him nothing but the best forever and ever." She also went on to say that an Oscar win is definitely in his future.

@paulsyn replied- maybe they just need some time apart 💔💔💔💔

@lonesomeyn replied- 'forever and ever' KILL ME NOW

@ynscurtains replied- THEYRE SO NICE ABOUT EACH OTHER PLS LET THEM BE TOGETHERRRR

@ringsyn replied- I hope they stay friends 😭😭

~~~

*3 Years Later*

liked by florencepugh, tchalamet and 3,828,839 others

y/n and when im back in chicago 🎶

view all 92,288 comments

timmyyn remember when timmy and her would go to chicago like once a month 😭😭💔💔💔

vampireyn girl let it go

ynsheadphones UHHH TIMMY LIKED !?!?!?!?!!?????

coolyn BITCH I AM UPPP OMGGG

happilyyn do NOT get my hopes up omg

rachelzegler no invite ??

liked by y/n

@celebnews just tweeted- BREAKING ‼️ Timothée Chalamet and Y/n L/n were recently seen getting close with one another in Chicago. Apparently they were trying to remain unnoticed when someone asked for a photo.

@horroryn replied- GOD IS REALLLL

@chappellyn replied- THEY LOOK SO CUTEEEE MY LOWKEY PARENTSSS

@timmytimstan replied- bro I've been waiting for this news omg 😭😭

@rhodeyn replied- they're like justin and hailey 2.0 omgg

@laurieslaurence replied- the way they're literally matching. they used to coordinate their outfits alll the time and they're doing it again 😭😭🫶🫶🫶🫶💕

@cutesyn replied- THE WAY SHES SITTING ON HIS LAP OH MY GODDD IM SO SINGLE

liked by tchalamet, melissabarrera and 4,188,838 others

y/n me when

view all 121,717 comments

ynslipgloss ARE THOSE NOT TIMOTHÉES FEET 😭😭😭

tchalamet I wish I could like this 200 times

liked by y/n

sabrinacarpenter pretty girl !!

liked by y/n

blankyn I bet timmy took these pics

ynsheadphones HIS COMMENT OH MY GODDD

florencepugh how are you so beautiful

y/n no way you're asking ME that 😭😭😭🫶

airyyn can yall just hard launch already 😩😭😭

y/n okay!

airyyn HELLO!??!!

slyyn WE'RE SO BACK

tchalamet just posted a story!

caption- falling... falling... fell

@celebnews just tweeted- Timothée Chalamet spoke about him and Y/n L/n for the first time in three years, in a recent interview. "I'll never forgive myself for being away from her for that long. She is the most exceptional, divine person I have ever known. Being without her, while I did learn and mature a lot, was torture."

@bookyn replied- how I like my men

@timmyandynstan replied- they had to be apart to come back together 😭😭😭💔💔

@halfbloodyn replied- i cant wait for all the content we'll get of them 😭😭🩷💕

liked by tchalamet, dylanminnette and 7,277,838 others

y/n please please please!!!!!

comments have been limited

tchalamet my beautiful girl

tchalamet who needs an oscar when i have you

sabrinacarpenter felt

liked by y/n, zendaya and 10,982,277 others

tchalamet Je t'aime de toute mon âme

view all 132,828 comments

y/n how are you so perfect

liked by tchalamet

timmysgf ugh I thought we were free of her

huffleyn stfu 🖕 fuck off!!!

sabsyn DONT EMBARASS HER, MOTHERFUCKER

floralyn 😭😭😭💀

paulsdunes he didn't even embarass her the first time 🙄

sabsyn omg just play along, it's a song lyric

y/n my darling boy

tieyn remember when they broke up and she was saying how she thought she was done dating and now look 😭😭 back together FOR GOOD THIS TIME

wallowsyn MY PARENTS ARE BACKK

*

[g0ldenbritney]

TODD ANDERSON HEADCANONS (+blurbs) ༄

a/n: it’s officially fall in my town, that means its time to be fixated on dead poets society so be ready ;3 (ps. Anything I write is usually for all genders💕)

DATING HEADCANONS (50s-60s)

- actually so sweet

- big on words of affirmation, mostly when you say it to him. But I feel like everyone says thats “so him” so im gonna be different and say he loves gift giving. Not talking about him spoiling or anything but it would be cute if you made you bracelets all the time <33!!

- his love language might be gift giving but DO NOT. Give him gifts. (You will anyways.) because he doesn’t know how to react when he gets them. He gives off that energy who awkwardly opens birthday presents and doesn’t know whether to say thank you or not.

Todd has been making you so many things lately, poems, bracelets, flowers he made with paper. Really anything he could craft, you knew you had to get him something to just to be nice.

So you went into town and bought a sweater you thought would fit him nicely and waited until after school and he was studying in his dorm room to give it to him. You swing open the door without knocking

“Ohh Todd~” you say in a somewhat sing-song voice.

He looks up from his notebook, you can see that little nervous smile appear on his lips, even more so when he sees a box in your hand

“Whats that?”

You hand the box to him and immediately he looks nervous, he looks up at you, then the box, then at you, then finally opens it and pulls out the sweater

“Uhh..”

“Do you like it?” You ask.

“Uhm, ah, yeah. I-I do. I really do I just..how do I prove to you that I like it?”

- boy is definitely a cuddler, maybe not so much when hes awake but as soon as he falls asleep he is clinging onto you like he will fall off a cliff if he lets go.

- if you have younger siblings you would be more than happy to watch them for you, well, if they’re toddlers or babies. He would never babysit someone over the age of 10..worried they’ll be mean or something!

- give him a stuffed animal, he deserves it.

You walk into his dorm room holding onto your older stuffed animal, you dont even say anything you just hand it to him

“Whats thi-“ you cut him off

“I have to go on a field trip this week so you better take care of him!”

Todd nods quickly

“Trust me I will.”

HEADCANONS (modern au)

- read somewhere that he would totally play animal crossing and havent thought of anything else since

(taking you back to 2020 for this, so sorry😔)

Todd sat in your office chair, all curled up with his knees to his chin. He was holding his switch in his hands that you unsurprisingly got him for his birthday.

“What are ya doin?” You ask, leaning on his shoulder

“Animal Crossing.” He mumbles, almost like he was talking to himself. Damn that boy was FOCUSED.

- definitely had an “art ho” phase in 2018 dont come at me

- All these like headcanons say he would listen to really cool music but I feel like he would want to but doesn’t know how find cool artists (so me) so he would have to ask around😔

- definitely has a letterboxd

- I see him as a gossiper, dont come for me but if someone was caught vaping in the bathrooms he would definitely be the one to spread the info around (with the help of Neil because he told Neil first)

- WEARS CLAW CLIPS. Dont play w me rn. If it was a modern au i imagine his hair to be just a little longer, maybe surfacing to a wolf cut but just a lot shorter. Long enough where you could put half up in a claw clip (JUST IMAGINE IT)

- was a victim of the 2021 ed Sheeran jokes

[lamnwar]

Hello! Very specific request. I have a job at a Themepark, basically I work as a Disney princess there (aurora). Its for children to sort of meet their Disney role models, favorite prince/princess. I read them stories, take pictures with them, etc. Could you sort of do a headcanon-esque scenario of how the gom will react to a partner with such a job? Maybe how some of them will be mildly jealous of the assigned prince? This was so embarrasing to type out omg if your uncomfortable with any part of the request/dont wanna do this lmk! No pressure, whatsoever. Love you, stay safe!

Hiiii thanks for the request! 💕 It was such a fun one to write and omggg you gotta be extra pretty to be working as a irl disney princess 😭

SHE'S A PRINCESS // KNB Headcanons

Context: in which you work as a theme park princess and your boyfriend feels some type of way about it

Pairing: GOM x gn! Reader (gender not specified

Warning: fluff, nothing too serious, slightly suggestive but safe for all audiences!

AKASHI

I don't think Akashi really went to theme parks as a kid so he's probably a bit surprised to know that playing a princess there is an actual job

Literally stunned the first time he sees you in costume like, his girl is just so pretty!!!

Would come on regular visit just to see you because my man is obsessed with how gorgeous you are and how well you play the role

The way you show so much grace and you are so nice to all the people that come to you

Would be the kind to take pictures of the public with you because he absolutely gets it, you are a princess

Talking of which, "princess" progressively becomes a new nickname he uses for you

He doesn't mind that you work with another guy as your assigned prince, but if dude tries to make a pass at you, he's as good as dead 💀

Smiles softly as he looks at children coming to you thinking you're the real character

And the way you're just so sweet with these kids aaaahh! my man just falls in love even more from seeing that

MIDORIMA

To Midorima, a job's a job, so he doesn't think much of it

He took some time before visiting you at the park and actually seeing you in costume

This DEFINITELY awakens something in him, trust me

Would obviously not admit to it but he really falls even more when he sees you in your princess get-up

He would occasionally visit you, but to make sure you're doing ok and is not too exhausted

He's such a meticulous guy that he'll sometimes help you out with your costume

Got a crease on your dress? he's on it already! Need someone to curl your hair at the back? he's your man

Not even surprised by the little kids who are convinced that you are a true princess, because you absolutely look the part

But sometimes these kids would get a bit sneaky and ask you if you really love the prince

It's hard to answer that question when you know that your boyfriend is nearby and he can hear you well

But you'll just look at Shintaro while you say "yes, I do love my prince" because thinking of him is the only way you can express genuine love

KISE

That guy could easily steal your job, let's be real

I mean he's just that pretty!! no offense to you but it's just the truth

When he comes and sees you at the park, you better believe people mistake him for a prince

And when they see the both of you together? Yeah, you might as well be a real royal couple

He's your best hype man too, goes around telling everyone that you have to be the best princess of the whole theme park

Doesn't mind the guy who works with you as your assigned prince, since he knows very well that he has nothing on Kise

I mean... he really can't compete

But he might a bit pouty when you play your role a bit too well, acting lovey-dovey with your prince for the public

He gets reassured when you come to him later and give him a kiss on the cheek

Not sure if it's allowed for you to break character like that, but it really doesn't matter if it's for Kise 🤭

AOMINE

Aomine kinda makes fun of your at first when you tell him that your job is to be a (fake) princess

But he's quick to shut his mouth the first time he sees you

Like... damn, that just unlocked a new kink

You're so damn beautiful he goes mad

Obsessed with princess! you

Has beef with a 6 yo once because that kid was looking at you for a bit too long for his taste

It's kinda funny because he's being ridiculous, but still

At first, very much against you having to work with another dude, especially when you have to play pretend a couple

But it doesn't last long because you told him once you're only his and it's enough to switch his mind

Now he brags to these kids that you're actually his

"See that gorgeous princess? Yeah she's in love with me"

"But what about the prince?"

"She loves me more than the prince"

A big PR disaster for the park, btw, but he couldn't care less

The most beautiful princess in the park is his, and he'll never lie about it

MURASAKIBARA

Very intrigued by that job of yours

What do you mean, you get paid to be a princess?

Honestly looking at him, you're confident he can book a job as a pretend royal

His physique is very prince-like, can't say that much about his personality

Anyways!

Comes to the park often so he gets to see you + eat nice snacks!!

Buys you food too when he's here, so you do not starve

Nods in agreement every time a kid points at you all impressed

"Yeah, she's indeed the prettiest"

Plays the game and tells people that you *are* a real princess

Weirdly enough, he gets hungry seeing you in costume

I mean that puffy pastel dress? Girl, you look like a pastry

Doesn't really like you working with a prince

He just doesn't get it! Like, what do you need a prince for? People like the princess more anyway

Even when you tell him it's part of the act, he's pouty about it

It's cute though, in its own way!

[itwasthereaminuteago]

Of course I've heard the new Hozier EP...

|| Too Sweet ||

Frank Castle x reader

It's the blood wet on your skin that does it. His blood. It smears and taints you as you pull the knot tight and cut the final stitch free by the soft light of your bedside lamp.

He screws his eyes closed for a few seconds but when he opens them again you're still there, carefully cleaning the wound, wiping the blood away trying not to make it sting as if that kind of soft pain is remotely worse than what he's already endured on his grisley crusade. It's almost ridiculous, how gentle you are despite everything. How even in the early hours, you welcome him without question in to your home, your bed, your arms.

Somehow, you're able to lift the heavy weight of all his past and future and hold him in the clear simplicity of now.

You're putting away the bandages and needles, and now, as you apply the soothing salve of your kisses on his dirty, battle-worn skin, Frank can't cope. He doesn't deserve the honesty in your love. You give and he takes and yeah, he tries his damndest to give it back, but what he's got is charred, broken, and corrupted. It doesn't match. Its been so long since he's had something close to that, and he's only seeing this for the first time like some kind of fucked up epiphany.

He pinches the thick bridge of his nose as if waking from a nightmare, but it's the opposite.

Your eyes search for the problem, another thing for you to fix with your gentle touch and he can't stand it.

"Don't need to do this." He says, head shaking slowly from side to side as you meet him with a puzzled look.

"Frank, I'm not letting you run around bleeding out-"

"No, that's just it. You don't need this kinda shit from me. You've got your own life and things to care of. You don’t need this, dont need me."

He's acting like a spooked dog. You don't know where all this fear has come from so suddenly. You place your hand on his face, cupping his jaw and making him see that you mean what you say, not for one second letting him cower away and hide.

"What if I do need you, huh? You ever think about that? What I want?" You ask him.

Frank still struggles to meet your eyes. "I-I ain't no good, sweetheart... I've done things I ain't proud of, things you shouldn't even know about.'

"But I do know about them, and look, Frank, look! I'm still here with you."

"It ain't right though, layin' that kind of shit at your door."

To hell with that, you think.

"I know it ain't a competition, but I can be just as nasty. I can roll around in the dirt and get my hands dirty if I need to, you know that. C'mon Frank, I'm no princess."

"It ain't all that-"

"Then what? Do you want out?"

If he did, you definitely hadn't see this coming.

"No, 'course not."

"Then tell me."

He hesitates.

"You're too sweet f'me." He finally says quietly.

You can't help but laugh.

"Frank Castle, the day I'm too sweet for you will be the day I stop drinking coffee. And that's never just in case it isn't clear."

You catch the slight ghost of a smile picking up the edge of his mouth.

"I'm serious." You say.

You swing your leg over his, settling in his lap and hooking your arms around his neck. You'll make sure he gets the message alright.

"Let me show just how sweet I am..."

~ Please reblog if you liked my writing! Thank you 💕

[clumsydolly]

so my thoughts on obey me as someone whos completed both games and played for maybe 4 years

Things I liked:

I always enjoyed that every character is unique in personality and design and that everyone is datable so there Arnt any routes. I loved seasons 1-3 of the og game, I always look fondly on season 3 though because of how it took place in the human world, was more domestic and we got nice lore drops that didn't feel shoved in. I liked the stakes of season 1 and 2 so but id have to say season 2 is my second favorite because of how it expanded more on the first season. I do wish there was a little more worldbuilding and consistency, but I'm not too pressed about it since it does leave things open ended enough for the fandom to exist creatively in.

Season 2 of nightbringer was also good up until the end, which is where my grievances start appearing.

Things I didnt like

There was a LOT retconning in Nightbringer, which made things so confusing that I just disregard most of it as non-canon if they dont fit with what I had imagined in the first game. My two biggest peeves though are

1.) The focus on forgiving the celestial realm/ their father).

-It felt really weird how hard they were pushing the idea that the celestial realm wasn't that bad and disregarding how oppressive it was and how their father literally tried to execute their sister. I understand missing the realm (it was their home after all) and any angel living there being good people, but I'm definitely not okay with forgiving their father (god?). That guy is abusive asf, if there was ever a villain of the story, it has always been that guy. I wish I could have seen more of the characters talk about their familial (religious) trauma and not exclusively Lucifer or Simeon (which was already rare enough and the retconned at the very end).

2.) The lack of a overall plot.

-We started the story with the goal of being the one to master them all, as well as achieving Diavolo's goal of bringing peace to the 3 realms. Problem is that we never got there. The celstial realm is still oppressed, I dont even think the majority of the human world knows demon and angels exist, nor do anyone who knows seems very interested in peace. Diavolo is still the crown prince (which is fine I guess) and we never got to meet Michael. Luke still dosent seem to understand the prejudices of the Celestial Realm and we still dont know much about Solomons past, eg: who was his first aprentice, how did he meet Barb, how did he fight all of the Devildom, what was his time like as king, his family.

We never actually made any big changes, and now the games over.

Miscellaneous thoughts I have:

Don't like the same gag being used excessively for the same characters

I wish I could have seen Satans birthmark :/ its on his back

I would have liked to know more about what happened during the war, but it probably might have been too drab for the game

I think Simeons arc of not being an angel should have just left him a human

The sibling interactions in the game are hilarious

Wish there were more characters, even briefly, the cast feels a little lonely :(

The mc is perfect

Okay okay! First thank you for asking dear! 💕

Now, I'm about to yap my head off so get ready lol.

Now I too love the characters I have such a soft spot for them all especially since I found the game right when covid happened and I had to be inside all the time so the game is such a comfort thing for me. I love the designs but Satan's sweater is fucking annoying ngl but other than that no complaints! I also loved that Obey me! allowed us to date everyone but I remembered people being upset about there being no routes so I'll probably have a lot of routes so people can just pick, "do I want a harem?" "Do I wanna only be with 1,2,3,4,5,7 of them?" Ya get the point!

I truthfully haven't moved past season 3 so everything I know about both that and Nightbringer is from media or my friends but I do in fact also love 2 and parts of season 3 I feel like they were just so cute cause everyone was still figuring out their feelings and it gave us more info on how everything was going on after we left and stuff and season 3 is so domestic in the human world (also how did they get a place like I know they are the top 1% in the Devildom and it's said they can persuade humans, ➖ Mc, sorcerers and witches. But like come seriously?! How!?) I love seeing them all interact cause it's so cute and funny.

I agree the world building definitely needs to be expanded on and more fleshed out we only go to a few different places and when we do it's like we were the only people there lol, no I interactions with anyone outside the cast fr.

Again I haven't played Nightbringer I will now that I plan on writing but Irdgaf in the beginning cause everyone was like "ehhhh" "why's there need to be another game??" "Tf?" So I decided to just kinda ignore it especially since people said they didn't really like it and as you said didn't agree with where it was going so I'll talk more on that when I subject myself to that.

O.M.G

You have no idea how much this rattles me! WHY DO THEY NEED TO FORGIVE THEIR FATHER IN THE FIRST PLACE?! Like I was always annoyed by that. I mean their Dad fucking killed their little sister and exiled the brothers I mean lookkkkkkk

Got this from @flemmingbamse btw so thank you!!! 💕

They literally were exiled from their home and were forced to become a whole other species and they lost their wings/had their wings changed completely. Lucifer gave fucking birth from his back apparently which is how we get Satan and Satan is obviously wearing Lucifer's 2 lost wings and I mean imagine your so fucking pissed you have a god damn child from your anger. Like apagejsjakaopahaiqkqh. Their status in heaven? Gone. Family? Besides each other, Gone. Lilith? Dead. Their home? Not their home anymore. Anyone else they love, who fr weren't a real one low-key. (Kinda looking at Simeon but it's obvious he regrets it so I'm blinking slowly) BUT Raphael? Michael? Actually I don't think Michael is god. God is god. Michael is a seraphim. So they are the children of God or Seraphim? Either way, BULLSHIT! everyone turned their backs on them. And that war I think it's a testament to how strong they are cause they went against ALL of heaven and still held their own granted they lost but they were against ALL of heaven and I think they only really lost cause of Lilith being hit by an arrow and Lucifer giving birth. (Still can't get over that). And I mean they got punished from heaven to hell, literally. So they are still being punished? Does Michael wanna be forgiven or not? Bitch ass fr. NO SYMPATHY.

I will come back to this but the Brothers definitely have religious trauma and I think that Simone started realizing that right before the war was happening when he had to fight Lucifer and saw he was on opposite sides of the battle filed and it's obvious he regrets it and wishes he fought on their side. I think it's a tell tale with how Luke acts and angles are told that God is great and Michael is great and everything they do is right. I mean look at how Luke admires- no, idolizes Michael. I think whenever he brings up Michael the brothers get really quiet and just nod along to just get him to shut up. I think there is super manipulation going on in heaven and only the higher angles, archangel and seraphim are aware of what is going on but not ALWAYS aware which is how Simone got started to officially realize just how wrong Michael's mindset is and started to oppose it silently and when he started getting louder and started falling for Mc this God and Michael got mad (idk fr its a thought tho). But I don't think heaven is it fr.

Now on the lack of plot everything did feel everywhere some times like some things we're just happening just cause and I feel like Dia's dream was kinda side tracked and after Mc got pacts things were just kinda happening lol. Ngl I think Michael's bitch. Not sure if y'all could tell but yeah. Still I'd like to know more about him too. Now Solomon the shady sorcerer we know and love. Now I heard some people say that they think he was Lilith's lover, the one who she and is the whole reason the war happened, fell in love with and tried to save with a potion which is why Solomon has lived so long. But I'm not too sure about that cause other sorcerers and witches also live super long probably because they are more than likely taking potions or casting spells and he'd probably do that too cause he's one of the great sorcerers and I think it was said that it was another guy Lilith was with but I don't remember. Also irrelevant but, It's said that man got like 300 wives or some shit so he's a whor- Truthfully, I need to think about him a bit more cause I feel like I could say anything about him for real cause that mf is SHADY! lol but I think Asmo would be a bit easy for him to get a pact with since, well, he's Asmo, and I mean look at their relationship. but Asmo did also give the Mc a hard time when they were trying to get his pact so idk. BUT what I wanna know is how that mf got Barbatos to get in a pact with him CAUSE I KNOW THAT MF HATE THAT SHADY OLD MAN I SWEAR- but it's obvious Babs has some sort of animosity towards Sol so I don't know what to think about that.

Hmmm I don't know exactly what you mean by gags but if you mean the same trope or joke being done I totally get that.

When Satan came out of Lucifer he took 2 of his wings with him. Satan has a birth mark on his back in the exact same spot Lucifer lost his wings and both the scar on Lucifer's back and Satan's birthmark look exactly the same.

Ngl I'mma flesh out that whole war and all those bitch ass angles fr. With all their eyes and shit and apparently can't see the BS right in front of em. ALSO there has been so many games/shows where angles are these fuckass manipulative oppressive hypocritical beings who are like kinda crazy and they throw a lot of religious trauma in there fr and I'm not mad at it. Also I think angle's true forms are ugly/scary (I don't know the feeling honestly) . Like uglier/scarier than the demon's true forms. Maybe that's just me. I don't know.

Simone....I'm not sure if I wanted him to be a human or demon but I definitely don't think he should have gone back to being an angel. There was no point in that and it could have helped emphasize how he loved the brothers and wanted to be with his brothers and he should have been in the first place on their side. It could have shown how he was learning just how wrong the war even happening in the first place was. Him going back to being an angel just, like for me at least, completely ruins that while plotline. It's stupid. I'm not sure which is better for him to be, demon or human, but he won't end an Angle that's for sure.

Yes as I said too lonely definitely needs more characters and will happily add them and will take any requests or oc's or anything. The mc is amazing lol

I'm happy to hear anyone's ideas and as always reblogs are loved and appreciated. I'd love anything anyone could give me! 🩷

[noctunis]

This is a stupid request so iUEOE IF U DONT LIKE IT ITS FINE but . A cloud x reader where Cloud, even after months from the start of their relationship, keeps getting a bit flustered, all blushy, whenever he gets kissed? ITS STUPID ITS LILE. IT COULD BE A DRABBLE TBH CAUSE ITS YEAH. BUT YEAH . Sow wy.

red kisses 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

cloud strife x fem!reader

┊ ˚➶ notes ｡˚ 🎼

ughhh this request was so cute!! i made it into a fic instead because i just had some ideas :) hope you guys enjoy 💕!!

┊ ˚➶ warnings ｡˚ 🎼

mentions of kissing, cloud gets flustered, intended lowercase, tifa teasing cloud for having a big fat crush on you, reader is referred to as clouds girlfriend, lmk if i missed anything!!

┊ ˚➶ word count ｡˚ 🎼

1186 words, 6519 characters

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄

“shit!” you yelled, ducking under the rapid gunfire on the shinra infantryman. your hand reached for your sword before a gloved hand came to stop you. eyebrows furrowed, you looked back at cloud who just shook his head before pulling out his buster sword and stepping out into the gunfire, using his weapon as a shield from the bullets as they ricocheted off the metal.

you watched in awe as he cleared out the group. you knew he was always good at his job but seeing him in action never failed to make your jaw drop.

“hey, you comin’ or not?” he called out for you, his extended leather clad hand beckoned you after the coast was clear while numerous infantrymen laid on the ground unconscious below him. snapping out of your thoughts, you peeked your head out from behind the storage container and jogged your way towards him, beaming.

“my hero.” you extolled, leaning closer to lay a quick chaste kiss on cloud’s cheek before skipping over towards a metal door, eager to continue your mission. he made a noise of surprise, hand ghosting over where your lips had touched his face as a shade of pink tinted his freckled skin. his eyes followed your footsteps as he turned around and caught up with you, quickly following behind just in case you were caught off guard. you couldn’t help but smile as you heard him pitter-patter after you.

you definitely noticed the faint blush on his cheeks when he returned, and thus began your journey to flush cloud whenever given the chance to.

more time had passed, and cloud had actually gotten to know you. even if you never let him forget that one instance on the mission to the mako reactor.

and here cloud sat— in a bar stool at seventh heaven drinking the strongest of whatever tifa’s got while she talked about the newest mission avalanche was planning. she cut herself off mid-sentence, noticing how cloud continued to swirl his drink around while his eyes stayed glued to the ripples created in the glass, mind clearly elsewhere.

she put her arms behind her back as she leaned forward and tried to get his attention. “cloud?” she called, causing his eyes to peer back up at her. he made a small ‘hm’ sound in response.

“what’cha thinkin’ about?” she asked, inquisitive smile still painted on her face as usual. resting her arms on the wooden bar countertop, she watched as cloud contemplated to say what was really on his mind right now. he exhaled through his nostrils as he took another sip of the red liquid in his glass, “nothing.”

tifa’s brows raised as she finally understood. “so,” she began, “thinkin’ about your girlfriend, huh?”

“what makes you say that?”

“every time she’s around you, i never hear any of that ‘hard-ass’ complaining you’re always doing, as wedge would call it.” she grins, now knowing she hit the head right on the nail. “it’s like she placates you.”

“‘m just tired, that’s all.” he huffed, throwing his head back and downing the liquid as a weak attempt to try and hide the growing blush that grew across his face.

tifa simply laughed, standing up straight and greeting marlene as she walked in through the double doors with her dad, squealing about whatever new things she found today. always so excited to explore even in the slums of midgar. he placed a few coins on the bar counter as a payment for the drink, walking out of the bar and praying that tifa didn’t notice the money on the counter in hopes that she wouldn’t try and sneak it in his room like last time.

as for your new “mission” of trying to fluster cloud, it grew harder for him to ignore as everyday you’d press a kiss to his jaw or his hand or even the tip on his nose. he started to take his behavior into consideration after what tifa said. did he really act all that different around you?

your goal started making more progress as time went on and your relationship got more serious. often, your invites to your place ended up just being a torture chamber for him as you had managed to root yourself deep within his brain. he couldn’t get you out, and although he acted like he didn’t care, it haunted him. you were everywhere around him. but maybe, he thought, just maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing to get close to someone.

he’d look at marlene and his mind would think back to you. the way you’d sit with her and talk to her about her weird dreams where she’d become a dolphin or something like that. barret would throw a glare at him and all cloud could think about was how you mentioned how barret scares the absolute shit out of you. you were everywhere, your presence, your perfume, your—

“hellooo—?” earth to cloud?” your hand came into view, once again snapping cloud out of his thoughts. he hummed.

“space out there?” you smiled at him, and ugh, that smile. it made him feel obnoxiously warm. he never got used to those butterflies that would travel along his stomach, even if you guys had been together for a while.

he huffed as he looked away, lolling his against the soft pillows you had on your bed. “yeah, uh.. yeah.” he finally said, eyes trailing off as he narrowed his eyes at shinra’s public service announcement that broadcasted on tv. cloud let out quiet groan at the man’s face and turned it off, the remote dropping from his hand and onto the blanket as he turned back to you.

“you always seem to glow, cloud. did you know that?” you blurt out, finger tracing the taut muscles of his arm.

“well.. maybe it’s just because of the mako—? SOLDIER, remember?”

“no, not like that,” you giggle behind your hand, “i’m just saying i think you’re handsome, cloud.” that makes him let out a small noise of surprise, stiffening as he’s unsure what to say next.

“oh.” he said, ears heating up as he looked away from your intense gaze. he crossed his arms, trying to avoid the way your head craned to try and see his face.

“and you’re so fit,” you lifted a finger up with each compliment you listed, just trying to get a rise out of cloud, “and intelligent, and sweet, and—“

“okay, i think that’s enough.” he must’ve been flushed right now, he though.

“and you’re just so breathtaking.”

“you are such a liar.”

you dramatically feigned offense, putting a hand on your chest as your jaw dropped. “how dare you assume such things about me? i am simply loving my boyfriend, is that such a crime?”

he scoffed as a weak smile made its way to his face, “you’re loving torturing your boyfriend, there’s a difference.” however, his eyes widened as he felt your lips press against his jaw. he gave you a pointed glare, “see what i mean?”

“oh hush, you love it.”