#Okay. Because I like hiding things in the tags I will put two more bits here

[cosmoknightchaos]

25 for any character I wanna read your ramblings

25. What is your favourite thing about your OC?

Wow. Dill asking a non-angsty question from an angsty OC ask? That's crazy man

Below are 29 OCs that I'm currently using enough to have favourite bits about them. Enjoy

A Hat in Time OCs

Horalo AU Skyscreamer: Baby girl. Favourite thing about her would probably be the fine line I have to walk between being a kind, caring woman and a motherly figure while writing her. Sky is supposed to be the cool older sister and it's a lot of fun to portray that in writing! The Flower Man: His dialogue. I fucking LOVE how this man speaks and it is so much fun to write. Also taking his lore out of context. He canonically has the most rizz out of anyone in the Horizon and it is my favourite fact about him. King Moonjumper: His personality specifically in the currently unreleased Act7. He likes playing himself up, seeming like a big threat, and then the moment something doesn't go his way he has a meltdown. He's so silley.

Wanderer AU Ester: I have a scene from the ending of Wanderer doodled out where Ester and MJ are standing in the frozen remains of Subcon and they are holding hands. It's just something about her being a scared, sassy, almost insignificant child, especially when put up next to characters like Graves or Snatcher who are much more lore-relevant, and yet she stays MJ's closest companion and most trusted friend throughout the entire story. Gravedigger: Absolutely anything that can draw more parallels between her and Gleb, the character she takes the role of. Mourner/Cathrine: Saying my favourite part of her character is that she gets my favourite song from Anastasia feels like cheating, but it's definitely up there. Probably her loyalty. She is, above all, loyal to her homeland, and refuses to let that part of her go after the freeze. She's one of the few characters not really running away from her past, but instead slowly coming to terms with it. Count Adrianne: He's a perfect example of a complex character who seems very simple on the outside and I love him for it. Either that or his relationship with Snatcher. They bicker like siblings because they were both older siblings before dying and are projecting on to each other and it's very silly.

Misc. Anya: Ouuugh. That's a hard one. Favourite bit about them is probably their coping mechanisms. They are so good at taking things at face value, accepting them, and then watching everything else devolve into chaos around them like a sitcom without doing anything to help. They speedrun the 5 stages of grief just so they can make fun of everyone else and completely fuck themself over in the process because they don't actually learn how to cope Kaizo: He's a whore what else can I say

Hollow Knight OCs (The Religious Trauma Squad)

Gospel: Her lore! She's so fucked up <3 Edge: One of the big things about RTS is that the main three characters go through very similar character arcs, but they're all in different stages of it. We first meet Edge at the end of his character arc, where he's already decided that most gods are assholes and he doesn't owe his devotion to anyone. Then, during the rest of the story, he gets to watch two other people experience similar events, and it forces him to help them because he doesn't want the to go through the same things he did. It's just a fun dynamic of him already knowing who he is and his heritage and being comfortable with that, and now helping others learn the same thing. Marion: His absolute and total devotion to the troupe during his time in it, and his relationship with Gospel after he gets kicked out.

Ivy

Jenny: She (in a way) dismantles the idea of a "Chosen One" hero and I think that's pretty neat. Morgan: She's just silly. Couldn't tell you why, I just really like her. Myo: They are a BITCH. Lying little bastard and I love them for it. They would murder someone, turn around, and go "I'm just a little guy it's my birthday you wouldn't punish a little guy on his birthday would you" and it would work. And, as the actual "Chosen One" of the story, it's fun to see them go over the edge trying to be the special main character.

Project Scepsis OS

Paisley: They don't let their past traumas and experiences define who they are and I think that's really neat! Marci: It's practically a self-insert and those characters will always be special to me. Also, it's just a blob. What's not to love? The actual answer is its story arc where it nearly kills Sonemeir on accident and traumatizes them both for life Kat: Her species as a concept. The idea of a shapeshifter who has to eat something to shift into it is fascinating to me. Prof. Sonemeir: He is so fucked up in so many ways. Dude has been through the horrors(TM). His entire character deals with the idea of legacies and how what you create will last longer than you will, which is really funny because he hates everything he's created and it will haunt him for the rest of his life. And also that aforementioned arc with Marci Creator: His character design. He is very fun to draw :)

ET's Coffee Shop

Phoebe: She is the best example of "some normal dude who got wrapped up in everyone else's shenanigans" and I think that's very funny. Also the fact that she is destined to kill her entire family. There is no escaping fate around here Altalune: Oh my GODDDD I am INSANE about this man. Definitive favourite thing is his character design, I fucking love his character design it is so good and so much fun to draw, but I have to shout out his relationship with ET because it's my favourite part of the entire story as a whole. Stopwatch: Everyone else in this story, including the two main antagonists, uses more traditional or magic-based weapons: Phoebe has daggers, Altalune and Tristen use swords and magic, ET has shapeshifting powers, stuff like that. Stopwatch, on the other hand, has a gun. Cirsten: She is too good for this world. So incredibly loving and caring of everyone at all times. Her and Audun are the best romantic relationship I've ever written and they make me so happy. Tristen Kannaroe: The way his name sounds. It just rolls off the tongue so nicely and it fits his character so well. And his character design. He looks exactly how he acts and I love it. Also, his couple hundred horrific "deaths" and the fact that he is immortal because Alta won't let him die. ET: I feel like I could say "character design" for every single Coffee Shop character and it would work. They're all so good. Anyways, ET's relationship with Alta and ET's death are my favourite bits. And also that he's kind of an allegory for neurodivergence. TQ: Character de- I step on a banana peel and comically fall down the nearest set of stairs. Seriously though. I have a bit running where all of the deity/god-like characters are drawn in a different style, and TQ's is lineless. They look so good in that style and I love drawing them. Personality-wise, I love how incredibly objective they are. They're so blunt and honest at all times, especially with Alta. It's really funny to see Alta try to justify his actions to TQ and them going "Okay but you did just level and entire city" Ayabe: Their backstory and their relationship with Stopwatch! Their magic is also cool as fuck. Crumpet: Yeah it's character design again

[sh4nksslvt]

Greetings! May I request Luffy x reader who used to be so nonchalant and reserved but after the timeskip, reader can't help but secretly stare and admire luffys muscles especially in wano when luffy was in prison and reader got caught up in the mess. Reader is basically simping and blushing as they stared, sometimes wishing to be held by luffy because of it.

Steel and Sunlight

You were always the calm one—until two years passed and Luffy's muscles became a problem.

LUFFY X GN!READER | ONE SHOT tags: fluff, sfw, ooc(?), simping!reader, comfort a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only, so expect this ffs a bit cringe n akward word count: 1k

masterlist | ko-fi

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

You used to be the composed one.

Cool. Calm. Unbothered.

Whether it was Luffy announcing a war with the World Government over lunch or Zoro getting lost on the same ship, you never flinched. Your reactions were measured, your tone even. If Robin was “mysterious” and Zoro was “stoic,” you were “unshakably chill.” That was your brand.

Then the timeskip happened.

And now? Now you had a problem. A tall, tan, infuriatingly ripped problem.

It started the moment you saw him again on Sabaody. You didn’t expect much to change—maybe a new scar, some new techniques, a slightly deeper voice. What you didn’t expect was the muscle. Luffy, the rubber goofball you once had to stop from putting forks in outlets, had come back with biceps that could casually snap chains and pecs that flexed when he so much as breathed.

You were not okay.

But you could deal with it. You were good at hiding things. Two years of control didn’t break that easily.

Until Wano.

Wano was chaos, but it was beautiful. You had joined up with the group that infiltrated the Flower Capital, your identity masked in stolen rags. Everything went relatively smoothly—until Luffy punched kaido who is untouchable, got caught, and thrown into a prison camp.

Naturally, you dove headfirst into the mess to follow him. You told yourself it was strategic. You told yourself someone had to watch his back.

But let’s be honest: you saw those chains, those muscles bulging under the sun, the sweat glistening down his chest—and your brain went static.

You were absolutely, one-hundred percent, down bad.

“Hey,” Luffy’s voice snapped you out of your trance.

You blinked, realizing you’d been staring again. Not just staring—mouth slightly open, red-faced, nearly-drooling staring.

“H-Huh? Yeah?” you coughed, rubbing your face like it might wipe away the blush.

Luffy looked at you curiously, a big chunk of dango sticking out of his mouth. “You okay? Your face is all red.”

“I’m fine,” you muttered, turning away so fast you nearly tripped over a bucket.

He caught your arm—easily, with that damn veiny forearm—and steadied you like it was nothing.

“Whoa SHISHISHI,” he laughed, bright and unbothered. “You really okay?”

You nodded quickly, but your heart was screaming: No. I’m not. You touched me and now I’m going to die.

You spent your prison days doing everything you could to seem normal. You focused on the plan, helped stir rebellion among the prisoners, and tried to ignore the fact that Luffy kept lifting entire stone slabs shirtless.

Sometimes you stole glances. Okay—often.

One day, you caught him mid-training, shirt half-off, sweat gleaming under the sunlight filtering through the bars. He was laughing with Hyogoro, his muscles flexing with every movement, and you just stood there behind a crate, watching like a total creep.

I want to be held by those arms, you thought—and then smacked yourself so hard the guy next to you flinched.

You made a promise to yourself: no more ogling. You were a samurai of dignity. Or something.

That promise lasted six hours.

“You’ve been acting weird,” Luffy said bluntly one morning, tossing a dango at you. “Weird-weird. Not your usual chill-weird.”

“I’m fine,” you lied, biting into the dango like it owed you money.

“You stare a lot,” he added, unbothered as always. “Especially when I’m working out.”

You choked. He patted your back, grinning. “See? shishishi! that’s what I mean.”

You didn’t know what was worse—that he noticed, or that he was cool about it.

Things got worse the next day, when Queen decided to throw another death game. You were chained up next to Luffy, side by side in the cold prison dirt.

He was still shirtless, breathing hard from the fight, and glowing in the sunlight.

He turned to you, his voice low for once. “You okay?”

“I’m—” You met his eyes, your chest tight. The sunlight painted across his collarbone. You were way too close. “I’m fine.”

“You sure?” His voice dropped even more. “You look… kinda sad.”

You didn’t mean to say it. Really, you didn’t.

But you mumbled, “Just wish I could lean on you for a bit.”

There was a pause.

Then Luffy, ever literal, opened his arm and said, “...Okay.”

You froze. Blinked. Was he serious?

“You said you wanna lean on me, right?” he said with a smile. “Go ahead.”

“…I didn’t mean—” You swallowed. “Okay.”

You leaned in.

His skin was warm. His arm settled around you. He smelled like sweat, dango, and something distinctly him—earthy and light.

You didn’t move for a long time.

And neither did he.

After that, something changed.

Luffy started hovering a little more. Sitting closer. Sometimes his shoulder would bump yours “accidentally.” He started sparring shirtless on purpose, claiming it was “hot” (it wasn’t). One night, he even offered you his lap when there wasn’t enough room on the floor.

You refused.

Then agreed 30 seconds later.

He grinned the whole time, like he knew something.

Eventually, you couldn’t take it anymore.

It was a quiet moment in the prison yard. Most of the guards were asleep. Luffy was practicing his haki again, his back turned, muscles flexing as he struck the stone.

“Luffy,” you said, heart in your throat.

He stopped. Turned, face open. “Yeah?”

You didn’t know how to say it, not without sounding like an idiot. So you just blurted:

“You look really good.”

There was a beat of silence.

Luffy tilted his head. “Good?”

“Like—” You threw your hands up. “Muscles. Strong. Attractive. I don’t know, okay? You got buff and now I can’t think straight.”

He blinked.

You buried your face in your hands. “I’ve been staring for weeks and I’m sorry I’m weird and probably creepy and—”

“Cool,” Luffy said simply.

You peeked out between your fingers. “What?”

“I think you look good too,” he said. “Your punches are stronger. And I like your face.”

Your heart stopped.

“You—what?”

He walked over. “Wanna lean on me again?”

You stared. “You’re impossible.”

He grinned wider. “But strong, right?”

You laughed despite yourself. “Yeah. Strong.”

You leaned into him again, this time with your arms around his waist. He held you like it was the easiest thing in the world.

Later, when you were all free and celebrating under the cherry blossoms, Luffy came up behind you, wrapped his arms around your waist, and nuzzled into your neck.

“You’re still staring,” he teased.

You blushed. “So? You’re still showing off.”

“Maybe,” he said, pressing his face into your shoulder. “I like when you look.”

You were so screwed.

But maybe being hopelessly into your captain wasn’t so bad after all.

[sanakiras]

TIDAL WAVE OF LOVE

PAIRING — choi seungcheol x reader

WORD COUNT — 1.3k

SYNOPSIS — even the strongest of people break sometimes. you’re used to hiding your feelings; your boyfriend is there for you when everything gets too much.

TAGS — angst, self-esteem issues, fear of failure, mc has a bit of a breakdown :(( but also a lil comfort

NOTE — cleaning out the drafts! this is wayyyy shorter than my usual works but i still felt like posting it <3 i had a very stressful semester in uni before the summer break and i came across this video on twt of coups giving wonwoo a little comforting squeeze which i found very endearing sooo that kinda became the inspo for this!

THE MOMENT SEUNGCHEOL CALLS OUT A GREETING TO YOU FROM HIS KITCHEN, YOU CLOSE YOUR EYES FOR A MOMENT. it would’ve probably been wiser to have gone home instead of his place.

you greet him the same way, hoping he doesn’t hear the crack in your voice.

“how was your day?” he asks you once he’s returned to the living room, giving you a kiss.

you press your lips together. “fine. nothing special.”

the first thing he notices is the lack of eye contact you make with him. you’re also being considerably less touchy with him than usual, which he finds strange.

“everything okay?”

“yeah.” you put up a smile that doesn’t appear genuine in the slightest.

he figures you could just be in a bad mood — but that doesn’t seem to be the case.

he knows for a fact that it’s not with the way you’re trying real hard to hide your face from him. you only do that when you’re upset about something.

“baby, talk to me.”

“about what?”

the response comes out snappier than you meant it to. you two have been together quite a while — so he’s come to know that you tend to get a little colder and distant before the dam breaks.

you look at him so briefly to the point where he’d miss the motion if he blinked. the expression equals a silent apology.

of course he always does his best to give you whatever space you need. that being said, he’s also come to know you get into your own head a lot, and sometimes there’s someone who needs to pull you out of it.

you bite your lip in a pathetic attempt to hold back your tears. “it’s fine, cheol, just let it go.”

“well, i care about you, sweetheart. what’s going on?” he’s persistent but gentle about it. you have a habit of keeping your feelings to yourself and hardly ever letting anything out, which leads to everything just piling up and making things worse.

“i don’t wanna talk about it.”

the lump in your throat begins to rise.

“i can see that, but you’ve clearly got something you need off your chest. are you okay?”

you don’t show anyone when something’s wrong unless they mention it first. and even when they do, you’re hesitant.

it’s an exhausting way to live, but you still choose to do so.

it’s one of the reasons why you hate crying. your glossy eyes always betray you.

then you make — what you consider to be — the mistake of looking into his big, worried eyes once more, and you just completely fall apart in front of him.

the tears begin to flow before you can even comprehend it.

“it’s just—god, i don’t even know why i’m so fucking emotional, i just—” your breath shudders, the mildly angry expression that was previously on your face now nowhere to be found, “everything’s been so stressful recently, and i’m scared i won’t pass my classes, and i feel like such a slow learner compared to everyone else—”

he’s rubbing your back, just allowing you to you let everything out. he keeps quiet.

“i feel fucking fragile. and weak. every little thing is just too much right now. i’m sorry, i feel stupid.”

he lets you cry into his chest as his arms are wrapped around you, one hand softly rubbing the back of your head. “don’t feel stupid, baby. you can vent to me, always.”

the sound of your heavy sobs hurt him, because he feels like you’re always so hard on yourself, but he’s glad you’re releasing them. it’s healthier to let it all out than to keep it in.

“it’s just like i can’t breathe, y’know?” you mutter in the crook of his neck, subconsciously wetting his shirt with your tears, “i can’t take a single break ‘cause i’ll fall behind. i’m so tired. i feel like i’m not even smart enough to take the damn course, let alone pass the fucking test—”

once he feels like you’re about to start hyperventilating, he moves back to let him look at you. “long breaths. you’re okay, just breathe with me.”

he purposefully takes long, deep breaths, counting the seconds out loud to guide you, and it works. your breathing is steadying bit by bit, sobs faltering, melting into soft hiccups and numbness.

with dried tears and a slightly hoarse voice, you let out a sigh. “i just hate feeling so incompetent. for once, i’d love to feel smart. i wanna feel like i’m able to keep up as well as everyone else does, y’know? i’m… i’m procrastinating everything and i don’t know how to change it. it all sucks.”

“it’s not easy, baby. don’t be too hard on yourself.” he presses a swift kiss to your skin, and you hold him tighter, as if he were to slip out of your hold if you didn’t.

“it’s not easy for me. it is for them.”

“there’s nothing wrong with that. would you think differently if someone in your class had to put more effort into passing the course? you wouldn’t, right? because at the end of the day, you both make it to the finish line. that’s what matters.”

deep down, you know he has a point. you put the pressure so high on yourself, yet don’t apply the same logic to your peers.

you don’t really understand why.

“and you say it’s easy for them, but i know for sure that they put more effort into it than you might think. trust me. you’ll get to where you want to be, one way or another. if you take a little longer to do that than a classmate, who cares. it’s your life. i know you’ve worked so hard—” he twirls a strand of your hair between his fingers, “even if you don’t pass that class now, it won’t be the end of the world, and there’ll be another chance. you’ll get there.”

now there’s just a few last tears running down your cheeks. “except i’m worried that i won’t.”

“you will. and once you do, you’ll be happy that you got to that point because you worked hard and deserve that success. if not today, then tomorrow. yeah?”

you take a deep breath, exhaling slowly, the last shudders of your breakdown bubbling to the surface as your heart rate finally slows back to normal. “yeah. thank you.”

to show your gratitude, you give him a hug, which he happily embraces, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“anytime. i’m here for you.”

even the strongest of people break — but they can still pick up the pieces and start over.

do your best (but maybe not sometimes) <3

® SANAKIRAS — do not repost, remake or copy my work in any way whatsoever. translations are not allowed.

[sugar--brown]

A bit of fluff

Because we need more fluff to balance all the angst people are creating with the cat!Martin AU by @ultramarinaa

I'm preparing a proper big fic, but meanwhile I made this.

What were the chances to read a book made of only two pages and turning into a cat because of it only a few months after your promotion?

Not much. Martin was sure of that. As sure as the fact, he was in deeeep troubles. What would his boss say?! Turning into a cat should be pretty high on the scale of being unprofessional. Especially after introducing himself as the incompetent fool who let dogs run free in the archives! Jon will be so disappointed and annoyed! He was toasted!

Maybe... Maybe he could fix this? Maybe if he could read the book backward…?

Martin took a tentative step forward and immediately face-planted on the floor. Right. Four legs instead of two. That was great.

He meowed - gosh! he meowed! - pathetically before standing up, ready to make another attempt. But this time, everything was blurry.

… why was everything blurry?

Oh. His glasses. Right. Face-planting on the floor meant losing your glasses. Strange thing that his clothes disappeared with his body, while his glasses stayed the same…

Ah. Great. He couldn't put them back on. Because he was a cat. Without hands. Just very big and soft paws.

He really needed to fix this before anyone sees him!

Staggering a little, Martin began to walk cautiously toward the evil book. He was scared - heck! even terrified - of it. But what could it do more? Turning him into another type of cat?

With apprehension, Martin used his front right par to hit the book quickly. Nothing happened. Ready to bolt backward, he very slowly peaked at the fourth cover.

A wonderful fairytale where only the purrest love can help the hero to save the damsel.

Ah. Ah. Ah. Very funny.

Annoyed, Martin hit the book so hard that it flew away, landing between cardboard boxes full of statements. Great! He was already sick of it!

Two hands grabbed him and lifted him up.

“Hello!” cooed the stranger who just grabbed him without any warning.

Martin meowed and hissed in panic, squirming with all his might. But the stranger hugged him against their chest and started scratching him behind the ears. Oooooooh that was good…

“There, there, it's okay now. You are safe. I don't know how you got here, but I promise I won't hurt you.”

Wait. That voice… was it…?!

“I'm Jonathan, what's your name?”

Martin's eyes grew wide in shock. That was Jon! His boss! His prickly, cold-hearted, boss! And he was cooing at him like he was the cutest thing in the world.

Oh gosh… he was in deep troubles.

“Hey bossman! Did you find Martin? He was supposed to-... is that a cat?”

Tim appeared around the corner, clearly amused by the scene. Jon immediately stopped cooing and scratching Martin's ears, becoming all tenser and professional.

“Ah. Yes, it is… it is a cat. I caught it before it can do any damages.”

Hey! Martin wouldn’t have done any damages! He knew he wasn't the most graceful person, but he wasn't that clumsy. …right?

“What are you all doing back there? Oh! That's a very cute cat, Jon.”

And here was Sasha. Each second was more humiliating than the last. Martin really wanted to run and hide somewhere dark, tiny and safe right now.

“Do you know where it comes from?” asked Sasha, getting closer to inspect Martin.

“No, I just heard him. He doesn't have any tattoos or tag on him.” answered Jon, putting unconsciously a possessive hand on Martin's back. “I have not the faintest idea how he arrived here.”

“Ha! You know cats, boss, they are real champions when they want something!” laughed Tim.

“Champion… that's a good name.”

“Wow! You are already naming him? You move fast!” teased Tim with a smirk.

“We can't keep him, he may have an owner already.” added Sasha, more pragmatic.

“W-well… We can't call him ‘the cat’, that would be properly ridiculous.”

If Martin didn't know better, he would have thought Jon was embarrassed. But he couldn't, he was never embarrassed. On the other hand, he hadn’t reacted like this with the dog so…

While he was lost in his thoughts about his ridiculously cute boss, the group had moved on back to the break room.

Wait. What about the book?! And his glasses?!

Martin was almost able to escape, but Jon's soft hands captured him over his shoulder at the last second. But that didn't stop him to agitated his fluffy paws with a few panicked meows.

“What's wrong, Champion?” asked Jon, looking back with surprise. “Oh, good spot! There are glasses on the floor.”

Martin had half a hope to see Jon putting his glasses on his nose so he could see, but of course, he didn't. Instead, he inspected them before putting them in his pocket with a disgusted face.

“Aren't they Martin's?” asked Tim with curiosity.

“Yes.” groaned Jon. “He must have lost them while clumsily searching for a statement. I still don't understand why he had been assigned here. He clearly didn't have the competences to-... hey!”

Martin had escaped Jon's grasp with a hiss. He knew he wasn't good at his job, but that didn't mean he wanted to hear it!

Before Jon could grab him again, Martin flew under a shelf, deep enough so he couldn't be grabbed. He heard the others shout in surprise and agitation, but he was too agitated to pay attention.

He vaguely heard Tim saying to “cut him some slack” and Sasha guessing that “champion surely needs space”. And Martin decided to do just that. He would stay here until everyone was gone, and then he would find the book to turn himself back.

Hours went by. And Martin must have snooze at some point because when he focused again, everything was calm and quiet. Tentatively, he came out.

Nothing to worry about. The lights were off and Tim and Sasha weren't here any more. So, he walked as silently as possible to where he had launched the book.

Until he heard a groan.

Martin froze. And slowly, oh so slowly, turned his head. 

Jon was still here. In fact, Jon was so focused on his work he hadn’t noticed Martin. So he could have continued, but… something was off. Jon didn't look… healthy. Or at least less than usual.

He seemed barely able to not passed out. He was pale, sweaty and his eyes were unfocused.

… when was the last time had Jon eaten? They didn't see him going out of his office at lunch…

With a sigh, Martin shook his head and walked to the break room's fridge. To be fair, he was a bit hungry himself. And he knew his fish salade was in here. He always brought double portions in case someone forgot their lunch.

It took a lot of time and effort, but Martin was able to open the fridge and to drag the dish to Jon's office.

“Champion? You're out? What are you… oh.”

Jon stood up quickly, too quickly because he needed a few second to make the world stopped spinning. Then, he knelt in front of Martin.

“Where did you… oh, you must be hungry. Right. Sorry… I'm a bit rusty at taking care of a cat. You are really smart, you know? Stealing Martin's food… I'm sure he wouldn’t mind, since he left work early to go find a replacement for his glasses.”

Martin huffed in annoyance. Why did Jon was so… harsh? Sure, he was a fool but still…

“Yeah, yeah, sorry. Let me open this.”

That what he did, but he didn't eat. Maybe he needed some encouragements? Martin his best imitation of pleading kitty eyes while hitting softly the salad.

“You… want to share?”

Jon visibly melted, almost like he was ready to cry. But instead, he just sat on the floor and began eating the veggies while giving the sardines to Martin.

They shared in silence. But it was the best interaction Martin had Jon since… since ever! So he wouldn’t complain.

When they finished, Jon suddenly bent down and gently hugged Martin, bumping his head with his.

“Thank you…” he whispered in a broken voice.

And the genuine, honest, sweet, smile of Jon made Martin think that everything wasn't so terrible.

[daydreamerswriting]

The greasers going camping with there girlfriend's family?

an: I haven't gone camping in so long 😔 will be doing this as headcanoans!

W: some swearing I think. Gn reader

Darry Curtis

This mf definitely loves camping

He definitely loved camping as a kid

So when you asked if he wanted to come with your family, he was so excited

He played it cool tho

"Yeah sure, sounds fun." Internally: "Yippie!! 🤗🥳"

Helps your parents pitch the tent and feels so masculine 😭

He thinks it's the sweetest thing when you make a smore for him

If you don't have siblings, he feels so relaxed, this is such a vacation for him

If you do have siblings, that's okay too.

Little siblings, they stress him out a bit but he thinks their adorable. He has them help him find firewood. "Is this stick good, Darry?" "Hmm.. this one isn't dry enough. It'll smoke."

If you have teenage siblings, that's also okay!

He'll lowkey gossip with them?

He has no problem talking to your parents and charms them

Carves your initials into a tree (D + Y/I)

Then you carve a heart around it

Literally just having the best time

Sodapop Curtis

He was so excited but also nervous when you asked if he wanted to go

He's scared of bugs 😔

Helps pitch the tent and feels like he's bonding with your parents so well

If you have younger siblings, he has so much fun with them.

Tag, hide and seek, looking for sticks, skipping rocks, anything, he's playing

He'll also be entertaining them with spooky stories

Older siblings, he's cool with them too, but stays by you

No siblings, he feels a little awkward with only your parents being there with the two of you

His happy-go-lucky attitude charms them though

He's so excited for smores

He makes you a smore and feels so proud

Feels so awkward because he wants to be affectionate with you but your parents are there

He trys to teach you how to skip rocks on water

You or your sibling make a flower crown and he's so happy to wear it

Steve Randle

This mfing show off

He helps load and unload the car, carrying as much as he possibly can

If you are anyone else in your family is carrying a lot of stuff, he'll go, "Let me help you."

He's so proud of himself and will flex at you afterwards.

"Yeah, no biggie for me 💪😏" boy shut up

If you have siblings, he was not happy to learn that they'd be coming

If you have older siblings, it's not as bad

Really young siblings, okay. He'll think they're cute and help them get fire wood and mess with bugs

Around 12-15 year old siblings? He's not definitely not happy 😔

So excited to tell spooky stories around the campfire

He's not the most charming, but he's sweet enough to win your parents over

"Sir" and "ma'am"

But then he made a dirty joke too loud and your parents heard, so he got embarrassed and apologized 😔

He'll pick a flower for you and put it tuck it by your ear

Johnny Cade

He's never gone camping, but he's excited to go with you

He's so nervous about being around your parents though

But they like him, he's nice

He's actually not scared of bugs, he thinks they're cool

If you have older siblings, he'll look up to them in a way, he enjoys getting to talk to them

If you have younger siblings, he's happy to play with them

If you have no siblings, he'll probably be a little more awkward and stick to your side more

He'll pick wild flowers for you

"Here, y/n 😊" He hands you a little bouquet of dandelions and other little flowers

He accidentally catches his marshmallow on fire 😔

Wanders off with you to look for firewood and talk

Two-Bit Matthews

Before you go, you tell him that he needs to be on his best behavior

He would rather just go camping with you and/or his friends but whatever

I don't think he'd be able to charm your parents very well

But they see how happy he makes you, so it's okay

He's so excited for smores!

If you have older siblings, he'll joke with them, but still mainly hang by you

If you have little siblings, he will play with them and he will be so, so competitive

But he'll teach them how to stick rocks if there's a pond nearby

If you have a sibling close in age, he'll joke around with them too

Not scared of bugs but will curse out the mosquitoes (just not infront of your parents)

Tells you that if a bear comes, he'll fight it off

Also tells you that if a moose comes, he'll use you as a human shield, and tells you to use your siblings 💀

Dallas Winston

He has nothing against camping, but he does not want to go with your parents. It took quite a bit of convincing

Camping pro?

Puts the tent up by himself (+1 wow point from your parents)

You two "get lost" while looking for firewood (he didn't want to go back)

You talk forever

If you have older siblings, he won't really talk to them all that much, and they probably have preconceived notions about him cause he's Dallas Winston

If you have little siblings, he'll play with them a bit

Tag becomes super competitive

He'll suggest sardines (the reverse hide and seek game), just so he can hopefully hide with you and get to be close to you

If you have siblings close in age, he'll talk to them some, but mainly stays glued to your side

He'll find a nice rock and give it to you (he acts nonchalant bout it but he's like 😖🤗 internally)

He doesn't really care for smores so he might give you his

You'll go stargazing but he'll stare at you the whole time cause he does not give a fck about stars

"Look, there's the little dipper." You point at the sky. "Mhm😍" "...Dallas, you're not even looking." He'll grumble and look at the sky. "Wow🙄"

Wants to make out in the tent once your parents fall asleep.

If you say no, he suggests sneaking out of the tent.

If you say no, he'll huff and puff then suggest that you at least come into his sleeping bag with him.

An: this was so fun to write

[teslasucks37]

trad goth reader x nerdcicle headcanons pretty pretty pleaseeeee??? PLEEAAASEEEE????

Oh this eats…

CW: NSFW under the cut (MDNI), SoftSimp!Charlie, afab!Reader, College!AU, SlightPerv!Charlie, Virgin!Charlie, Sub!Charlie, Semi-Public BJ, Kinda stereotypical dommy mommy goth GF but it’s okay I think

A/N: If I’m like misinterpreting or misrepresenting goth culture in any way pls lmk and I’ll fix it!!! ALSO THIS IS BASED IN A COLLEGE SETTING!!! I also may have based this too much off Romantic Goth rather than Trad Goth just aesthetic-wise, but I did try to do my research and I think it is vague enough writing-wise 🫡 (I’m also not trying to sexualize Goth people more than they already are, but it’s me so I had to make it smutty)

Nerd!Charlie x TradGoth!Reader

Goth GF Hcs!!!

When Charlie saw you walking through the quad he almost dropped to his knees.

But his friends were right next to him, so all he could do was stare.

He was so intimidated by you at first.

To have the confidence to express yourself in such a way that was so different from societal norms…

Charlie couldn’t imagine it for himself.

He was a nerd, to say the least.

He didn’t take pride in it, but didn’t necessarily put himself down for it either.

Avid gamer, D&D enthusiast, thick rimmed glasses, stupid puns, button up tshirts.

He was basically the nerd starter pack.

Even though he didn’t feel bad about his social status, he didn’t pretend like it didn’t exist.

He knew not to reach too high.

And according to him, you were the highest there was.

He didn’t even know your name.

But he was absolutely enraptured, bewitched, enthralled.

Whatever you wanted to call it, he was it.

It felt like he was frozen in time, watching you cross the quad in the most gorgeous outfit with the most beautiful makeup.

Your shoes could fucking crush him in one step and he would probably thank you.

That night he couldn’t leave the goth tag of PornHub.

But none of them had the same extravagant clothes or makeup you had.

It honestly kind of frustrated him, because none of them looked as good as you.

God he was such a fucking loser.

He eventually got the courage to come up to you, saying that he really liked your outfit.

That wasn’t the first time you’d noticed him.

You’d seen him around campus, staring at you, grinning absentmindedly.

He was such a cute little thing.

His glasses made his eyes look bigger than they probably were in reality, turning him into a wide-eyed puppy.

You just had to fucking have him.

You pulled him into one of the secluded gender neutral bathrooms in a building that the two of you shared a class in.

Dropping to your knees to unbuckle his pants, he trembled. “I’ve never…”

“Do you want to?” You paused, looking up at him through your gorgeously large lashes.

He bit his lip and nodded, pressing his hips closer to you.

Charlie thought he would cum in seconds, seeing your black lipstick leave rings around his shaft.

A hand tangled easily in your teased hair, careful not to tug too hard or make you choke.

His other hand covered the whimpering sounds falling from his mouth as he felt your teeth drag over his tip slightly.

You felt him twitch and cum in your mouth, his teeth digging into his hand to hide the choked moans he let out as you licked him clean.

When you finished, he tucked himself back into his Pokémon boxers, an awful choice for today he was realizing.

But you found it so damn cute.

You wanted to make this little virgin nerd cum for you over and over again.

Your lipstick was wrecked, quickly fixed by a simple touch up, but the two of you went back into lecture like nothing had happened.

The both of you then decided to skip the rest of your classes for the day and head back to your dorm room.

It was a quaint little University owned studio apartment that you had all to yourself.

When Charlie was practically pulled in by his shirt, he was surprised.

Your room wasn’t at all what he expected.

He didn’t expect a total vampire aesthetic, but he was expecting something a little… Darker…

But he didn’t really have time to think about that, because as he was taking in his surroundings, you were taking your clothes off.

He stumbled back onto your bed, your painted eyelids heavy as your gaze eats him alive.

“Fuck…” He whispered nervously, not realizing he’d said it out loud until he saw your pleased reaction to seeing him just a bit scared of you.

With a blink of his eyes his own clothes were off and you were climbing on top of him to straddle his hips.

You leaned down to kiss him with a fervor that only made him harder.

“Please~” He groaned against your lips, your hips hovering over him with a smug smirk painted on your face.

You just couldn’t help yourself from slamming down onto him repeatedly, not when he was making all those pretty noises for you.

Charlie’s brain practically shut off, his head digging into the mattress as he leaned back.

He’d never felt so good, never imagined a loser like him would be getting his dick wet in one of the most gorgeous people he’d ever met.

The person he would be up at night fantasizing about was taking his virginity like it was already yours.

But you were too focused on his cute face, letting out so many sounds for you in his delirium.

He was being such a good little sub for you.

You were so glad he was enjoying this just as much, if not more, than you.

You wanted his first time to be good.

But god it felt so good to you too.

His cock was so deep in you, bigger than anyone you’d ever fucked before.

It really was the quiet ones…

His tip was hitting your cervix, his shaft brushing your g-spot.

Holy shit you were gonna cum.

He could feel it just beyond the haze of his own pleasure.

Your movements were getting faster and you were trembling.

“Oh fuck… Charlie!” Your legs shook, flopping onto his stomach as you came.

You shuddered to a stop from your orgasm, recovering from the muscles of your thighs spasming.

He simply wrapped his arms around you, humping into you, desperate at the feeling of your walls clamping and cumming around him.

“Please… Oh, fuck… It’s too m- Much-“

“Are you gonna cum?” Your sultry voice sounded like honey to his fucked out brain.

“Yeah~ Yeah~” He nodded frantically, his fingers gripping at the bedsheets.

“Then cum, baby~”

“Ahh!” His jaw fell slack, moans and whimpers and pants spewing from his mouth as he twitched inside you.

You could feel him pumping you full.

His cute little nerd cock painting your walls.

As soon as the both of you settled, you climbed off him, wobbly, but stable enough to reach the bathroom.

He pouted the whole time you were gone, missing your touch, your presence.

You returned with your makeup wiped off and a towel for the makeup you’d gotten on his face when you kissed him.

“You’re so pretty…” He mumbled against the cloth in awe, not surprised that you were just as beautiful without makeup, but just thankful that you felt comfortable enough with him to let him see all of you.

He couldn’t even get up from the bed to kiss you, he had to wait until you climbed in next to him.

Which he pouted about, but was soothed when you fell asleep in each other’s arms.

The next morning, the two of you had class.

Charlie could just go in what he brought with, but you had a more demanding schedule.

You had to do makeup, outfit planning, the whole shebang.

And Charlie was there the whole time.

He was mostly silent, just watching in fascination of you, unless you directly asked him a question.

“Do you think I should do this necklace or this one?”

“Um…” He mumbled, not really sure which one to pick. “I like both, but I think maybe that one goes better.”

He tried to answer as well as he could with your bare body right in front of his face, practically begging him to fuck you again.

But he held back for time and chivalry reasons.

When you did your makeup, he just sat right next to you, watching intensely, as if he was trying to learn.

When you asked him if he wanted to try it out, he grinned bashfully. “Maybe another time.”

“But you’re not against it?”

“Not necessarily…”

[the-music-maniac]

Not that I read mpreg all that often (not really my thing generally speaking) but I came across some "Sanji is pregnant" fics in the sanzo/zosan tag, and not nearly the same amount for Zoro. It got me thinking about the trope. I think the lack of Zoro fics here is a tragic oversight. I think we as a fandom are absolutely and tragically ignoring the potential comedy gold of Zoro being the one to be pregnant instead.

Because when people write Sanji, the general trend I'm seeing (upon scanning through some of the fics quickly) is that he's cautious about it. Conscientious, careful to make sure things are okay. Which - arguably I could see, Sanji is probably the more practical of the two (not by a whole lot but still)and he didn't have a good childhood. Sanji being pregnant is usually a fic about his heaps of parental issues, childhood trauma and angst - which is fun to read. It's good. It's amazing, even.

Zoro being pregnant is ONE HUNDRED PERCENT gonna be a COMEDY. We're talking about a man who once tried to fight Kuina holding like 20 bokkens. We're talking about a man who got stuck in wax and thought the reasonable solution was to cut off his legs.

The entire crew spends the next 9 months tearing their hair out, preventing Zoro from doing stupid shit (exhibit A: cutting off his own limbs). They spend the same amount of time trying to stop Luffy from gum-gum-grabbing Zoro and yeeting him anytime he needs to get them out of a sticky situation.

The crew (mostly Sanji) is on 24/7 prevent-zoro-from-drinking-alcohol duty (impossible). Chopper is constantly stressed in the later months cause no one puts it past Zoro to get lost somewhere, give birth out in the woods and come strolling back with a baby tucked under his arm. They have to start hiding Zoro's dumbbells.

Franky and Usopp design and build a nursery and spends the entire time suspiciously teary eyed. Sanji tries to pretend he's unaffected but spends an entire night creating a 9 month meal plan of all the nutrients Zoro and the baby are gonna need. Not even a day later, one of the crew finds him up at 2 am making a mountain of food because Zoro made the mistake of offhandedly mentioning he had particular pregnancy craving within earshot of Sanji. In the end Zoro has to sit on him to stop Sanji from running himself ragged.

Robin keeps spouting morbid childbirth facts and quotes from parental advice books in equal measure. Nami keeps going on shopping sprees for cute baby clothes and adding the cost of them to Zoro's debt. Brook keeps writing lullabies and trying to sing them to Zoro's stomach. Zoro 100% uses his pregnancy belly as an excuse to walk around without a shirt 24/7 without getting nagged.

Somehow word gets out that the famous pirate hunter Zoro is pregnant, and at the next big fight with the Marines, half the soldiers refuse to fight him and instead start telling him to sit down, take it easy, shouting advice at him etc. Etc. Zoro loses his shit a little bit and cuts their boat in half.

Mihawk, upon finding out, tells Zoro in no uncertain terms that that is his grandchild and he's expecting them to visit so he can meet the baby when they're born. Zoro vehemently denies that Mihawk is his father (he is). Zeff upon finding out, is almost as bad as Sanji when it comes to being a mother hen. Perona buys even more baby clothes for the baby. She buys one singular shirt for Zoro as a joke, and it coincidentally happens to be the exact same brand of "mama" crop top he was forced to wear in that one filler episode. Zoro tries to chuck it into the ocean (he fails).

I'm essentially saying it would be absolute chaos, and it would be the funniest thing I've ever read. 9 months of Marimo wrangling. Can you imagine the look on Zoro's face if one of the opponents he was fighting were to tell him that he's "glowing"?

PLEASE, I would actually wheeze myself to death. The best part is you can still have plenty of Sanji angst. He still has parental issues except now they're flavoured with "I'm not ready to be a father" and "I'm terrified I'm gonna become my biological sperm donor" and "please don't die because of childbirth complications, that happened to my mother(sort of, I know she died after but it kinda counts), and I can't handle that happening again to you". Lots of cute/tender moments of Zoro comforting and reassuring Sanji. We can even have Zoro angst. He probably views protecting his crew as the one and only job he's good for (not true but that's probably what he thinks). Not being able to fulfill that is probably not helping his self esteem, and that sense of uselessness warring with his need to protect the baby - but the contradictory thing here is that to protect the baby he HAS to sit back and let other people do that FOR him. That plus all the other restrictions, people treating him differently, but him at the same time refusing to view his own child as a weakness. Imagine the havoc that would wreak. Oh my god.

Y'all don't understand, I don't even read mpreg that often and yet this is literally my ideal fic HAHAAAAA

[notiddygothgf]

12. Ankle Biter

★ pairings: aki hayakawa x fem reader

★ ❝ I think we both know what you want. Be a good girl and you might get it. You want me? ❞ ❝ Yes, please. ❞

★ c.w.: smut, denji. (NOT BETA'd. olivia will be my beta-er.) (more content warnings and tags)

★ a/n: IM BACK FROM THE DEADDDDDD!!! hi  my pookies. so. depression and uni have been tag teaming me. woman in stem or whatever. your comments have been keeping me going!!! When you're reading this, I'll have a few chaps stored up so i don't have hiatuses like this anymore teehee. I HOPE YOU ALL ENJOY THIS!! its a two parter, so chapter two will be coming soon!!! okay!! comment!!! vote!!! love you all!!!! muah!!!! xxx

★ w.c: .6.8k

shameless ; chapter index

YOU TOLD YOUR HUSBAND you had a mission today. You told him you would be out all day – and probably into the night – with division four, which wasn’t totally a lie. In fact, it wasn’t even a stretch of the truth by much at all. You had spent the earlier half of your day making rounds in Tokyo with division four, ultimately finding that the perpetrator of a series of mysterious sounds coming from the downtown area was a tiny little cheese devil, which was disposed of in a matter of minutes.

What had been a lie, however, was that you would be out all night with the entirety of division four. Realistically, it was only one member.

“I’m hopping in the bath,” Aki sighed. He slipped his blood-soaked shirt (and coat) into a black trash bag. He kicked off his Converses, too. In the other room, he had left the tap on so that the tub could fill with warm water.

You followed him to the bedroom door, which you had left cracked open by accident a few minutes earlier when you and him had stumbled home. In the living room, Aki’s roommates ran around barefoot, chasing after one another for god knows what reason.

Even with his back turned – his toned, muscly back that rippled when he moved – he towered over you. Stepping behind him, you asked, “Can I come with you?”

He turned around then, face dusted with that pink tint you had grown to love. Like he – after all of the unspeakable things he had done to you – was embarrassed at the prospect of you wanting to bathe with him. Always the gentleman.

“The gremlins are home,” He mused, much more quietly than he had been speaking only a few moments earlier. His eyes, as moody and blue as ever, darkened as he added, “You sure you wanna start something so early in the evening?”

You retorted, “I never said I’d be getting in with you ,” like you hadn’t originally planned on doing exactly that.

“You’re just gonna sit and watch me, then?” He asked slowly, brow arched a little higher.

Shit. You couldn’t bullshit your way out of this.

“Okay, well, then, maybe I will get in,” You conceded, arms crossed – only because the way he was looking at you made you giddy and… a little nervous, to be frank. “But that doesn’t mean I’m starting anything. Not after the stunt you pulled earlier.”

The stunt in question? Aki had snapped at you for putting yourself in a compromising position on the mission – one that easily could have resulted in your demise, of course, but that was irrelevant, because all that mattered was that he had raised his voice at you to say, “ Stop being a dumbass. You almost died .”

You were the one who pulled a stunt, if anything. Still, you loved getting him riled up.

When he only peered down at you with a humored little grin, like he didn’t believe a word you had said, you added, “I’m just gonna be there to hang out with you.”

“Mmh,” He hummed after a brief silence, “Right.”

He knew you were playing hard to get. It wasn’t working, either. Not even a little bit.

Aki didn’t say another word as he led the way to the bathroom, his shirtless figure moving with that same quiet grace you’d come to know so well. You followed him, your heart doing somersaults in your chest, even though you tried to hide it beneath a casual air. When he reached for the robe hanging on the counter, he tossed it your way with an easy flick of his wrist, and you caught it.

The bathroom was warm already when you arrived, closing the door behind you and Aki and locking it with a quiet click. Aki slipped out of his pants without a word while your back was turned, busying yourself with the robe in your hands, unsure why you were suddenly so shy about it. 

You slipped your button-down off. Then your belt. Your pants came last – followed by your socks. Once you were in your undergarments, you stripped yourself bare – praying he didn’t see you in such an intimate position, like he hadn’t seen all you had to offer already.

You were trying to seem indifferent, but the soft sounds of his clothes hitting the floor did something to your composure. When you finally gathered the courage to turn back around, he had already sunk into the water, his body disappearing beneath the steaming surface.

Damn it. You missed it.

Now, Aki leaned back against the tub, his arms draped casually over the edges, and he was watching you with that half-lidded gaze that never failed to make your nerves fray at the edges. His hair, dampened slightly from the steam, clung to his forehead, and the way his eyes raked over you sent a shiver skittering down your spine. You stood frozen for a beat too long, feeling the intensity of his stare searing into you. He made no attempt to hide it.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you muttered, barely managing to sound anything but meek as you crossed your arms over your breasts.

“Like what?” he asked, his voice low and calm, though the smoldering gaze he cast your way didn’t falter. He didn’t even try to conceal the hunger in his eyes.

You huffed, rolling your eyes in a half-hearted attempt to mask the effect he had on you. You weren’t used to this kind of intimacy — not with him staring at you like that, all relaxed and self-assured in the steaming water. Somehow, this was more vulnerable than being naked – getting ready to bathe with him.

With a slight shake of your head, you shrugged off your clothes and stepped into the tub, sitting with your back pressed against his chest. His strong arms bracketed your sides, and you felt the warmth of him radiating through the water.

For a moment, everything felt quiet, like the world had shrunk down to just the two of you. Aki’s fingers reached for a washcloth, his movements slow and deliberate as he wrung it out over his head, dark hair dripping with water. Then, he did the same for you, squeezing the warm droplets over your back, and you couldn’t help the way your body relaxed into him.

“Is the water okay?” He spoke – voice so low it was almost a whisper. “Not too hot?”

You were going to pass out.

“It’s fine,” You answered.

He hummed low in response, the sound vibrating through his chest and into your back. You hesitated for a moment before speaking again, voice a bit more quiet, but teasing. 

"Your voice... It's super hot. Have I ever told you that?"

Aki paused, the water dripping from the washcloth over your skin like tiny, warm raindrops. He let out a low chuckle, and you could feel the way his chest rumbled against your spine. 

"You think so?" he asked, his lips curving into a grin you didn’t even need to see. "Is that why you get all flustered when I boss you around on the clock?"

Heat flooded your face as you laughed, turning away from him a little. "I do not!" You tried to defend yourself, but the way your voice cracked betrayed you.

You absolutely did. Made you so hot beneath the collar that it wasn’t even funny .

"Yeah?" He leaned in, his lips ghosting over the back of your neck, sending a chill down your body despite the heat of the bath. His voice dropped lower, teasing as he mocked you. " Yes, Sir, " he purred, the tone rich and velvety. "Sounds so goddamn sexy when you say it. Drives me fucking crazy."

You couldn’t help the embarrassed laugh that bubbled up in response, biting your lip as you hid your face with your hand. "Stop," you groaned, turning your head away, the flush on your cheeks deepening. But he didn’t stop—he could feel your embarrassment, and that only seemed to encourage him.

"You’re not saying anything now," Aki teased, his hand never pausing in its slow, comforting rhythm along your back. You tried to gather your thoughts, but it was impossible with the way your pulse quickened whenever he even touched you. "You’re cute when you’re flustered." 

You were going to combust. Actually.

His hand slid up from your shoulder, fingers lingering against your skin as they traced the line of your neck. You shivered, feeling the intensity of his touch, before his hand cupped the back of your head, gently tilting it back. Your breath hitched as your eyes met his, the steam swirling between you.

His lips brushed against yours, soft but deliberate, like a question answered in the quietest of moments. A rush of heat flooded through you, your pulse syncing with the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. The kiss deepened, slow and sweet, before he pulled back, just enough to speak.

"Thought you said you weren’t starting anything, hmm? " he murmured against your lips, his thumb tracing your jawline. And in that moment, the world felt small again—just the two of you, wrapped in warmth, as if nothing else existed.

“I wasn’t,” You tried to protest, but whatever reply you had planned died on your lips the moment he pulled you in – by your jaw – for another kiss. It was soft at first, careful — but it didn’t stay that way for long. Heat flooded between you as the kiss deepened, his wet hand gliding down your chest, teasing touches igniting your skin with a slow burn.

"Bullshit. You love to get me riled up," His voice, low and husky, made your stomach flip as he murmured, “So I can give you what you want, right? Because you know I’m the only one who can.”

You did. You really, really did. And he was right.

Your breath caught, and your mind scrambled for some witty retort, but all you could manage was a shaky, "What do I want, then, if you know so much?”

One of these days, you would learn to keep your bratty mouth shut. That day was not today.

His fingers were gentle yet deliberate as they ghosted over your stomach – up, and then down, stopping just above the water’s surface. His lips hovered near your ear, "Watch the attitude. I’ll give it to you if you ask nicely.”

And, as his fingertips dipped beneath the surface, slipping down over your belly button and ghosting over the skin of your navel, you figured you would do whatever he asked if it meant he would go a little lower.

“I think we both know what you want,” He hummed. “Be a good girl, and you might get it. You want me?”

You broke without so much as a second of hesitation, “Yes, please .”

“Where, baby?” He breathed, voice deep and hot against your neck, your ear – while his fingers trailed a little lower, just barely caressing the place where he knew you needed him. “Here?” His other hand left your chin to slide down your side, coming up around your ribs to cup your breast ever-so-gently, “ Here?” 

“Yes– God, both,” You hissed quietly. When his hand slipped a little lower, towards the apex of your heat, you leaned into him.

“With those two sitting outside?” He added, continuing to tease you, like he was reveling in the feeling of drawing you closer to the edge of your patience. “We’d have to make it quick. They’ll start banging on the door any minute, now.”

You were going to say something, suggest that maybe the two of you should take a rain check on the bath, but the moment his fingers parted your lips and pressed gently on your clit, what came out was a desperate whisper of, “I’ll be quiet.”

“Good girl,” He breathed. Slowly, painfully slowly – he began rolling his finger over you in circles, applying a pressure so gentle it made your head spin. 

Meanwhile, the hand groping your breast began to massage it. The air of the bathroom grew suddenly cold, and maybe it was the warmth of the water, or of his kisses down your neck, but you felt your nipples form stiffened little peaks. A wonton shiver ripped itself from your core.

Clearly, he was just as riled up as you were – something that was evidently pressing up against your ass. You shifted your hips back a little further so that he could get a little friction – take the edge off a bit.

His touch was like a lighter, igniting sparks of pleasure wherever his fingers traveled, sending goosebumps up and down your body. And, for a few minutes, he sat there, rolling his fingers over that little bundle of pleasure that had you bucking your hips up – biting your lip so hard to prevent a sound from escaping that you drew blood.

When his hand slipped further up the slope of your chest, fingers pinching your nipple, you mewled, arching your back. 

“So sensitive today,” He said. You didn’t have to look to know he was grinning. Every time his calloused, wet thumb slipped over your nipple, you rolled your hips. “You want more?”

You nodded. Fuck, yes. 

And, thankfully, this time, he didn’t keep you waiting. His fingers dipped a little further into you, tracing over your needy pussy like he had all the time in the world. It felt strange, given the water between his fingertips and your body, but not at all unpleasant.

Then, when you least expected it, he breached your entrance with one finger, eliciting a gasp from you.

He hushed you, taunting you as he murmured into the skin of your neck, “You’re gonna give us away. Gotta be quiet for me, baby. I know you can.”

When the other finger followed suit, you weren’t all too sure. 

He propped his head up on your shoulder, glancing over at you. His eyes were dark, half-lidded, misty with desire. “Haven’t even started with you, yet,” He tutted. “My pretty mama… so sensitive. Thought you were mad at me, huh ?”

You said nothing – out of embarrassment, of course, but the way your whole body arched into his touch gave you away. Aki grinned, pulling his fingers out of you, then putting them back in. 

You found yourself melting into him entirely. Desperate for some form of friction, you began to grind down on him; his hand, his lap. 

“ Mmmh, ” you purred. His voice alone was enough to have you inching a little closer to your peak – already, like you were a pent-up highschooler and not an adult. You slurred, “Keep talkin’”

“Yeah?” He pressed more kisses to the inside of your neck. “You’re gonna take it like a good fuckin’ girl, aren’t you? For me?” His breath was hot and ragged, fanning against your skin with a purpose. He knew better than to suck hard enough to leave a mark. “Always so fuckin’ good for me.”

He leaned forward to capture your lips. You didn’t care that your head was craned at an awkward angle. You didn’t care.

You gasped when his digits curled up with a shocking suddenness. It was muffled, nothing more than a quiet cry silenced by the devilish onslaught of his lips dancing with yours like making a mess out of you was his job – and then you felt the pressure of his hand against your throat. That, combined with the feeling of his fingers curling inside of you, brushing against your tender walls… you were reduced to a babbling mess in a matter of seconds.

No one knew your body better than he did.

“Take it, baby,” He nestled his head into the crook of your neck, on the other side. His words, shadowed by his desire, spurred you on. His fingers picked up the pace. “Just like that.”

You shuddered, eyes threatening to roll back, feeling the slow pull and drag of them against your insides. When he scissored his fingers inside, you could feel yourself being stretched open. It felt so full, so good, your mouth hung open before you could even control it.

“ Aki ,” You whimpered weakly.

The way his fingers were hooked inside of you, fuck, they kept pushing at just the right spot. It felt like he was reaching into you and untying the strings of your orgasm; slowly, with every curl nudging you a little bit closer.

You glanced down at his arms. His big, strong, toned arms, his biceps, fuck. You could see the deep muscles of his forearm ripple and tense as he fucked you open with his fingers – a little quicker now. Your nails bit deep into the skin on his thighs, but he didn’t seem to care.

He seemed to be more focused on making you cum all over his fingers.

“You’re getting loud,” He spoke into your ear, nibbling just below the lobe soon thereafter. “What should we do about that?” The pace of his fingers quickened. “Feel good?”

“F–uck off,” You gasped out. “ Shit .”

He dove back into another searing kiss, body fitting against yours like two puzzle pieces finally reunited. You could feel him pressed up against you, his warmth, his hardness, and it sent a jolt of electricity through your entire body.

His lips spoke the language of his love, breathing his longing into your body. Your tongues were locked in a hungry, sensuous tango.

You whispered weakly, “Feels so good,” voice quivering with desire as his hand slipped away from your chest – he moved to cover your mouth with it, popping three digits deep into your mouth to shut you up.

“Want everyone to hear you?” He licked his lips. “Stay quiet, and I’ll give you what you want,”  A pause, then he crossed his fingers, twisting them deeper into you in a way that had your back arching away from him, had your legs quaking, 

“ Mn-ghh ,” You mewled around his fingers, feeling so damn good now that he was finally in you again. His fingers were so long, so big, the perfect size for you. No one could touch you like he could. You knew that.

You wrapped your tongue around the digits, sucking on them to give you something to do while you held in the shrieks of pleasure you knew would give you and Aki away to his roommates.

Pressing another messy kiss to your neck, he muttered, “ That’s my girl . You got it.”

You whimpered weakly in response. You were close enough already, and his voice was only nudging you closer and closer.

Somehow, despite the odds, the coil in your gut was drawing tighter and tighter. He was reaching deep inside of you and undoing you from the inside out like the lace strands of a tightly wound corset. The brutal pace of his long, fingers made your fucking brain go blank. You could do nothing but writhe and squeal for him.

He curved his fingers up sharply at just the right angle, thrusting his hand up and down and – before you knew what was happening, that warmth in your belly pooled up again. 

“You’re close already, aren’t you?” He grinned, voice a low murmur. “So fuckin’ sensitive. Don’t worry, I got you. I’ll talk you through it. I’m right here.”

When you whined quietly, eyelids fluttering shut, his fingers pressed deeper into you, massaging that spongy place deep inside of you that had you shaking. You gasped, clawing at his thighs.

“I know, I know,” He reassured you, Saccharine words dripping with venom. “ Wanna make you cum. You can do it f’me, yeah? I know you can. ”

For him.

“I’ll take care of you,” he mumbled into the crook of your neck, rutting up against you. “ Make you feel so good .”

You gasped, the sound muffled by his fingers. Your body, however, gave a different signal. Your legs spasmed once more. His fingers were deep inside of you from both angles – three fingers knuckle deep in your pussy, three fingers pressing deep enough into your mouth to make you gag on them.

“So fucking beautiful,” Aki panted against your neck. “You’re doing so good for me.”

You could feel your guts clenching around his finger like you were trying to push him out. The sheer power this man had over you was near absurd. 

“I got you, baby,” He panted, peering over at you with such feverish hunger that it made your legs shake. “You know I’ll always make you feel good, right?”

That much was true. You knew that he knew your body well – better than anyone else ever had or ever could.

Then, you moaned – it slipped out. Truly, you had never intended to let it slip. Yet, still, when his fingers curled up against a particularly sensitive spot with all of the ease of a harpist plucking at the strings of your core, your lips spilled a sinful, long, drawn-out moan, as if to say, Don’t stop, I’m close . 

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” His smirk grew in size with a satisfied hum, “You gonna cum for me?”

Instantaneously, somehow, his fingers pressed the right spot – just the right amount of pressure – then it snapped. The coil of your release snapped with all of the power of a freight train, your orgasm slamming into you in a way that had your back arching up off of him. The ebb-and-flow of the pleasure made your mind run wild with desire – your hips rode it out like you were surfing waves..

You gasped, biting down on his fingers. Finally coming down from your high, you laid your head back.

Fuck me. I can’t believe I just did that. This was a new low for you – in the bathtub? While his roommates were outside doing god knows what?

He slid his fingers out of you slowly, savoring the way you clenched around them one last time before pulling out. He sucked the slick of your arousal off of his fingers. 

“Hey, there. Welcome back.” He hummed, sucking gently on your neck, too gentle to leave a mark. The two of you panted, desperate to catch your breath. You were too weak to say anything as he turned your head to the side, pressing a passionate kiss to your lips. 

You whimpered weakly in response. Aki chuckled, wrapping his arms around your trembling body and bringing you in for a hug. 

“You okay, baby?” He hummed, tucking your hair away behind your ear.

This was too intimate. All of this was too intimate. It made you wonder what a life with him really would entail. 

As if sensing your thoughts, Aki leaned in, his movements slow and careful, like he was afraid of shattering the fragile moment between you. His lips met yours in a soft kiss, tender and undemanding, the warmth of his mouth mingling with the steam from the bath. It was brief, but enough to send a shiver through you, a quiet promise hidden in the way his lips lingered before pulling away.

He hummed softly, the sound reverberating through the humid air as his fingers found their way to your hair, massaging the water into your scalp with slow, rhythmic movements. You closed your eyes, letting the sensation wash over you, the stress melting from your body as he worked.

Without thinking, you shifted, moving to sit on his lap, your hands reaching for his shoulders, intending to initiate the next step. But before you could, his hand caught your wrist, stopping you gently but firmly.

“No, not in here,” Aki murmured.

You frowned, a playful pout forming on your lips. "Why not? You’re still..." Your voice trailed off, your eyes drifting over his body, but before you could say anything more, his quiet laughter interrupted your thoughts.

“Let’s finish washing up first, okay?” he smiled, brushing his thumb over your wrist, his gaze warm but teasing as he held you at arm’s length. There was something so endearing about the way he was in control, yet still patient with you.

You sighed, the heat still simmering in your veins, but nodded nonetheless, settling back into the warmth of the bath as his hand resumed its soothing motions, reminding you once again that with Aki, there was always time.

There was always time.

After finishing up in the bath – taking about 30 more minutes just to shampoo, condition, and wash up, you and Aki helped you into your robe (which was his robe, but he was letting you use it) and tied a towel around his own waist. Even though you protested, saying you could limp back just fine, Aki insisted on carrying you back to his room.

The fabric of Aki’s robe was soft and plush against your damp skin. Thankfully, the living room was empty. It sounded like both Power and Denji had retreated to their rooms for the evening (but you could never be too sure).

Still, at the very least, you didn’t think anyone could see Aki walking back to his room, carrying you like a bride – hair dripping wet, completely bare beneath the oversized robe he had given you. Neither Denji nor Power could see the way your face flushed when you passed their rooms – doing your best to appear as if their Captain hadn’t just been knuckle-deep in your pussy.

Once you were in his room, Aki set you down on the bed. “Pajama shirts are in the top right drawer on the dresser. Sweaters are in the closet. You can wear my boxers for shorts, if you want. They’re top left in the dresser. I’m a towel short, so I’ll be right back.

You nodded. He pressed a chaste kiss to the top of your head – leaning down to do so – and then left the room. You glanced around, taking a moment to soak in your surroundings. Aki’s room was so him , something so different from the cold apartment you knew back home with your husband. The walls of his bedroom were a soft, deep blue. All of his furniture matched – black. On his dresser, there wasn’t much more than a few small pictures and loose belongings he’d taken out of his pockets earlier.

Curiously, you rose to your feet and walked over, ghosting your hand over the smooth, finished surface of his dresser. There, like little mosaics of his life, the pictures told a story. A photo of him and Himeno on the far left – it looked like they were at some sort of event with a photobooth. She was grinning ear-to-ear, arm thrown around Aki’s shoulder, face a little flushed with what you assumed was liquor. Aki, in contrast, was pouting, as if the very idea of posing for silly little pictures pissed him off – he was younger, sure, and his hair was shorter, eyes a little brighter, but it was definitely him.

I still have to call her back and tell her what happened, You remembered.

The next photo was with Denji and Power. It was a picture of them at a bowling alley – Aki’s shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and he was wearing that Poker-Face expression you knew so well. Denji was stuffing his face with a hot dog, and Power was grinning with her arms crossed. 

The one after that made you stop in your tracks. It was a family portrait – or it looked like one, anyway. Aki was on the bottom left, wearing that miserable little pout of his. Behind him, a man and woman with black hair and soft features stood, smiling. Another boy was right next to him. He looked almost exactly like Aki, save for the shorter hair and youthful smile. 

He really had been serious his whole life. Furthermore, after glancing one more time at the woman you assumed was his mother, you could tell where he got his good looks from. She was beautiful. It was an honest shame that he lost both of his parents so young.

The door clicked, a reminder that looking through people’s personal affects was weird, and you skipped over to the closet. Opening the door, you quickly snagged a big gray hoodie. 

In tandem, the door to Aki’s bedroom opened. He came in looking like something straight out of a wet dream – towel tied loosely around his waist, his skin glistening with droplets of water that caught the dim light of his bedroom.

Your breath hitched as you caught sight of Aki’s bare chest, the defined muscles of his torso flexing slightly as he moved. Your eyes roamed up and down his body, lingering on the lines of his abdomen, the narrow curve of his hips, the way the towel clung to him just enough to drive you crazy.

Your mouth went dry, and you had to swallow hard to keep yourself from doing something stupid like staring too obviously or letting out the low groan building in your chest. It was impossible to look away, though — Your brain short-circuited before you could fucking think of anything else.

For a moment, neither of you said anything.

You blinked, trying to say something, but all you could think was: Fuck me. A ll you could think about was the man in front of you, who looked as if he had been cut from stone, shaped carefully by the hands of a Greek sculptor.

You were all too aware of the way Aki’s chest rose and fell with each breath, the droplets of water still clinging to his skin, the tantalizing glimpse of skin just above where the towel ended – the way the moisture trickled down his pecs and abs and his biceps , and–

“You want a picture?” He teased you. Then, clearly comfortable around you, he turned around and pulled a T-shirt, Sweatpants, and a pair of boxers out of the dresser. 

You wanted to add something, perhaps a witty comeback, but you couldn’t think one up. Not when he reached down and untied the towel, letting it fall to the ground with a quiet ‘floop’, and certainly not when he pulled a pair of black boxers up to his hips, wiggling from side to side until it hugged his ass perfectly .

Any moment now, you were going to start drooling like a fucking dog.

“You have a brother?” You asked.

He tensed – evident in the way his shoulders bristled at the mention of it. “Had a brother,” He corrected with a sigh that made you regret bringing it up. “Taiyo. He died with my parents.”

You felt your own shoulders drop. Gnawing on your lower lip, you commented, “I’m sorry. You look like your mom, though. You’ve got her eyes.”

He stilled, the tension draining from his posture, and when he turned to look at you, sweats halfway up his long legs, his face softened too. “Thank you,” he murmured, and the way his eyes crinkled in the corners when he smiled made your heart flip.

He tugged his shirt on next, pulling it down over his lean frame, and then moved to sit on the edge of the bed, towel in hand. You watched, momentarily mesmerized, as he rubbed the towel through his damp hair, still half-distracted by the quiet ache in his voice from before.

Finally, you slipped out of your robe and pulled Aki’s sweater on. You didn’t want to let the moment linger too long, not when the air still felt heavy with what he’d shared. 

You reached over and flicked on the radio on the nightstand, the dial clicking softly. The familiar melody of an old song spilled into the room, crackling in from a nearby station. An old 70’s song drifted through the speakers, setting a strange kind of peace over the space.

‘I go crazy, 

When I look in your eyes, I still go crazy. 

No, my heart just can’t hide that old feelin’ inside. 

Way deep down inside. 

Oh, baby, you know when I look in your eyes, I go crazy.’ 

Flopping back into the bed with a tired sigh, Aki glanced at you sideways, a small, amused smile playing on his lips as the song played on. He looked like the fatigue from the day he had finally caught up to him. You shifted closer, laying down on your side next to him. 

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence, your noses nearly brushing. His eyes met yours, warm, soft blue, like pools of desire. There was a tenderness in the way he looked at you now that made you melt. Something unspoken, but not entirely unfamiliar.

‘I go crazy when I look in your eyes, 

I still go crazy. That old flame comes alive, 

It starts burning inside, way deep down inside, 

Oh, baby, you know when I look in your eyes…’ 

For a moment, you didn’t need to speak. The music did all the talking, the lyrics wrapping around you both like a cocoon of nostalgia. But eventually, he broke the silence, his voice barely above a murmur. “You know… you didn’t have to say that about me. About my mom.”

‘I go crazy…’ 

You blinked, confused for a second. “I saw the picture on your nightstand. It’s true. Did I upset you?”

He let out a quiet laugh, his breath brushing against your cheek. “No, not that, but... it’s just strange, is all. ‘M not used to having someone notice the little details about me.”

“I notice a lot about you,” you admitted without thinking, the words slipping out, vulnerable but unguarded.

His eyes softened even more, something unreadable flickering behind them. “I know.”

There was a beat of silence, the intimacy thickening the air between you. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair away from your face, his fingertips lingering just a little longer than necessary.

“I love you,” he confessed, voice hushed, as though the vulnerability of the statement might break if he said it too loudly.

Your heart skipped at his words. You wanted to tell him that he did the same for you, that you’d been carrying around your own lonely weight for so long, but it was hard to find the words when his eyes were that close, and his hand was still on your face, warm and careful. Instead, you closed the space between you, pressing your forehead to his, feeling the soft hitch of his breath against your lips.

“I love you more,” you whispered, the words a promise.

His eyes searched yours, a lingering intensity beneath the softness, as though he was still making sure this moment was real. The space between you felt like it was shrinking with every breath, and then, finally, he leaned in. It was slow, almost hesitant at first, like he was giving you the chance to pull away, to stop it—but you didn’t want to stop it. His lips brushed yours, feather-light, barely there. The gentleness of it sent a shiver down your spine, making your breath hitch.

You felt your whole body relax into him, the world fading around you as the kiss deepened. His lips were warm and soft, moving over yours with such tenderness that it felt like he was trying to savor every second. He kissed you like you were something precious—like he had all the time in the world and wanted to make sure you knew exactly how much this moment meant to him. 

It was the same thing as before – the same lips you had felt a hundred times before, passionate and gentle.

The warmth of his hand cupped your cheek, thumb grazing along the line of your jaw as he tilted your face slightly, angling the kiss deeper. You responded, leaning into him, letting yourself sink into the kiss, into him. It was slow, unhurried, but there was a steady pull between you, a quiet need that grew with every second your lips stayed locked together.

Your hands, almost of their own accord, slid up his chest, fingers tracing the lines of muscle beneath his shirt. You curled your fingers into the fabric, tugging him closer, and he obliged, his body pressing into yours as he shifted. His lips parted slightly, and when your tongues brushed, the kiss grew hotter, more urgent. A soft sigh escaped you, and he swallowed it, his own breath hitching in response.

You felt him smile against your mouth for just a moment before the kiss became more heated. He shifted again, rolling on top of you, his weight settling over you in a way that made your heart race. The heat between you intensified, the kiss turning hungry, both of you chasing the feeling, lost in the closeness. His hands wandered, sliding down to your waist, fingers digging in slightly as if he needed to ground himself, to keep from getting completely lost in you.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, fist tangled in his damp hair, pulling him down even closer as you deepened the kiss, your lips moving together with a heat that sent electricity coursing through your veins. Every brush of his lips, every little movement, felt like it was setting something inside you alight. His mouth, his touch, the sound of his breath mixing with yours—it was all you could think about.

But then, just as the kiss reached a fever pitch, the door creaked open.

“When’s dinner gonna be rea— Oh, shit,” Denji’s voice pierced through the haze of your kiss, making your entire body jolt in surprise. He paused, voice lazy but amused. “Didn’t know you guys were getting freaky in here.”

Aki groaned, like shit like this was a frequent occurrence in this household, and threw the blanket over you to shield you from his roommate’s prying gaze. “What happened to knocking? ”

“Does Himeno know about you guys?” He asked. “It seemed like she did toda–”

“Denji,” Aki gritted out, rolling onto his butt and pointing at the door. “ Out. ”

“Fine,” Denji sighed, not moving from his spot, “If you’re gonna bang, do it quietly this time.”

“Do you want to starve?” He retorted.

“You’ll starve too, asshole,” Denji popped his hip out. “Some of us are injured. ”

Aki hissed, “You’re gonna have much worse than a busted leg if you don’t get out of my room.”

They’re like children, these two, you thought, but chose not to voice it.

“Alright, damn , sorry,” He conceded. “Can you make curry? Please?”

Aki’s gaze flickered from you to Denji, clearly weighing his options. The moment was already ruined, and you could see the gears turning in his head. He let out a low sigh, rubbing the back of his neck before meeting Denji’s gaze with a dry expression.

“Will you piss off if I do?” Aki asked, deadpan, his voice tinged with exasperation.

Denji shrugged, grinning lazily as he leaned against the doorframe. “I can try.”

Aki stared at Denji for a moment, as if he was weighing whether it was even worth the trouble. With a sigh, he pushed himself up from the bed, glancing at you briefly before heading for the door. As he slipped off the bed, he leaned down just enough for his voice to reach your ears, low and steady.

“ This isn’t over, ” he murmured, his eyes flicking to your lips for a beat before he turned and walked out, leaving you sitting there with your heart racing.

As soon as Aki was gone, Denji gave you his usual lazy grin, completely oblivious to the tension that still hung in the air. “Hi, by the way,” he quipped, wiggling his fingers in a half-hearted wave before stepping out and closing the door behind him.

You sighed, cheeks still warm, but a small smile crept onto your face. Typical Denji.

After taking a second to steady yourself, you got up and followed Aki down the hall. When you reached the kitchen, he was already there, pulling two cans of beer from the fridge. He cracked them open with practiced ease, the soft hiss of carbonation filling the quiet space.

Without a word, he handed you one, his earlier promise still lingering in the air between you, the cold bottle brushing your fingers. “Here,” he said, his voice a little softer now that it was just the two of you again.

“Thanks,” you murmured, taking a sip. The cold liquid slid down your throat, a welcome contrast to the heat still lingering in your body from earlier.

Aki leaned against the counter, his shoulders relaxing as he took a swig of his own beer. He didn’t say anything at first, just stood there beside you, the two of you wrapped in a comfortable silence. The tension from the bedroom had faded, replaced by the easy calm that always seemed to settle in when it was just the two of you, no interruptions.

After a moment, he glanced over at you, his lips twitching into a small smile. “I don’t know who he thinks he is,” he said, a little amused. “ Hi, by the way ,” Then, “Fuckin’ ankle biter.”

You raised an eyebrow, taking another sip. “What? You mad he interrupted us?”

“Maybe.” He deadpanned, his eyes softening as he looked at you. “Is curry fine with you?”

“Sounds perfect.” You smiled.

A/N: [pornhub lady voice] If you liked chapter 12... you'll LOVE chapter 13....... you know i hate to blue ball yall. thats why i wont!! stay tuned!!!! again, comment and talk to me, wya, i missed yall. how r u? howd u like the chapter??? what do u wanna see in the story?????? tell me everything omg. also HAPPY HALLOWEEN BITCHZZZZZZ !!! i'm gonna get wasted as little bo peep. wish me luck -- if my man lays it down who knows i might be inspired to write a smutty chapter about it. (stay tuned) seriously though take care yall!! i'm so glad to be back!!! kisses and hugs xx

credits: UNKOWN ATM. I found the cover pic on pinterest unfortch. If you know the artist, please let me know, so I can credit them properly for their work!!! This is NOT MY BEAUTIFUL DRAWINGGG. I obviously do not own csm or anything related to it. please do not reproduce, copy, or translate my works anywhere. dont fk w me im a bruja.

also: come find me on my wattpad if u wanna interact more!

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[dandysworldhcs]

Combination of a theory I saw somewhere and something of my own

So someone pointed out that not all Twisteds bear injuries, and in some descriptions, it mentions emotions. They theorized that maybe all the Toons are already infected and just need to be pushed over the edge to transform

Taking that a step further, here's some additions

The ichor incident occurred when all the Toons came in contact with ichor. This caused them to become large, aggressive, and distorted versions of themselves, wreaking havoc on the building. Many members of staff were injured and maybe even killed, and those who remained spoke out about unsafe work conditions, ultimately leading the the center shutting down.

Dandy, the only one with any amount of awareness, desperately wanted people to come back. So, a bit of experimenting on himself layer, he developed a cure. At the first sign of success, he administered it to everyone else, reversing the transformation. However, there were two problems

1. None of the Toons had any recollection of what happened prior to being cured

2. Everyone's bodies became incredibly unstable. The lingering ichor affected their occipital lobes (which controls what they see, hear, and feel. This is, of course, assuming the Toons have brains that function like humans)

Seeing that the humans did not return, Dandy grew even more frantic. He started sending everyone down to harvest tapes, figuring that maybe he'd find something in them he could use, either to bring people back to GardenView or find a way out.

Due to the stress he puts upon himself and the lingering effects from when he was testing potential cures, Dandy often falls ill (hence why Astro and Pebble worry for him). He hides it around everyone except for his two closest friends

The Twisteds that Toons can see are not real. They're just fleeting memories from the ichor incident, sounds and sights the Toons experienced before being cured, not that they know that. Taking damage from those Twisteds is just the Toons growing less stable. Upon losing all 3 hearts, they retreat back to the surface and recieve a new dosage of the cure.

The only Twisted that is real is Dandy, hence why he does 3 hearts of damage rather than 1. He does real damage to Toons, often leading to them having to retreat back to the surface

The lower floors do not actually look the way the Toons perceive them. Once again, this is just the Toons vaguely reliving things they experienced pre-cure. Dandy is the only one who can see what's actually down there, but with him also being highly unstable, a majority of the time, he sees it the same as the others

Dandy is blamed for the ichor incident because someone figured out that he knows more than he lets on. They told everyone else, stirring resentment for him. Astro and Pebble don't (or won't) fully believe it, but Pebble is a dog, and Astro never says anything about it.

Okay, maybe it was more than SOME additions, but it just grew more coherent the more I wrote.

Uh

-🟩 yap anon (or somethin idek if I wanna use an anon tag. I haven't been using one to begin with)

me reading this

[fruitsoxs]

this is long so i'm putting some under read more

BUT- Thinking about Astarion with a generally good tav/reader. I’m thinking it’s sort of an enemies to lovers type deal, where the two of you start off the adventure by bickering constantly over what to do. You always want to do the right thing, and it absolutely infuriates Astarion. He pushes back whenever he can, because your little rag tag group has other matters that are much more important than saving children, or rescuing girls from some hag. But of course, he’s always outvoted. You are easily annoyed by his constant complaining whenever you want to do something good, and so of course the two of you are almost always at each other's throats.

“Oh I’m sorry that I actually have a heart.” “You should be- we have other matters to attend to. Like, well I don't know, the thing inside our heads!”

However, there are moments where Astarion comes to learn that he genuinely likes your kind heart. When you easily forgive him for…hiding what he truly is. Or how you lie when a hunter is out and about. There are moments where you tend to his wounds in complete silence, gently wrapping a bandage around his arm. And when he says a quiet thank you, you simply nod and move on. 

He’d never say this out loud, and of course continues to act as if you are nothing but a nuisance, but he starts to appreciate you little by little. You are not just some naïve adventurer who will drop dead if someone were to ask. You are the strongest person he knows, someone he could depend on if needed. He watches you fuss over the group, solving everyone’s problems. He sees how much work you put into making everyone comfortable, and how little you ask for in return. And while he thinks you’re a little stupid for it, he also recognizes that most of his disdain comes from the fact that he wishes he had someone like you to save him when he was at his lowest. If good people like you exist, then why did nobody come to his aid? 

So maybe he gets less snippy. He doesn’t roll his eyes every time you put the mission on hold to do favors for others. Maybe he starts to fall for you little by little.

And maybe it all becomes clear to him when you get hurt.

It was supposed to be an easy little mission. A peaceful meeting that you were sure you could talk your way out of (it always surprised him how easily you could lie your way out of fights). And of course, Astarion and you just had to get in a little spat beforehand, so he stays at the campsite while you’re off bringing peace to the world. He doesn’t expect to see the others come rushing into camp, dragging your weak body along. He doesn’t expect to see you so pale, fighting for your very life-

He rushes to your side, demanding to know what happened. Something went wrong, and somehow you ended up stabbed with a poisoned dagger in the midst of a fight. He feels his insides churn when they lay you down on a bed roll, and he watches as you give him a weak smile.

“Hey fangs.” you manage to get out, entering a coughing fit shortly after. Your smile almost fades when you notice how scared Astarion looks. It isn’t like him to be so worried. You don’t like seeing him like that so you whisper. “It’s gonna be okay-” And gods does it infuriate Astarion that you’re still trying to help others, help him, when you’re basically dying by his side. So he snaps a bit.

“And how do you know that?” He bites at you, pain and anger in his voice. You flinch a bit, letting a silence take over for a second. You slowly reach out to grab his shaking hand, your grip so weak. “Just trust me.”

He sits by your side, barking orders at everyone else- demanding someone heal you. He’s a bit of a prick as Shadowheart kneels down to tend to your wounds. He seems so angry, but everyone can see the way he’s clinging to your hand. Everyone knows what’s going on. And after you’re healed, and left to recover, he stays by your side. 

When the rest of the camp is asleep, he gently pushes your hair out of your face while looking you over. He’s just now realized how hard he’s fallen. While you’re protecting everyone else someone has to protect you. He may as well be that person.

[sometimeslwish]

Champagne Coast

I've been itching to post these past few days, so I'm curving the need by posting this little gay thing I wrote a whole month ago. I hope you guys enjoy. HAPPY PRIDE MONTH FUCKERS (lovingly)

Word count: 3,635

Tags: Xavier x male!reader, non-mc reader (but in the "they all have their own mc" way), experienced!reader, virgin!xavier, reader is "older" than Xavier (remember that the fucker is ancient), also slightly taller (like two inches or something), first time, kissing, dry humping turned handjob, implied bi/pan Xavier, implied gay reader, pet names (for him: bunny, baby, pretty prince/boy | for you: angel), both sexual and nonsexual nudity, mentioned shower sex, multiple orgasms, mentions of alcohol near the end, pinning, clearly it's an au and Xavier might also be a bit ooc but I don't care.

You're on the couch, in his apartment, when it happens.

You don't even know how you ended up making out with Xavier, don't remember anything as one of your hands goes to the back of his head to pull him closer. You just know that kissing him feels like heaven and you never want it to stop.

His chest presses against yours, and you shift so he can rest comfortably between your legs. His arms are on the sides of your head, keeping him from putting his whole weight on you. You become increasingly aware of how hard you are, of his own erection poking you. It's hard not to grind into it– matter of fact, your hips twitch up into his and he responds in kind.

It's not until your hands sneak under his clothes that he tenses, right after you've flicked his nipples with your thumbs. It's a slight stutter of movement, a second of hesitation, one he tries to hide, but you've already noticed. You pull away from the kiss– much to the displeasure of both of you– and look at him. His face is flushed, pretty pink on his cheeks and beautiful hooded eyes that seem deeper when he looks back at you.

"You okay?"

He nods, licks his lips and you can't help but follow the movement all the way to his throat when he swallows, "Yeah, I just–" his voice comes out hoarse, affected, and damn it, it makes your dick throb.

Your pants feel uncomfortably tight and not getting any reprieve is making you restless but you want to hear him out before continuing. It'll haunt you and take away all the pleasure from this if you don't.

Xavier looking hot on top of you doesn't help. His eyes are darker, entrancing in a way they didn't use to be before, his usual soft appearance is sharpened by desire. Seeing the change is doing wonders to you.

"I've never done this before." He admits in a whisper, staring intently at your lips. You didn't think he could blush harder, but apparently the embarrassment is enough for him to do so.

"Oh?" It's surprising to see a usually calm Xavier look so flustered. You kind of want to see this side of him more. "In general or with a guy?" You pull a hand out from under his hoodie to tilt his chin up, wanting his eyes back on yours, lest you throw caution to the wind and kiss him senseless.

"In general." That surprises you even more, but a part of your brain figures it makes sense. He always keeps a polite distance from people, even when he lends a hand, even when being friendly.

Don't get him wrong, he's sincere and he listens with rapt focus– even if sometimes he zones out– it's made clear by the way he'll ask about whatever you talked about weeks later. But there's an emotional distance, like he won't be there for long, like he's already halfway out the door. He's emotionally reserved in a way that requires more observation skills to be able to read him. It's easy to miss it amidst his ability to sleep anywhere and at any time, his seemingly endless appetite and his laid-back nature.

"Do you–" you swallow, throat dry, and slowly pull your other hand from under his hoodie, leaving it to rest on his waist. You have to fight back a gasp then, because his hips twitch in response and the sudden attention makes you feel breathless.– "do you want to stop?"

You don't want to, but you won't force it if he does. You could probably will your erection away and continue watching the documentary or whatever it was on the tv. Never speak about this, pretend it never happened, and mourn not being able to kiss him ever again.

He shakes his head, "No, I want to keep going." He nuzzles your nose, and you smile at the soft little pecks he gives you. It's cute, like he got shy, or he's waiting for you to want this too. They get deeper when your hand moves from his chin to his nape and picking back where you left off comes easy.

"How far do you want to go?" The question comes out in a breathless whisper, and you feel him hum against your jaw as he kisses your way down your neck.

"I don't know." You gasp when he nibbles near your adam's apple and groan when he sucks a hickey close to your clavicle. His hips moving against yours make it harder to think, it makes you feel light headed, barely even there as your body burns up.

"Okay, I'll just– fuck," he leaves another mark, this time under your jaw, "just follow your lead, then." You don't even remember what you're talking about, more focused on the feel of him than anything else.

He pulls away, and you would be embarrassed for the whine that comes out but he takes off his hoodie and swallowing suddenly becomes harder. You want to bite at the skin under his belly button and leave marks all over his v and hips.

"Can I?" You get snapped out of your reverie when his hands slide under your shirt, leaving goosebumps in their wake as they expand over your lower abdomen. They feel a little rough, calloused, and you can't help but shudder and seek out his touch more. You nod, a little too much and maybe a little too enthusiastic, but it doesn't matter because he takes your shirt off before leaning back over you. You're quick to pull him closer, a leg wrapping over his waist as you kiss him like you need him to breathe.

He moans softly against your lips and you swallow the sound down like a shot, chasing it with his tongue. You arch your chest into his and make a little noise of protest as you grab his waist and pull him down, the sound becomes a moan when his erection grinds against yours. He presses his hips harder and your mouth falls open, a whispered curse leaving your lips.

His movements are jerky, like he wants to move faster and chase after the pleasure but he's trying to hold back, hips stuttering with an unclear rhythm. It shouldn't turn you on as much as it does, it shouldn't endear you either, but it does anyways.

"Slow, bunny, like this." Your hands move to his hips and guide his movements, he gasps against your neck and groans before his movements become more steady. He learns fast under your guidance, and pretty soon, your hands aren't really guiding him but simply following his movements.

"There you go, so good for me, pretty boy." You whisper praises and encouragements to him, smile at his whines and whimpers, laugh softly when he hides his face on your neck and moan when he bites at the skin and thrusts harder.

"Fuck, Xavier, can I?" You ask, fingers pulling at his belt loops. You want to feel him, wrap a hand around the both of you and watch him as he loses himself to the pleasure.

He nods, mirroring your enthusiasm from earlier, "Yeah, yes, please."

That's all you need to unbutton his pants and undo his zipper. He shifts his weight, trying to get rid of yours with one hand as you pull his pants and boxers low enough to free his erection. He only managed to fondle your cock before groaning as you grabbed his. It was curved upwards, a little bit thinner and longer than yours, with a pink tip that matched the blush on his cheeks.

You wanted it in your mouth, see what other reactions he'd give you while you gave him head, feel how he'd fuck into your mouth once you gave him permission. You shove that thought aside for another day. Maybe you'll get to do that if there's a next time. This time, however, you unbutton yours before pulling them low enough to free your erection in what feels like a new record time.

You spit into your hand before wrapping it around both your cocks and squeezing as you pump them. He gasps and lifts himself in an effort to pull away. You don't let him, your legs wrapping around his waist to keep him close.

“Wait, wait, I'm gonna–” his voice sounds desperate and his eyes are wild. You only smile and pump faster.

"It's okay, pretty prince, go ahead; cum all over me.” His reaction is instant, his hips still and his abs clench. He curses as he cums all over your hand, cock and abs.

“You look so pretty like this.” You stare, memorizing the furrow of his brows and the way his mouth hangs open, little moans and whimpers falling from it. He keeps thrusting through it all, like he's trying to bury himself deeper into your hand and that turns you on even more. He leans back on his elbows and clings to you, moaning close to your ear.

"M'sorry," he whines, body weight poorly held over you. You take your hand from between your bodies and wrap the arm around his waist, pulling him into you. He collapses then and feeling his breathing on your neck sends shivers down your spine. This is torture, it hurts to be this hard.

"It's okay," you reassure him, softly petting his hair with your clean hand and kissing his cheek as he comes down from the high, "it felt good, didn't it, baby?" He hums an affirmation, it sounds awfully close to a whine, and you coo at him, kissing a trail on his shoulder and caressing his back.

“It's okay, take your time.” He's still hard against you, not a single sign of it going flacid in sight, you're slightly amazed and even more turned on.

"Wanna make you cum too." He mumbles eventually, once his breathing is steady enough, and you have to bite back a laugh because you can hear the pout on his voice and, god, it's so adorable. It should be illegal how he's managing to be adorable and hot simultaneously.

"You're so cute sometimes." You giggle and he raises his head to look at you. The sight gives you whiplash and knocks the wind out of you; his hair is mused, his eyes are blown and lidded in such a way that it makes him look deadly, his lips are swollen and his skin is practically glowing. Although, that last one might be more of your bias in favor of him.

“Don't.” You warn.

“What?”

“Don't look at me with those eyes.” You wonder what he sees that makes him tilt his head in a way that makes your heart race and blood pump, in a way that makes your hips buck up.

“But they're the only ones I have.” He teases, mock innocence in his voice. You hate how that makes you feel, so you glare at him and pull him down for another taste of his lips. He can't look at you or talk if you're kissing him breathless.

The positions change in that moment, metaphorically. He decides it's his turn to hold both your cocks in his hand, so he leans on one arm, and now it's your turn to hold back from moving too fast. You're strung from the wait, from the torture of having him come all over you and witnessing what he sounds and looks like in that moment. The sight of his face is ingrained into your eyelids, you can see it clearly as you kiss.

He uses his cum as lube, and the squelch of it drives you wild. You groan against his lips before pulling away for air, turning to look between your bodies. His gaze follows yours and the broken sound that leaves him makes you throb.

This is the most turned on you've ever been. You didn't get the appeal before– the desperation making it hard to undress, the thoughts after the filth, the control he so subtly surrendered and he's now reclaiming– didn't think it would affect you this much. You guess that's Xavier's effect over you.

“Fuck, just like that.”

His hips move on par with yours, grinding hard and making you see stars. Now that your hands are free, they get to roam over his body. You cling to his back, his hips, leave scratches over his body, play with his nipples, even tangle your fingers on the strands of his hair when the kisses turn messy.

It's not long before you're gasping out a “I'm close.” to which he responds with “Please, I wanna see you cum.”

He sounds wrecked. He's more vocal than he was before, not loud but his sounds become more frequent, talks a lot more. His forehead ends up against yours, and you open your eyes to find him already staring at you, “Please, angel, come for me?”

The pet name is what does it for you, pushing you over the edge and making you add onto the mess on your chests. Admittedly, you’re a little embarrassed about it, but it's okay because he won't know that.

He stares with the same intensity you did and that's what brings him to the edge; the sight of your eyes rolling back as you mutter a sting of breathless yes's and fuck's. It pulls him along and he gladly follows, hiding his face in your neck. He kisses and nuzzles the skin there as both of you try to regain your breath, heaving and shuddering through the aftershock.

Clean up is a quiet and oddly domestic affair. You grab your shirt– it’s an old one you don't care much for, plain and easily replaceable– and use it to wipe both of your chests. He lets you do it with a flaming face, one you tease him for before he retaliates with a kiss to shut you up. Both of you agree to share a shower after that, hating the sticky feeling.

Your clothes go together on the washing machine and you can't help the giggles that leave you as you walk buck ass naked towards his bathroom. Not the worst you've done and you certainly don't feel any shame or embarrassment, but it's still funny. He giggles along, and you look at each other like two conspiring teenagers that are about to do mischief. It's ridiculous but it feels so right.

You take turns standing under the spray of the water and take turns pampering each other– soft whispers and kisses that are just as soft– as you wash up. You get hard again when you feel him poking you as he hugs you in the midst of it and it becomes round two of fucking each others hands. The water grows cold, but neither of you care as you kiss and come down from the high together.

He lends you clothes and you try really hard not to bury your nose in the hem of his hoodie and sniff it like a dog. You order food while he finishes getting dressed and check the damage on the couch before looking up ways to clean it. You don't talk about it when he comes out, but it never gets awkward. Not when you eat and make jokes as you watch a show on tv or play video games, not when you cuddle on the couch. It's oddly natural, like it's always been part of the dynamic.

He falls asleep on top of you, at some point during the night, and you can't help but follow suit when his warmth and soft snores lull you along.

The morning after is bright and quiet, just as domestic as the day before. You wake up to the sound of the toilet flushing and clean up the table from yesterday's contents before he comes out. You have breakfast together, sitting close and chatting about everything and nothing at all, before you have to leave for your apartment and he has to leave for work.

He offers to wait for you when you leave his apartment, but you remind him of Natasha and tell him not to make her wait. He's a little dejected, and gives you a sad puppy look that makes you laugh and kiss his lips. You don't even register what you've done until he leaves and you've closed the door to your apartment behind you.

Xavier had the time to think about what happened when he showered while you slept, even had the time to jerk off with the memory of yesterday. He smiled like a fool throughout all of it, giddy and filled with excitement at the progress.

You, however, were too lost in the calmness of the morning to even consider thinking about what happened last night. It's in the privacy of your own home that you start having a little crisis. Being neighbors with the cause of it stops you from screaming and freaking out loudly, because he will totally hear you and come running to check on you.

You don't have anyone to talk about this with.

Natasha is out of bounds, as he seems to have a complicated relationship with her. You can't trust Simone or to not throw hints about it during normal conversations so she can tease the both of you. And Tara... well... maybe you could talk about it with her, but you're not that close in the first place.

You don't even know if you should talk about it with someone else anyways, so you go for quietly panicking by yourself as you get ready for the day.

You remember the first time you and Xavier kissed.

It was at a party, both of you drunk as fuck. There's bits and pieces missing, so you don't remember why or how it started. You remember dancing with someone before finding him, and the next thing you knew, both of you were making out.

Nothing happened after that, you remember pulling away and going back to dancing again, this time with him by your side. You don't remember how you made your way home that night, but you know all three of you nursed a killer hangover the next day.

You'd forgotten about it, after a while– when he didn't mention it or give an indicator that he remembered.

In hindsight, maybe you shouldn't have. Maybe you should've paid attention instead, because even if he didn't say anything, he started orbiting around you like a newly formed moon. And that should've been your clue, much like he thought your kiss meant something, even if he thought you didn't remember.

You didn't see how that was the start of something new. How his hesitation when it came to you completely left.

How he stayed close to you whenever you were near, always one step away, the twist of your head or within the reach of your arms.

The attention that he paid to your words specifically, willing his mind to memorize them seconds after you said them, grabbing every hint or clue that led him to knowing more about you.

How he slowly started seeking out more of your affections until he himself started initiating them.

An arm around your shoulders here– first to try and get your attention away from the strangers you talked to, then to subtly ward off whoever was talking with you and mistook your kindness for flirtation. You never saw the glares he gave them, the way they hesitated whenever they saw him. You simply helped with a smile before leaving with him.

Some hand holding there– during group outings or even when it was just the two of you. First, a solution; grabbing each other's hand and pulling so you wouldn't fall behind or lose each other amidst the crowd. You never seemed to be bothered about the fact that he never let go, even after the crowds cleared. Second, a habit; it was comforting to simply hold hands, like he knew his warmth would tether you to the moment and keep your mind from going too fast.

Sitting beside you during shared meals– keeping his leg close to yours, and if he couldn't sit beside you? His foot would always find yours under the table, a leg stretched and kept between both of yours. Putting some of his food on your plate for you to eat when he thought you wouldn't notice. You always did, your younger brothers had trained you into eating fast and staying alert for thieving little fingers. You just never stopped him or said anything because you thought it was cute, because you saw it as his way of showing affection.

Seeking out your company– whether it was in your apartments or out, any time spent with you was enough for him, no matter what you did. Arcades, reading, watching movies or stargazing, trying new foods and rough housing each other. All outings that were immortalized with pictures.

Every single text you sent afterwards that said “Thanks man, today was fun, I really enjoyed spending time with you.” or every single time you uttered the words “This is life.” with a pleased smile while hanging out with him, meant the world. A quiet reassurance you didn't know you were giving.

You didn't know it, ever dense when it came to romantic affairs, but those were dates, all slowly organized into a scrapbook with love spilling from the edges.

He wasn't subtle about his feelings for you at all, not even batting an eye when someone else would call him out, because he knew he just had to wait.

Wait for you to catch up and realize that you wanted him too.

[formylovetodaryldixon]

"Paper Cuts." Intro—Daryl Dixon.

(Not my gif)

Summary: Before a new world covered in blood rose up, you lived an ordinary life, working an ordinary job, being an ordinary person, until your path crosses with Daryl Dixon. He's hurt, always hiding his emotions because they used to spill over dangerously, but it's funny how two broken people can complement each other, to the point of forgetting why you two suffered in the first place. But between meeting each other and breaking up, there was a life that was worth living even with pain in our scars. Because now you know that the important thing about being alive is to live, even with those paper cuts on our skin that sometimes feel like bullet wounds, but those that, at some point in our lives, will no longer hurt at all.

Prequel to "Like there was no tomorrow": Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7

A/N: Hello everyone.

Once again, with great fear, I show you the intro of this little series, set before the apocalypse. This story is to show a little bit of how you and Daryl met before the end of the world, so I hope you like it! Thank you very much for giving it a chance. (I'm taking the liberty of tagging the people who commented on the post I made asking if you would like to read this story, and those who read "Like there was no tomorrow" but if you don't want to, don't hesitate to say so :)

Endless nights wondering why?

The emptiness in his uncomfortable mattress, always in the same position, counting the cracks in the ceiling. Insomnia, always alert, waiting still for the screams from the other side of the door and everything that brought, even if the perpetrators became ghosts a long time ago. Memories of his childhood desecrated, nightmares in his failed attempts to fall asleep, alone, until eventually boredom and tiredness forced him to close his eyes, only to then repeat the cycle in which he lived for many years. But not completely asleep, but always knowing the answer to: why I can’t? although never accepting the truth, living with it like a paper cut in his hand that burned.

All of that and more turned the boy into a young man who grew up unable to heal the wound, but that, at some point in his existence, found a way to live with it and without feeling any more pain, because someone told him that, in the end, we’re all a little broken, and that's okay. At that moment his hand stopped hurting, and although it turned out rough after a lifetime of working with them, now the callousness of his fingers is invisible to you, nonexistent as Daryl continues to slide them over the small of your back, under your black t–shirt, up and down lazily because now, not sleeping is a choice.

Lying on his right side, his outstretched arm is the nest of your head and warm body while sleeping on your stomach, your hand in a loose fist against your face, a habit that makes him chuckle before he gently pushes it away, only to put his finger under your nose, just to check that you’re still breathing. Yeah, there you are, the responsible for the collision of his little world, fracturing the silence that Daryl Dixon had managed to achieve in his solitude. But he wouldn't change this for anything.

However, when the door of his old apartment opens and hits the wall with a thud, his natural protective instinct, the one that was born the first time he took care of his mother after witnessing her first blackout, makes his hand, a second after that resounding sound, leave your back only to press it against your ear to block out the loud giggles coming from the hallway.

As a reflex, your body moves in your sleep.

“Fuckin' asshole.” Daryl grunts in frustration, listening to the way his older brother silences whoever is accompanying him that night.

“Shh, shh, shh.” Merle laughs from the other side of the closed door on his way to his own room, intoxicated by alcohol and other things. “M' sure ma baby brotha’s lil' angel is in there and we don’ wanna wake 'em up, darlin'...”

Although a short time later, the small apartment is filled with moans that travel through the thin walls.

“Goddamn it.” Tired, Daryl closes his eyes, wondering why the hell he hasn't been able to leave that shitty place.

Maybe it was the fear of starting, never something new because Daryl always lived tied to the past, to the pain and his scars, to the usual, to old habits, to his older brother who despite everything, is still his family. Although the ring hidden in his last drawer weighs with the opportunities he missed, that he let pass by for fear of rejection, for fear of his feelings overflowing when he had lived a life feeling little, or nothing at all. But then, there is a giggle on your part that forces him to open his eyes again, taking his hand away from your ear when Daryl sees you rubbing your closed eyelids before opening them, (with the fist you use to block your own breathing as he usually says to mock you) little by little to get used to the semi–darkness of the room and the partial light that enters through the only window.

“I think someone is filming a very dirty porno in your house.”

Daryl chuckles.

“M' sure the idiot paid her a lotta money to do that.”

You shrug, agreeing with him.

“Sounds a bit theatrical to me.”

Surprised, Daryl lets out a laugh as he rubs his face, waking back up just as he was managing to fall asleep.

“Maybe we should jus' keep sleepin' at yer place.”

You nod softly, bringing your loose fist back up to your face.

“I think so. No offense, but your mattress is kinda hard.”

“Shit. Sorry, peach.” His hand finds its way back to your exposed skin, pushing himself close to your body. “M' gonna buy a new one. Now try to sleep 'cause I have to take yer pretty ass to work in the mornin'.”

You chuckle, closing your eyes, knowing well that now, easily, he too will go back to sleep.

You and Daryl had more in common than he ever thought you two would have, because he never met someone like you: a little broken but determined to live life to the fullest, as if you had never left little pieces of yourself behind. Maybe it was the memories of an interrupted childhood, the cigarettes shared on the edge of that lake of the woods where he usually takes you, the jokes you make with your sassy mouth, making fun of him like no one had ever done before, while showing him that laughing more than once a year was allowed, and that trips on his motorcycle were more fun in pairs.

But between meeting each other and breaking up, there was a life that was worth living even with those pain in your scars. Because now you know that the important thing about being alive is to live, even with those paper cuts on your skin that sometimes feel like bullet wounds, but those that, at some point, will no longer hurt at all.

@spookygothmommy @walkingtalkingsomething @m1nda0 @fluffy-dixon @stunkbiggu @kurogxrix @ffsjustletmesleep @kaz11283 @daryldixmedown @enretrogue

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Don't cha wanna dance?

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 30/31

Prompt: New year's resolutions

Rated: T

CW: Vague boner references again

Tags: No UD AU; dancer Steve Harrington; good neighbor Eddie Munson; Flirting; Sexual tension

Notes: Continued from day 22. This is for @sourw0lfs and @wormdebut specifically, who very gently bullied talked me into writing more dancer!Steve. 🩰

Eddie has never understood new year's resolutions. He believes that, if he wanted to change something about himself, he could do it any time. Like quit smoking. Or stop biting his nails. Or be less of a goddamn push-over. 

Okay, so maybe the latter is something he should really, really work on, ‘cause it's gotten him into a whole shitload of unfortunate situations lately. As if chauffeuring Max to her stupid ballet classes wasn't enough. Now he's also helping out at the dancing school’s annual Christmas recital, because he's just such a nice guy, apparently.

While he tries to arrange the lopsided folding chairs into something resembling a neat line, he struggles to remember when he agreed to this shit. For the life of him, he can't recall. His brain was probably flat-lining when Max asked him, as it tends to do around a certain very hot dance teacher and his muscles and his tights and-

“Looking good!” 

He whips his head up. Steve is standing a few paces away. The tights are a pale pink today. Jesus Christ. 

“You too,” Eddie blurts. Steve's eyebrow arches and shit, he wasn't talking about Eddie, was he? “I mean, thanks, I … ow, son of a-”

“Oh, shit!” Steve is next to him in an instant, freeing his hand from the maws of the folding chair. Eddie swears, sucks his throbbing thumb into his mouth. “Sorry, these things are ancient. You need an ice pack? I've got some-” 

“‘m good,” Eddie says. Tries to go for suave. Fails because he's still got his own thumb up his mouth like a fucking two-year-old. “Had worse.” 

Steve’s face is a mask of doubt, but he doesn’t say anything. 

“Anyhow,” he smiles instead, putting the offending chair in line with the rest. “I just wanted to say thanks again. You're probably busy enough around the holidays, but Max insisted you'd be happy to help.” 

“I'm not,” Eddie says. Pauses. Grabs a strand of hair to hide behind. “Busy, I mean. I am happy to help, so … don't sweat it, or whatever.” 

A heartbeat passes in awkward silence. 

“So, what's with the, um …” Eddie says. Watches how Steve tilts his head at him, hair swooshing with the motion. Briefly considers stuffing his thumb back in his mouth to shut himself up. “... with the y’know. The getup.” 

Something flashes across Steve’s face, something dangerously akin to hurt. 

“What?” he asks, doing a hesitant three-sixty. “Something wrong with it?” 

Screw the thumb, Eddie thinks. He needs to find a way to fit his entire hand in there. And Steve, for what it’s worth, needs to stop twirling, or they're about to have a massive fucking problem.

“It’s fine!” he says. Maybe a bit too fast, because he thinks Steve’s mouth curls into a smug smile. “I just mean, um … you’re not … dancing today, are you?” 

Is he? Oh dear God, please no. The place is gonna be swarming with proud parents and relatives, Eddie is not ready for the inevitable consequences of Steve in his pink tights on that stage. Not in the skinny jeans he had to wear today, stupid fucking moron that he is. 

“Huh? No, tonight is all about the girls,” Steve says. Eddie is so busy sighing in relief and nodding that he doesn’t catch the next words.

“Sorry, what?” 

“That other recital I was talking about earlier? You coming to that, too?” Steve repeats, and fuck, what other recital? Eddie really needs to work on his listening skills. If he actually listened instead of staring at the guy like a catatonic caveman every so often, he might be able to maintain a halfway intelligent conversation. 

He’d also probably know why Steve is suddenly coming closer. Eddie tries to take a frantic step backwards and almost crashes into the folding chairs. 

“Oh, erm …,” he stammers. “When was it again?” 

Stever reaches up to run a hand through his hair, boyish and bashful. 

“Um, New Year's Eve,” he says apologetically. “I totally understand if you already have plans, it's just… There's a little get-together after the show, too, with drinks and snacks, and I thought-”

“Sure, I'll be there,” Eddie says. 

See, what did he say? Total push-over. 

The thing is, with the way Steve’s eyes light up, he can't really find it in himself to regret it. 

*

“Ew, what happened to your finger?” Max looks about as disgusted as she sounds. Which is probably fair, because Eddie’s thumb has turned a vibrant purple. 

“These little babies did,” Eddie gestures offhandedly at the chairs they're stacking against the wall. “So be careful.” 

“Were you staring at Steve again?” 

“Fuck off, I wasn't.” 

She pushes the hair that has come loose from its bun out of her eyes so she can give him a deadpan stare. Eddie glowers right back. 

“And even if I was, what's it to you? You can be glad I keep showing up to these gigs. Today, on New Year's Eve, it's really getting-” 

“What are you on about?” Her entire face scrunches up in confusion. “There's no recital on-” 

“Oh no?” Eddie pulls the flier Steve gave him from his pocket and pushes it into her chest. “Then what's this?” 

“That's not our school, dumbass. Check the address.” 

She studies it for a second.

“Huh? What d'you…?” Eddie is already squinting at the letters again. Sure enough, the address doesn't match the one he's been driving Max to. Instead, it's somewhere downtown. “What?” 

“That's the studio Steve goes to,” Max has already returned to stacking chairs. “Super fancy place. He used to be a pro, y’know? Before he tore that muscle?” 

When Eddie doesn’t reply, she tugs the flier from his limp fingers, folds it neatly and puts it into his jacket pocket. 

“Happy new year, doofus. Better wear bulky pants.” 

All my holiday drabbles

[queen-of-the-avengers]

Happily Ever After

Pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~500

Warnings: fluff

Summary: You and Bucky deserve your Happily Ever After, and something tells you that you’re going to get it. It doesn’t matter what you face. If you have Bucky by your side, you know you’ll get through it.

Between Love and Hate Masterlist

Squares Filled: this won't a bit (2023) for @buckybarnesbingo

Author’s Note: this is something short to give you an update on their lives after the events of the entire story. thank you to everyone who loved this series! i had a lot of fun writing it <3

x

You pinch the two fabrics together and slide the pin to keep them together. You take another pin and hold it between your lips before finding another loose spot to pin together. Bucky stands in front of you watching as you work effortlessly on the suit you’re tailoring to his body. He parts his lips when he sees you take the pin out of your mouth to use it on his suit. You lick your dry lips and Bucky shifts in an effort to hide his arousal.

“Would you stop moving? I’m going to poke your skin and you’ll bleed.”

“It won’t be the first time I’ve bled for you.”

“Okay, well, get blood on these clothes and I’m going to kill you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he nods.

“Okay, last pin. This won’t hurt a bit.”

You slide the last pin into place and look up at Bucky with a certain glimmer in your eyes.

“Keep looking at me like that and I’ll get more than blood on these clothes.”

“You’re vulgar,” you gasp and step back.

“You love it.”

“Well, I’m finished now. I’ve recorded my progress and you can take the suit off.”

Bucky steps off the small platform to do just that, and you walk to the double glass doors that lead out to the balcony. You lean on the railing and admire the Eternal City below. Italy. The place you fell in love with since Bucky first took you here. Now you live here and get to do the one thing you’ve aspired to be growing up: a fashion designer. It’s been a year since the incident with Gio but the trauma is still there. You can’t go anywhere without Bucky because you fear you’ll get kidnapped and experience something similar or worse.

Bucky has given you everything you could ever hope to want and need. You don’t have to work since Bucky takes care of you financially. Two months ago, he took you to Paris and gave you a million dollars to spend on whatever you wanted. He truly spoils you even though you don’t need all of that to be happy. You could be in a one-bedroom apartment with an overpriced rent fee and be just as happy. This is what makes Bucky happy so you’ll take it as long as he wants to give it.

Shortly after moving to Italy, you opened your first studio and started making clothes you hope to see in stores soon. The only thing Bucky has provided you with is a studio. Everything else is coming from you which is exactly what you want. You want to look at your clothes and know that it all came from you.

After changing back into a t-shirt and jeans, Bucky walks onto the balcony barefoot. He stands behind you and wraps his arms around your stomach, and you lean back with a smile.

“We should get home. Brute and King are waiting for us and if you keep leaving them alone, they’ll ruin yet another couch. The old one had claw marks everywhere on it.”

“Not my fault they have separation anxiety,” you laugh.

Bucky turns you around and scoops you into his arms, and you wrap your arm around his neck for support.

“Come on, Mrs. Barnes. We have a home to get to.”

“We’re not married… yet. Only one month to go.”

“And a short month it will be.”

“Lead the way, Mr. Barnes.”

And he does all the way home and right back into his heart where you belong.

x

Want to be tagged? Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[writingforstraykids]

I owe you a kiss - Pt.7

Pairing: Minchan x femReader

Word Count: 3592

Summary: The more time you spend with them, the more you realize you're not the only one struggling. Chan and you try to sort things out, making sure Minho feels safe at home as well.

Warnings/Tags: fluff, angst, domestic bullshit, sick!whiny!chan, anxious!min, cuddles

A/N: Sooo...I guess there's still some potential for more. If you have any wishes or thoughts, feel free to share them below the post. in an ask, or send me a message🤭🖤

PART SIX | PART EIGHT

You left early this morning to surprise your husbands with breakfast. Chan told you he'd have the next two days off and stay home with you two. Minho was due for a photoshoot tomorrow so it would be only you and Chan. He's still been keeping his distance beside the kisses anywhere but your lips, the long hugs, and the fondling of your hair. Minho has been more openly showing his love and you were thankful for him. You know you'd have to talk to Channie about it but you could tell he was hesitant about pushing you into something. You quietly lock the front door and put the bags down on the table. The shower upstairs is running, which means at least one of them is up, so you start preparing everything. 

Minho joins you downstairs a little later and gives you a loving kiss. “Good morning, honey,” he smiles sweetly. 

“Morning, darling,” you smile into the kiss. “Channie's still sleeping?” you ask. 

“Am I not enough?” he teases lovingly. 

“Minnie,” you giggle, and his hands wander down your sides. 

“He said something about a bad headache,” he tells you and fondles your back soothingly. “I don't know, maybe he's stressed, maybe it's the weather.”

“Oh,” you nod gently. “Did you give him some painkillers?”

“No,” Minho shakes his head, tilting his head at you. “I thought you could. He usually loves cuddling you when he's in pain.”

“I..uh,” you blink at him, watching his face grow soft. 

“Channie and you really need to talk once he's better,” he says and gently caresses your head. “You know he loves you, right?”

“I try to,” you nod, chewing on your lower lip. “I miss him,” you admit quietly, feeling tears burn in your eyes. 

“I know,” Minho pulls you into a warm hug and kisses your head. “It's a bit more difficult for the two of you because he left off when he wasn't feeling much, struggling to tell you he loves you and more. He doesn't want to force himself onto you, scared that he'll hurt you,” he says. “He…he also feels like you need me more at the moment and feel more safe around me.”

“Oh,” you say quietly. 

“I don’t blame any of you, I think you two should just talk, hm?” he suggests. “Now come on, baby, Channie needs you.”

“What about you?” you ask, confused. 

“I have to leave for the shoot in a bit,” he says, seeing your face fall, knowing you must’ve forgotten.

“I thought that’s tomorrow,” you admit, a little embarrassed. “I’m sorry, Min.”

“No, don’t be sorry, honey,” he smiles at you reassuringly. “That only means we can all spend some time together tomorrow. That’s even better now that Channie isn’t feeling so well today,” he tells you. 

You chuckle softly, cupping his face and kissing his forehead. It all feels so easy with Minho, easing out every little thing you forget so smoothly. “Make sure to eat something first, okay? Or at least take something with you.”

“I will,” he promises, unable to hide the soft blush coloring his ears at your gentle gesture. He peeks into the bag on the table, and a wide smile covers his face. “You got some pudding as well?”

“Mhm,” you hum, smiling softly as he takes it out and stares at the package before spinning back around to you. 

“Wait, that’s my new favorite…how would you-?” his eyes widen with excitement as you nod gently.

“Seeing it I had the feeling you love that one,” you nod. “Like not…a specific memory, but I felt weirdly sure about it,” you tell him, heart warming at the way he beams at you happily. 

“I hope you know how great you’re doing,” he says so softly it tugs at your heartstrings. “That first breakthrough was only a week ago, and here you are,” he giggles.

You exhale softly, nodding. “I’m glad because that means there’s an actual chance I’ll start remembering more,” you smile, laughing, surprised as he kisses you fiercely. Minho doesn’t pull away, hands pulling you in as close as he can. Your hand automatically wanders up into his hair, your other resting on his arm as you kiss back. Two steps and your back hits the counter. Minho reaches down, hands wrapping around the back of your thighs, and lifts you up onto the counter effortlessly without breaking the kiss apart. His fingers dig into your thighs as he deepens the kiss with a low hum, and you can tell he has trouble holding himself back. “Minho,” you whisper against his lips. “Min, stop,” you say gently, and he does immediately.

He searches your eyes, a hint of anxiety in the pure need coating his orbs. “Sorry,” he pants softly, reddened lips parted and glistening from the heavy kisses. “I-I should’ve asked first.”

You cup his face, soothingly rubbing his thumbs across his cheeks. “My dear Min,” you say softly. “I’m your wife, and I appreciate you asking, but right now, there’s really no need to,” you assure him, and he visibly relaxes. “You’re gonna be late.”

“Is that all?” he asks mischievously. 

“Min,” you snort.

“Is that the only reason I can’t have you for breakfast instead?” he asks again. 

“Yes, that’s the only reason,” you giggle, gently shoving his chest. “Now fuck off, Min.”

He smirks, gently squeezing your thighs, and takes a step back. “You owe me tons of kisses later,” he announces giddily. 

You laugh, hop back down, and kiss him once more. “Stay safe, okay?”

“I have to,” he says gently. “I really want that kiss,” easing both of your worries hidden beneath this small exchange.

“I’ll go check on Chan now,” you tell him, and he hums agreeingly. 

-

Only a little later, you carefully open the door to your bedroom, trying to close it as quietly as possible. “Channie?” you whisper, and he hums groggily in response. “I brought you some painkillers and water. Do you think you can sit up for a moment?”

Chan groans in response before pushing himself up. He squints at you sleepily, trying to ignore the pulsing pain shooting through his head at sitting up. You sit down at the edge of the bed next to him, handing him the pill. Chan drowsily takes it and lets you bring the glass to his lips, taking a few sips. 

“You’re hungry?” you ask, still keeping your voice barely above a whisper.

“No,” he mumbles, eyes already falling closed again. “Feel sick.”

“Oh, poor baby,” you say softly, and Chan blindly reaches out for you. 

“Stay?” he asks pleadingly.

“If you want me to,” you say gently.

Chan nods before contorting his face. “Ow,” he whines softly, scrunching up his nose adorably. “I think I’m dying.”

You bite back a soft chuckle and climb back into bed, getting comfortable next to him. “Come here, you big baby,” you tell him, and he doesn’t need a second invitation to curl up in your arms. 

“M’not a baby,” he mumbles softly into your chest, burying his face in your comforting warmth. 

“You really wanna argue now?” you tease him lovingly. “I thought you were dying.”

“Fuck you,” he giggles weakly, pulling you closer. “It really hurts, Y/nnie,” he whines after a moment of silence.

You forget sometimes how needy he gets when he’s in pain. “What hurts, baby?”

“My stomach,” he groans softly. 

“Let me get you a heat-” you start and sit up, but he pulls you back down.

“Don’t go,” he pleads, looking at you with those big brown puppy eyes you couldn’t say no to.

“Channie, angel, I’m trying to help,” you giggle softly.

“You are,” he says timidly. “Hold me, please? I…I really missed that. I missed you.”

Oh. “I’m here,” you tell him softly, welcoming him back into your arms. You gently run your hand through his hair, and he melts into you with a soft sound. “Is that okay?” you ask as you carefully start massaging his scalp. 

“Yeah,” he breathes out. “Feels good.”

“Tell me if it hurts, okay?” you ask gently, and he hums. The tension in his body lessens a little the longer you massage his scalp, running your fingers through his messy curls. You don't know how long you stay like this with him, but you have the feeling he's asleep after a while, his breathing growing calm. His head is tucked in safely beneath yours, his hand slipped beneath your sweater resting against your lower back. It almost feels normal again if there weren't that stupid little voice in the back of your head telling you differently. 

Chan turns in his sleep, scooting back as he misses your warmth. “Baby,” he whines sweetly, reaching back for your hand. He pulls your arm forward so you're hugging him and cuddles back into you. 

You chuckle softly and scoot closer, planting a tiny kiss on the back of his neck. “I'm here, Channie, I'm here,” you promise quietly. 

“Still hurts,” he mumbles, only half awake. 

You gently slip your hand beneath his shirt, resting it on his tummy. “Here, baby?” you ask gently, and he hums in response. You start rubbing soothing circles over his tummy, trying to ease him a little. 

Chan exhales, relieved, sinking back into his slumber. You bury your nose in his shoulder, closing your eyes as your senses are flooded with him. His skin feels warm beneath your fingertips, his soft breathing lulls you in, and his scent surrounds you. “I love you so much,” you whisper, and he doesn't stir one bit, finally fully asleep. 

-

Minho gets home later to the sight of you two cuddled up in bed. Chan's head is resting on your chest now as he sleeps on top of you. You have your arms wrapped around him lazily, looking peaceful in your sleep. He smiles softly and leans down, lovingly fondling your head and brushing back Chan's curls. He doesn't want to wake you two up yet, but glancing at his watch, he knows he should. Neither of you would be able to sleep tonight otherwise. “Hey, my loves,” he tries gently, rubbing Chan's back and your arm to get you to wake up. 

“No,” Chan protests sleepily. 

“Come on, Channie. You won't be able to sleep tonight,” he tells him, and Chan groans softly. “Y/nnie, wake up, honey,” he says gently, and a shiver runs down his spine as you’re too deep asleep to react. “Y/n?” he asks again, and Chan looks up at his tone. 

“Kitten,” he says soothingly and sits up, rubbing his face. “She's okay,” he promises. Minho glances at you worriedly until Chan gently grabs his chin and turns his head to face him. “Breathe.” He reaches out for you, tickling your side. 

“Ey, fucker!” you curse sleepily, swatting his hand away. 

Minho blinks at you for a moment before a weak laugh falls from his lips. “Fucks sake,” he whispers to himself. “I'm such an idiot,” he mutters and gets up, grabbing his keys from the nightstand. “Come down once you're ready, yeah? I brought lunch.”

Chan watches him thoughtfully as he leaves and glances back down at you. “Come on, pretty,” he giggles softly. 

“Ugh, fine,” you groan and sit up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. “How's your head?”

“A lot better,” he tells you, grabbing a sweater from his closet. 

“Your stomach?”

“All good,” he smiles gently. “Thank you, baby girl.”

“Of course,” you mirror his smile, but you see the worry lacing his features. “What's wrong?”

“I don't know, something's off with Min,” he says. “You didn't react when he tried to wake you, and I think he got scared for a second.”

“Oh,” you nod gently and tilt your head at Chan. “Maybe that's it. I'm sure he'll be fine. If not, we're there.” Chan nods agreeingly and offers you his hand, helping you out of bed. 

Chan exchanges a look with you as a loud thunder ripples through the air. “You know what that means?”

“More cuddles and a movie?” you smirk back. 

“Exactly,” he grins, pulling you downstairs with him. 

Minho already sets the table and smiles tiredly as you join him downstairs. Another thunder makes him flinch, barely noticeable, and he takes a deep breath. “Just rain,” he tells himself quietly.

“You need help with anything?” you ask him. 

“No, it's okay, you guys can sit down,” he tells you and grabs you all some glasses from the cabinet. Chan and you continue talking as Minho pours you all something to drink. The rain outside picks up, hammering against the roof. 

“I think we should turn on the light, it's getting darker every minute,” Chan says, getting up to do so. 

“Yeah, that's a lot better and-,” you break off as the next thunder makes Minho flinch so hard he's pouring the lemonade all over your lap. 

“Oh shit, I'm so sorry,” he apologizes immediately, putting it down and grabbing some tissues. You watch him cautiously as he tries to clean the mess up as well as he can and notice his hands shaking heavily. 

“Min?” you ask gently and exchange a look with Chan. Something is very wrong. “Min, look at me.” He does, and there's fear in his eyes, looking like he's about to zone out. “Minnie, what's -.”

Outside, a car suddenly hits the brakes, an ugly screeching sound rippling through your ears. Minho covers his ears with his hands in horror and presses his eyes closed, exhaling shakily. “It's okay, everything is okay,” he whispers, and the sight breaks your heart as you connect the dots. 

Chan seems to pick up on it as well, as you both move at the same time. Chan pulls Minho against his chest, wrapping his arms around him from behind. He soothingly rubs his chest and meets your eyes as you step in front of them. You gently take Minho's hands and pull them from his ears. “Minho, darling, look at me,” you say gently, and Minho does, gasping softly. “We're okay. It's just bad weather, but we're safe, okay?”

“Okay,” he nods quickly and tries to focus back on you. You cup his face, and he covers your hands with his own, taking a deep breath. “Okay,” he whispers. 

“Remember what you told me this morning?” you ask, and Minho chuckles weakly. 

“You owe me at least one kiss,” he says, slowly relaxing in Chan's hold combined with the sound of your voice. 

“Yeah,” you giggle softly. “We're okay, hm?”

Minho nods before dropping his head onto your shoulder with a soft sound. “I'm sorry,” he says and wraps one arm around you, his other hand finding Chan's on his chest. 

“Don't be,” Chan tells him gently. 

“It's okay,” you assure him. 

“I love you two so much,” he sighs softly, and you both squeeze him gently. 

“We love you too, kitten,” Chan answers for the both of you. 

You stay there for a while until Minho giggles softly. “You can let go now.”

“You're sure?” Chan smirks. 

“Very sure,” Minho snorts. 

“You already have enough of our love?” you chime in teasingly. 

“Never,” he giggles. 

“Then what's the rush, huh?” Chan chuckles, covering the back of his neck with tiny kisses as you do the same to his face. 

“Oh, for fucks sake,” he laughs happily. Chan and you exchange a fond gaze at the so beloved sound, knowing he's okay. “I can't reheat lunch again.”

“Fine,” you giggle, letting go of him again. 

-

The movie’s long finished as you're still all on the sofa. Minho's stretched out on the sofa, his head resting in your lap, legs thrown over Chan's. He's asleep by now, exhausted from his day. You mindlessly play with his hair, drawing patterns on his face in awe. Chan absentmindedly fondles his thighs, head back against the headrest as he stares at the ceiling. You glance at him, gently running your hand through his hair. “How's your head?” you ask as his eyes flutter close at your touch. 

“Much better,” he assures you gently, turning a little to face you. Looking into his eyes, you can see the many questions in them, mirroring your own. “Y/nnie?” he asks, barely audible. 

“Mhm?” you hum, still playing with his curls. 

“Do you…Do you still love me? Actually love me?” he asks so timidly your breath hitches in shock. 

“I-,” you stare at him, almost confused. Wasn't that supposed to be your question? 

Chan takes your silence the wrong way and nods, turning away from you. “Okay…fuck,” he whispers, his throat tightening. He's up before you know it, leaving the two of you as tears fill his eyes, and he feels like he can't breathe. 

You need a moment to process what's happening before quickly getting up, resting Minho's head on a pillow, and covering him with a blanket. 

Chan's upstairs in the bathroom, bracing himself on the sink so firmly that his knuckles turn white. His head hangs low, but you know the way his body’s trembling; he's holding back sobs. You slip underneath his arm so you're trapped between his body and the sink. “Channie,” you whisper, helplessly cupping his face. Your hands meet his wet skin, and you try to wipe his tears away. “Channie, my dear boy.”

“I'm sorry I messed it all up,” he whimpers. “I shouldn't have pushed you away back then, and I shouldn't have now. I swear I'll make it up to you. Please just give me a chance,” his voice cracks at the last bit. 

“Okay, okay, come here,” you say, pulling him into your arms. He buries his face in your shoulder, shaking in your arms. “Listen closely now, yeah?” you ask, waiting for his nod. “I will never stop loving you. Min told me how rough those months before the accident were for you, and I won't judge you for that. I know how hard you try to make Min and me comfortable, don't think I don't see that,” you tell him gently, soothingly rubbing his back as he grows calmer in your hold. “I'm scared I'm not the woman you love anymore because, well, I forgot a lot, and I carry a lot of baggage around now. And seeing you keeping your distance, I only felt like I was right about that…but maybe we're scared of the same thing about ourselves?”

Chan pulls back and smiles at you with teary eyes. “Y/nnie, you don't mean anything less to me than when we met. Fuck, you mean so much more to me by now. I just…Now that I got it back it feels like I don't know where to put all that love I have for you two and..I try bottling it up before scaring you off.”

“Please don't,” you tell him gently. “You've always been so loving, don't try to hide that. I really miss that, angel.”

Chan leans his forehead against yours in defeat and takes a shuddery breath. “So we're okay?” he asks timidly. 

“We're okay,” you whisper. “Can I kiss you?” you ask and Chan's body automatically searches yours, fingers digging deep into the fabric of your sweater. 

“Please,” he breathes out. Your lips meet, pulling a soft sound from him. “Missed you so much,” he whispers into the kiss, hands cupping your face so delicately as if you were made of glass. 

You only pull back once you feel he's ready and wrap your arms around his neck, cuddling into him. “I love you, Channie. So, so much. Never forget that.”

“I love you too,” he smiles softly. “I'll do better.”

You shake your head and soothingly run your hand through his hair. “Channie…I think sometimes we forget we interrupted your healing process with that stunt we pulled.”

“Don't call that a stunt,” he laughs in protest. 

“Okay,” you giggle, amused. “But like…you were working things out and coming back…Min told me how fucked up he was. I know that fight we had and what happened today is only a small glimpse of what you dealt with. So, you didn't really have time to get back home.”

“I suppose not,” he nods gently, frowning a little. 

“I can't change the fact that I need to be patient for my memories to come back…even if it's just partially,” you say and gently kiss his head. “But I will try my best to help you two feel comfortable around me and make sure you have a loving home.” Chan doesn't say anything, but the way he clings to you tells you everything you need to know. “Let's go get Minnie, I think we could all use the extra hours of sleep today.”

“Mhm, okay,” he hums softly, not quite ready to let go of you. 

“We can cuddle, angel,” you promise, and he pulls back with the sweetest smile on his lips. 

-

Chan gently picks up Minho from the sofa who protests with a soft whine. “Shh, it's okay, just taking you to bed,” he says fondly. 

Minho wraps his arms around him sleepily. “You two are okay?” he asks softly, having noticed your sudden absence. 

“Yeah, we're okay,” Chan nods. 

“That's good,” Minho smiles sweetly, kissing his neck sleepily. 

He doesn't protest much as Chan lowers him into bed and cuddles into you contently. Chan climbs into bed on your other side, doing the same. You fall asleep much more at peace than usual. You'd take care of your boys now. 

PART SIX | PART EIGHT

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

Taglist: (Please let me know if you want to be added to/removed from the taglist!)

If your name is marked red I couldn't tag you for some reason.

@atinyniki @galaxycatdrawz @silverstarburst @kailee08 @aaa-sia @lilmisssona @kthstrawberryshortcake @channieaddict @soullostinspaceandtime @rebecca-johnson-28 @lixie-phoria @kibs-and-bits @xxstrayland @ihrtlix @pheonixfire777 @mellhwang @palindrome969 @michelle4eve @harshaaaaa @rylea08 @heeyboooo @manuosorioh @gisaerlleri @andassortedkpop @lailac13 @bbokari711 @kazuuuaaa @rssamj @wolfyychan @stellasays45 @chrizzztopherbang @ontito0icongirls @furiousheartpoetry @bluesiebirdie @scarlet789 @ziipzeepzop-eez @lost-in-avoidance @dprkbyn @bear8585 @lee-knows-cats @mintchip17 @zdgx1 @zerefdragn33l @chansducky10 @melanctton @0325tiny @ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal @daisyjihannie @felixs-brownies78 @moonchild9350 @weareapackofstrays @roriiror

[oddballwriter]

The Sticky Note Game

꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦

Summary: You have a silly little game that you, Jake, and Steven play. But someone accidentally messes it up and ends up finding out about said game.

Warnings: None that I actually know of. “Y/N” is used two times.

Author’s Snip: Just a cute thought I had and wanted to write about.

I’ll shut up now. Enjoy! And don’t be afraid to request.

꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦

  It was a game that was originally between you and Jake. It worked like tag where someone was it and they had to make the other person it. But instead of running around the flat and making a bunch of ruckus you would write on a piece for sticky note and hide it where the other would see it. You weren’t sure when this started but it was a thing the two of you did together and was actually really fun when it came down to watching and waiting for the other to see the note and then be it. Well, it was between just you and Jake till Steven found the sticky note that was meant to get Jake. 

  He was looking through the fridge to see if there were any items that would expire soon. Jake had some beer bottles on one of the shelves that he placed next to the oat milk which he was going to check until he noticed the sticky note attached to one of the bottles that had “You’re it >:)” written on it. He took it off and asked you why it was there.

  You laughed for a bit and told the even more confused Steven about this game you played with Jake. Steven nodded in understanding before looking back at the sticky note and then asking “So, what? Does this mean I’m it now?”.

  After that, you and Jake had changed the rules to make the game fair. You needed to write who its to, who it was making the tag, no double tags, and you couldn’t say if you knew where a sticky note was. Oh, and co-fronting when a sticky note was being made was cheating because the two alters could tag each other and if you are co-fronting when your tagging note was found by another it counts because you technically saw it.

  This game of three went on for a long while too. 

  Till there was a bit of an issue...

  It had been two whole months, and no new sticky note was found and you were starting to get suspicious. You were it and had made a note that would tag Steven by putting the note on the back of one of his books. But Steven made no sign that he saw it. Which didn’t make sense since the book moved spots. So he had to have seen it and had made a sticky note to tag someone else. But none appeared. You even went looking for a note, regardless of it would make you it again. 

  Out of all of the players to possibly cheat, Steven seemed like he would never. But you shouldn’t put it past him, Steven can be a bastard if he wants to be. 

  But it turns out that all three of you were silently eyeing each other up since there was no sign of and new tags. Soon Steven decided to go looking for a new sticky note in case it was just that well hidden.

  “Steven,” Marc said as he watched Steven looking through the whole flat for something from a nearby refection. “What the hell are you doing? Did you drop something?” he asked. “No. I’m looking for a sticky note, mate.” Steven responded. Marc jerked an eyebrow in confusion. “A sticky note? Wouldn’t that be where you put all your sticky notes?” he asked. 

  “No. It’s not any sticky note, Marc. It’s a specific one.” Steven clarified and he moved to a different spot to check. “Well, what’s it for?” Marc asked as he followed Steven with a new reflective surface. Steven sighed before speaking. “Okay. Don’t laugh. But me, Y/N, and Jake play this tag game using sticky notes and we put them places for us to find. But it’s been a while and no one’s found the bloody thing.” Steven explained. “I wanna make sure no one’s went on and cheated.” Steven says. 

  “Who was it last?” Marc asked. “I don’t know, mate. That’s the point.” Steven responded. “I think that would be Y/N.” Marc said out of the blue. “There was a sticky note on the back of one of your books from them to you but it just had a smiley face on it.” Marc confessed. Steven almost banged his head on the bottom of the table he was looking under. “What did you do with it?” Steven asked as if it were life and death. “Which one is it, Marc?” he said looking right at the surface Marc was on. “The green one. I killed a spider with it and saw it on the back.” Marc explained, “I took it off though cause I killed the spider using the back and it got on the sticky note.” he admitted. 

  “Finally!” Steven exclaimed as he went towards his desk to write on a sticky note to tag someone.

  “How long have you three been doing this.” Marc questioned. “Oh, I’ve been playing for while but the other two were the ones playing it originally, I just sort of walked into it and they let me be a part of it.” Steven explained as he took the note off of he pad and placing it in Jake’s hat. “Don’t tell Jake that’s there.” he said to Marc. 

  “Okay?” Marc said before standing there in the reflection for a moment. “Do you want to join? Seems kind of rude to tell you about the game and not let you participate.” Steven offered. Marc shrugged with a “Sure.”. 

  A week had passed, during which you heard Jake shout “Son of a bitch!” when he found the note Steven left. 

  You had woken up in the morning a few days after that and were getting ready to take your morning shower till you noticed a sticky note addressed to you on one of your shampoo bottles saying,

  “I’m playing the game now. You’re it. 

                                                 - Marc”