#cause he wants to imitate his mom ^^ | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mirai-lunar · 3 months ago

Note

Girl I LOVE your fic <3 I love how different the reader is depending on the variant and I would love to read a part 2 with some of the other variants that you didn't do yet!

Good idea ♡ I also plan to write more about the previous variants in the near future, so this will be like a bonus chapter.

(Bonus) Invincible Variants X Fem! Reader

Includes: Masked Mark, Veil Invincible (Shiesty Mark), Unmasked Mark, Viltrum Mark

Word Count: ~3.7k

Warnings: Dark Content, Violence, Yandere Behavior

Masked Mark

This Invincible was sorrowful.

“Oh no, how horrible…”

You stood in your kitchen, a small knife in hand.

You had originally been chopping up some ingredients, but your eyes were now glued to your Tv, watching recaps of the chaos that unfolded over the world.

As you focused your attention back to chopping, the sound of a window opening caused you to jolt.

You quickly caught your breath, before wincing in pain soon after. Your knife had sliced through your hand in the spur of the moment.

But you couldn’t worry about that now. Someone was breaking in.

You crouched low, hiding behind a table.

Heavy footsteps could be heard, and you clutched the knife to your chest. When the footsteps were close and had stopped, you decided this was your time to act.

You quickly leapt out from your hiding spot, ready to stab whoever you saw. But to your surprise, no one was there.

That is, until you looked up.

Someone was floating in the air above you, and was looking directly at you.

You gasped, and the person put their hands out.

“It’s okay! I won’t hurt you!” He said.

He was wearing black and blue, and his mask completely covered his face. His voice didn’t seem to hold any ill intent, but then again, he had just broken into your home.

You recognized who he was, and you now knew your situation was dire.

“You’re… one of those Invincible Imitators on the news…” You whispered, taking a step back.

“Y/n, I promise I won’t hurt-”

“How the hell do you know my name!?” You snapped. As he moved closer, you outstretched the knife in your hand, your eyes narrowed. “Stay. Back.”

To your surprise, he stopped moving towards you, his once outstretched hands falling to his side. The only distance between you two now was your arm’s length.

“...You’re hurt,” he murmured.

You had completely forgotten about the cut on your hand. The dripping blood had now accumulated into a tiny puddle just below your feet.

He then turned away, making a beeline for your bathroom. This left you confused, until he returned with your first aid kit in hand.

“I’ll explain everything, but please, let me help with that.”

…

Your instincts were screaming at you to fight, but you had seen what one of these guys could do to an entire city. So you instead lowered the knife on the table.

He washed the blood off your hands, cleaning the area as he spoke to you.

“I know your name because… I know you. When you were alive in my world, we loved each other.”

What?

“Some terrible things happened. I lost mom and then you… I couldn’t handle it,” he explained. He sounded so… troubled. You winced as he applied ointment, and he quickly apologized. “But I was given a second chance here. I could save you, I could save her…”

He now wrapped your hand in a bandage. Once it was firmly secured, his hand gently grazed across yours, before looking up at you.

“I didn’t want to be a monster, but I had to be. For mom, and for you.”

He didn’t seem sadistic, or even cocky. He was just… sad. You almost felt sorry for him.

Almost.

You snatched your now bandaged hand away from him. Your eyes looked directly into his goggles, the sound of pure hatred in your voice.

“I could never love you.”

That completely shattered his heart.

“Y/n… please don’t say that...” he whispered. It sounded like he was on the verge of tears.

Great, now you felt like a monster.

You looked away, a pang of regret on your face. As he spoke again you looked back at him.

“We can talk more later.” His hand locked around your wrist, and your heart dropped. “I found you, but I still need to find mom.”

“I can’t go with you,” you said, trying to pull away from his grip. He was not letting go. “This isn’t right. You can’t just take what you want.”

“I don’t know if the others know about you, so it isn’t safe to stay here-”

“Let, go of me,” you said. Your free hand reached for your knife, before ramming the weapon into his arm. The knife immediately snapped on impact, breaking itself but not his skin. You cursed aloud and tried to pry his hand off you, but he only pulled you into a gentle hug, now locking both your hands to your side. “Let go!!!”

You kept screaming and he frowned. Your yelling would only bring more attention to the two of you once he left the house.

“Y/n, please.”

“No!! No!!! You can’t-”

You then felt a sudden pain on the side of your neck, your vision instantly blurring. Your cries for help had ceased, and your body now went limp in his arms. His swift attack had knocked you completely out.

“I’m sorry…” he whispered. Seeing you unresponsive made him immediately regret his actions. “I had to...”

He held you close for a bit, before once again making his way towards the window.

“I’ll change my ways, I promise. But for now, I have to be this monster.”

Veil Invincible

“Find me a good interview. Or today will be your last, Y/n.”

His variant was arrogant.

As you sat in the backseat of the news van, your boss’s words lingered in your head. This was an ultimatum. If you didn’t get a good interview before the end of the day, then your dream of being a reporter was over.

You needed to find someone worth interviewing, and that’s when you saw him.

He was clad in blue and yellow, and had a mask that fell down his face, similar to a veil. Only one thought shot through your mind.

Invincible! Bingo.

“Stop the car!” You exclaimed.

The driver barely had time to slam on the brakes before you pulled the door open. As you hopped out, you noticed that civilians ran past you in fear. You calmed yourself before running towards the destruction, slowly making your way closer to the hero.

He wiped the bottom of his face, taunting those who he had just beaten.

“Is this the best you’ve got? Come on, I’ve barely broken a sweat!”

“Excuse me! Excuse me! Mister Invincible!”

He turned to the sound of the voice, noticing that your calls were specifically directed at him. You were in a tailored suit, and was dangling off a somewhat large piece of rubble.

It seems you attempted to climb over that rubble to get to him?

You then abruptly let go, dropping just a bit before landing on your butt. It took some time, but you eventually picked yourself up, dusted off your suit, and quickly made your way towards him.

What the fuck was he seeing?

Were you going to fight him? No, it wasn’t that. You just looked determined.

He dropped his fighting pose, before resting both hands on his hips.

Now he had to know what you wanted.

You mentally prepared yourself as you now stood right in front of him.

“Hello Mr. Invincible!” You happily said. Your eyes sparkled, and he was genuinely confused. Shouldn’t you be running away?

“....Uh, Hello?”

“Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?” You said.

He looked you over, noticing you were wearing an earpiece and holding a microphone in your hands.

Oh, so you were a reporter. That explains the outfit.

He turned away from you before throwing up a hand, waving you off.

“Sorry lady, you’ve got the wrong guy.”

“...O..oh..”

That left you embarrassed.

You remained in place for a bit, eyes focused to the ground.

“But, you answered when I called…” you murmured, clutching your microphone. “I thought you were him…?”

Maybe your boss was right. You weren’t cut out for this. The weight of constant failure was becoming too much.

You thanked him for his time, tears spilling down your face as you turned away.

“Wait wait… You just can’t go off crying without telling me what’s wrong,” he said, a sigh leaving his lips. You hesitated, your back still faced away from him as he continued to speak. “Go on.”

“I need an interview.” You were embarrassed that you were even mentioning this. You quickly wiped your face. “Or my boss will fire me today.”

“Now that’s fucked! You seem to be doing a good job in my opinion,” he said. The fact that you were out here without a care for your safety was amusing to him. You quietly thanked him. “Seems like you really need that interview. I’ve got time.”

You spun around to face him, your eyes now lit up.

“Really? Thank you so much Mr. Invincible!”

He held back laughter. Where did all the tears go?

You looked to your left and noticed your camera crew in the distance. You happily waved them over, but to your surprise they seemed… panicked?

“What’s wrong? Guys, I’m over here!!” You yelled. Now he was laughing as he spoke.

“I’ll bring you over to them.”

He then lifted you into his arms, before flying you to where your camera crew was. As he set you down, you encouraged your camera crew to set up, and they quickly did so upon seeing the cracking knuckles of a certain Invincible.

Once you were given the all clear you began your interview.

“Hello everyone! This is Y/n L/n, and I am joined today with our hero, Mr. Invincible! Now, Mr. Invincible, what are your opinions on the current catastrophe?”

“Well, I’d say this place was definitely overdue for a remodeling.”

You laughed at his silly joke, but your camera crew were dying inside.

“-But as long as I can fight someone, I’ll keep fighting, no matter what,” he said. You smiled at him.

“I applaud your tenacity! Have your recent battles been tough?” You asked.

“Some yes, most no. But this world does have a lot to offer.”

“I see. Anything else you’d like to say before we sign off?”

He waved to the camera.

“Stay safe out there! You never know who you’re dealing with. Or talking to!”

As the cameras shut off and your camera crew ran for their lives, you thanked him profusely. You were ecstatic to finally get an interview, and from Invincible no less!

“I’m sorry for taking up your time, especially with so much going on…” you murmured. “But I truly appreciate it.”

“No prob. You did a good job out there, lady.” He said as he leaned in. You leaned in as well and pecked the side of his face, him freezing in place at the sudden kiss.

“My name is Y/n, Mr. Invincible.”

“...Fuck- Do you kiss every person you interview?”

“Nope, you’re the first.”

He then pulled you close, and the two of you shared a passionate kiss…

In the midst of total chaos.

As you both pulled away, you were on cloud nine. You silently thanked your camera crew for not being here to see this.

“You mind if I speak with your boss? I need to let him know how much of a mistake it is to fire you,” he said.

Now Invincible was going to speak to your boss on your behalf? Your day just kept getting better!

“I don’t mind at all!” You happily said. You handed him a card specific to your news station and he browsed over the address. “Feel free to visit anytime!”

“How about we both go together right now? It’ll be faster.”

“Oh! Okay then!”

He lifted you into his arms, and you happily wrapped your arms around his neck. As he took off into the sky, you smiled brightly.

Today was a perfect day.

Unmasked Mark

*Note: This variant's love for you is purely platonic.

This variant was quiet.

You were one of his closest friends, so he had to do this.

Your left hand wiped across your face, noticing the alarming amount of red that now painted your fingers.

It was blood. But it wasn’t yours.

You slowly turned to your left, seeing a person clad in yellow and blue. His face was completely visible, and he was crouched low, his eyes focused on his latest victim. Or more like what was left of them.

Your fiancé.

The body was unrecognizable. This monster had left your lover in a mangled mess.

As he stood, he was drenched in blood. You covered your mouth and turned away, trying to prevent yourself from vomiting up your insides.

“Oh God, this can’t be happening…”

He flicked the blood off his hands, but didn’t bother with the splatters of blood across his face. He held a look of disdain, his eyes focused on what was once your fiancé. When he looked at you though, his eyes softened.

He didn’t say anything. Why wasn’t he saying anything?

“Why…?” You whispered. Tears spilled from your face. “He’s not dead. He can’t be…”

“...”

“What the hell is wrong with you!” You screamed. “He was my fiancé!! I loved him!!”

He looked away, his gaze now focused to the left of him.

Your response to this situation was justified. But he really hated that guy. Your fiancé had murdered you in a fit of rage in his world.

So if he killed him now, you wouldn’t have to worry about that. It seemed to be the most logical thing to do.

He was certain you would find someone else.

“...I’m sorry,” he murmured. He wasn’t remorseful of his actions in the slightest. But he did feel bad you witnessed that.

Maybe he should have waited a little longer to kill him.

Your eyes widened at his response.

“You’re apologizing? That’s all you have to say?!”

His hands were clasped just below his stomach, listening attentively to you. In any other situation you would have sworn he wouldn’t hurt a fly, but you had just seen him violently slam your lover’s head in.

“Say something!” You choked out, tears now pouring from your eyes. You couldn’t muster the courage to look at your other half anymore, already scarred for life.

So you just cried aloud, covering your bloodied face with your hands. You just wanted this all to end.

When you felt a hand on your shoulder, your body froze in place. You were too frightened to keep crying, let alone look up. His words were haunting.

“You can be with someone else… I won’t kill them.”

Not unless he had to.

He didn’t know if that was the right thing to say at the moment, but he meant it. He ultimately felt responsible for your death in his world.

And he would not let that happen again.

You pushed away from him, running into the night. The sidewalks were dimly lit, and the faint smell of smoke filled the burning city. Your screams for help were drowned out by the sounds of wailing sirens.

He stayed in place for a while, looking up to the starry night above.

Hopefully you’ll forgive him.

He then took to the skies, his eyes scanning the world below. He needed to keep track of you. When he spotted your running form in the distance, he moved down to speak.

“I can take you home.”

“Stay away from me!!” You screamed, clutching your head. Why was he still here? Did he enjoy seeing you suffer?

“Y/n…”

“Shut up!! Shut up!!!”

You then veered away from him, running into the streets. You were too in your head, and the only thing that caught your attention was the blaring sound of a large vehicle. You stared ahead into the blinding light, before happily sighing, grateful that you’d be joining your lover soon.

Or so you thought.

In an instant, he stood in front of you, hand outstretched.

The truck slammed into him, the entirety of its front crushing in from the intense pressure. Your eyes watched in horror as the once speeding vehicle was now forced to a complete stop. The front lights flickered on and off, giving you glimpses of the now dead passengers.

He was completely unharmed. He then turned, his eyes focused on you.

“Let me take you home. It’s safe there.”

He gently lifted you into his arms, and you silently sobbed. You didn’t want to go. Not with him.

Death... The only thing that ever followed him was death…

Viltrum Mark

This variant was serious.

“Get dressed. We’re leaving.”

You peeked your head out from behind the dark shower curtain, raising a brow.

This guy had barged into your home (and your bathroom) completely unannounced, then told you that you were leaving? Who was this guy?

“Let me guess, Cecil sent you?” You asked, looking him over. He was dressed in a white and grey uniform. When he replied with a ‘No’, you laughed. “Okay then, who did?”

“I am here on my own accord.”

You couldn’t help but smile, despite him maintaining that cold gaze.

“Could you have at least waited until I was done showering?”

…

You then pulled your head back behind the shower curtain, shutting off the water.

“Give me a minute to get dressed. We’ll talk then.”

He now stood against the wall outside your bathroom door. Once you finished putting on some clothes you opened the door and walked past him, before sitting comfortably at a desk in your room.

You maintained some distance, and silence soon followed.

“Okay, who are you?” You asked. His gaze felt like it was burning a hole through your head. “Have we met? If I pissed you off somehow then I apologize-”

“I’m your husband.” He calmly stated. Oh…? “We will be returning back to my world together.”

….What?

You remained quiet, noticing the serious look in his eyes.

“Really?” you asked, resting your chin on your hand. “I don’t recall marrying you, or anyone else for that matter… Are you sure you’ve got the right person?”

“I am sure, Y/n.”

“You know my name…” you said, smiling a little. So what? A lot of people knew your name. “What’s yours? Oh husband of mine~”

He internally sighed. You rarely took things seriously. How he fell in love with you, he’d never know.

“We’ll talk later. Gather some personal belongings. We will not be returning.”

You frowned at his words.

“What if I don’t want to go?” You asked him.

“You don’t have a choice.”

“I figured you’d say that.”

You then lifted a finger, and every piece of furniture in your room slammed into him within an instant.

Yes, you had powers. But you were sure he probably knew that.

You quickly stood and waited for the smoke to clear. Once it did, you noticed that he was still standing in the same place, calmly waving the dust in the air away.

“That little attack of yours accomplished nothing,” He stated. He then crossed his arms, before he sent you a small smile. “Want to try again?”

Great.

You immediately flew out of your open window, your mind racing.

“Of course he’s superpowered. Why did he have to be superpowered?” You murmured. You looked behind yourself for a split second, and to your horror he was right on your heels. His outward expression was calm as he followed you. While you were fearful, he was in a good mood.

He hadn’t chased you in a while.

You zigzagged through the air, narrowly avoiding his attempts to grab you. Each of his grabs were calculated, and your window of error was becoming too small. One attempt of his was enough to graze your ankle, and your blood went cold.

Dammit.

You were out of breath. As you looked up at him though, you noticed that he had barely broken a sweat.

A small smile was on his lips as he stayed suspended in midair, no longer bothering to chase you. The two of you were apart as you also remained in the air, weighing your options.

You couldn’t keep flying around like this. Your powers heavily sapped at your strength-

“If you had just followed orders,” he told you. “You wouldn’t be in this situation Y/n.”

Smug bastard.

You then shot off higher into the air. As he closed the distance, you spun around to face him, before extending both of your hands. You used every ounce of power you had left. This forced him to a complete halt, his movements freezing in midair.

You were gasping now, attempting to catch your breath. Thankfully, he still wasn’t moving. You waited a few moments, before talking to him.

“God, what are you made of?” You asked him. “I used everything to stop you. It felt like stopping a mountain.”

“...”

“You can still talk, you know,” you lightly teased him. You moved closer to get a better look at him. “However, you won’t be able to move for a while.”

He then immediately moved towards you, and your heart dropped. The smile on your face was gone in an instant, now replaced with pure disbelief.

“...How?” You whispered. No one, and you mean no one got out of your hold once you stopped them.

“You never stopped me,” he stated, now centimeters away from your face. “I am aware of how your powers work.”

So he was pretending you stopped him? Lovely.

“I see…” You murmured. Well, it was over for you. You were completely out of strength, and would fall out of the sky any second now.

As if he knew, he wrapped both arms around you, holding you up.

You sighed bitterly before speaking.

“Okay then husband-” You felt his lips press against your neck and your heart raced. His hair tickled the side of your face as he leaned in. You then placed your hands in his hair, before attempting to pry him off you. He didn’t budge. “...You won, for now.”

His lips now pressed against your cheek as he spoke.

“I always win,” he murmured. You frowned as he continued, “Especially when I’m with you.”

How was this longer than my previous post...?

I've currently written for 9 different variants in total, and my sanity is leaving me. So the number will definitely have to dwindle back down lol.

949 notes · View notes

joemama-2 · 6 months ago

Text

velvet lies

pairing: gojo x fem reader synopsis: crippling debt and possible evictions have ruined you. working two jobs with no downtime, and a five-year-old son, you really don't know the meaning of taking a break. after continuous questions about his father, you have decided to finally let your son meet his dad. only thing is, he has no idea said son exists. and to top it off, you have not a single clue about what kinds of things will transpire from this sudden revelation. wc: 7.4k (shorter chap woop) tags/warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, fluff, romance, alcohol, classism, mom! reader, lying, abuse, MAJOR angst, slow burn, exes to lovers, (mentions of) cheating, scandals, death, blood, drugs, drama, family drama, miscommunication, blackmail, unhealthy coping mechanisms , depression, manipulation series masterlist < previous chapter < next chapter

Year: 2017

He hasn’t been answering your phone calls. Or your texts. A growing sense of anxiety and worry forms in your gut. You've trained yourself to push down the more insidious thoughts that threaten your already deteriorating relationship. It’s been a long day for you. From work, to your annoying mother, and now to your M.I.A boyfriend. You wanted to relax at home with a movie and soothing music, maybe even food. However, it’s been hard to eat for the past few weeks.

The last place you wanted to be was at some house party with snobby people who probably never have realized the true meaning of a dollar. The music is loud and the blue lights do nothing but further annoy you, reminding you of just how much you hate parties. Pushing through the throngs of people, either too drunk to high to give your rudeness a huff.

It’s not hard to spot him, but the sight makes you dig your nails into your palms. Feeling bile rise in your throat when a girl—one you’ve never seen before—is getting too close and personal with your man. And worst of all? He’s not even pushing her away. He’s obviously drunk. Still, you assumed he would have that much decency to push back flirting advances from random girls. He always did.

But things have been changing recently, slowly but surely. Ever since that happened.

Your feet work quickly, forcing yourself to stay determined and not break down and cry right now. You’ve been doing too much of that. “Satoru.” You call out, voice loud and firm enough that he swivels his head to meet your eyes on just the first try. The girl does so also, head tilting in a scrutinizing way that you hate. “Are you drunk?”

The tint on his cheeks is proof enough. But so is his lazy grin. “What do you think?”

The girl giggles, leaning into your boyfriend’s arm. Watching her do so sends a wave of fury down your spine. You would have stepped in if it weren’t for Satoru finally being a decent man and pulling away from her. “Sorry, you gotta go.”

“Excuse me?” The girl huffs, scowling in disgust. “For what? I thought we were having a good time.”

So, they were together the whole night, huh? They probably would have stayed together if you didn’t make an appearance. What if they would have taken things further? What if Satoru imitated something? You can already feel the familiar tingle at the back of your throat, turning around and heading back for the door. He follows, grabbing your arm in an attempt to stop you. “Y/N—“

“Don’t.” You grit, yanking your arm away and pushing your way back out to the front of the large house, ignoring some of a drunken couple’s protests as you ruin their make-out session. When you make your way onto the sidewalk, you feel a more insistent tug at your wrist that causes you to face him fully. Meeting his glazed-over eyes with your own teary pair, biting down on your quivering lip. “Why didn’t you answer your phone? Why are you ignoring me?”

He sighs, running a hand down his face when he lets go of you. “I’m not ignoring you, Y/N. I’m sorry, I should have told you I’d be out. But it was last minute.”

A scoff falls from your lips. “Last minute, huh? Is that what you call it? Hanging around some random girl and acting like you don’t have a worried girlfriend waiting for you?”

“Y/N—“

“Did you cheat on me?” You ask, voice cracking. Your tears now flow freely down your face, eyes red. The expression you adorn does nothing but break his heart. He hates seeing you cry, he always has. And the small, sober part of him is cursing at himself for being such a jackass tonight. But the dominant, drunk side wants no part of an argument tonight.

“No, I didn’t. I’d never.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Y/N.”

“I want you to be a good boyfriend for once!” You croak out, pushing him back by his shoulders. “Y-you know what I’m going through, you know how hard it’s been. And what do you do? You go out and party, you don’t tell me, and I find some random girl all up on you. And then you smiled like it was funny. D-do you know how much you’re hurting me even more, Satoru?” The trembling of your voice pokes at his heartstrings.

Satoru stares at you, his expression faltering. For a moment, you think you see guilt flicker across his face, but it’s quickly replaced by something colder—defensiveness. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen, alright? I was just...blowing off steam.”

“Blowing off steam?” you repeat, your voice rising as fresh anger bubbles in your chest. “You call this blowing off steam? Ignoring me? Letting some girl throw herself all over you? You’re unbelievable.”

He rakes a hand through his hair, frustration clear in his movements. “What do you want me to do, Y/N? Stay at home and sulk all the time? I can’t—” He stops himself, biting his lip, but you know what he was going to say.

“You can’t what, Satoru?” Your voice cracks again, but this time it’s laced with more rage than sorrow. “You can’t deal with me? With everything I’m going through? You promised you’d be there for me. You said we’d get through this together.”

“I am here for you!” he snaps, but the slight slur in his voice takes the edge off his words. “But you’re acting like I can’t breathe without you questioning every little thing I do. I’ve been going through shit too, Y/N.”

You suck in a shaky breath. “That’s not fair,” you whisper, your fists clenching at your sides. “You know it’s not. If I didn’t care—if I didn’t love you—I wouldn’t be here, trying to fix this.”

He exhales heavily, his shoulders slumping. “I didn’t cheat on you, Y/N. I swear I didn’t. But I—” He hesitates, his gaze dropping to the ground. “I don’t know how to handle all of this, okay? It’s a lot.”

Your breath hitches, his words cut deeper than he probably intended. “You think this isn’t a lot for me too?” you ask, your voice trembling. “I’ve been trying so hard, Satoru. To hold on. To be strong. For both of us. But you’re slipping away, and I don’t know how to bring you back. I know how to handle things just as much as you do.”

He looks up then, his blue eyes clearer now, filled with something that looks almost like regret. For a brief second, you think he might apologize—might say the words you so desperately need to hear. But instead, he shakes his head and says, “Maybe we just need some space.”

The world tilts beneath you. His words echo in your mind, louder than the music still blaring from the house behind you. “Space?” you repeat, barely able to say the word. “You want to take a break?”

“I don’t know,” he admits, his voice quiet, almost defeated. “I just...I think we’re both hurting each other more than we’re helping.”

You laugh bitterly, wiping at the tears streaming down your face. “No, Satoru. You’re hurting me. You’re the one who stopped trying. You’re the one who’s giving up.” He flinches at your words, but he doesn’t argue. And somehow, that hurts even more. You shake your head, stepping back from him. “If space is what you want, then fine. But don’t expect me to be here waiting when you figure yourself out.”

You turn and walk away, your heart shattering with every step. This isn’t how you imagined the night would go. It isn’t how you imagined your relationship would go. But as you leave him standing there on the sidewalk, you can’t help but wonder if this was inevitable all along.

The same song begins to play. Because soon, his arms are wrapping around you before you even know it, shoving his face into the side of your neck. “No, no, I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I’m drunk, okay? Please don’t leave, please. L-let’s just go home, my parents aren’t there. Please, Y/N. I’m sorry.”

And like a broken record, you give in. Because the broken part of you still craves him. His touch, his comforting hugs, his words. His everything. You feel like a puzzle with pieces too big or small to fit, some pieces lost. But with Satoru, he makes them fit. He finds those pieces of you; the ones you can’t find yourself. In a way, you know things are failing and falling apart.

But you’re laying back in his bed, feeling the constant vibration of your phone. Texts from your mother and you have no doubt she’s blowing up your phone about the way you snuck out and demanding to know where you are. It’s interesting, you’re twenty-one but she treats you like a kid. All because you still live with her.

Your heart feels heavy, your stomach twisting with nausea and you’re not even the drunk one. His hands hold your teary cheeks, meeting your gaze with watery ones of his own. Combined tears wet his pillow until there’s no more to give out. He’s been crying with you, but sometimes it feels fake.

“Did you cheat on me?” You ask again, whispering in a shaky tone.

His lips purse and he shakes his head. “…no, I didn’t. I told you, I’d never.”

You search his face, looking for cracks in the foundation of his words. His sorrowful eyes, flushed cheeks, and trembling hands—all of it feels sincere, but it doesn’t feel like enough. Not so much anymore. “You’re sure?” you whisper, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

“I’m sure,” he says, his voice soft but firm. “I swear to you, Y/N. I’d never do that to you. Never.” His thumb brushes away a stray tear on your cheek, and for a moment, the warmth of his touch almost convinces you.

Almost.

You close your eyes, exhaling shakily as his hands cradle your face. You want to believe him. You need to believe him. But the doubt lingers like a shadow, clawing at the edges of your mind. “Then why do I feel like I’m losing you?” you ask, your voice breaking.

Satoru flinches, his hands momentarily faltering before steadying again. “You’re not losing me,” he says quickly, almost desperately. “I know I’ve been...different lately, but it’s not because I don’t care. I just—” He pauses, his gaze dropping as if searching for the right words. “I don’t know how to handle this, Y/N. I don’t know how to be what you need right now. There’s so much and I…” his voice trails off, fearing he’s saying too much and it’ll only make you feel worse. Make himself feel worse.

Your chest tightens, his confession cutting deeper than you expected. “I don’t need you to have all the answers, Satoru. I just need you to try. To be honest with me. To stop shutting me out. You…you’re the only one—you’re all I have right now.”

“I’m trying,” he insists, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. “I swear I’m trying. But it feels like...like no matter what I do, it’s not enough. And I hate it. I hate that I’m hurting you.”

The rawness in his voice pulls at something in you, making it harder to keep the walls around your heart intact. You open your eyes, meeting his gaze. For a moment, the vulnerability in his expression mirrors your own. “I don’t want to lose you, Satoru,” you say softly. “But I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep feeling like I’m the only one fighting for us.”

“You’re not,” he whispers, his hands tightening slightly on your face as if afraid you’ll slip away. “You’re not, Y/N. I know I’ve messed up, but I’ll do better. I promise. Just...don’t give up on me. Please.”

The plea in his voice, the tears in his eyes—they’re enough to make the broken pieces of your heart shift, trying to fit back together even if they don’t quite align. Against your better judgment, you nod, letting out a shaky breath. “Okay,” you whisper. “But this is your last chance, Satoru. I mean it.”

“I know,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “I won’t mess this up. I promise.” But Satoru isn’t the best at promises. He’s only good at making them for others, not keeping them for himself.

As he pulls you into his arms, holding you as if you might vanish, you can’t help but wonder how many more promises you’ll let him break before there’s nothing left of you to give. But for now, you let yourself sink into his embrace, hoping—maybe foolishly—that this time will be different. Because he’s all you have. All you know. He knows you inside and out—the way your voice wavers when you’re holding back tears, the way your hands fidget when you’re nervous, the way you laugh like it’s the only thing keeping you from breaking. And you know him just as deeply. Every freckle on his skin, every scar that tells a story, every mole you’ve discovered in moments of intimacy. You’ve memorized him like a favorite book, reading him over and over until the lines blur but still feel familiar.

You two are like each other’s canvases—painted with touches, kisses, and shared memories, even the messy ones. Every fight, every tear-streaked night, every whispered “I’m sorry” adds another layer to the masterpiece that is you and him. But lately, it feels like the colors are running, bleeding into one another until the picture is unrecognizable. And you don’t know if you can fix it, or if you even should. Never did you think that things would change so much, and all because of one failed situation.

What a weak body you have, what a weak person you are.

He holds you tighter, his fingers threading through your hair as if grounding himself in your presence. “You’re everything to me, Y/N,” he murmurs, his voice so quiet you almost don’t catch it. “I know I’ve been a mess, but I swear I’ll fix this. I’ll fix us.”

But his promises feel like paint on a waterlogged canvas—fading, smudged, and far too fragile. Still, you nod, letting the comfort of his warmth lull you into silence. Because no matter how fractured you feel, no matter how much the doubt weighs on your chest, he’s all you have. You can’t handle the thought of facing everything alone now, can’t handle the thought of not having someone to hug you when you burst down in tears.

You hate the way things are now, but you’ve sunk too deep into him. And him the same. Over time, you feel like he will retract his hold from you before you do so yourself. You can almost feel it coming, one way or another. It’s why you’re holding him tighter, pressing your body deeper into his. Because you know you wouldn’t be able to do it yourself. Awaiting the inevitable hurts so bad. Knowing that no matter what, your end is visible. You can see the finish line just a few yards away. It’s like a race, and you’re letting Satoru win. Envisioning him running his long legs to the checkered line with a smile on his face like he’s happy—relieved. You don’t want to hold him, that’s the last thing you want to do. However, you’re being as selfish as you can be right now. Before every privilege is stripped from you in a cold manner that will leave you shivering for warmth. But his presence is something. And for now, that’s enough to keep you here and sane.

Little did you know, you'd win that race before he did. You just needed that little push. He's the hare, and you're the tortoise.

You stay in his arms, the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek a constant reminder of the closeness you’ve always shared. It feels almost like an illusion, the peace between you both. But underneath, there’s a tension that hasn’t quite loosened, a thread pulled tight between the two of you, holding you close but threatening to snap at the slightest tug. His grip tightens, his fingers threading into your hair, pulling you closer as if trying to fuse your two worlds together. The quiet hum of the room feels almost suffocating now. Your phone continues to buzz with your mother’s increasingly frantic texts, but you can’t bring yourself to care about that right now. Not with Satoru’s breath warm on your neck and his hands gently caressing your skin. Not when it’s easier to let him hold you in this fragile moment of peace.

You close your eyes, your fingers curling around the fabric of his shirt. The quietness stays for a long moment, But when he speaks, it’s almost a whisper, like he’s afraid of the truth that might spill out.

“I’ll try. I’ll be here for you, Y/N. I swear it.”

You wonder if you can truly believe him this time. If you can let yourself hope that things might really change. But the doubt is a familiar companion, lingering in the shadows, waiting to remind you of the cracks in his promises. Still, for tonight, you let it go. You let yourself sink into him, giving into the small piece of comfort he offers, hoping that maybe, just maybe, this time will be different.

You wake up in a cold sweat, dried tears staining your cheeks. Your stomach feels sensitive, nails already digging into your palms so hard that the skin is growing red and prickly. Every emotion you felt from that dream—nightmare—whatever it was feels ten times more real. You don’t know why you’re having these weird dreams about something from years ago.

But it still hurts all the same, nonetheless.

You still feel hollow, drowned, and ready to pour your heart out into your pillow. But it’s morning and time to get up for bed. Christmas Eve is in three days and you’re just counting down until when you won’t have to go into work. Going through your routine, getting Koji ready for the day, opening the door for Sana. Leaving your place of solitude, it feels like you barely even lived through this morning.

The chill of the morning air hits your skin as you step outside, tugging your coat tighter around you. The weight of your dream lingers, like a fog that refuses to lift. You keep telling yourself it was just a dream, just a memory from a time you’ve tried so hard to bury. But it clings to you like a ghost, whispering doubts into your ear, even as you force yourself to move through the motions. you can’t help but glance up at the sky, the gray clouds reflecting the heaviness in your chest. Christmas Eve is in three days, and you can’t wait to take a break from not just work—from everything.

If only escaping your past was as easy as flipping the calendar to a new year.

Satoru texts you around the 2-hour mark that he’ll be going over to your place soon to see Koji and bring the gifts he got. You let Sana know of the change, she replies back with a simple ‘okay!’

You sigh, willing yourself to forget about the drama your life entails, and focus on your work.

However, another thought is creeping in through the door, and this time—it’s not such a bad one. You feel a fluttering sensation in your gut, holding back a peal of stifled laughter as the memory of last night makes its presence known. After the whole shirt incident, Suguru stayed. He kept his word about not making anything weird, and you two ended with a simple chat and a movie. It felt nice.

Of course, there were hints of lingering peeks, that strange tension tossed up in the air that neither of you fully addressed. But it’s fine, it didn’t mean anything at the end of the day. Although, when it was time for him to leave, you did have a second of hesitation about whether you should hug him or simply say goodbye. He decided for you when he carefully opened his arms up, you followed suit.

Inhaling his scent felt heavenly. Manly, but also feminine at the same time. An earthly scent that felt like hints of incense. The memory of his embrace lingers like the faintest trace of his cologne, warm and comforting. It wasn’t just the way he held you—it was the way he made you feel. Secure. Understood. Like you weren’t just surviving, but living, even if just for that moment.

You haven't hugged a man in so long. You forgot how good they hug.

You shake your head, a small smile pulling at your lips despite yourself. It wasn’t anything. It shouldn’t be anything. Suguru’s always been like that—gentle, kind, and just a little too perceptive for his own good. He knew exactly when to stay and exactly what you needed without you even having to say it. Still, you can’t ignore the way your heartbeat picked up when his arms wrapped around you, the way your cheek brushed against his shoulder, and how your fingers had almost lingered a little too long against his back. It felt natural, but also entirely new.

Suguru’s presence was so easy, so effortless. It felt like slipping into an old favorite sweater, soft and familiar but with a spark of something you couldn’t quite place. You’d been so wrapped up in keeping everything together, in pushing through every day for Koji’s sake, that you’d almost forgotten what it felt like to be seen.

You wonder if Satoru holds the same longing you do.

You shake the thought away as quickly as it comes. Don’t think about him. There’s no point in overthinking any of this.

“Hello, you must be Koji’s father.” Sana greets Satoru who stands in the doorway. With him, two armfuls of gifts. Even more on the floor next to his feet.

Simply nodding and looking over her shoulder to see Koji eating his lunch. “And you’re the babysitter.” Without much else, he carefully pushes past her, bringing in the gifts. “Mind getting the rest? Thanks.”

She nods, grabbing what was left on the floor before bringing it in, closing and locking the door. When she turns back around, Koji is in his father’s embrace. She smiles at the scene. “Ms. Y/N told me you’d be coming. He’s been good so far, he’s just eating his lunch now.”

“That’s good to hear,” Satoru replies, pulling away from his son. Doing a quick scan of the place before his eyes land back on the young woman. “How long have you been watching my son again?”

“A couple of years.”

He hums, walking closer to her. “And you’re how old?”

Sana blinks, surprised by the question. "I'm twenty," she says cautiously, her polite smile wavering slightly under his scrutiny.

Satoru raises an eyebrow, his gaze sharp but unreadable. "Twenty, huh? Pretty young to be taking care of kids."

“I’ve been babysitting since I was sixteen,” she replies, straightening her posture. “I’m studying early childhood education, so it’s not just a job to me. I care about Koji.”

His expression softens a fraction, and he glances back at his son, who’s happily munching away at his sandwich. “He does seem to like you,” Satoru admits, his tone less probing now.

“He’s a great kid,” Sana says warmly. “Very smart, just like his mother.”

That earns her a faint smile. “Yeah, just like his mother.” He crosses his arms, leaning casually against the counter. “So, Y/N told you I’d be stopping by today?”

“Yes, she mentioned it when I got here this morning.”

Satoru nods, tapping his fingers against his forearm thoughtfully. “Good. Thanks for helping out today. I know it’s probably not easy juggling school and babysitting.”

“It’s manageable,” Sana replies, sensing a subtle change in his demeanor. “Koji makes it worth it.”

Satoru’s gaze lingers on her for a moment longer before he straightens up. “I’ll take over from here. You can go ahead and clock out early if you want.”

“Oh, are you sure?”

“Yeah,” he says, waving her off. “Enjoy the rest of your day. I’ve got this.”

Sana hesitates briefly, glancing at Koji, who’s still blissfully unaware of the conversation. “Alright then. Have a good evening, Mr. Gojo.”

As she gathers her things and heads for the door, she feels his eyes on her. It’s not hostile, but it’s assessing. Like he’s trying to gauge something about her. She doesn’t dwell on it, though—whatever it is, it’s not her place to question. “Oh!” She turns around as if she just remembered something. “Ms. Y/N leaves a list. It’s taped to the—”

“I don’t need a list to take care of my son.” He cuts her off smoothly, his one eyebrow raising. “Thanks again, have a good day.”

She falters, once again caught a little off guard. This is her first time meeting him, and while she’s of course seen the articles and comments about the drama surrounding the small family, she has no bias. In fact, she sympathizes greatly with you for going through all this alone. As she’s leaving the apartment, she can’t help the small opinion of Satoru that he’s already given her.

He’s so intimidating!

After she leaves, Satoru focuses back on his son—this shitty apartment. He hasn’t explicitly voiced his opinions out to you—of course you already know what they are. And as you said before, it’s all you could afford, and Koji’s happy. However, he can’t stop himself from grimacing at the so-called ‘decorations’. This place needs some serious revamping.

“Hey, buddy?”

Koji looks over, wiping his mouth. “Yes, Papa?”

“When you’re done eating, want to help me with something?” And Koji doesn’t need to be told anymore. He loves helping—especially his mother and father. So he nods excitedly, practically scarfing down the rest of his sandwich. Bubbling with giddiness only a child could have.

Satoru chuckles at his son’s behavior, heart warming. This is the first time he’s doing something festive with Koji. The bitter part of him tells him that he could’ve had more chances to do so if it weren’t for your cowardness. But he shoves that away, focusing on the jolly joy the holidays can bring.

Today was more tiring than usual, with the cafe gaining more attention, there’s been rush after rush after rush. You can handle it, but that doesn’t mean it won’t wear you down by the time you clock out. And your day isn’t even done yet. Slugging your way to your front door, lazily opening it with your key. Tossing your coat on the nearby rack, your bag with it.

“I’m ba—”

You sniffle. One. Twice.

A pinecone-y scent fills your nostrils. Which is strange because you know you have no candles that house that aroma. Confusion, but wariness takes over your senses. Following the sound of laughter down the hall until you’re standing in the living room.

The sight you see is more than startling.

Your eyes dart around in a frenzy, landing on one new thing after the next. The small, simple Christmas tree you’d put up last week? Replaced by a towering, impeccably decorated monstrosity with shimmering lights and a star that looks like it came straight out of a luxury catalog. It barely even fits in the room. Luckily, the small picture ornament of you and Koji is still there. But it looks so out of place.

The garlands you’d strung across the walls? Gone, swapped for lush, sparkling ones adorned with oversized ornaments. Even your modest stockings have been replaced with personalized velvet ones embroidered with gold thread, hanging perfectly above a faux fireplace setup that definitely wasn’t there this morning.

It’s like a winter wonderland exploded in your living room, and you’re not sure whether to laugh or scream.

Koji is sitting on the couch, giggling as Satoru playfully pretends to tangle himself in a string of fairy lights. Your son’s laughter is contagious, but you can’t shake the growing irritation bubbling inside you. When Koji notices you, his eyes brighten even more. Gaping and rushing over to your leg, hugging it. “Mama! Mama! Look what Papa and I did! It’s so pretty and there are so many presents!”

There is. There’s a lot of presents. Practically stacking on top of one another under your refurbished tree. Hidden somewhere in the splurge are the gifts Suguru got for you and Koji.

Gulping, you feel your throat tighten. You feel nothing but overwhelmed. But in the face of your son, you can’t exactly show that. You force a smile as you ruffle Koji’s hair, trying to push down the irritation clawing its way to the surface. “Wow, it’s… definitely something,” you say, your voice strained but managing to sound somewhat amused for Koji’s sake.

Satoru, now untangled from the lights, looks up from the couch with that boyish grin of his. “Do you love it or do you love it?” he asks, gesturing to the extravagant decor like he’s unveiling a masterpiece.

You blink at him, incredulous—but still attempting to keep yourself calm. “What… what happened to the decorations we already had?”

“Oh, those?” He waves a dismissive hand. “Let’s just say they weren’t really up to par. I mean, come on, Y/N. That tree you had? It was like something out of a Charlie Brown Christmas special. I couldn’t let Koji’s holiday spirit suffer like that.”

Your jaw tightens, the forced smile threatening to slip. “So, you just… decided to replace everything? Without asking me?”

He stands, brushing off invisible dust from his jeans as if the weight of his decision is nothing. “You were busy, and I figured you’d appreciate coming home to something nice for once. Besides, look at Koji—he’s thrilled!”

Koji tugs at your sleeve, his wide-eyed excitement piercing through your annoyance. “It’s so cool, Mama! Look at all the shiny ornaments! And Papa let me pick out the star!” Your son runs over to show off a few of the many, many presents he has. Showing extra excitement for the heavier and larger ones. “Papa says it’s magical. I want to have a magical Christmas every time, Mama.”

The words, innocent but heavy, almost make you physically kneel down. You feel your chest tighten, your throat closing up even more. The lump that forms is difficult to swallow down. The implication of Satoru’s and your son's words feels a bit degrading. And you don’t blame it on Koji, he means nothing malicious. But for some reason, being faced with the physical line of difference between you and Satoru, watching your son’s face light up in a way that you’ve never seen before…

It reminds you that your enough has never been enough. Each Christmas, it’s dull. Your Christmases aren’t magical. Your life isn’t.

You feel the weight of it all crashing down like the oversized star on the new tree is pressing on your chest. Satoru's extravagance, Koji's innocent excitement, and your own feelings of inadequacy swirl together into a storm you’re barely holding back.

Your forced smile falters, but you quickly kneel to Koji's level, brushing his hair away from his glowing face. “It’s beautiful, sweetheart,” you say softly, voice trembling but steady enough to reassure him. “I’m glad you had fun with Papa.”

Koji beams, and for a moment, his joy is a balm to your frayed nerves. “It’s pretty, isn’t it, Mama?”

You bite the inside of your cheek. “So pretty.” Standing slowly, your hand lingers on Koji’s shoulder. “Really pretty,” you repeat quietly, not committing to anything. You can feel Satoru watching you, his casual demeanor only adding to your irritation. The worst part of it all is that it seems like he genuinely has no idea what he did wrong.

In hindsight, maybe he didn’t. It wasn’t his intention to make you feel like a shitty mother, but Satoru is good at pointing out the differences in his own ways.

When Koji bounds back to the pile of gifts, you finally let yourself meet Satoru’s gaze. “You really didn’t think to talk to me about this?”

His grin fades just a fraction, replaced by a look of confusion. “What’s there to talk about? I wanted to do something special for Koji. And let’s be honest, Y/N—this is special.”

“It’s not about the decorations, Satoru,” you snap, your voice low but sharp. “It’s about you making decisions without considering how I might feel about it. Again.”

He tilts his head, the glower returning, though it feels sharper now. “You’re overthinking this. It’s just Christmas decorations, Y/N. Look at Koji—he’s happy. Isn’t that what matters?”

You clench your fists, the tightness in your chest threatening to spill over into something you can’t control. “You don’t get it, do you? This isn’t just about the decorations. It’s about you coming in here and acting like everything I do is subpar. Like I’m not enough.”

The words hang heavy in the air, and for a moment, Satoru’s expression falters. But he recovers quickly, shoving his hands into his pockets and leaning against the arm of the couch. “Y/N, no one’s saying that. You’re reading too much into this. I just wanted to make things nice for Koji, that’s all.”

Your laugh is bitter, and it catches even you off guard. “Right. Because your version of nice is always the right one. I’m just the placeholder until you decide to step in and fix everything, aren’t I?”

Satoru’s eyes narrow slightly, the playful spark he had with Kojidimming. “That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?” you counter, your voice breaking despite your effort to stay calm. “You swoop in with all your money and your grand gestures, and I’m supposed to just smile and be grateful. But do you even realize how hard I’ve worked to give Koji a Christmas he’ll enjoy? How much I’ve sacrificed just to keep things normal?”

His silence stings more than any retort could.

Koji’s laughter in the background feels distant now, muffled by the sound of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears. He’s too distracted with the tree, his presents, everything. You inhale deeply, trying to steady yourself, before forcing a calmness you don’t feel. You won’t fight in front of him.

“I’m going to get changed,” you mutter, not waiting for a response.

As you leave the room, Satoru calls after you, his voice softer but no less exasperated. “Y/N, come on. Don’t make this into a bigger deal than it is.”

But to you, it already feels like a chasm. One that grows wider with every passing second.

You shut your door, leaning against it with your forehead. Breaths coming in short, hands trembling slightly. Biting your quivering lip, you maneuver your body to change into your uniform. All the while, tears are getting on your hands and clothes. Accidentally, you let out a small, broken whimper.

Quickly, you place a palm to your mouth, stifling and quieting your soft cries. Once you’re done changing, you fall back onto the bed. Curled up with knees drawn to your chest, as the burden of your own self-consciousness rains down on you. The room feels suffocatingly small, your emotions clawing at your throat, demanding to be let out.

The tears come harder now, soaking into the fabric of your uniform as you press your hands to your face, muffling the quiet sobs. You hate this—how easily Satoru gets under your skin, how he makes you feel insignificant without even trying. You thought you were past this. Past him. But somehow, he always finds a way to remind you of all the ways you’ve fallen short. Or at least, all the ways he makes you feel like you have.

There’s a soft knock on the door.

“Y/N?” His voice is muffled through the wood, quieter than usual as if he’s trying not to disturb you. “Are you okay?”

You don’t answer, biting down on your lip to keep from making another sound.

“Look,” he continues, his tone hesitant. “I know I upset you. I didn’t mean to. Can we just… talk?”

For a moment, you consider staying silent, letting him stew in his own discomfort. But the tension is too thick, and you know Koji is just down the hall. With a shaky breath, you push yourself to your feet, wiping at your face in a futile attempt to erase the evidence of your tears. Wiping your face and straightening your clothes, you open the door. “I have work.” You mutter, expertly enforcing a placid emotion. “Will you watch him?”

Without waiting for a response, you walk past him. But he grabs at your wrist, instinctively you pull away. “Stop, just stop, okay? Let’s not fight. We’re adults, we can talk this out. I don’t mean to make you feel less than, I just wanted to make Koji happy.”

“And do you think he’s not happy with me?” You snap back, looking up at him. Feeling your vision already beginning to blur. “Do you? Do you think he’ll be happy with you? I-Is that it?”

Satoru’s eyes widen slightly at your outburst, and for a moment, he doesn’t respond. The air between you feels like it could snap under the weight of everything left unsaid. His hand hovers near his side, as if he wants to reach out again but knows better now. “No,” he says softly, his voice steady but lined with regret. “That’s not what I meant. Koji is happy with you. He loves you more than anything.”

“Then why do you keep acting like what I do isn’t enough?” you whisper, your voice trembling as you maintain eye contact with him. “I’ve been doing this alone, Satoru. Every scraped knee, every fever, every night when he cries because he’s scared of the dark—I’m there. Not you. Me. So don’t you dare come in here, throw your money around, and act like you can just fix everything with some… Christmas wonderland.”

“But you didn’t let me come in sooner, Y/N.” He replies, exasperation in his voice.

“I know that, and I’m sorry. I know I fucked up…”

“Then stop getting mad at little things.”

Your fists ball up, your expression growing firmer by the second. But so is the need to cry again. He’s right, everything he says is right. It’s your own fault that you’ve been forced to handle everything alone. But, don’t your feelings matter just a little bit in this situation? Is he allowed to just come in and fix up everything you have? What he thinks is a mess, it’s something that holds significance to you. What he thinks is a little thing, it’s a big one in your eyes.

So while this scenario is blowing up into something bigger, your decorations are something you have control of. You only have control over so many things in your life.

He exhales slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not trying to take anything away from you, Y/N. I swear. I just… I wanted to give him something special. Something I never had growing up.”

It makes you feel even more guilty. You can’t find it in you to say anything else, turning back around and walking to the living room. “Goodbye, Koji. Mama will see you later.” Giving him a brief hug and kiss, you hurriedly grab your coat and purse, exiting your apartment just as fast as you came.

Unbeknownst to you, Koji is left staring at the closed door. His head tilting in curiosity, while a frown pulling at the corner of his lips. He looks up at his father when he enters the living room again, the two owning matching guises. “Why’d Mama leave so fast? I wanted to show her the drawing we did.” The white paper in his hands pictures three figures. Each one smiling, the smaller boy in the middle holding hands with his two parents on either side of him. He even drew blue snowflakes.

There’s a red heart around them with the words My family! at the top.

Satoru stands there, staring at the door you just closed, feeling the weight of Koji’s innocent question settle on his shoulders. He sighs, running a hand through his hair as he glances down at his son, whose big, curious eyes are filled with disappointment.

“She’s just tired, buddy,” Satoru replies, crouching down to Koji’s level. His tone is softer now, more measured, as he tries to mask the turmoil bubbling under his calm façade. “She’s been working really hard, you know? Grown-up stuff.”

Koji’s frown deepens, his little brows furrowing. “But we worked hard too! We did the tree and the presents and everything!” His tiny hands gesture to the decorated room, his frustration clear. “Mama’s s’posed to be happy.”

Satoru feels his chest tighten at the words. He places a hand on Koji’s shoulder, squeezing gently. “She is happy, Koji. She just… needs some time, that’s all. Grown-ups can be funny like that.”

Koji looks down, fiddling with his fingers before glancing back up. “Is it my fault?”

Satoru’s heart aches at the question, and he immediately shakes his head, pulling Koji into a firm hug. “No, not even a little bit. You didn’t do anything wrong, Koji. Don’t ever think that, okay?”

Koji nods slowly against his father’s shoulder but remains quiet. Satoru pulls back, cupping his son’s face in his hands. “Mama loves you so much, Koji. More than anything in the world. Don’t ever forget that.”

“Okay…” Koji mumbles, still not entirely convinced. He inhaled deeply, then spoke again. “Do…does Mama love you too?”

The question catches him off guard, putting an even bigger weight on Satoru’s shoulders. He should’ve expected it, Koji is a curious kid who still doesn’t completely grasp the complexities of his parents’ relationship. Satoru smiles faintly, kissing Koji’s cheek. “Mama has a lot of love.”

The answer satisfies Koji. For now.

Satoru ruffles his son’s hair. “How about we finish that drawing? We’ll save it for her when she gets back.”

Koji perks up slightly, nodding. “Okay! But you gotta color inside the lines this time, Papa.”

Satoru chuckles, relieved to see even a small smile return to Koji’s face. “Deal. But only if you promise not to make fun of me if I mess up. I’m sensitive.”

Koji giggles, taking his father’s hand to lead him back to the small table. As they sit down to continue their drawing, Satoru steals a glance at the door again, his smile faltering for just a second.

He’s trying—he really is. But he wonders if it’ll ever be enough. It’s like no matter what he does, you don’t like it; and vice versa. He’s being as understanding and nice as someone in his situation can be. At times, he feels he’s being even too nice to you. He knew things wouldn’t be easy, but he wants to spend time with his son. Make up for all the lost time, and even the littlest moments. It’s almost a little bit unfair of you to throw the fact that he has money and you don’t in his face like that. He didn’t ask to be born rich. Just like you didn’t ask to be born…like that. You’re the adults in this situation, there’s a kid involved. So truly, he wishes he could just have a single conversation with you that doesn’t feel anger-surged or bitter. Of course, it’s hard because of what has happened before, but there’s a time and a place, is there not?

Whatever. He’s more than happy to color with Koji and do whatever the little boy asks while you have your own moment. Satoru knows best of everyone else you like having space. And while many years have passed and his feelings for you have grown less than savory, he stills wants to respect your wishes after an argument with him.

He can’t help but think the obvious, though. Is it even worth attempting to mend whatever little shards of semblance there is left with you?

Probably not. Because after all, he’s here only for Koji.

Right?

taglist is now closed

taglist: @celestialforce @theclassbookworm @tbzzluvr @uhenivid @ofkilljoysandslytherins

@sadmonke @bunheadusa @shartnart1 @lady-of-blossoms @itsinherited

@duooy @ari-sa @dakotali @mew4-ever18 @iv-vee

@devils-blackrose @a-girl-with-thoughts @bitchycloudstrawberry @tiffyisme3760 @iheartshopping

@chiara-hotel @uriahs-barn @celloccino @roronoazorosbxtchh @pseudophyllus

@ratedrrrr @m1gota @tojideckmuncher @yigaclvn @sukunaslve

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@boothillglazer @miss-dior @miakxn @rjreins

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fandom-kiddo · 4 months ago

Note

I heard you needed requests!

what about like Edward or any of the other vampires with a little that’s human but bites thing

I think that would be cute cause vampires bite and now their little is copying them by biting things

Your wish is my command!

How Edward and The Cullens react to a little who bites!

Edward

Definitely a bit startled by it initially!

Since his skin is so tough human teeth can’t even scratch it, he very strongly discourages you biting him

Will buy you teethers though

“Are my darlings teeth coming in?”

Will think it’s so cute and just shake his head at you

While you’ve never seen him or the others eat, you picked up the habit somehow

If you insist on biting him then he will compromise and let you nibble on his fingers real soft!

He will lie and say your teeth are so strong that it hurts if you bite too hard

In reality he doesn’t want his little one to hurt their teeth

Alice

Similarly to Edward and the rest of the Cullen’s, she will redirect your biting too

The minute your little mouth goes ‘ahh’ she’s putting a pacifier in your mouth

100% calls you baby bear for the biting

She knows you do it to imitate them so it makes her happy

Will 100% match your energy and pretend to bite you.

We’re talking doin the Minecraft eating sound and going om nom nom on your neck just to hear you giggle.

Would rather you chew on teethers or chew toys then ever try to bite her skin

She knows it’s like marble and it’s too tough for baby teeth :(

Will similarly let you nibble her fingers as long as you don’t actually bite down

Does think it’s super cute

Jasper

Battle scars✨

Will let you bite him more than the rest of the cullens

He’s already got pre done bites so you can bite in those

But don’t bite down harder

Thinks your biting is very cute and will, similarly to Alice, fake bite at you

But fs when he has a little more self control

Overall matches the vibe

Does try to redirect you

If you chew on his clothes tho he doesn’t care too much

Is pretty fine with you chewing on stuff as long as you don’t hurt your teeth

Rosalie

Isn’t the fondest of the chewing

Tbh kinda concerned by it

“Are you hungry sweetheart?”

She asks when you first start biting

When she realizes you just like biting and chewing on stuff, she isn’t too fond of you biting on her

“Sweetheart, you can’t chew on mommy, you’ll hurt your baby teeth”

Will buy you chew toys and other stuff just for redirecting you

If you prefer pacifiers, she’ll get the extra tough ones

Will 100% give your pacifier a little kiss or rub noses with you.

Emmett

Bites back(he doesn’t actually bite he’s too scared of hurting you)

Also calls you baby bear

When you are feeling bitey he will grab your teether or chew toy and tug on it

Loves tug of war

Will growl while tugging fs

Will let you nibble at him but he doesn’t let you bite down hard

“Baby, you can’t bite daddy too hard like that, it hurts sweetness.”

It doesn’t actually hurt him he just says it so you won’t bite hard

Esme

She’s a mom

So she is going to scold about the biting

“Hey, no biting sweetheart” she scolds

She’s worried about your teeth bless her

She is the biggest pattern interrupter

So she buys you teethers and chewlery and chew toys

Since you can sometimes be a hardcore chewer she’s keeps extra, not to mention has strict rules on if one is wearing out to let her know

She doesn’t want her baby to choke!

Will also get you really chew intensive snacks or gum to keep you occupied

Carlisle

He’s a doctor okay

He gets specific state of the art chew toys and stuff

Just so they are the best they can be for teeth

He’s especially worried if you try to bite him

It’s not the action as much as his worry for your teeth against what is essentially stone

“Ah, ah, little one. Use one of your chew toys, biting daddy is bad for your teeth, darling.”

Lowkey a stickler about it too

Like esme, he stays stocked

Same rules about worried about you choking

If you feel like really chewing hard the only semi bad thing he will allow is you chewing ice

He secretly does love hearing you crunch away at the cubes

He will even make sure to keep ice in the house he knows you like chewing

(Real ice chewers know there is a very big diff in the cubes)

233 notes · View notes

sematarygirls · 8 months ago

Text

KILLER!RAFE x BESTFRIEND!READER

WARNINGS .ᐟ murder, gore, dark comedy, anatomy innacuracies probably, angst?, insane continuity errors with dna evidence, rafe and reader shower together

NOTES .ᐟ i watched this movie called tragedy girls with my mom, and it inspired me to write this. just two bestfriends who love hate to kill together <3 sorry it gets a little rushed at the end. i mostly wrote it for the perimortem banter

"Rafe," you whined, looking down at the blood that had spurted from the random kook boy's neck wound right onto you. "You got blood on my new top," you huffed. "I specifically told you to avoid the jugular, so it didn't cause such a mess!"

"Well, why did you wear your new top to a fuckin' murder scene then, huh, princess?" he scoffed, his fingers flexing around the knife handle as he waved it around for emphasis, the deep red blood glistening under the warm yellow lights.

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. "Because I look hot," you said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Now, give me the stupid knife. You aren't even doing it right!" You held out your hand, your stance alone radiating attitude.

He looked at you, a mix of amusement and frustration dancing in his blue eyes. "And you think you can do better?" he sneered. "I mean, for fuck's sake, he's dead. What more do you want, huh?" He complained but nonetheless, did as you said, flipping the knife handle first as he handed it over.

You wrapped your fingers around the handle carefully, ignoring his exasperation as you hummed thoughtfully. "You're just so... unimaginative," you replied, your tone a bit condescending as you eyed the boy's body at Rafe's feet, clearly mulling something over.

Rafe watched you carefully, his arms crossed over his chest—a clear sign of his quickly growing irritation—as he leaned against the wall. "Unimaginative?" he repeated, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "What, are you gonna poetry read his fuckin' corpse or something?"

"Please," you scoffed, shooting him a look as you kneeled down beside the body. Your eyes sweeped over him thoughtfully, using the tip of the knife to brush a strand of hair from his face. "Stabbing is so 90s," you rolled your eyes. "It's not enough to just kill anymore. You have to be... creative," you explained, as if there was a section in Cosmo on being a teenage serial killer.

Rafe threw his hands up in the air, clearly exasperated. "Oh, it's not enough to just kill anymore, we have to be creative?" he parroted, his voice going up an octave to imitate you in an unflattering falsetto.

"Local boy found stabbed doesn't quite have the same ring as local boy found gutted, now, does it, Rafe?" You scoffed, shooting an annoyed glare his way. "It's all about the optics."

"Oh, it's all about the optics," Rafe mimicked again, finding your pretentiousness both amusing and frustrating. You were like those insufferable film bros but with murder.

"Will you stop repeating what I'm saying back to me in that condescending tone?" You stood back up, turning to face him and crossing your arms over your chest. You couldn't work with him being the world's douchiest parrot right in your ear.

"Or what, princess?" Rafe asked, his voice low and mocking. "You gonna time out and have a little temper tantrum because I'm not taking your murder 101 lecture seriously enough?" He pushed himself off the wall, his eyes never leaving yours as he stepped closer.

"I oughta gut you next, you asshole," you threatened, pointing the knife at him for good measure. Although, you both knew that you'd never actually hurt him.

"Oh, yeah? And who's gonna clean up that mess, huh?" He smirked, leaning in close so that his breath was hot against your face. "You can't even handle a little blood on your shirt without whining about it."

You rolled your eyes at his arrogance. He was completely insufferable and annoyingly hot. "Shut up," you retorted sharply, getting back down to your knees next to the boy. You put the knife down for a moment, deftly unbuttoning the buttons of the boy's shirt.

Rafe watched you work with mild interest, his eyebrows raised. "What are you doing now, giving him a post-mortem fashion show?" He asked, shaking his head in disbelief. "This is why I stick to stabbing."

You ignored his remark, picking the knife back up and stabbing into his sternum. Blood splattered onto your face, your jaw clenching as you used all your strength to drag the knife down his body, cutting him open from his chest to just below his belly button.

Rafe flinched slightly as blood went flying. "Jesus Christ, warn a guy next time," he grumbled, wiping a stray drop from his cheek. He watched you work, a grimace on his face. "Remind me never to piss you off,"

"You already do," you deadpanned, curling your fingers into his skin and prying the flaps open to reveal his internal organs. "Literally every day."

"Ha ha, very funny," Rafe said dryly, his gaze flicking to the organs spilling out of the boy's chest cavity. "What the fuck am I even looking at right now anyway?" He squinted and tilted his head, clearly trying to decipher what parts of the body he was seeing beneath all that blood.

"I don't fucking know. Do I look like a doctor to you?" You looked up at him, shrugging. It wasn't like you'd researched how to mutilate a body prior to this. You were just sort of winging it.

"You look like an insufferable know-it-all who thinks they're better than everyone else," he quipped, crouching down beside you and looking into the body. "Is that... a lung?" He asked uncertainly.

"Didn't I just say I don't know?" You asked sarcastically, giving him an 'are you fucking kidding me right now' look before turning back to peer into the mess of blood, guts, and organs. You didn't really have a plan beyond cutting the poor guy open.

"Well, this is just fuckin' great," Rafe sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I was perfectly fine with just slitting his throat and leaving him, but nooooo you had to get all creative and worry about the optics like some kind of psycho Van Gogh."

"Will you calm the fuck down," you groaned, using the back of your wrist to brush a strand of hair out of your face and smudging blood on your forehead in the process. "I can't focus with you whining in my ear."

"Me? Whining?" Rafe scoffed, his eyes widening in offense. "I'm not the one covered in blood and guts, playing amateur butcher here." He shook his head, looking at you like you were the world's biggest idiot.

"I told you. This shit will make better headlines," you defended. "In the wise words of Tiffany, stabbings went out with Bundy and Dahmer," you quoted, tilting your head in thought.

"Great, so now you're quoting fuckin' Bride of Chucky to me?" Rafe rubbed his temples, feeling a headache coming on. Leave it to you to overcomplicate something as simple as killing someone.

You grinned, looking over at him as he recalled the exact movie you quoted. "Aww, you remembered?" You had forced Rafe to watch a shit ton of horror movies over the course of your friendship, but you never really thought he was actually paying attention to them.

"How could I forget? You made me sit through every single one of those god-awful films, complete with your annoying play-by-play commentary," Rafe grumbled, but deep down, he loved how excited you got about movies. Your jokes and ramblings were the only thing that made half those movies worth watching.

You turned back to the corpse, letting out a heavy sigh as you sat back on your heels. "Should we just... leave him like this?" You grimaced, not really wanting to touch any of his organs.

"What, you're done now?" Rafe rolled his eyes, standing up and wiping his hands on his pants. "I thought you had some master plan to be the next Da Vinci of serial killers."

"Can you even name a Da Vinci painting?" You rolled your eyes, grabbing the knife and standing up, blood coating your clothes and skin. "Besides, I said we had to get creative. I never claimed to know what the fuck I was doing," you pointed out. Though, it was all semantics, really.

"Of course I can name a Da Vinci painting," Rafe huffed, though he couldn't actually remember any off the top of his head. "It's... uh... The Last Supper." He crossed his arms, glaring at you in annoyance. "And maybe the fuckin'... uh, who's that bitch with the brown hair? Oh, the Mona Lisa."

"You remembered The Last Supper before the fucking Mona Lisa—literally the most well known painting in history?" You asked incredulously, shaking your head in disbelief, having a normal conversation with him as if you weren't standing over a mutilated corpse.

"Who gives a shit about the Mona Lisa or The Last Supper for that matter," he scoffed, motioning to the dead body on the ground. "Now what the fuck are we gonna do with this guy, huh?"

You sighed, shrugging. "Fuck if I know," you looked from the corpse to him.

"Well, that's just great," Rafe said sarcastically. "We kill the guy, and now we have no idea what to do with the body. You're a real fuckin' genius, you know that?" He shook his head in exasperation.

"Okay, well, if you wanna get bitchy, technically, you're the one that actually killed him," you said stubbornly, crossing your arms over your chest in annoyance.

"Oh, because slashing him open and rearranging his insides was just so innocent?" Rafe retorted, mimicking your stance and crossing his arms.

"Okay, I never said that I was innocent," you defended yourself, gesturing around with the bloody knife as you spoke. "I just said I wasn't the one that killed him."

"Semantics, sweetheart," Rafe drawled, his eyes rolling in annoyance. "Either way, we're both fucked if the cops find this body. So, come up with a plan already." He sighed heavily, looking around the room, as if expecting a solution to magically appear.

"You come up with a plan," you fired back. Why did you have to be the one to fix this mess? You were both royally fucked if shit hit the fan, so why was he putting all the pressure on you?

"Because you're the one with the goddamn imagination," Rafe growled, jabbing a finger at you. "You're the one who wanted to get creative with killing him. So now you get to be creative with getting rid of the body, too."

"You really gonna keep throwing that in my face?" You asked, the tension in the room growing with each passion second. "I was just trying to make things more interesting!"

"Well, congratulations, you succeeded in making things interesting," Rafe spat, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Now we're up to our eyeballs in shit and you can't even come up with a basic fucking plan to dig us out."

"I have a plan, you dickhead," you shot back with a huff. "Just carry him to the bathroom," you ordered, motioning to the hallway with the bloodied knife.

Rafe's eyebrows shot up, disbelief written all over his face. "To the bathroom?" He echoed incredulously. "What the hell are we gonna do with him in there? Give him a bubble bath and sing him to sleep?" He threw his hands up in frustration.

"Just carry him to fucking bathroom, smartass," you rolled your eyes. Everything was always a fight with Rafe. He couldn't just do what you asked. No, he had to make a billion sarcastic and bitchy comments in the process. God, he was so dramatic.

"Fine, let's take the mutilated corpse to the fucking bathroom," Rafe grumbled, moving to grab the body. He grunted as he grabbed the boy under the arms "You better have a damn good reason for this, or I swear to God..."

"Do you always have to complain so much," you groaned, trailing behind him. As much as Rafe was being a shithead, you couldn't help but admire the view of his biceps flexing underneath his t-shirt as he dragged the body.

"Would you rather I be all smiles and sunshine while carrying a disemboweled corpse to the bathroom?" Rafe shot back sarcastically. He dropped the body unceremoniously into the porcelain bathtub. "Now what?" He demanded, turning to you with a glare.

"Okay, I did not disembowel him," you said, rolling your eyes at his dramatics as you turned the tub on, turning the temperature to its max. "All his organs are still in his body," you argued, waiting for the water to heat up, occasionally dipping your fingers underneath to test the temp.

"Oh, well, as long as his organs are all nice and cozy inside him, I guess that makes it all okay then," Rafe retorted, watching you carefully as you plugged the bathtub, letting the water fill up.

"The water should burn off any DNA evidence, or at the very least, make it extremely degraded," you explained, steam starting to billow up from the tub and fill the small room. "So, we can just leave him here for like, his housekeeper to find or something."

Rafe's eyebrows shot up, "Leave him for the housekeeper to find?" He echoed, "And what, we just waltz outta here, hand in hand?"

"Aww," you cooed, looking over your shoulder to grin at him. "You wanna hold my hand?"

"Fuck you," Rafe spat, but you could see the faintest hint of a smirk playing on his lips. He crossed his arms over his chest, clearly annoyed but not entirely displeased by the idea.

"You wish," you snorted, willing the tub to finish filling up. You were becoming increasingly aware of how sticky and uncomfortable the blood was on your skin, especially now that it had gone cold.

"In your dreams, maybe," Rafe shot back, though his eyes flicked down to your arms, taking in the crimson stains that painted your skin. "You're a mess," he commented gruffly.

"Well, murder isn't exactly a clean endeavor." You turned the water off and turned back to him, crossing your arms over your chest. Rafe had blood all over his hands and spatter across his face and shirt. He wasn't nearly as bloody as you, but he wasn't clean either.

Rafe looked down at his red-stained hands, flexing his fingers as if just now realizing how messy he was. He glanced back up at you, his expression unreadable. "We should clean up."

"What?" You asked, gaze darting to the glass shower in the corner. "You wanna hop in the dead guy's shower? Seems a little insensitive, don't you think?" You grinned, making a joke of the situation.

"Oh, ha ha," Rafe deadpanned, uncrossing his arms and moving past you to turn the water on in the shower. He turned to you, his expression serious. "We'll shower together."

Your eyes widened a little at his bold demand, but you couldn't deny that it was practical. "Yknow, normally, I'd say you just wanna see me naked," you teased him. "But, that's actually not a bad idea. It'll save time."

"Don't flatter yourself," Rafe scoffed, though his eyes lingered on you for just a moment longer than necessary. "Less talking, more stripping," he said, pulling his shirt over his head.

You internally groaned at the sight of him shirtless. You'd seen it before, but the view of his toned chest simply never got old. You started to pull your own clothes off. "So, what are we gonna put on once we finish cleaning all this blood off?" You asked curiously, tugging your pants down your hips.

Rafe's jaw clenched as he took in your naked form, his eyes roaming over you appreciatively before he tore his gaze away and finished undressing. "There's probably a robe or something in here," he muttered, stepping into the shower and letting the warm water cascade over his head, falling down his broad shoulders.

You hummed, nodding as you stepped into the shower with him. It was a fancy ass shower with multiple shower heads and streams of water, which made washing up with another person much easier. You tried to keep your eyes North of the equator and not sneak a peek at his dick as you pumped some soap into your palm, lathering it in your hands.

Rafe watched you from the corner of his eye as he soaped up his own hands, his expression inscrutable. "You know," he said after a moment, "for someone who just helped me murder a man, you're awfully relaxed right now."

"You know, for someone who just let me help him murder a man, you're awfully relaxed right now," you grinned, mirroring his sentiment as you rubbed the soap on your body, trying to get rid of the blood staining your skin.

"Touché," he nodded, his hands roaming over his chest and arms, scrubbing away the crimson stains.

"Now, hurry up, so we can get the fuck out of here," you said, not wanting to be in the house any longer than necessary. Every minute that ticked by with you two in the room with your victim, was one minute closer to being caught.

Rafe finished washing himself quickly, his mind already on the task at hand—getting away from the scene of the crime. He turned off the shower and reached for a towel. He handed you one and took the other, both of you drying off in record time and pulling the soft, monogrammed robes on, you muttering something about 'fucking rich people' that had Rafe rolling his eyes—considering the fact that he also had monogrammed robes.

You collected your bloody clothes and the towels you had used, not wanting to leave anything behind before sneaking out of the house undetected and jumping into Rafe's truck parked a few blocks away. Once you were finally away from the house and certain you hadn't been seen by anyone, you let out a sigh, relaxing into the seat after you buckled yourself in.

Rafe started the truck and pulled out of the parking spot, keeping an eye on the rearview mirror as he drove away from the house. He glanced over at you, noting the bloody clothes balled up in your lap. "We need to get rid of those," he said, his voice low and even.

"We'll burn them," you shrugged, your tone indicating that it was the most obvious thing in the world. You leaned your head back against the headrest. You were exhausted and oddly, starving. Who knew that murder took so much out of a person?

He nodded. "Let's head to my place. We can order some food and discuss what to do now," he laid out a plan or pieces of a plan rather.

"Sounds good to me," you agreed, looking out the window and watching as the Figure Eight mansions blew by. You couldn't believe that you has just killed someone, and more than that, you couldn't believe you had just killed someone with the kook king Rafe Cameron.

tags .ᐟ @starkeysprincess / @cometmultiverse / @iheartjjmaybnk / @all4l0vee / @kissesfrmriri / @xoxohoneymoongirl / @bradshawed / @fallbhind

369 notes · View notes

mytheoristavenue · 1 year ago

Text

LF Creature x Reader - Mutal Comfort

Summary: You owed Lisa a favor, but you never expected she'd make you pay it back in the form of babysitting her undead boytoy while she goes to a party.

Warnings: rushed/not proofread, bisexual!reader, reader has an unreciprocated crush on Lisa, angst, fem!reader

"Lisa, I never agreed to this!" You shouted at your best friend as she hurried over to crawl back out of your window.

"I promise I'll make it up," she waved you off, sliding the glass panel up. "It's just for the night, I swear. I'll be back before school."

With that she was gone, hearing no other protests. You stood with your back flattened against the wall, frightened gaze never leaving the thing on the other side of your bedroom.

You were the only person who knew of Creature's presence, being Lisa's very best friend for life or whatever. You'd do anything for her but babysitting her undead little pet was definitely stretching boundaries.

You felt some guilt for your terror, after all, he did look incredibly somber, shrinking into the opposite corner. Maybe he felt bad for scaring you?

"S-Soo...uh," you started, pushing off the wall but only by mere centimeters. "Y-You...Lisa's new boyfriend?" The thing seemed rigid at the thought and reluctantly shook his head. "Let me guess, you wanna be?" You prodded, inching closer still. Another timid nod. The two of you had that in common, apparently.

"You and me both," you sighed, sitting on the edge of your bed. Creature eyed you skeptically, still in the corner but not as glued to the wall as before. "Don't look at me like that, I don't mean I want to be her boyfriend." You paused, wondering if his expression was caused by the thought of you being gay or wanting to be a male, or maybe he was jealous at the thought of competition. "But, I don't know, being girlfriends might be nice..."

By this time, he'd inched close enough to sit on the other side of the bed, still as far away on it as possible, though. You took this as a sign to continue. "It's just that, me and Lis have been besties since like- kindergarten. I even convinced my parents to move her with her after her mom died and it feels like all she does is blow me off now," you ranted. "Like, before the incident, we'd have these long talks about the future, and we were always in each other's but now...I don't know anymore..."

An anguished moan was his only response as he drew his discolored hand to his chest. "Sorry," you said dropping your head. "I know you've gotta be hurting too listening to her ramble on about-" You brought your hands to your cheeks and batted your lashes, making your voice an octave higher to imitate your crush. "Micheal Trent!" He nodded, rolling his eyes slightly. "Y'know, I really don't know what she sees in him? Dude's a class A poser. He pretends to be into all that dark music and poetry but it's literally just to look cool and mysterious so all the preppy girls will fall in love with him."

While you ranted, Creature studied your room, noting how different it was from Lisa's. She had string lights, drawings, and moody posters all over her walls, while yours were tidy and well-organized with framed photos and prints of paintings that matched the color scheme of the walls. Eventually, you caught onto his staring and fell quiet prompting him to glance back to you.

"Didn't mean to fly off the handle, my bad." you muttered, standing up with a sigh. "Anyways, what do you like to do? Got any hobbies?" He stood up with you, wandering over to a keyboard that had collected dust in the corner. Curiously, he stuck a key and cringed at the sound it made. You joined him, explaining it. "That's just my old keyboard. I used to play piano as a kid but when we moved here we couldn't take my piano with us, so my dad got me this. It's kinda like an electric piano, only it's portable. Don't really like it though, too synthy for my taste."

Creature sat down in front of it, fumbling with the buttons on the control board while trying out the keys after each adjustment. Finally, he seemed to have found a setting he liked. "I'm guessing you play?" you cocked a brow. You couldn't have predicted how the cocky smirk then tossed you would make you feel. Following that, he threaded his finders together before pushing them out, cracking his knuckles before dramatically slamming down on the keys.

"Holy shit," you breathed, listening to the classical tune that filled your room. Needless to say, he played beautifully and was incredibly talented. At one point, he even glanced up at you with another shit-eating grin, showcasing the fact that he knew the positions by memory and didn't even need to look.

"You're amazing!" you explained when the song was finished, placing your hands on either shoulder and rocking him gently. "I've never seen that much musical skill from one person! What, were you like a professional pianist in your first life or something?"

To your surprise, he actually nodded. "Jesus christ man, I've never even heard that song before, did you write that?" He nodded again, and again, you were flabbergasted. "I bet you had an extraordinarily hard life." You muttered without thinking. "Art like that only comes out of suffering." As he nodded yet again, this time more bashfully, the two of you shared a moment of silence.

"I'm sorry, that was rude," you realized, glancing away. This time, Creature shook his head, an uncharacteristically peachy hand guiding your face back toward his as he stepped closer. For a moment, you waited to see what wisdom he had to offer, before remembering that no words would come as he stared at you, only able to offer a comforting gaze. "I wish you could talk," you whispered as he pulled you into his chest without you even realizing it. "But then again, maybe it's better you can't." you retorted to yourself bitterly. "I've had enough people tell me to cheer up because life gets better."

Creature stiffened, pushing you to hold you at arm's length, shaking his head again. "You think you got something better?" you asked, rhetorically.

Sensing your irritation, he resigned himself to giving up on communication for now. Taking matters into his own hands, he pressed a palm to his heart, a sign for you to trust him. Gently, he guided you back to your bed, pushing you down onto it. Awkwardly, Creature untucked the quilt from the bed a threw it over you, signalling for you to lay down, before tucking you in. You reluctantly followed his instruction, laying down on your side, tears welling in your eyes from all the overwhelming emotion bubbling inside you. You then watched as he made his way over to your desk, seeming to write something on a sheet of notebook paper Following this, he laid the note at your feet as he took a seat in front of the keyboard again.

You couldn't deny that you were beginning to feel drowsy after the soft music he played filled the room. This song was nothing like the first one. It was sweet and serene, unlike the dark and dramatic one he'd first played- with that cocky grin that made you feel so conflicted.

On the cusp of needing to rest your eyes, you remembered the note he'd left for you, briefly sitting up to reach it before laying back down, holding it up in the air to read what it said as he played your consciousness out.

"The sun does not ever reappear if the rain never stops. To live happily is to find solace in any weather. With the right balance, the flowers will begin to bloom. I hope to one day see a lush garden in you, darling."

#lisa frankenstein #lisa frankenstein creature x reader #creature x reader #lisa swallows #lisa frankenstein reader insert #lisa frankenstein fanfic #diablo cody #zelda williams

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someonegoood · 1 year ago

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MY WHOLE LIFE pt. 3 ✫ mason mount

part 1, part 2, final part.

in which after everything you gave, you're not sure if you're going to keep going. (brother’s best friends troop).

CONTAINS: brother’s best friend troop, angst, some smut (not really explicit) & fluff ! age gap, arguments...

AUTHOR'S NOTE: here's part 3 ! final part for my first two works, I'm proud of how it came out

taglist: @girlidekanymore @sunflower-tia @nicolesainz @chilwellspulisic @anotherfan07

inspired by taylor swift's songs.

The feeling of freshness —the wonderful smells, the damp feel of leaves falling down the trees, the breeze and the rain on your skin. The sound of rain is wonderful: not just between a hard roof and leaves, but you can hear it on different types of trees and hedges.

The flowers, which look like they were painted by Monet himself, have colours so rich that no one can even attempt to imitate them. From the smallest weed to the grandest stalk, they are all beautiful in your eyes.

Around you are your friends; some are talking or enjoying the countryside air. You had decided to take me on a little vacation before returning to the routine of the busy city of London.

No distractions, no disturbances, especially without him. After seeing how Mason smiled at that blonde standing next to him and Debbie's painful look in the boat, you knew all these years were in vain.

The moments when you took care of him after he vomited from all the alcohol he had consumed at the party, when you covered him so he could go on dates with different girls and other things you had done for him.

The last time Mason saw you still burned in the back of your mind, the little stolen glances he gave you while you were wearing a pink t-shirt, the one that you had left back in a drawer in the Mount's house. Stacey had told you the t-shirt drove him crazy.

It had been weeks, and you still couldn’t understand why nothing went your way. Was it you? Had you done something wrong? Had it been you that caused the gulf?

—Babes, how could you ever think it's your fault? Clearly, he is out of his mind. —Clara talked. You and your friends were sitting on the porch in the extensive field that belonged to your grandparents.

Then Adelaida, who was resting her head on your lap, suddenly stood up, leaning on one elbow and said: —Please don't think it's your fault, you would be lowering yourself to his level.

Everyone had been adamant that it wasn’t you... even your mother. But even with those words of affirmation, it didn’t change the internal feelings, the heartbreak that felt it was never-ending.

All you ever wanted was that connection, that string, that feeling that pulled you to another person, that proved he was the person meant to be for you. It was devastating to think back and know he wasn’t.

Even though you were angry at him, you knew that when you saw him you would act like a little girl, crazy in love.

On the other side, Mason was in the kitchen, picking at the leftover food on the tabletop as everyone else was in the living room. His mother walked into the kitchen as he took a bite of little meatballs that looked delicious and she laughed at the pieces of meat that had fallen onto the kitchen counter.

—That’s definitely not the way to eat —she smirked knowing his son wasn't the type of person to sit down and eat properly.

—But you love me anyways, mom. —Mason flashed his puppy eyes as his mum laughed at his actions. It had been a long year for Mason. He stopped turning to family events when he knew you would be there.

—Mason Tony Mount, I gave birth to you, I know you better than you know yourself-

—Mom. —Mason sighed. —Don't start this whole speech about her, please.

—Dear, I don’t even need to say her name... it will always be her. —She smiled, sadly, as she walked over to her son and placed a hand on his cheek.

—She's happy, from what I heard. —he scoffed again.

—So then you know you’re being an ass, right?

Mason's eyes widened at his mother's question but she just laughed and waved him off. —After all the years she spent after you, dear, it would be cruel for you to not let her be happy.

That sentence shattered his heart. You weren't the little girl who ran behind him in search of attention anymore, you were a woman with maturity, feelings and beauty.

—But what if I’m not happy? —he asked his mum. Debbie felt her heart clench at his words, it was never good for a mother when they saw their son being at his lowest.

—Do you love her?

There was no answer.

—See, that would be very cruel. Mase... either you love her or you’re jealous. Just remember that she's a second daughter to me and I know her like the palm of my hand. I'm certain that she’s fragile when it comes to you.

After a week in the countryside with your friends, you were back in the city, at a party the english players were throwing in celebration of their team winning the last few games.

Every time he looks at you, it’s making him go mad. It surprises him how much influence you have on his night out. He actually believed he could handle it, seeing you after a while. Normally he’s the one who takes you to the football after-parties because you begged him like crazy. But not this time.

Did you wear a white dress on purpose tonight? He doesn’t know. You look beautiful and he wishes he had the nerve to tell you how great white looks on you. He remembers the time you almost kiss in the box, you in the white sweatshirt with his number. The guy talking to you on your right was Foden. Did you wear it for him? He doesn’t believe that, he doesn’t think he deserves that.

Mason sighs. This is one of the hardest nights in his life. He shouldn’t have messed it up. If he didn’t follow what Ben said to him, he would probably be the one talking to you. Fucking Ben.

At the same time, you don’t know what’s bothering Mason. You thought he would be coming to the afterparty with Daphne, but his friends confirmed that he forgot her quickly. He didn't even kiss her. Neither touch her.

It surprised you, you were afraid he would show up with that beautiful model. A part of you felt really happy.

You feel his eyes burning into you while you talk to Foden. You quickly take the cocktail out of Phil's hands, while thanking him in the meantime. He shrugs it off.

—What’s up with you? —He asks you after you take a few sips.

—What do you mean? —You ask him. Is he noticing your bad mood? You tried hiding it, but maybe you failed.

—You seem distracted. Did something happen? —he goes on. You take a sip of your cocktail, thinking about your response. Could it be a bad plan to tell him about Mase? They’re friends after all. But on the other hand, it would be nice to talk about it to someone.

—It’s him, isn’t it? —Foden answers his own question. You didn’t even realize you were looking at Mason until Phil spoke. You nod towards him, —Let’s go outside.

Then, you're sitting on a wooden bench outside. The white dress doesn’t give you much warmth, so you embarrassingly start to shiver. Before you can notice it, Phil drapes his jacket around your shoulders.

—Fuck... —he says, regretting. —I knew it would be a bad plan to invite you. —Mutters softly, —I thought it was a good idea to make you feel better, now I just got Mount to get angry at you.

You laughed, thinking that was very cute. —That’s not true, Phil —you try to comfort him, —you can’t help me being an idiot.

—To be fair, Mason and you are both idiots. —Foden laughs, —Definitely unaware idiots-

But before he can explain to you anything, Mason shows up in front of you.

While walking back to his car, he notices the sound of people talking outside. He thinks he’s recognizing your voice. He must be going insane, he thinks tiredly to himself. But still, he walks towards the sound. Quickly seeing you and Phil sitting together... fucking hell, why are you wearing his jacket?

Before he realizes it himself, he stands before you and his teammate Foden. The chattering stops directly, did he interrupt something? He feels awkward with you and Phil looking at him amusingly. How can he fix this awful situation?

—I uh... I wanted to say bye to you. —Mason said, ignoring the existence of Phil. —I am supposed to bring you home or will Phil...?—He stutters eventually, not wanting to finish his question.

—Wait, Mase, can we talk? —You react before Mason turns around and walks to his car in a rush. He nods.

—Of course.

The silence was sharply awkward.

—Don’t forget your jacket, Foden —Mason quickly says, —she can wear mine while we’re outside.

Phil, who no longer was sitting on the bench, laughed for a bit at his hopeless friend. Then he walks up to you, and takes his own jacket from your shoulders, while Mason quickly takes off his. You give Phil a quick hug to thank him, before getting into Mason's jacket.

—Don’t be an idiot to her —says Phil toward Mason whispering in his ear. You smile shyly, flushing with Phil's comment.

Mason doesn’t know how to watch the interaction between his friend and you. He doesn't know where to look when you turn your attention to him. The white dress quickly grabs his attention once again.

Silently, both of you walk to the parking lot where his fancy Mercedes-AMG was parked. You had always made fun of him because the car was too posh in your opinion, although every time you needed a ride home you always ended up in his car.

Firstly he took the car keys out of his pocket and then he opened your door for you. He had always been a gentleman. The situation is unexpected, yet influenced by the tension that’s been built between you two through the last couple of months.

—So, what do you want to talk about? —Mason asks you. You lasted a few seconds thinking about how to answer his question.

—Why were you ignoring me today? Why didn’t you come up to me and Phil to say hi? —You fire multiple questions at him, —did I do something wrong? Are you upset with me? —Your words cut through the thick air inside the car.

—I thought the two of you were busy with each other. —Mason mutters.

You scoff, this was unbelievable. —That’s bullshit Mase, you know I always make time for you.

—God!, I just wasn’t in the mood to see you two. —He said, elevating his tone, trying to sound casual but deep down, jealousy was gnawing at him like a relentless beast.

You don’t know what to say to Mason. You don’t even know what the boy means. He wasn’t in the mood to see you? Since when could that happen?

—Why? —You barely dare to ask him. You have no choice, so you repeat your last question —why, Mase? —Your eyes start to fill with tears.

Mason sighs, —You won’t get it.

—You don’t know that. Try me.

—I just... I just don’t like seeing you with other boys —he confessed. You doubt for a bit. Should you tell him you were relieved he showed up alone instead of coming with Daphne? You decide not.

—Oh, come on Mason! You can't say that! —You almost shout. Mason's eyes open like plates. You had never raised your voice at him like that, so angry.

—Why not? —He, as well, says almost shouting.

—Because you don't have the right! It's-it's just that you can't say that as if my feelings were so simple... —You tried to calm yourself, you could lost everything now.

—Mason, I've been with you since the beginning and you know that. I'm your biggest supporter and deep inside you know I’ll always cheer for you. I’ve spent my whole girlhood- Fuck. —Tears start scrolling down your delicate face. He looks at you as if you were graceful.

—I wanted to be with you tonight, —you eventually say after a long silence—but you looked at me as if I didn’t matter.

—I know.

You sigh. Can't the boy say anything else? You feel obligated to talk further: —Why aren’t you telling me what’s wrong?

You don't get any answer. Looking at the ceiling of the car, you try to keep your cool.

—You know what? I’m going back to the party. Call me when you can explain at least something. —You want to undo yourself from Mason's warm jacket, but he stops you directly by grabbing your arm.

—I know you deserve to know what’s going on, but I don’t want to lose you. I know it’s a shitty excuse which makes everything even more unclear, but please don’t go back inside. —Mason talks soft and fast —and please keep the jacket on.

—What’s so important about the jacket? —You ask with a small smile, trying to lighten the mood a bit.

—Your dress distracts me and I don’t want to see you in anyone else’s jacket again. —This time he is direct with his words. Almost harsh. You wonder why your dress distracts him. Does he find it ugly?

—Don’t you like the dress? —You ask.

—I fucking love the dress. —Mason says. At that moment you feel something clicking. Despite his short explanation, you wonder if Mason may return your feelings.

—Just give me time. Everything is happening so fast and the fact that I'm just realizing that all these years all I've been doing is hurting you makes me go mad angry at myself. —He says, without breathing. —And... I'm sorry. I'm truly sorry for everything I've done, for the countless times I've hurt you. I promise you will have a proper explanation. —He tried to smile, with tears in his eyes.

—That's the Mase I know... —You laugh lightly and Mason just stares at you, sweetly. —Now take me back home, probably my brother is already wasted.

What you didn't know is that that day Mason Mount started falling in love with you.

A few days after you were your house, sat in the cozy familiarity of the your couch while your mother flipped through the pages of a weathered photo album resting on her lap. Each turn of the page revealed a snapshot of your brother's and your past, a journey frozen in time.

—Look! You're wearing my glasses! —Said your mother, with clear emotion in her voice. She turned some pages that had photographs of your childhood: when you were born, your first tooth fell out and many more memories.

Your cheeks flushed with nostalgic warmth, a subtle testament to the innocence and joy captured in each photograph.

Among the sepia-toned memories and faded polaroids, there was a page filled with pictures where Mason and you, both still little children, intertwined in laughter playing in the park.

Your mom pinched your cheek. —Someday you will realize that everything you did was not in vain, on the contrary, it was all worth it. —She stopped to take a breath. —Because golden loves are like that. They stay with you forever.

—How beautiful, mom. —You ironized. She laughed.

—It will, darling... Come here. —And then you hugged her. You hugged her with all your might as you felt her warmth on your face. She giggled, breaking the embrace.

—You'll need a spell to make Mason realize what a fool he is.

—Mom!

A couple days later, you were back at Stamford Bridge once again. As you approach the stadium, you can feel the excitement building. The streets around the stadium eagerly anticipate the game ahead.

Inside the stadium, the dominant colour is blue. The stands are filled with supporters adorned in their team's jerseys, scarves, and signs that say "Pride of London".

—Call her Mason, I’m sure she's in the stands —said Ben, while putting on the new shirt they played in today. Mason held his cell phone, sitting on the bench in the large locker room.

Today was Valentine's Day and Mason had a game. Your brother told Mason he was going out on a date with his girlfriend but you would go in his place, as usual. He didn't know if you were coming, so Mason was nervous, especially with the talk you had in his car.

You had called Debbie in the morning, asking her if you should come to the game, and she told you that Mason would be more than happy to see you there. You wondered if he knew what you were up to if your brother had kept him in the loop.

Pick it up.

The third tone rang while Ben tried to hold Mason, about to faint from anxiety. In the background, music was blasting from the speakers while the guys on the team began gathering in the locker room for their last talk before the game started.

Reece James leaned closer, curious why his teammate was sitting with his phone in hand, bouncing his leg nervously.

—What has got Mount that nervous? I've never seen him like this —he says to Ben, seated next to Mason, fixing his shoes.

—It's his girlfriend-

—She's not my girlfriend! —Mason interrupted Chilwell, with an expression of fear. You still haven't answered him and the fact that his friends were bothering him added to his anxiety.

—Give me that shit. —Suddenly Kai Havertz appeared out of nowhere, grabbing Mason's phone and putting the call on speaker. Everyone's attention was on the tones ringing, hoping you'll pick up. The team had witnessed your situationship since Mason had joined Chelsea, so they knew you quite well.

—Hi? Mason?

Kai, standing on the bench in the centre of the room, had the phone in his hand so everyone could hear. His eyes widened and his mouth also opened, in surprise. Everyone stood up while Mason's blood pressure went down.

With a jump, Havertz handed the cell phone to his friend so he could answer you. There was a silence between your response and his because his teammates were signalling to him, guiding him in his response.

—Yes? —That was the only thing he could think of at that moment.

—You... you've just called me minutes before your game. Is everything okay? Do you need something? —For you, it was strange that Mason called you, especially right before his game. Mason's teammates melt with your response, you seemed like a worried girlfriend.

—N-no, I was calling to know if you're on Stamford Bridge. —He stuttered, nervous about your answer. You smiled a bit, already seated between the blue tide of fans.

—Of course! I wouldn't miss a game for anything Mase. —And that was the end of him. He said goodbye saying that he had to go out and play and hoped you liked the game, while all his friends were shouting acknowledging that probably by the end of the year, they would have a new addition on their team.

The match ended with Chelsea winning by two goals and the assistance of Mason. You couldn't be more proud of him and after the exhilarating victory at Stamford Bridge, you made your way to the cooldown room, where players and staff often gather to unwind after the match.

As you entered, you spotted Mason, the hero of the game with his crucial assist. A sense of pride swelled within you as you approached him. He was putting something in his backpack, distracted.

—Incredible game out there, —you said, startling Mason. He turned with a smile, recognizing your voice without seeing your face.

—Thanks, this means a lot to me... —Mason replied, his face beaming with satisfaction. You both exchanged a few more words about the match, sharing our favourite moments and the atmosphere at the stadium. Then, out of the blue, Mason's tone turned slightly more serious.

—You know... —he said, pausing for a moment. —I've been thinking. We've been through so much together, your support has meant a lot to me.

You nodded, feeling a sense of tenderness with him. Mason took a deep breath before continuing. —Listen, I was wondering if you'd like to grab dinner later. Just to say thanks for always being there, you know?

Surprised by the unexpected invitation, you couldn't help but smile. —I'd be honoured to join you. —You said, laughing out of nervousness.

A couple hours later, Mason kept his hand on your lower back as he led you through the restaurant, your body settled into his side. His hand slid around your waist while opening the door, a shiver already wracking your body. You gasped at the white snow starting to lay outside, thick flakes slowly falling from the sky.

—Look there! Mase, it's snowing! —You tugged a little on Mason's hand on your waist, the heat replacing the cold feeling on your fingers. There was already a pretty thick layer on the ground and you wondered briefly how long it had been snowing. —It's so pretty.

Mason watched your smile widen when he was paying the bill, as you tilted your head back, eyes squinting as the flakes cascaded down. He'd never seen anyone get so excited over snow.

You looked so good under the twinkling lights, the candle in the middle of the table illuminating half of your face. He was having an amazing time, already realizing he mad in love with you.

From the way you keep your hair in a messy ponytail to the way you are surprised by the snow. Everything about you was perfect for him.

—Do you want to go for a walk before I take you home? —He slid his hand over your jaw, his thumb stroking away the little flake on your cheek. You gave a small nod, flushed since all of this was new for you. He grinned before stepping back and holding his hand out to you.

—M'lady?

You looped your arm through his and the two of you started off down the street, his gaze darting between you and the falling snow. You snuggle as close as possible to him to steal some of his natural body heat.

Snow was falling and settling into Mason’s hair, individual flakes dropping onto his eyelashes and you were certain he’d never looked prettier.

—Remember the time I tried to sneak out and you caught me? That time I was actually grounded for fighting with my brother and I wanted to buy the new console game you were so interested in. —You said, recalling those silly things.

He didn't know if his cheeks were flushed pink from the cold or from what you'd just said.

—But that game was so expensive!

—I know! I just wanted to give you something for your birthday. That's why I didn't have any presents for you at your birthday party.

Mason caught your gaze, head cocking curiously at the sudden shy look that had taken over your features. You let your eyes wander from him to the snow-filled street around you. You slowed to a stop, right against the barriers of the little lake and you leant against it, the two of you facing each other, your hand still clasped in his.

All you wanted was to grab him and kiss him, you didn’t care who saw or if you got a cold, you just wanted to kiss him in the snow.

After a silence, he said: —You know I want you, right?

You looked at him. Surprised. Self-conscious Scared. But above all, in love.

—I've been thinking and I can't help falling for you now. I’m not jealous because you have other people in your life, I’m not a fucking kid. That time with Phil, at the party, made me realize that I want you with me... By my side. I want to be the one you say 'I love you' to, I want to be the one that cuddles you, that-

You interrupted him. —Mase, I… I don’t know how to say this… —Voice uncertain as you watched for his reaction, for any flicker of emotion that stated he didn't want that.

His face fell, and he retracted his hands from the barriers that before were trapping you between his body and the barriers. Ready for rejection, he looked into your eyes.

—I… I like you too. —You looked down, feigning sadness. When you looked up, he was squinting at you. —I don't know how are you convincing my brother you're good enough for me...

—I'd probably invite him to one of my games and we could go for dinner after the game? I'll book somewhere for us. —You matched his smile with a nod, shoulders relaxing slightly after the confession as you pulled your hand from his so you could settle your arms around his neck instead.

—Sounds amazing. Deep inside he's a West Ham fan, y'know. — Mason's face contorted a little when he bumped his nose against yours, lips lightly brushing together.

—Oh shut up, —he muttered into your lips, —let me kiss you.

And you obeyed, your hands resting nervously at his neck as he ravished you, his tongue begging for entrance. You allowed it, moaning into his lips as they intertwined perfectly. His hands travelled from your hair to your waist where he pushed you closer to him.

You indeed had waited your whole life for this.

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sunshine-daisies-library · 11 months ago

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Speak Now | Steve Harrington x Fem!Ex!Reader

Summary: You were called in as a last ditch effort by Dustin to convince Steve to back out of an arranged marriage with Kimberly Astor, the heiress of a multi-million dollar company. Only issue is that you were uninvited to the affair, but the kids you used to babysit have another plan.

Warnings: Mentions of infidelity, drug abuse, exes to lovers

Based on Taylor Swift's song, Speak Now <3

You shouldn’t be here. You’re being serious, you really shouldn’t be here. But when Dustin called you and pleaded for you to drive over two hours from Chicago to your hometown, you knew this wasn’t a call to ignore. You weren’t the type of girl to barge in on a wedding.

But then again, you knew Steve wasn’t the type of boy to marry the wrong girl.

“Thank God you came,” Dustin runs over to throw his arms around you. He lets out a sigh of relief as he tosses his entire weight onto you. You stagger back as you try to keep him standing, but it had been far too long since you had seen the boy, he had grown faster than you expected. Three years was enough for him to shoot up and tower over you. No longer was he the short curly haired boy you watched over on weekdays to get some pocket money to go on dates with Steve. Now, he’s nearly an adult, packing his things for college and using his free time to call his favorite people: you and Steve. Separately, of course, because you two were no longer a thing.

“You called,” you respond, pulling away. “Besides, it gives me a reason to see you munchkins again.”

“I think we hardly classify as munchkins now,” you hear a voice from behind you. In comes the gang of kids you used to spend nearly every waking day with, all visibly older and dressed fancily for the occasion. Mike, the voice you recognized, leads the group and comes to hug you first.

You can barely reach up to hug him. “Mike!” you exclaim. “Jesus, you’ve gotten so big.”

Max steps forward and gives you a small smile, never the one for physical contact after everything that happened. Her glasses frame her face beautifully, and her matured features cause your eyes to water. “Enough of the waterworks,” she tells you firmly. Max cocks her head at the bride’s family, all dressed in tacky pastels. The mom swats at her youngest son’s hand as she pushes his blond hair back. “We have more shit to deal with now.”

“Is she that bad?” you ask your friends.

Will grimaces along with Lucas and his far from little sister. Erica was never one for hiding her emotions on her face, and that habit seemed to have stuck as she aged. “She was just yelling at some bridesmaid,” Will replies with a sigh. “Pretty sure it was Steve’s cousin, too.”

“She looks like a pastry,” Eleven deadpans, causing Max to elbow her.

You pinch the bridge of your nose and sigh at Eleven’s directness. Things never change, you suppose. “Where is he?”

Everyone knew who he was. It was the very reason why you drove all this way.

“No clue,” Dustin answers, hands shoved in his pockets. “Kimberly has been bothering him about everything needing to be perfect,” Dustin’s voice went high-pitched and unbearable to imitate the rich heiress Steve called his fiance.

You never knew why Steve got himself into this. Pleasing his parents was the last thing he ever wanted to do while you were dating. What happened in the three years of leaving Hawkins that made him switch up? This wasn’t the Steve you knew, and you knew from the moment Dustin called that you had to stop Steve from ruining his life.

Music starts to play, ringing through the halls of the gothic church you were standing in the middle of. The wedding was starting soon. The bells and gonging sound eerily similar to the sounds of the grandfather clock Max vividly described when she was in the hospital after Vecna’s attack. It sends shivers down your spine but you quickly regain your composure.

“We gotta go,” Max informs you. “Steve made sure to get us seats in the front. You’ll be okay from here?”

“Yeah,” you reassure them. “I’ll be fine, promise.” Parting ways, you spend the last few minutes looking around for that familiar mop of brown hair. In the distance, you see him and he instantly takes your breath away.

He’s wearing a pressed suit that shows no sign of wrinkles or age. It’s definitely new and tailored for him, no doubt thanks to his mother. In his suit pocket is a neatly folded white pocket square, and beside it was a freshly picked rose pinned to his breast. He looks like a daydream, but deep down, you knew he was living his worst nightmare.

This was all wrong. He hates stiff suits and having his hair slicked back. He never wanted a fancy and lavish affair for a wedding; he always wanted it to be intimate and surrounded by his loved ones and definitely not his snotty relatives. And Steve hated roses. It reminded him too much of his parents’ materialistic relationship. The one where his mom thought it was perfectly suitable to drink her problems away with wine and the occasional scotch. It was also the one where his dad would just shower his mom with designer purses and roses whenever she found out he was sleeping with yet another unreasonably young secretary.

A pained expression rests on Steve’s face as he trails behind the minister. You call out to him through the sea of people. After the third call, he finally perks his ears at your voice and turns to face your direction. A look of surprise replaces his sullen expression. It’s been three years since he’s last seen you. Three years since you broke things off to move to Chicago. How did you end up back in Hawkins?

‘What are you doing here?’ he mouths to you.

You’re weaving through the crowd, trying to get to him. ‘Saving you,’ you mouth back.

His eyebrows furrow in confusion, but before he can do anything about it, he’s nudged forward by a groomsman. Reluctantly, Steve moves forward and walks down the aisle.

You don’t lose sight of Steve, hiding expertly behind the curtains as the procession continues. He walks down the aisle to the organ’s music that reminds you of a death march. You closely watch the rest of the members of the family follow behind Steve. You were so concentrated on the procession that you didn’t realize Will’s older brother standing behind you.

“L/N what are you doing here?” Jonathan whispers.

You jump in shock, gripping the dusty white curtain close to your chest. “Jonathan!” you whisper-shouted. “Nearly scared the shit out of me. I’m here to stop a wedding.”

“Where do you need me?” Jonathan instantly asks. You cock an eyebrow at his eagerness. “Listen, I’ve met Kimberly. Steve and I were never best buds, but I’m not going to let him toss his life away for a nasty person like her. Especially not when you’ve loved him all this time.”

You open your mouth to correct him but Jonathan is quick to cut you off. “Cut the bull, N/N, we both know the truth. You never stopped loving Harrington, but what I can’t wrap my head around is why you left him?”

“I wasn’t going to string Steve along for a hopeless long distance relationship,” you shoot back. “I had to move to Chicago for my job. I knew Steve would come with me no matter what I said, so I cut things off.”

Jonathan presses his lips together in a thin line but doesn’t say anything else about the topic. “Why are you hiding, anyway?”

You roll your eyes, peering over the curtains to see the flower girls tossing petals along the pathway. “Seems like I was uninvited by his lovely bride-to-be.”

The music instantly changes as Kimberly walks out in her enormous dress. Her face exudes class and elegance as she takes calculated steps down the aisle. “Fucking pageant queen,” Jonathan mutters under his breath.

“She looks beautiful,” you compliment shortly. That’s all you’re willing to say about her. From a distance Steve is looking through his bride, eyes only on you. He wishes the one walking down this aisle was you.

The rest of the ceremony is a blur to you. Words go in your ear and out the other, and you almost didn’t realize the most important part of the wedding has started.

“Should anyone present know of any reason that this couple should not be joined in holy matrimony,” the minister read aloud from his book. “speak now or forever hold your peace.”

Taking a deep breath, you emerge from the curtains and raise your hand.

Horrified looks from everyone in the room but you only look at Steve. Relief floods his face and his shoulders finally relax.

“You don’t want this,” you speak directly to him. “I know you, Steve. You don’t want any of this.”

“She doesn’t know what she’s talking about,” Kimberly cuts in, facing the minister. “Steven wants this. Right, Steven?”

“For the last time, my name is Steve,” Steve huffs at his now-ex-fiance. “And I don’t want this. I just want you.” His chocolate brown eyes peer over at you, and a small smile reaches his lips. “I’ll meet you out the back door.”

Following his instructions, you run out of the church, dodging angry relatives and their shouts. Keys in hand, you hop into your car and start the engine. Pulling out of your spot, you drive down to the back door where Steve is. You quickly unlock the door as Steve practically jumps in, avoiding the yells of the bridesmaids and dodging the bouquets tossed at his head.

Steve lets out an exhausted huff as he loosens his tie. A giddy smile is on his face as he looks back at you. You can’t help but share a similar expression as you step on the gas.

“Thanks for saving my neck out there,” Steve tells you gratefully.

“Anything for you,” you respond, glancing over at him. He still looks the same as ever, if not more handsome. Your heart honestly never stopped beating for him. “If I didn’t make it clear earlier,” you clear your throat awkwardly. “I’m still in love with you, Harrington.”

Silence follows and you can feel your heart beating out of your chest. Soon enough, your worries are calmed when Steve takes one of your hands off the wheel and covers it with his.

“I got that, dummy,” he chuckles softly.

You sigh in relief, laughing quietly along, too. “So, where to?”

You couldn’t get the glint in his eye off your mind when he smiles at you.

“Where’s the nearest chapel?”

#stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington #steve harrington fic recs #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff

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justthatonereader · 7 months ago

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Thinking about how unconditional Ivan's love is.

Thinking about Mizisua is something like knowing, seeing, synchronizing and harmonizing and Ivantill is unknowing, unseeing, conflicting and clashing.

Thinking about how there are two reasons as to why Till can't look Ivan in the eyes: Till feels guilty that Ivan came back and the reason might be him or Till can't look Ivan in the eyes because he's afraid that the eyes gazing back at him is full of hatred because he's the reason Ivan is still here.

Thinking about Ivan showing his love in the only way he knows how made their relationship strained.

Thinking about Till's misunderstanding of Ivan's feelings because in Till's PoV, Ivan hates him hence the hatred in Ivan's gaze in the screen.

Thinking about how Ivan could have expressed his love better if he did the forehead thing instead of kissing him, in that way Till wouldn't misunderstand Ivan's feelings and his attempt of choking him and mistaking it as betrayal and hatred. Because Till, for all his brash and rebellious nature craved softness and gentleness not a kiss he thought was gross and probably doesn't understand the meaning of.

Thinking about how Till, Mizi and Gojo looked when Luka and Kenjaku poorly imitated the love Ivan, Sua and Geto had for them (because you can't imitate love) and it worked on them anyway

Thinking bout how Till was the one who looked at Ivan at his worst and was also the one who looked at him first.

Thinking about how Till actually looked at Ivan without having to fight him but Ivan just didn't noticed.

Thinking bout how Till must have recognized Ivan's touches (bc of his softening moments) in R6 but doesn't understand why bc he's always asleep when Ivan tends to him.

Thinking bout how in jjk it's: U can't save a person who doesn't want to be saved. But in alnstge it's: you can't save a person who doesn't want to be saved by you

Thinking bout how Ivan was less selfish in his sacrifice bc at least his feelings we're not reciprocated but he was clearly wrong bc it haunted Till.

Thinking bout how futile Till and Ivan's love is and how it ends them. Till's love for Mizi made him stop and therefore cemented his lost, Till's love was also futile from the start bc Mizi loved another. Ivan's love was also futile, it ended him and he thought it would give Till a longer time to live bc Till can live without him and can't cause him misfortune but his love also caused Till's downfall in R7. Instead of Ivan's love saving him, it burdened him.

Thinking about him the reason why Till can't look Ivan in the eye is bc he's guilty of the fact that the reason why Ivan is still in Anakt is bc Till stayed for Mizi.

Thinking about how Ivan's touches must have comforted Till but Till thought they came from someone else.

Thinking about the fact that Till's mom prayed to Anakt for someone to love her child forever and Ivan's name being "gift from god"

Thinking about how sweaty and wet with tears was Till in the bar scene but after a moment he's suddenly not, implying how Ivan must have cleaned and fixed his face.

Thinking about how Sua and Ivan were wearing white while Till and Mizi were wearing black

Thinking about Ivan having no collars bc Till was his collar.

Thinking about Till could live without Ivan but Ivan could not live without Till.

Thinking about....

#ivantill #alien stage #mizisua #satosugu #why am I like this

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all444glo · 1 month ago

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NEXT LIFETIME

🎞️|| you grew up across the street from the thompson twins—your built-in best friends. but childhood closeness doesn’t protect you from grown-up confusion. Ausar kissed you once and never talked about it, and Amen watched you fall in love with someone who looks just like him. All while being in love with you.

⚠️|| slow burn, unrequited love, love triangle..kinda?,delusion, one-sided pining, typical man behavior

“Now what am I supposed to do When I want you in my world? How can I want you for myself When you’re already someone's girl?”

You’d known Amen and Ausar your whole life. Their family across the street since before you could spell your own name. Their mom used to do your hair on her sunporch and your mom watched the twins when their parents worked late. Everybody used to call y’all the “triplets”—not 'cause you looked alike, but because you moved as one. Wherever one of you was, the other two weren’t far behind.

You were the quiet bad kids. Soft-spoken but bad tempered. Amen, loud and fast and always in trouble. Ausar, quiet till he wasn’t. You? Somewhere in between. You kept coming outside even when Amen teased you half to death. Even when he called you “crybaby” and stole your snacks and told people you had the Y/N touch. You still asked them to come over. Still called them your friends.

Which is exactly why you never told Amen you used to like him. Because even when you liked him, you knew he didn’t see you like that. He teased you more than anything, you learned how to fight tussling with him. He saw you like a little sister with a slick mouth, and you weren’t about to embarrass yourself.

So you moved on.

Until one party freshman year.

The basement you all were in all was beyond stuffy. Speakers were louder than the cops allowed. You were dancing with Ausar just to be silly—grinding on him for attention more than anything. You were young, just imitating what you thought was being grown. But he didn’t back up. He grabbed your waist. Brought you in closer. Slid his hand to your lower back like he meant it.

Then he kissed you.

First your neck—slow. Then right on your mouth like he wasn’t your best friend. Like he wasn’t your other bestfriends twin. Like it was something he’d been thinking about for a minute.

Then the song changed and he dipped. Didn’t say a word. You told yourself it was nothing, but your brain kept replaying it like a mixtape. That was when everything flipped. Every sideways smile. Every dumb little compliment. Like when he saw you with your first sew-in and just said, “You look cute today,” like it wasn’t the first time he’d ever acknowledged your face. It all hit different now.

You kept waiting for him to do something about it. Say it meant something. He never did. But he kept acting like it could.

Like tonight.

Y’all were posted at a new restaurant that you all found on tiktok. Cramped booth, plates clattering, knees touching under the table. Ausar was halfway through his food when he looked up at you mid-chew.

“You always eat like that?” he asked.

You blinked. “Like what?”

“Like somebody gon’ snatch it off your plate.”

Amen choked laughing. “Ol big hungry ass”

You rolled your eyes. “You literally just bit your finger cause you were eating so fast...”

“You mad ‘cause you do everything aggressively,” Amen said. “You eat aggressive, talk aggressive, breathe aggressive.”

“You sound obsessed.”

“You’re not even denying it.”

Ausar just grinned, watching y’all like a TV.

“You look cute today though,” Ausar said casually, picking up a pepper shrimp.

You blinked, that same dumb flutter curling up in your chest. He didn’t even look at you when he said it.

“You always say that,” you muttered, trying to sound unaffected.

“That’s ‘cause it’s true.”

Amen watched the whole thing with the flattest face on earth. Like he’d seen this show before and knew exactly how it ended.

Ten minutes later, Ausar got a text and stood to go.

“Y’all lame,” he said, stretching. “I’m out.”

He dipped like he always did—suddenly, no warning, no real goodbye. Left you sitting there chewing ice and overthinking the way he’d smiled when he said “cute.”

And Amen? He waited two beats before he spoke.

“You’re so in love with that man,” he said flat.

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

You didn’t answer.

He leaned back in the booth, arms stretched. “He kissed you once and now you think he’s your soulmate.”

“That’s not—”

“I know you,” he cut in. “You got a good heart. You think just ‘cause y’all got history, it means something.”

You stared at your cup. “He kissed me on the mouth, Amen.”

He snorted. “Ausar will kiss anyone on the mouth if the day ends in Y.”

You flinched. “You’re saying all this for what??”

“‘Cause I care,” he said, voice hard now. “And I’m not gonna let you get played just ‘cause he some kind of gentle giant to you”

You swallowed.

“Look,” he sighed. “He loves you. We both do. You’re family. But not like that. He’s a man, Y/N. And not a dumb one. He knows you want him. He likes that, everyone likes being looked at. every man loves flirting. And he probably would hit... if it wouldn’t change our dynamic.”

You stared at him, heart aching. “Wow.”

“I’m not lying to you.”

“No,” you said. “I know you’re not.”

“It’s not like you aren’t cute.”

Then Amen looked at you dead-on. Voice steady. “I mean I’d fuck you.”

Your stomach dropped.

“But not like him,” he added. “Not just ‘cause I’m bored or curious. I’d do it because I genuinely like you. I just know it’d fuck us both up, and I’m not gonna ruin what we’ve had since we were kids just ‘cause I got a moment of weakness like Ausar”

You blinked.

The honesty hit harder than it should have.

“You know I used to like you too— Not at the same time of course” You sputtered nervously “When we were really little”

“Whore.” he said jokingly “But no seriously how come you didn’t tell me?”

“Uhh I thought you hated me?”

“I mean you still came come outside every day even when I called you names. Let me steal your snacks, talk shit, push you in the grass—”

“You’re describing a bully not a crush.”

“You let me,” he shrugged. “You never let nobody else talk to you like that. I knew you liked me. I liked you too, I just didn’t know what to do with it. So I did dumb shit.”

You looked away and swallowed hard.

“I grew out of it,” you said. “You made me feel like one of y’all. Not like a girl.”

“And now it’s Ausar who makes you feel like a girl, huh?”

You didn’t answer.

“Listen,” Amen said, leaning forward. “He’s my brother. I love him. But he flirts with everybody. He likes being wanted. You just happen to be the one he knows he can always fall back on, because you kinda got history.”

Your throat tightened.

“He loves you. But not in the way you wanna to be loved. Maybe enough to fuck. Maybe enough to drag it out longer than he should. But not enough to choose you.”

You closed your eyes. “I know.”

And you did.

But knowing it didn’t stop you from wanting it to be different.

Amen stood, grabbing his cup.

“You’re not dumb. You’re just wanting Ausar to be something other than a man. But we’re grown now, you gotta see shit for what it is.”

He paused, then added one last thing, quieter

“And for what it’s worth—you’re not just ‘cute.’ You don’t have to settle for Ausar when you have me”

Then he walked out.

And you sat there, memories heavy on your skin, wishing you didn’t spend years being delusional

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winterillustrates · 8 months ago

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WHAT YOUR FAV TWST CHARACTER SAYS ABT YOU!! (CRACK VERSION)

Ace: I'd hate you (/affectionately).

Deuce: I'd propose to your mom.

Cater: You need hugs. And followers.

Trey: You're as sweet as the cakes he makes. Also, you're his dentist.

Riddle: Mother issues. Same.

Leona: You have that one sibling you hate and one you pretend to hate.

Ruggie: You'd rob me and I'd call it our 'meet cute'.

Jack: I'd imitate you to look cool, ngl.

Azul: "Shady businessman/woman/enby? That has got to be my favorite genre." looking ass and I'd never judge you for that.

Jade: I'd bring you peace offerings almost everyday.

Floyd: You owe me a 150,000 worded essay on why and how your standards dropped so low.

Kalim: You want to be as optimistic as him, and you honestly deserve more credit for it. Plus, you cry yourself to sleep while hugging his plushie, cause it feels like he's crying with you. He probably is.

Jamil: I owe you a 300,000 worded essay on why he's the best, and I'd better get an agreement for each paragraph.

Vil: You love breaking gender norms and you hardly ever flop. You make long winded essays on character designs or "Ooh, shiny". No in-between. Also, you memorized his last name.

Rook: You kinda freaky and into yanderes. I'm into yanderes, but I hate this dude, so idk. I'd definitely say "I know what you are" to you, and you'd be thinking "She thinks I'm gay/bi/queer" and I'd be thinking "They're a serial killer".

Epel: You love the "Innocent girl who's a spawn of satan" and probably are one, yourself.

Idia: You "win" online arguments by doxing. That and your fav brother from Obey Me is Leviathan. Don't lie to me.

Ortho: You've always wanted a robotic younger brother!

Malleus: You're the majority. Congrats. (Also you have abandonment issues and ship MalYuu. Not that I can blame you, honestly).

Lilia: You say, "Ow, my hip hurts" then does the latest tik tok dance, no sweat.

Silver: You liked the mystery shrouding him. Plus, you love the found family trope.

Sebek: You see through his loud demeanor and really like his loyalty to his friends that aren't Malleus.

Yuu: You love yourself and I love you. <3

Grim: You're a snitch.

Sam: You are waiting for him to sing "Friends On The Other Side". You watched that one animatic by Laizyboy?? (Remind me the name)

Vargas: You actually thought eating raw eggs would make you strong. ... LOL. Jk. You ARE Vargas. I'm sorry, but how did he get THAT high in 2024 popularity polls?!?

Crewel: You have good taste. Might also be into getting praised.

Trien: VALID. YOU WANT A GRANDFATHER IN YOUR LIFE, RN.

Lucifer (^'s cat): Hello..............IDIA SHROUD.

Crowley: You are someone who wishes they could escape from their responsibilities as much as him. "He's a deadbeat, but he's a funny one."

Chenya: You like characters that are on crack.

Rielle: I...-- Is that even a character, dude?

Neige: You're the minority. Congrats. (Also, you are so confused abt the hate Neige receives)

Rollo: CONTRARY TO POPULAR BELIEF, you aren't strictly religious. You also hate the double standards he's shown. And you think he looks actually kinda cute.

Fellow: You love seeing NRC boys get reckted.

Gidel: You think he's the cutest character in Disney. No one can/wants to change your mind.

Skully: You convinced him to skip the mandatory, "Twisted Wonderland is NOT an otome game".

Najma: You love fem!Jamil. Plus, you are the younger sibling that is secretly a little demon. As an older sibling, I'm sorry, but I will expose you at the slightest chance.

Dilia (Deuce's Mom): You're one of those people that Captain Man from Henry Danger was inspired from.

Marja (Epel’s granmama. Thx, https://www.tumblr.com/gremlinvapor): As a Marja lover, you love your grandmother and love hearing stories about her! And your grandma is low key a badass.

SCARABIA STUDENT B: W...who... who are you? Waiting until the ending for this guy. ... Idek what to say, honestly...

Mickey Mouse (Thx, https://www.tumblr.com/gremlinvapor): I’m the Donald to your Mickey. And you are probably so popular. Oh, you are also a cheap stake who fakes to like change, but actually despises it. You only like twst to be ‘woke’, but you don’t even like the characters or talk abt them.

(THIS WAS A JOKE. IF YOU ACTUALLY RELATE TO THESE RANDOM THOUGHTS I TYPED, THEN WOW I AM SHOCKED. Seriously, Idc who's your favorite, and I was not trying to discriminate or anything.

I tried to include all characters I could think of atm, but you are free to request more and I'll shove them in! These aren't even my opinions, I'm just tryna be entertaining.

If you'd like, guess my favorite(s)!

If I misspelt some characters names, I'm sorry and please politely correct me, thank you.)

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dandelion-blues · 1 year ago

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#3 What if...

Garmadon becomes aware that Misako abandoned Lloyd when he was still at Darkly's?

Lloyd knew from a young age that he wasn’t normal. That glowing red eyes and long, sharp canines were inhuman, but they also brought him close to his father.

After all, it was the skulkins that worked at Darkly’s School for Bad Boys that told him (well in not so quiet whispers he happened to overhear) that they thought Lord Garmadon was looking at them when Lloyd peered at them with his red eyes. However, that’s where much the similarities ended, for no evil warlord was a short eight year old boy with a bowl-cut. However much he tried to imitate his father from the terrified rumors he heard of him, he always fell short. He couldn’t be an evil genius, or a merciless warrior, or a cruel warlord because he was too good, but what could they know? He was going to rule by his father’s side and they would bow before him someday.

“Muwahahahaha,” Lloyd laughs evilly.

‘Then, the other students and teachers would fear me for my power and respect me as my father’s son. They would stop calling me a monster, or else they would pay!’ Lloyd thinks practicing his evil laugh some more.

‘But then if I hurt others would I finally be a monster on the inside too if I did that?’ Lloyd thinks. ‘No, thinking of others is bad! That’s how I failed my Bad Ethics 101 class!’

‘Ugh, that’s not important, what’s important is delivering this letter, no message, to my dad.’

Lloyd scrambles down the hallway quickly trying to avoid the other students, lest he’ll be on the bad end of a vicious prank. Lloyd had burning questions, no missives, he needed answered! Missives he hoped would get answered on this letter:

Dear Lord Garmadon,

This is Lloyd Garmadon your son and future right hand man to your dark empire! I was just wondr wand thinking if I could skip school and come work with you now. Now I no I am only 8, but I have a lot of pott potanc potencial, and would love like to start working with you!

Oh and I have your red eyes! And fangs! Does your skin ever feel really itchy too? Like your um too big or is it too small? I don’t now but I think you get it, cause you now every thing.

But if you no every thing why didn't you ever come see me?

I’m sure whoever my mom is left me here so I could work with you when I gradate, but I want to start now and I am ready. I was left here at 3 so I had lots more time to learn and prak practa practice being evil than the others. So please please let me work with you!

Love From Lloyd Garmadon,

Son of the Super Evil Lord Garmadon

and Future Dark Ruler

Lloyd spent the whole day in the library perfecting his letter. He wanted it to be perfect. Thankfully, he knew how to read and spell somewhat well, but the teachers never thought learning how to read or write beyond the minimum was that important.

But Lloyd finished his letter, and it was finally ready to be delivered to his dad. He just hoped that his dad would answer, and even better if he could get out of this school and work with his father!

Lloyd clutched the letter carefully as if it was his most prized possession, and hurried to the mailroom. After all, even evil kids have parents and guardians and need a way of sending things to and from the school.

Notes:

The letter has grammar and spelling mistakes on purpose, but I felt it necessary to include, as I feel that Lloyd hasn’t had the most well-rounded education, not to mention that I sure didn’t spell too well when I was 8 either.

Needless to say, this letter does reach Garmadon, and he is furious with Misako. He will do whatever it takes to take care of his son since apparently no one else will!

First - Previous - Next "What if...?"

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onlyonetifosi · 2 years ago

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Behind the camera: chapter 1

<- previous series masterlist my main masterlist next ->

It was a warm summer afternoon in the small town of Monte Carlo, Monaco, where the Leclerc family resided. Yn and Charles, just three years old, were playing in their backyard, their laughter echoing through the air. Despite being twins, Yn and Charles had their distinct personalities and looks, yet they shared an unbreakable bond

"Charles, catch me if you can!" Yn giggled, running around the garden, her little feet barely keeping up with her enthusiasm

"Attends, Yn! I'm coming!" Charles called back, his eyes shining with excitement as he chased after his sister

Their playtime was always filled with joy and mischief, and today was no exception. Their older brother, Lorenzo, joined in the fun

"Lorenzo, regarde! Look at me!" Yn shouted as she tried to perform a somersault. "Je peux le faire! I can do it!"

Lorenzo clapped his hands, "Wow, Yn! That was great!"

Charles, feeling a little competitive, decided to show off too. "Watch this! Je vais faire un saut en hauteur! I'm going to do a high jump!"

Yn and Lorenzo watched in awe as Charles jumped, trying to touch the lowest branch of a nearby tree. He didn't quite reach it, but his attempt was still impressive.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In the following weeks, Yn attended her ballet classes with enthusiasm, and her love for dancing only grew. Charles, on the other hand, developed an interest in racing from a young age. Hervé, a racing enthusiast himself, couldn't be happier to see his son's passion for speed and cars. He gifted Charles a small toy race car, which quickly became his most treasured possession

"Maman, look what I can do!" Yn twirled around clumsily, trying her best to imitate the graceful movements she had seen on TV. Her parents smiled lovingly, encouraging her tiny attempt at ballet

"Très bien, ma chérie! You're doing great," her mother praised, clapping her hands. "You'll be a wonderful little ballerina!"

"Charles, you should try too!" Yn beamed, hoping her brother would join in her enthusiasm for ballet.

Charles laughed and shook his head. "No, no, Yn. I want to be a race car driver like Papa! Vroom vroom!" He pretended to steer an imaginary car, and Lorenzo enthusiastically joined in the play

Pascale and Hervé watched their daughter with pride, celebrating every little step she took in her ballet journey. However, Yn's clumsiness soon caught the attention of the other girls in her ballet class, who began to tease and make fun of her

"Regardez-la, elle danse comme un éléphant maladroit! (Look at her, she dances like a clumsy elephant!)" one of the girls mocked, causing the others to giggle.

Yn felt her enthusiasm waning, her heart heavy with sadness. She couldn't understand why the other girls were mean to her, but she was determined not to let their words discourage her.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As the twins grew older, they started kindergarten, and Yn was excited to embark on this new adventure with her brother. However, things didn't go as smoothly as she had hoped. Charles, being the more outgoing and confident of the two, quickly made friends with the other children, while Yn struggled to connect with her peers

One day, after a particularly challenging day at school, Yn came home feeling downcast. She sat at the kitchen table with her parents, sharing her feelings

"Maman, Papa, pourquoi est-ce que Charles a toujours des amis, et moi, je n'en ai pas?" (Mom, Dad, why does Charles always have friends, and I don't?) Yn asked tearfully

Her parents exchanged understanding glances, and her father pulled her into a comforting hug. "Ne t'inquiète pas, ma chérie. Les amis viendront avec le temps. Tu es spéciale, tout comme ton frère." (Don't worry, my dear. Friends will come with time. You're special, just like your brother)

Yn nodded, trying to hold back her tears. She wished she could be as confident and popular as Charles, but it seemed like an impossible task

Months passed, and Yn tried her best to keep her feelings buried, not wanting to upset her brother or their parents. But one day, the weight of it all became too much to bear. Unable to hold back any longer, Yn confronted Charles during their walk home from school

"Charles, tu ne comprends pas. C'est difficile pour moi. Les autres se moquent de moi et je n'ai pas d'amis" she finally confessed, her voice quivering with emotion. (Charles, you don't understand. It's hard for me. The others make fun of me, and I have no friends)

Charles stopped in his tracks, finally seeing the pain in his sister's eyes that he had been blind to for so long "Je suis désolé, Yn. Je ne savais pas) he said, feeling regretful (I'm sorry, Yn. I didn't know)

They sat down on a nearby bench, and Yn poured her heart out to Charles about the loneliness she had been enduring. Charles listened attentively, his heart aching for his sister. He realized how selfish he had been, caught up in his own excitement without noticing the pain she was going through.

"Je suis vraiment désolé, Yn. Je ne voulais pas te faire du mal. Je serai là pour toi, quoi qu'il arrive" Charles said, his eyes filled with sincerity. (I'm truly sorry, Yn. I didn't mean to hurt you. I'll be there for you, no matter what happens)

Tears welled up in Yn's eyes as she hugged her brother tightly “Merci, Charles. Je t'aime” she whispered, feeling a rush of relief (Thank you, Charles. I love you)

From that day on, Charles made a conscious effort to include Yn in his circle of friends, and the two became inseparable. Yn also found solace in pursuing other hobbies and interests, such as drawing and storytelling, where her creativity and uniqueness were celebrated.

Their relationship grew stronger as they navigated through childhood together. Their parents often marveled at how inseparable they were, and even though they had their fair share of fights, their bond only deepened with time.

#behind the camera fic #f1 imagine #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x sister!reader #arthur leclerc imagine #arthur leclerc x sister!reader #f1 drivers x reader #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f2 imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc fanfiction #arthur leclerc

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shakespearean-dream · 1 year ago

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took me long enough

honorable mentions to @vasyandii for general inspiration, @/x_.0rion._x on tiktok for the hate speech on the tie idea and @average-hyperfixator for helping me with AM’s eyes 😭 go look and follow all of them they are all very talented and cool 🙏

WOW my eyes hurt after looking at this for roughly four hours... and 36 minutes 🤦‍♂️ it’s pretty easy to tell if you look at my art for long enough that i very much lean towards desaturated colors, but i wanted to be a little experimental for AM and go neon— but girl. after i applied the effects to him that SERIOUSLY brightened him up and i had to back down and make the bg a darker pink😭 my eyeballs are already not on my side i do not intend to strain them any further💀

here’s the unedited but rendered version as a treat lol. u can for sure see what i mean here 😭

when i was trying to figure out what to do with AM i realized i haven’t put very much thought into my hc’s for him— which ykw that’s okay because there’s never a better time than rn. i imagine AM as more of a really envious toxic guy who claims to hate their ex (humanity in this case) but does literally everything he can to imitate them, mostly thanks to the radio drama cause damn did you hear how jealous he was there???? ridiculous 😭

so with that in mind i tried to give him a bit of the vibe of a kid just now realizing they can actually express themselves through their appearance—hair, makeup etc— but is still kinda being held back by their environment, or in this case his coding. eventually he’ll get it figured out and be able to consistently look human (even as glitchy and game looking as he is now, it takes a lot of energy to stay like that for extended periods of time) but for now he’s stuck as a rock or computer monitor most of the time. and it drives him SO nuts.

i’m not quite sure where to go with my thoughts from there, so if you wanna comment or throw an ask in my ask box we can talk about AM and his silliness 😭 i truly think he’s one of the most interesting characters in media just because of how powerful yet emotionally blinded he is. tbh, i live to create and be emotional and just be human so in AM’s situation i’d go a little crazy too. not kill everyone except for 5 people and torture them for 109 years crazy, but crazy for sure💀💀 i’d like to hear your guys’s thoughts about it :]

ok it’s late i’m gonna go conk out 😭 one more quick reminder to check out my commission page if you have not, there has still not been an update on yolanda 😔

gn!!!!

#am ihnmaims #allied mastercomputer #ihnmaims #i have no mouth and i must scream #art #digital art #gonna tag everyone for the sake of it because they’re all techhhnically on here #benny ihnmaims #gorrister ihnmaims #ted ihnmaims #ellen ihnmaims #nimdok ihnmaims

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whencartoonsruletheworld · 2 years ago

Text

explanations under the cut

Elizabeth Afton is actually the Youngest Sibling - as @birdsareblooming pointed out, when we see her room in fnaf4, she has a torn-apart mangle toy. mangle was stated to be made to entertain toddlers. would also explain why she's not in the gameplay, she's at daycare/with her mom

The Vengeful Spirit is Michael Afton - another one where cori convinced me and I might have an entire essay that I will publish after I finally sit down and edit through the Security Logbook section but until then here's a bullet point post

Mimic = Burntrap - i dont think i have to explain this we're all talking about it i just know people are gonna be mad at me for it

The Girl in Drowning is representative of Charlie, not Cassidy - She's literally got gray skin, black hair, gray clothes, and neon green lighting, much like a certain gray-skinned black-haired pixel girl with a green bracelet who died in the rain (water motif). Her dragging Kara down because she doesn't want to be alone could be seen as a metaphor for Charlie trying to give life but instead kinda sticking them all in robots

FNAF AR had some BANGIN re-skins - come on. look at them. Clockwork Ballora? Bangin. Broiler Baby? Bangin. Catrina Toy Chica? BANGIN. Springtrap as an actual fucking clown???? BANGIN.

Vanessa is an Afton in the Gameverse, too – Cori's workin on a whole explanation diagram for this but the most BASIC evidence is "her last name starts with 'a' and she's a nepo baby." I dont think she's William's DIRECT daughter cause man died in the 90s and she was 23 in the 2030s so. grandkid or smth

If Edwin/David is a metaphor for anything it's William/CC and not Henry/Charlie – listen i understand the whole "single dad building the robots and then breaking one in a rage" thing from TSE but also the mimic likes to mimic its creator and child before all else and who is it mimicking? afton and the little boy in sb who happens to look a shitton like cc. also game!charlie is never indicated as having a special plushie that followed her everywhere but cc very certainly did and hey if mimic can grow and shrink to fit in anything whos to say it didnt shrink into the fredbear to repeat stock phrases to cc such as "tomorrow is another day." also in the character encyclopedia art of cc he is holding his fredbear plush the same way burntrap positions his arm to imitate holding something. an

They're not gonna pull the Charliebot twist again. Nobody's a secret robot – first off from a writing perspective that's not the kinda twist you do twice. second off with the... less than stellar reception to the twist in the first place i dont think theyre gonna pull it again

"Cassidy" isn't the Golden Freddy Kid's name, it's Crying Child's – the logbook has Crying Child communicate through manipulating the text, while the spirit he's talking to speaks in faint writing; the second spirit never has a confirmed identity, but CC is most definite considering the stuff referenced around him. The "ITS ME CASSIDY" is revealed through.... manipulated text. The clues are in........ manipulated text. "It's Me" is CC calling out to Michael. The other spirit says "My name is..." a couple times BUT they also ask CC if he remembers his name just a few pages before. Granted this might just be us not understanding something but also if Cassidy is CC's name then who the fuck is Golden Freddy Kid. is Michael Brooks still canon

The nightmare gas didn't "ruin the lore" it's just kinda funny – look guys literally all of this lore is fucked, the fact they just threw in "also William Afton was doing nightmare gas experiments on kidnapped kids and then abandoned it for shits and giggles" in the eighth book of their second anthology series and then moving on like nothing happened while the fanbase collapses in on itself is like THE funniest thing they could've done

#fnaf #five nights at freddy's #fnaf movie #fnaf spoilers #fnaf 2023 #mine

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changbinsboiledegg · 2 years ago

Note

Hi!!! I really like stories you write and how you do it.

Could i request, if it's okay, skz reaction on their s/o trying to introduce them to her parents, who don't know English or Korean?

Ty♡

Of course any request is okay! Thank you so much for your request, I love it. :) 🫶🫶 I hope these are what you were hoping!

GN! Reader X SKZ

Warnings: None, just fluff. :)

Note: So, I didn't mention any specific language used (obviously something other than Korean and English!) So, that's up to y'all :) As always, ILY and I hope y'all enjoy. I also hope these aren't bad! I be insecure lol don't mind me.

Bold sentences/ words = Reader/Parents/SKZ speaking your chosen language.

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

Chan

He knew your parents spoke a different language than what he was used to and looked up learning resources as soon as you mentioned the language they spoke.

Somewhere in his busy schedule, he fit in time to study before he would eventually meet your parents.

“Can we practice before I head out?” Chan asked, sitting across from you on your bed. You nodded with a smile, touched that he went through so much to learn your mother tongue.

“Right. Imagine I’m my parents. How would you greet me?” You quizzed, waiting for his response.

“Hello. My name is Bang Chan. It’s nice to meet you both.” Chan spoke in the language. You were impressed by how smoothly he said it.

You responded back, using that language. “It’s nice to meet you too.”

Chan felt relief, recognizing what you had said. You looked on with a sense of pride. “Do you only know those phrases?”

Chan shook his head, still speaking in your other language. “Not a lot, but the basics.”

“You’re doing really well.” You complimented, meaning every word.

The next day, Chan met your parents and was able to hold a conversation with them before he ultimately tapped out and said, “sorry. I’m not fluent yet.”

Your mom smiled at you in approval, feeling her heart warming at the effort he put in just to speak to them.

Lee Know

“Are they picky with who you date?” Minho asked, among all the other questions he’s asked similarly.

“You’ll be fine.” You reassured with a chuckle, not wanting him to fear meeting your parents.

They spoke a different language that Minho hadn’t been exposed to as much as Korean or English.

Minho stood behind you as you knocked on the door to your parents house. Your dad answered, causing Minho’s nerves to spike.

“Hello.” Minho said, swallowing back his nervousness and smiling politely. Your dad took a few moments, eyeing him.

“Hello.” Your dad imitated him. He looked at you, “is this your boyfriend?”

“Yes. Go easy on him. He’s nervous.” You pleaded, trying to hide the desperation in your tone. Minho just kept smiling, wanting to make a good impression.

Your dad laughed a little, “fine. Tell him it’s nice to meet him and there’s no reason to be nervous.”

You let out a breath of relief and turned to Minho, who patiently waited for your translation.

“He said it’s nice to meet you and there’s no reason to be nervous.”

Minho’s smile widened as he looked at your dad, who stepped out of the way to let you both in.

“It’s nice to meet you too, sir.” Minho bowed to him. You nodded towards your dad.

“He said it’s nice to meet you too, dad.”

Changbin

Changbin loved the fact that you wanted him to meet your parents. That’s how he knew you were serious about your relationship with him and he loved how fondly you spoke of your parents.

“Okay, remember, don’t be nervous. They’ll love you. I mean, how could they not?” You knew these situations could be nerve wracking, but you were confident.

Changbin was a good guy and anyone would be a fool to not see that. Changbin winked at you, just as confident. “I’m not nervous.”

During dinner with your parents, mainly conversing in a language he didn’t understand, everyone relied on you to translate each conversation word for word. Changbin felt himself falling for you even more, impressed at how well you kept up without getting mixed up.

“How did you two meet?” Your mom asked curiously, waiting for you to relay the question. When you did, Changbin’s face lit up.

He started to ramble on about how you two met, where, and when. Your parents followed along, but not understanding a single word. When he paused, you translated in a summary, knowing he said too much for you to try and repeat everything word for word.

“You both did a great job. I would have never met my soulmate if not for you both.” Changbin added, reaching for your hand. “I want to spend the rest of my life with y/n.”

Your heart skipped a beat when he said that.

“Are you going to tell us what he said?” Your mom whispered. Changbin looked at you, waiting for you to translate as well.

“He, um…” you started but your cheeks heated up.

“Come on, don’t mumble.” Your dad spoke up. You were nervous to repeat what Changbin said.

“He said you did a great job with me.” You started. Your parents waited, knowing there was more.

“And?”

“He wants to… spend the rest of his life with me.” You couldn’t control your smile, getting shy as your parents chuckled.

“Aw, nervous?” Changbin smirked, teasing you.

Hyunjin

Hyunjin helped your mom set the table for dinner, carefully listening to her instructions in a language he didn’t know.

“Bring me the plates, please.” Your mom asked, preoccupied with fixing the table cloth.

Hyunjin scanned the situation for any clues on what to get before seeing her finger pointing at the cupboard.

“Oh, plates!” He muttered to himself, quickly getting the plates and bring them to her. Your mom thanked him as he helped lay out the plates.

“Mom, dad wants to know if you need anything from the store.” You walked in. Hyunjin felt grateful you arrived when you did. He liked your mom and how kind she was to him, but he felt embarrassed despite not understanding the language she spoke.

“Nope. I have everything,” she shook her head. She looked over at Hyunjin and smiled, “your boyfriend seems to be catching on quick. He’s been a big help.”

“He’s very sweet.” You agreed, giving him a discreet thumbs up to let him know she was saying good things about him.

Your mom rolled her eyes playfully at the cheesiness of your reply.

“Help us cook if you’re not going with your father.”

You looked at Hyunjin and nodded towards the kitchen counter where all the ingredients lay.

“We get to help cook. Ready?” You asked. Your mom looked up from what she was doing when you switched languages but didn’t say anything.

“Yes! But please… help me.” Hyunjin sheepishly grinned.

Han

You knew when Jisung would meet your parents, it would be up to you to carry the conversation. He had been nervous and thinking about every possible outcome meeting them could bring ever since you mentioned wanting him to meet them.

“I promise you, you’ll do fine.” You offered him some reassurance. That didn’t help too much given the fact they spoke a different language.

“What if they don’t like me?”

“Unless you’re a criminal, they’ll like you. I like you, don’t I?” You offered a smile, putting your hand on his shoulder.

Jisung took a deep breath and tried to relax before he met your parents. When they arrived to your apartment, they both gave you a hug and greeted you in their language before their eyes fell on a nervous Jisung.

“Hello.” Jisung bowed, his shyness showing through. You took his hand in yours and rubbed your thumb along the back of his hand as your parents gave him a polite smile in return.

“Hello, Jisung.” Your mom smiled. Jisung was taken aback by the usage of his name.

“I’ve heard a lot about you.” She switched back to the language she knew.

“Mom…” You feigned a groan, trying to hide your smile. She ignored your groan and stepped closer to Jisung as your dad continued to eye him.

“He’s cute. Are you sure he can handle you?” Your mom joked. You raised your eyebrows, crossing your arms. “Please. I’m an angel.”

Jisung listened, unaware of what was being said and occasionally meeting your dads unrelenting gaze. He eventually let up, holding his hand out towards Jisung.

“Nice to meet you. You better take care of y/n. That’s not negotiable.” He firmly shook Jisung’s hand. Jisung was about to nod, but didn’t know if it were appropriate. He looked at you, “what did he say?”

You squeezed his hand gently, “he said it’s nice to meet you and to take care of me.”

Jisung allowed himself to nod, “I will!”

“He said he will.” You relayed the message to your dad, who stared Jisung down for a few seconds more before letting go of his hand.

Felix

The night before Felix met your parents, he had bought a phrasebook to study so he didn’t have to rely on you to translate everything. You saw him glued to the book, his eyes scanning every word and phrase.

“How do I pronounce this?” Felix asked, reading out the word, ‘Fish’. You laughed a little, joining him and taking the book from him.

“You said it correctly.” You smiled, then added, “you won’t need to use the word, ‘fish’. Trust me.”

“I know, but I want to speak to them without looking to you the entire time.” Felix rubbed his tired eyes. You smiled at his dedication to communicate with your parents.

“Let me help you then. What all do you know?” You asked, looking at the book. Felix thought for a moment.

“Hello.” He switched languages. “Goodbye. Nice to meet you, my name is Felix… Fish. Can I use the bathroom?”

He paused, glancing at the phrasebook in your hands, “I love you.”

You felt your stomach do flips hearing him saying that. It was one thing for him to say in Korean or English, but in your mother tongue? You couldn’t help but blush.

“Goodnight.” He looked at the time. You were still whipped over the way he sounded saying ‘I love you’.

Despite not knowing much, Felix seemed to hold small talk pretty well, even if you had to whisper to him occasionally what the correct way to answer your parents questions were.

“Can I use the bathroom?” Felix asked suddenly, his ulterior motive was to excuse himself to read more phrases from the small book he had hidden away in his back pocket.

After a few minutes, he came back and proudly said, “the food is delicious.”

You exhaled sharply as Felix sat back down at the dinner table, unaware of how weird his statement sounded after ‘using the bathroom’.

Your dad laughed, luckily. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Felix smiled, a bit confused at why he laughed.

Seungmin

He wanted to leave a good impression on your parents so they’d like him and accept him into your family, even if you told him many times before that he’d be apart of your family regardless.

You and Seungmin were meeting your parents in a restaurant that you reserved a table for.

Meeting in front of the entrance, Seungmin repeated the foreign phrases he’d practiced in his head before your parents got within speaking distance.

You greeted your parents with a hug while Seungmin bowed and smiled kindly.

“Hello. My favorite is Seungmin.” Seungmin attempted to introduce himself to your parents. They gave him a strange look, instantly letting him know he didn’t say the phrase right.

“What did I say?” He leaned over to whisper to you, heart thumping in his chest. You found his small mistake to be cute, “you said your favorite is Seungmin.”

Seungmin widened his eyes, “ah, no! I mean— What’s the word for name?”

“My name is…” You spoke slowly, allowing him to follow along.

“My name is Seungmin.” He corrected himself, feeling the embarrassment seeping in. Your parents both understood his first greeting was a mistake, laughing it off.

“Nice to meet you, Seungmin. We’ve heard a lot about you.” Your dad was still lightly chuckling from his mistake. Seungmin only understood the first part, being one of the phrases he learned.

“Nice to meet you too!” Seungmin hoped he said that correctly. Your parents walked into the restaurant together, leaving you and Seungmin to follow behind.

“Did I say that right?” Seungmin looked for reassurance that he hadn’t completely ruined his chance of leaving a good impression. You knew this, nodding.

“You did great. You’re trying. My parents like effort, so just be yourself and if you have any trouble, I will be by your side.” You reassured him.

Seungmin felt a weight lift off his shoulders, attempting to relax as you two met your parents at the table.

I.N

“I can’t wait to meet the people that brought you into this world!” Jeongin was looking forward to meeting your parents. Even if he did have underlying nervousness.

You watched as he picked out an outfit. He left to the bathroom to change and came back a minute later.

“Do I look good?” the foreign word rolled off his tongue. He did a few poses, smiling wider each time.

“You look very good.” You got up from his bed and walked over to him, smoothing out any wrinkles he had on his shirt with your hand. Jeongin let you, his heart racing more from your touch.

“Will your parents think I look good?” Jeongin grinned. You took a step back and tried to think in the perspective of your parents.

“As long as you don’t look like you dressed yourself in the dark, maybe.” You answered, “but I think you look very good. So don’t worry too much about appearances.”

Jeongin’s underlying nervousness came to surface the closer you got to your parents house. Your mom was waiting outside for you, waving at the two of you.

Jeongin grinned, waving back. “Hello!”

“Jeongin?” Your mom asked, tilting her head towards you to make sure she got the name right. You gave her a thumbs up as Jeongin bowed to her, “I am Jeongin.”

“Hello! You seem very happy.” Your mom smiled. You glanced over at your boyfriend, “he is.”

“Good. I can’t take another frown.” Your mom motioned for you two to join her inside.

“What did she say? Does she like my outfit?” Jeongin asked in a hushed voice. You laughed, “no. She pretty much said hello and that she’s glad that you seem happy.”

Jeongin thought about your answer before accepting it, feeling like it was a good thing. “Nice.”

Jeongin entered your parents house after you did and made sure to close the front door.

“Can you tell your parents they have a nice house?” Jeongin asked, marveling at the decoration and how everything was set up. You were used to seeing it that you never really saw how everything was set up. But Jeongin seemed excited to be here and you were happy that he wasn’t a nervous wreck— so far, so you complied and got your parents attention.

“Jeongin likes your house.” You nodded at Jeongin, who smiled on cue when your parents thanked him.

“I like his outfit.” Your mom returned the compliment, to which you raised your eyebrows in surprise that she noticed. Happily, you turned back to Jeongin.

“Now she said she likes your outfit.”

#skz fluff #stray kids fluff #stray kids x reader #stray kids reactions #skz reactions #skz x reader #skz imagines #stray kids imagines #stray kids imagine #skz scenarios #skz headcanons #stray kids scenarios #stray kids headcanons

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