#this should’ve stayed in the drafts lowkey

[orangecatsmissingbraincell]

Hot take but I think Melissa would be a fujoshi even though she’s a lesbian just because she likes the thought of a man getting railed even if she gets no sexual pleasure out of it

[elliespassagerprincess]

Hiii! Would you be able to write a fic with Spider-woman!ellie x reader, it can be about anything really! I just really like the concept of Ellie being spider-woman:)

Thank you bae<3

Beneath the mask - ellie williams x reader

hi anon!! i hope you enjoy... i lowkey had this in my drafts for a while, this gave me the perfect opportunity to post it:)

Pairing: spider-woman!ellie x journalist fem!reader

requests are open, send me your thoughts:)

Warnings: Violence, blood, injury, language, emotional intensity, sexual tension

summary: in which she saved you

masterlist

Rain battered your coat as you stepped onto the cracked sidewalk, neon lights casting puddles in green and pink. The tip had been simple: “Meet me at the docks. You want a real story? Come alone.”

Maybe you should’ve known it was a trap.

You only saw the glint of the knife when it was too late.

“Gotcha,” a man growled behind you, arms coiling around your waist like a vice. You struggled, panicked, your scream muffled by his gloved hand as you were dragged into the warehouse.

Inside, it smelled like rot and old metal. Four men. All armed. All staring at you like a problem they were about to solve with bullets or blades.

"You're the little journalist, huh?" one of them sneered, pacing toward you. "The one asking questions she shouldn't."

You were thrown to the ground. Pain exploded in your ribs. You tasted blood.

They circled.

You fought to stay conscious as a boot slammed into your gut, curling you up. Laughter echoed off the walls. And just as the knife rose above you—

Crash!!

Glass rained down. Something black and red dropped from the rafters like a meteor, slamming into the floor with bone-crunching force.

She stood there, tall and unshaken, the white spider emblazoned on her chest almost glowing in the dark. A mask with angry red lenses. Her suit was armored, sleek, and stained with what might’ve been someone else's blood.

Spider-Woman.

Everyone froze for one heartbeat. Then chaos erupted.

One of the men lunged. She moved like smoke, dodging low, and drove her elbow into his gut with a crack. He crumpled. Another fired—she twisted in mid-air, the bullet skimming off her shoulder with a shriek of metal. Webs shot from her wrists, pinning two of them to the wall in seconds.

She didn���t speak. She didn’t hesitate.

When the last one raised his gun, she leapt—arms wide, legs swinging—and drove him straight into a stack of crates with a deafening boom. He didn’t get up.

You were still gasping on the floor when she turned to you.

She didn’t say a word. Just stalked toward you and knelt down, scanning your face through that glowing mask.

"You're bleeding," she said—distorted, robotic.

"You noticed," you rasped, barely conscious.

Then you passed out in her arms.

You woke up on a worn-down cot in a room you didn’t recognize. A space heater buzzed softly in the corner. Concrete walls, dim lights, and the faint metallic scent of blood and antiseptic.

You sat up too fast. Pain screamed through your side. Bandages wrapped tight around your ribs. You blinked, heart pounding.

And then you saw her.

Spider-Woman stood in the shadows, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. Mask still on. Silent.

"...You're the one who saved me," you said hoarsely.

She nodded. No words.

You exhaled shakily. “Why?”

Nothing.

“I—I could’ve died back there.”

“You almost did.” Her voice was softer now. Not robotic. Like she turned off the modulator. Your blood ran cold.

You’d heard that voice before. In a different place. A different life.

Your eyes narrowed.

“…Why do you sound familiar?”

She stiffened.

You sat up more, ignoring the pain. “Say something else.”

She turned away. “I shouldn’t have brought you here.”

Something in your chest twisted. “Wait. I know that voice. Ellie?”

She paused.

Then slowly, almost hesitantly, she lifted her fingers to the edge of her mask and pulled it back.

And there she was.

Messy auburn hair falling in sweaty strands. Green eyes that avoided yours. A busted lip. Blood on her cheek. And a look of guilt and fear so raw it made your throat close up.

Your best friend.

“Ellie?” you whispered again, stunned. “You’re Spider-Woman?”

She looked at you then, finally meeting your eyes.

“I didn’t want you to find out like this,” she said, her voice shaking. “But I couldn’t let them kill you.”

You stared. Shock warred with betrayal and something else—recognition. The bruised knuckles. The nights she disappeared. The lies. The pain in her eyes every time you asked where she’d been.

“You’ve been lying to me for years.”

“I was protecting you.”

“From what? The truth?”

“No. From them.” She stepped closer, jaw tight. “You don’t know what I’ve seen. What they’d do if they knew you mattered to me.”

You rose to your feet, adrenaline fueling your steps despite the pain. “You should’ve told me.”

“And then what? Let you look at me like I’m some freak? Let you walk into danger thinking I’d always be there to pull you out?”

“You were there,” you snapped. “You saved me.”

“I always save you,” she growled. “Even when you don’t know it.”

The air between you was hot. Sharp. Electric.

Her hands flexed at her sides.

You stepped even closer. “How many times?”

She swallowed hard. “Too many.”

You stared up at her. “Why?”

Silence.

And then, her voice broke. “Because I care about you. Because it’s always been you.”

Your breath caught. Your heart thudded.

You reached out—hand shaking—and cupped her jaw. She leaned into your touch like she hadn’t been touched in years.

“I should hate you,” you whispered.

“But you don’t.”

You didn’t. You wanted her.

So you kissed her.

It wasn’t soft. It was bruising. Desperate. Her hands gripped your waist, dragging you in like she couldn’t help it, her mouth opening against yours with a groan that came from somewhere deep in her chest. You clutched her suit, fingers tangling in the material, feeling the heat of her body through the armor.

When you pulled back, your foreheads touched. Breathless.

She whispered, “Say something.”

You opened your eyes.

“I still see you. Not the suit. Not the mask. You.”

She let out a shaky exhale—half-laugh, half-sob—and kissed you again.

[sttoru]

𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐌𝐘 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄 !

ෆ sypnosis. you find yourself in a situation where a man is giving you unwanted attention / tries to flirt with you. your lover finds out about this and comes to your rescue; what will he do and how will he react?

ෆ note. uhmmm this draft was rottjng and i finally decided to finish it today oopssss . not entirely proof read !

ෆ tags. kaeya, ayato, cyno x female reader (seperately). fluff. all chara’s are protective / possessive however you want to see it, unwanted flirting / verbal harassment but nothing too bad, you’re ayato’s wife in his part. headcanons + drabbles.

KAEYA ALBERICH.

keeps his emotions in check. if kaeya sees a man openly flirting with you, he’ll definitely fake a smile when approaching the two of you. not his usual, soft smile; more of an empty one.

the type to give (not so) subtle hints to the person flirting with you that you’re taken; like, he will not say anything directly to the other person about their behaviour, however he will keep it lowkey (and maybe passive aggressive).

and best believe he’s trying his best not to cause a scene and fight anyone if they make you uncomfortable by overly flirting with you. any type of discomfort coming from his lover is a green light for him to use his position as the cavalry captain and the power that it comes with.

you awkwardly shift in your seat at the bar counter as a drunk man keeps on talking to you even when you’ve politely told him that you’re not interested.

your boyfriend, kaeya, had stepped out of the bar for just a second to talk to one of his colleagues. that’s when the random man—who introduced himself as bruce—decided to take his chance.

you fiddle with your clothes as you await your lover’s return. kaeya usually asks his brother to take care of you when he’s not around at the tavern, however diluc wasn’t there to prevent this situation from unfolding either.

“you seem to be getting a bit too drunk, lad.”

a familiar voice causes you to turn your body to the right. there he is: kaeya, standing behind you with his hand on bruce’s shoulder. if you looked closely, you’d notice how firm of a grip kaeya had on the drunken man—the fabric of his clothes wrinkled underneath kaeya’s palm.

“h-kaeya—that you, buddy?” bruce laughs wholeheartedly, his words slurring a little, “i gotta say, ya got quite a pretty thing with you!”

a breathy chuckle escaped kaeya’s lips. it wasn’t an amused or humorous chuckle, but rather one that sounded like his patience was running low.

“mhm, that so?” kaeya subtly gestures to the knight that had accompanied him inside the bar.

the young knight understands and nods at his captain. the knight walks towards bruce, holding the drunkard by his arm and forcing him to stand up straight.

“say, bruce,” kaeya starts, sighing softly as he put his hands in his pockets before bending his head down to whisper his next words into the man’s ear; “i may have been a bit too lenient with you. i’ll see you later in my office, yeah?”

kaeya says all of that with a smile as he straightens his back again. you (and probably many of the wrongdoers in mondstadt who were unlucky enough to experience kaeya’s hidden wrath) knew that empty smile all too well. one that you see when you know you’ve messed up.

bruce was too drunk to even realise what was implied as he was escorted out of the tavern by the knight.

kaeya sighs to himself before turning to you with a genuine, worried smile; “i’m extremely sorry, sweetheart. i should’ve stayed with you.”

you smile at your lover and shake your head, “it’s fine, kaeya. thank you for being there for me anyway.”

the cavalry captain frowns at his own ignorance; he should known some creep would hit on you while he was gone. it was a dangerous decision of him to leave you in a bar between all kinds of impolite, loud and drunk men.

“may i hug you?” kaeya adds quietly, eyes searching for yours as if asking for permission. his reason for asking for your consent, is because he thought you’d might be uncomfortable with any type of close proximity after that encounter with bruce.

“of course, babe.” you nod.

kaeya opens his arms as an invitation for you to get into his embrace. you instantly hug him back, laying your head against his chest. his heartbeat was steady and his dainty fingers were immediately caressing your back in a comforting manner.

“if anything like that ever happens again, you call out for me, alright? i’ll make sure to keep you safe. no matter where you might be.”

KAMISATO AYATO.

gets big mad, like.. mad mad, but like on the inside. he’s the head of his clan-of course he has dealt with rude people before- however none of those experiences included you being verbally harassed by a stranger.

ayato will probably not lash out at the man (especially not in front of you); he has his own ways of putting rude people in their place. many being.. torturous. to him it’s justified: whoever messes with his wife, messes with him.

will not show you how much he wishes he could act out of line. although, ayato knows well enough what his limits are. direct violence isn’t going to solve anything, but maybe threats will.

ayato was coming home soon from his business trip which is why you decided to wait on him outside of the kamisato estate. you were dressed up nicely and had proudly prepared him his favourite dishes for the first time in a while. all set to greet your dear husband.

what you didn’t expect to see, was a random adventurer climbing up the stairs near the estate. the man shamelessly looked you up and down before asking you for nearby directions. you didn’t think much about it and gave him the needed information.

thinking your duty there was done, you walked back to the entrance of the estate so you could await your husband’s arrival inside the building. it was getting a bit chilly anyway.

“oh, ma’am! can you at least tell me your name?” the voice echoes behind you. you felt a cold hand brush against yours and it almost made you freeze on spot. you flinched and took your hand away, frowning as you look back at the stranger.

there were maids cleaning around the courtyard and they noticed the scene unfolding in front of their eyes. they instantly sensed your uneasiness and rushed to your rescue—circling the man and telling him that this area is off limits for strangers. this causes a constant back and forth squabble between the man and the servants, who were simply trying to do their job: protecting the young master’s wife when he isn’t near.

“move.”

ayato’s sudden appearance and sharp voice shuts everyone up. his maids and servants immediately stand straight and then move to bow at their master— heads held low out of respect, yet also out of fear for his wrath. you might not have noticed it, but his servants have known him since he was a child and thus can easily spot the (hidden) dangerous aura ayato emitted.

“ah, ayato !” you smile in relief at your husband and give him a small wave. he, however, seemed rather tense as he walked over to you—eyes scanning your body for any signs of discomfort. ayato’s gloved hands immediately cup your face once he is close enough, “are you okay, sweetheart?”

“yes, i am. thank you.” you reply, his hands gently touching your cheeks were a complete opposite to the anger boiling up inside of him. ayato places a soft kiss to your forehead in hopes to calm your nerves, as if to say ‘you’re safe, i’m here now’.

“escort her to her room.” your husband orders the two maids standing next to you and they instantly do as told. before you got taken away from him, ayato flashes you his usual charming smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling, “i’ll be there with you soon, honey. i’ll just see this man out.”

once you were out of sight, that smile of ayato’s instantly vanished and got replaced by a cold, piercing expression. he turned towards the unknown man who was now cuffed by two guards;

“now then, shall we go talk outside of the estate for a bit? the maids have cleaned the garden rather thoroughly today and i do not wish to let their hard work go to waste by my… well, disciplining.”

CYNO.

appears out of thin air to defend you. you might even start to question if he’s secretly following you everywhere, because cyno does not fail to show up whenever you are in any kind of trouble.

probably also (temporarily) arrests whoever bothers you. he does that instead of literally beating them up to a pulp. it’s easier and avoids further trouble after all. though, cyno doesn’t arrest them without giving them a proper ‘punishment’ of his own.

has no time to beat around the bush— he’s direct when approaching the person who’s bothering you.

you were walking around the marketplace with only one goal in mind: getting the needed ingredients for the dish you wanted to prepare tonight. the streets were crowded, chatter and negotiations filling your ears as you stopped near a fruit and vegetables stall.

“can i get 2 kilograms of zaytun, please?” you ask the vendor, fishing your wallet from your pocket already. you exchanged the bag of food with a couple of mora and bid the owner of the stall farewell.

you were too busy inspecting the contents of the bag and therefore bumped into a tall guy. you excuse yourself, however that didn’t seem enough for the man, “hey, hold on there, pretty thing.”

a sigh escapes your lips as you know where the conversation would go; he’ll most likely ask you for compensation for bumping into him. you turned around to face the stranger again, a fake smile plastered on your face, “what is it, sir?”

the man hums as he studies your looks. he’s trying very hard to be very intimidating by staring down at you—hands in his pockets with a smirk tugging at his lips, “ya know, i think i’m gonna ask for another type of compensation from y… ou..”

you raise an eyebrow once you notice his voice trailing off until he’s completely silent; eyes wide and smirk wiped off his face like he’s seen a ghost. you decide to follow the way the man’s eyes were looking—that place being right behind you.

“cyno?!” you almost jump from surprise yourself the moment you come face to face with your lover whom had appeared from out of nowhere. there was a purple-ish glow surrounding his body, sparks from his electro vision making him seem even more terrifying—not to include the death stare the mahamatra was giving to the stranger.

there were no words coming out of your lover. he was silently glaring at the man who bothered you and his piercing gaze was no joke. cyno was finally about to open his mouth to talk, however the upcoming words were never uttered as the stranger interrupted him;

“i— uhh, i’m sorry.” the dark-haired man sheepishly apologises and takes a few steps back, clearly intimidated. cyno was not going to let him get away so easily. though, firsts things first: your lover had to check up on you.

“the bastard didn’t touch you or anything, right?” cyno asks you, brushing some strands of hair from your face, “if he did, make sure to tell me. i won’t show him any mercy.”

you shake your head and gulp a bit. even when you’ve seen cyno in action so many times before, his presence never fails to impress you. “he didn’t,” you answer quietly, to which cyno nods.

“good.” your lover hums before letting his arm fall to his side again. he gives you a small, reassuring smile and pats your back, “you can go ahead. i’ll see you at home.”

you were not about to argue with cyno when he was in that state and thus continue on with your little stroll.

little did you know that that stranger was in danger.

[prettyshon10]

Given that I’m currently rewatching the show, I’d like to jump on this.

Billy dying was foolish

I don’t know what exactly the budget looked like the last 3 seasons, but everybody staying at the Beach House/Baker House wasn’t cute, either

Post season 3, a lot of characters should’ve been phased out. A lot.

Coach Kenny gave nothing

I lowkey still don’t like Carter

That article storyline for Olivia was STUPID

The revisionist history of the last couple of seasons was ridiculous and insulting

I don’t buy Jordayla as a couple. Let alone a healthy one.

Layla should’ve been given a love interest outside of the friend group (*cough* Clay *cough*)

On that note, I also hate the “Vortex”

Seasons 5 and 6 were a major waste of time

Jordan is downright intolerable and it’s unfortunate

The way they handled the draft was DISGUSTING and will forever piss me off; I could literally write a paper on awful that was

I’m Team Spelivia all day, but I don’t at all agree with the notion that Layla was an obstacle

The focus shifting from football (more specifically, the MAIN CHARACTER and his football journey) hurt the show

The writers’/NK’s obsession with making Spencer struggle in dang near EVERY aspect of his life was exhausting and not at all the serve they convinced themselves it was

[squeakysauce]

there was an artist who’s art I absolutely loved. a while back they posted about how they would never comm someone with less skill than them because they don’t do “charity” and if they ever do want to comm someone, they just try to learn their art style instead so they don’t have to pay for it. they have the right to do whatever they want, but it lowkey gave me the ick. Like, that should’ve stayed in the drafts.

[nintenderniere]

Star Wars Mortis arc please stop asking Anakin the buzzfeed would you fuck your clone question please it’s going to break the poor man’s brain.

[outivv]

(Warning- spoilers for kaeya’s backstory and most recent archon quest)

Venti singing: number 1 victory royal yeah mondstadt we ‘bout to get down! just wiped out khaenri'ah-

*kaeya and dainsleif have entered the chat*

[shotorozu]

hellolololo!¡! so i recently saw this video where their

s/o goes on to omegle and the other person from omegle like goes “hi ur cute” or “u have snap?” and then their boyfriend just enters the frame,, can u do that to todobakudeku separately :3

if u dont understand u can check this out 😭 https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSJdEqc7V/ tyy ❤️❤️

“ur kinda cute” on omegle

(tiktok prank)

character(s) : todoroki shouto, bakugou katsuki, midoriya izuku (bnha)

part two — part three

legend : [Y/N = your name] they/them pronouns used, quirk not mentioned

headcanon type : fluff, crack — ‘x reader’

note(s) : i love these types of requests 🤩 so i plan on making 3 parts with this (oh and don’t worry, i’ll finish the other tiktok prank series i have going on at the moment)

also, there’s no proofread on this so if there’s any typos or mistakes, sorry! i’ll be editing them in the morning

┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ┈

todoroki shouto

okay so, the entire tiktok idea was planned— but the part where shouto came in surely wasn’t staged

so, being a curious young person— you wanted to make a tiktok, where you went on omegle just to speak to people for fun

and inside of your head, you’re kinda thinking that “this is dumb, omg im going to get flashed on there.” also while you were setting up your laptop

but you just used the appropriate tags and !! you were set off for an adventure

you set your phone aside, and you filmed most of the experience— cutting out the not so interesting encounters out of your tiktok

and then came on a dude, who had a,, unique reaction. he didn’t seem all that fishy— until he asked you for your snap (your social medias, essentially)

“you’re kinda cute, y’know. how did i not see you before?”

you shake your head, “oh no no! i appreciate your compliment, but i’m very much taken!” your mind immediately flashing back to the image of your icyhot boyfriend

“nahh you’re lying! i don’t see any dude back there”

oh,, and that was because shouto was out getting snacks 🧎 “no really dude, i appreciate it! i’m very much taken and being disloyal is out of the question!”

this dude just kept insisting and insisting, and due to the struggle— you weren’t able to hear the door knob jiggle

it seemed to be that his advances came to an end, and your lover made an entrance— a mop of red and white peaked out from the door frame

and the dude literally got scared and ended the conversation 💀 because you really weren’t lying!

you also figured that it was time to end your omegle shenanigans, and finish the tiktok— because your boyfriend was already there “hi love, who were you talking to?”

you closed your laptop, and offered him a smile “i was on omegle for a tiktok! i’m glad you’re back.” you discard your phone, wrapping your arms around his torso (and also making sure you don’t delete the draft)

shouto doesn’t say a lot, but he immediately accepts your touch, setting the groceries aside.

he doesn’t question the fact that you were on omegle because well,, he had to get used to your shenanigans on tiktok SOMEHOW

a few hours later, you posted the tiktok— and almost immediately, the tiktok gains a lot of attention

“i love how your boyfriend drove the last dude away 💀💀” “man the last dude didn’t take the hint 🗿” “your boyfriend indirectly protected you! we need more guys like him.”

you snicker at the comments, which ultimately gathered shouto’s attention “what’s up, love?”

you show him the tiktok, “the tiktok did well.” he’ll comment calmly, but shouto’s lowkey MAD ?? that a dude had the audacity. but he’s just glad that you’re happy just maybe,, don’t go on omegle anymore 💀

“love— next time, let me in on your tiktoks.” he says, running a thumb along your cheek lightly. because he was actually quite entertained, putting everything aside

bakugou katsuki

as if bakugou katsuki would let you go on OMEGLE, a place that’s known for having the sketchiest people to ever exist— but make it virtual

but being with you made him realize that well,, if you want to do something, you’ll go through lengths just to do it.

even the great bakugou katsuki can’t really stop you. whatever makes you happy— but oh, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t highly discourage it

which lead you to go on omegle for a tiktok in the other room, while bakugou exercised in the very next room.

when you told him that you wanted to film a tiktok, bakugou only shrugged— “don’t do overly dumb shit.” was what he only told you and he left the door open too

you then set up your phone and laptop, applied the appropriate tags— and went off to make your tiktok

you only filmed the interesting encounters, and the people you met on there were very diverse in personality and just,, in general.

after the 4th encounter, then came a rather interesting dude. he didn’t seem all that ordinary but he wasn’t spectacular. he was just nice

and the conversation was rather normal— until he started asking for your socials “putting everything aside, do you have social media? you’re really cute.”

you reject immediately, “oh no, i appreciate your words but— i already have a boyfriend.”

you just have to hope that he noticed bakugou walking back and forth with equipment, but with his next words— that doesn’t seem to be the case

“i didn’t see anyone back there, a simple no would’ve been sufficient instead.” uh oh

“no really, i—” and before things escalated, katsuki’s head peaked through the door frame, freshly out of the shower “are you almost done, idiot?”

the dude literally looked behind you, and thought “oh shit, their boyfriend is bakugou fucking katsuki.” because bakugou is famous for,, multiple different reasons

the dude’s camera shakes in terror, “oh uhm,, it was nice meeting you!” not long before he dips from of the conversation, never to be seen again.

closing your laptop— you end the tiktok while bursting into laughter, and this action just confused katsuki ever further. he heard you speaking to someone, and when he looked, the person was nowhere to be seen

“what are you laughing at??”

“nothing katsuki, i was laughing at the tiktok i just made.”

then— you figured that it would be best to tell katsuki now that you were on omegle (long story short, he wasn’t pleased)

he scolded you that you shouldn’t be on omegle, but let’s be honest, he couldn’t stay mad at you— so he just cuddles the frustration away

when you upload the tiktok the following hours, it blows up pretty quickly—with comments like “LOL IS THAT BAKUGOU KATSUKI??” “he had guts until he saw bakugou katsuki 💀” “tbh i’d be scared too”

and when you report the news the katsuki, he smirks— “as he should be.”

midoriya izuku

at this point, izuku is very much used to your shenanigans on tiktok. he’s very supportive of whatever you do all in all

but, about omegle,,, yeah,, as much as he trusts you— he does not trust omegle. he’s aware that it’s a shady place, and he doesn’t advise that you do go on that website bc he cares

so when you brought up the tiktok idea, he proposed that he’d be there, right beside you just to monitor if anyone’s being weird :)

and that’s great! because you also wanted to ask if he wanted to be a reoccuring guest in your tiktok— and of course, what kind of boyfriend would he be if he opposed?

he helps you set up your laptop and phone— all of that sort of stuff, and then you guys were off to make an interesting tiktok

oh, but izuku did apply the appropriate tags because he didn’t want you to see odd things he was secretly nervous but,, you were very ethusiastic, so he was too.

the first several people were interesting in their own way— especially with their reactions to your boyfriend appearing on screen

usually, they’d back off with, and comment on how cute your boyfriend is— wishing the both of you well before calmly leaving to meet new people,

that was how it was, until you met this person in particular.

he sounded very,, egotistical— i wouldn’t say that because you’ve just met the dude, but he acted like everyone wanted him or it sounded like that

then he says, “you definitely have a phone number, right? you’re cute, just my type.” wkdksmd this is awkward since izuku’s right beside you, but he’s just outside of the frame

then, izuku pops out of the frame— in all his cute ass glory, he gives a small wave to the not so pleased stranger

“please, that’s your boyfriend?” he scoffs, “with those arms, he looks like he could be your little brother! now let me ask again—”

it’s really weird?? because have you seen izuku’s gainz?? and this dude’s audacity is extraordinary.

but little did this guy know, he’s looking at midoriya izuku— and,, you’ve seen his performance in the sports festival.

the dude takes another glance at your boyfriend, who’s sitting there right beside you— and he realizes who he was talking to

“oh shit, you’re—” and before the both of you could realize it, he nopes out of the conversation.

after that encounter, you burst into a fit of laughter— the look on izuku’s face being priceless. “you should’ve seen your reaction!”

“haha, i guess he knew who i was,” he says bashfully, cheeks warming up. because it registered in his mind that people actually knew who he was. “can you,, upload the tiktok later? i want to hug you— i mean! if that’s fine.”

of course it’s fine! you oblige, and give him all the hugs he could ever need

after cuddling with izuku, you do upload the tiktok— and an hour later, your tiktok notifications blow up

the tiktok all in all gathered 1M views, 780K likes, and over 1,500 comments— most of them saying stuff like

“your boyfriend’s reaction was so cute?? i know he looked like he was going to punch him through the screen but 👀” “last dude was just not it.” “LMAO HE REALLY TRIED IT” “is your boyfriend IZUKU MIDORIYA??”

when you excitingly showed him the tiktok’s results, he was certainly pleased— because most of the comments were positive, and also because the tiktok’s results made you happy

“i’m glad that it did well!” he’ll sigh in relief, pressing a kiss against your temple, let’s just not go on there ever again

┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ┈

likes and reblogs are appreciated, thanks for reading!

i do not own bnha/mha and it’s characters. boku no hero academia/my hero academia belongs to horikoshi kohei, i only own the writing and i do not profit off of my hobby

do not plagiarize, reupload, translate, or use my works for audio readings without permission

[turning-dreams-into-chaos]

Choice

(Remus Lupin)

~Master~

A/N: This is going to be my new format for posts that aren’t series/requests lmfao. I was lowkey considering not posting this, so like how bad was this? Should this of stayed a draft?

Sirius was flirting with Marlene again. You shouldn’t have been watching, but Merlin it hurt so much. You didn’t know when this obsession with him started but your feelings of affections towards Sirius had definitely changed. It was, however, disheartening that Sirius never expressed any difference in talking to you than he had any other person at Hogwarts.

“What makes Marlene so special?” You mumbled under your breath and slumped into your propped-up hand, refusing to look away from the boy just across the room. You heard Remus laugh under his breath, but you didn’t care. “I’m serious Moony, why is he always flirting with her?”

“Would you rather he flirts with someone else?” Remus asked rhetorically as he continued to flip through the potion book you and him were supposed to be going through at the moment.

You groaned, leaning back on the chair to finally pay Remus the attention you should’ve. “I’d rather he flirts with no one, thank you very much.” Your face scrunched as you heard Marlene’s laugh echo in the room and you slumped down into your seat. “Or he could at least flirt with me.”

Remus peaked a brow as he looked at you through his eye lashes, not moving his head when he cleared his throat. “You want him to flirt with you?”

You glared at him playfully. “Have you not seen me fancying him for the last few months?” Remus didn’t answer. Course he’d seen you or even heard you gushing about Sirius. You weren’t being discreet in any way, talking about his ‘luscious locks’ or his ‘rebel personality’. Remus was beginning to wonder if you were the same Y/N he befriended years ago.

“Can we just get back to work please? I’d like to finish this before it’s due.” Remus smiled at you and you rolled your eyes with a laugh, not unfamiliar with Remus’ sass.

“Fine, but you’ve been reading that page for 15 minutes.” You reached across the table, snatching the book from in front of Remus before starting to read. Remus watched you, your eyes scanning the pages briefly before flipping the page again and again until you finally found what you needed. You lifted your head, seeing Remus waiting for you before you tossed the open book in front of him. “Found it and it only took me… 3 minutes?” You smirked as Remus let out a mocking laugh, not mad at all you had found the answer to your potion problem.

You let your eyes wander as Remus read the page you needed and soon you were looking at Sirius and Marlene again. You couldn’t help it. He was still in full blown flirt mode as you sighed. “Just once I want someone to choose me because they want me.” You admitted sheepishly to your best friend whose head picked up to see you staring again. Remus’ stomach dropped as your eyes turned sad.

“Y/N.” Remus said softly to get your attention. There wasn’t a smile on his face when you turned to him, seeing him as sad as you were. “You’re someone’s choice.”

You tried to smile at him, to be happy, but the smile never reached your eyes. “I know. But I don’t mean as I second choice, you know.” You played with your hands in front of you, too embarrassed to meet Remus’ eyes. “I want to be the choice.”

Remus just stared at you. You were about to speak before he let out a hurt laugh. “What about me?” he asked.

“What?” you furrowed your brows, seeing Remus’ jaw lock as he looked down to the table.

“I’m not even a choice to you, am I?” His words were whispers and you had to admit, you were confused. What was he talking about?

“Remus, I-“

“Forget it.” He cut you off, snapping the book in front of him close as you jumped at the sound. He grabbed his pack before standing up, shoving his books inside as you stayed confused. “I forgot I have to...” his words slowed, obvious he was making up an excuse as he refused to tell you the truth “I have to go.”

“Remus, wait!” Your words didn’t stop Remus though as he almost ran out of the room, not even gracing you a glance back. You sat confused as you tried to piece together what had just happened.

What about him? Remus wanted to be a choice?

Remus wanted to be a choice.

Oh.

Tags are Open! PLEASE SEND AN ASK TO BE ADDED! (and tell me which list please!)

Permanent: @literal-fand0m-trash @just4muggles @nathaliabakes @colored-confetti @wiseeggspickleslime @btsiguess-kpop @galacticstxrdust @independentgirl @hollymac79 @delicately-important-trash @emcchi @rauwz @herondalescecilys @chewymoustachio @smilexcaptainx @faith-quake @clarkesplaylist @johnmurphyisbisexual @kettnerjanea @teenagereadersciencenerd

Harry Potter: @accio-rogers @songforhema @hahaboop @paigeyisme @missmulti @daddyloonglegss @ellie-emb @angelinathebook @marauderswhisperer @emmaloo21 @obsessedwithrandomthings @jackryanplz @dreamer821 @alexmarie29 @grierpilots @alittletoomanyobsessions @iamak20 @pregnant-piggy @the-moon-and-the-book @marylimlp

Marauders: @onthebroadway @fanficflaneuse @mysterioustruffle @siriuslysirius1107 @rexorangecouny @caffeineaddictedravenclaw @whimsicallymad @fific7 @susceptible-but-siriusexual @hxrgreeves

Remus: @serenefreakgeek @screennamealreadyused @dancing-in-the-moonlight3

[starrybethany]

Kirby Dach: If I Can’t Have You By Shawn Mendes

Word count: 2629

Music video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oTJ-oqwxdZY 

Lyrics video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d6_9CF1ucoI

I can’t write one song that’s not about you

Can’t drink without thinking about you

I don’t drink often. I tell my friends that it’s because I’m afraid to lose control and I don’t like the feeling of waking up with no idea of what happened the night prior. That’s part of it, but really, the main reason I don’t like to drink is because of Kirby Dach.

Everytime I drink, all I can think about is Kirby. What is Kirby doing right now? I wonder if Kirby scored tonight. What do you think Kirby ate for dinner? How long do you think Kirby’s hair is compared to the last time that I saw him?

I can’t get Kirby out of my mind as soon as a drop of liquor is in my body.

Is it too late to tell you that

Everything means nothing if I can’t have you

He and I decided to keep it lowkey. We decided that since he’s going to be focused on hockey in Chicago and I’m going to be focused on school in Toronto, it wouldn’t be good for either of us to enter a committed relationship.

That was eight months ago. And slowly, text by text, FaceTime call after FaceTime call, my feelings towards him have started to change. I feel more attached to him, I want to hold his hand and pull him around Toronto and show him all of the landmarks.

I want to tell him about my classes and hear about whatever stupid thing Adam said today, but it’s too late. This ‘no strings attached’ situation has set in by now. He thinks we’re both content where we are, so I don’t want to rock the boat.

I’m in Toronto and I got this view

But I might as well be in a hotel room (Yeah)

It doesn’t matter ’cause I’m so consumed

Spending all my nights reading texts from you

Toronto is a beautiful city. From the needle to the towering buildings to the bustling streets, there’s so much activity and always something to look at. And I remember that  once in a while, if I’m not too busy looking at my phone.

I’m either waiting for a text from Kirby, which is far and few between these days, or reading old conversations that I’ve had with him. Some of them still make me laugh. Most of them just make me miss him even more.

Oh, I’m good at keeping my distance

I know, that you’re the feeling I’m missing

You know that I hate to admit it

But everything means nothing if I can’t have you

Kirby: We’re in Toronto for a game soon. Do you wanna go and hang out after? ;)

I bite my lip, trying to find the best way to let him down. I can’t see him in person, I know that if I do he’ll see all the love in my eyes and that can’t happen. So I just need to slowly cut him out of my life, and that starts with the hookups everytime he comes into the city.

Y/N: Can’t

My phone instantly vibrates with an incoming call from him. I hold it in my hand, watching as it buzzes. It stops just to start again with another incoming call. I want to answer, everything in my bones is screaming at me to answer, but my brain is telling me that I shouldn’t.

I can’t write one song that’s not about you

Can’t drink without thinking about you

Is it too late to tell you that

Everything means nothing if I can’t have you

“He’s been calling me forever,” I whine to my friends later that night, the fourth or fifth or  sixth alcoholic beverage in my hand.

“Just answer already, tell him how you feel!” Another friend just as sloshed as me tells me.

I nod, clicking the answer button as soon as Kirby calls again. “Kur-bye, you-ou keep calling me.”

“Yeah, I’m trying to figure out what the hell is wrong with you,” he responds. “Are you drunk?”

“Wasted,” I laugh.

“Oh my god,” I hear him groan.

“Well I wouldn’t have to get drunk if you just, if you would just, date me,” I stumble through the sentence.

“What?”

The familiar tune of a song that I’ve had on repeat blasts through the speakers of the nightclub that I’ve been spending my time in. I gasp in excitement, “I love this song! Bye, Kur-bee.”

I can’t write one song that’s not about you

Can’t drink without thinking about you

Is it too late to tell you that

Everything means nothing if I can’t have you

My head is throbbing when I wake up and I groan, reluctantly reaching for my phone. I just want to check and see if my school or boss sent me anything that I need to respond to immediately before burrowing back into my sheets, but I freeze when I see the multiple texts, phone calls, and voicemails left from the one person I was drinking to forget.

Kirby: Can you answer your phone? We need to talk about this

Kirby: I’ve called you five times now please answer

Kirby: I’m guessing you went to bed by now. I’ll call you tomorrow to talk

The last thing that I remember about last night was coming back from the bathroom to the girls giving me my fourth drink of the night. What do we need to talk about? What the hell happened last night?

There are two voicemails so I nervously click the speaker button on the first one, noticing it’s only a couple of seconds so it can’t be too bad.

“Hey Y/N, just answer your phone. I just want to talk things out with you, please. Come on.”

He sounds like he’s almost pleading in that one. I must have said something really wrong to get Kirby to sound like that- he’s usually a very confident and cheerful person.

Then I click on the next one. “Um, so I don’t know if you’re avoiding me or sleeping or if you’re sleeping with someone else… we really should discuss what you told me on the phone tonight. I know you sounded drunk but uh, you know what they say, drunk words are sober thoughts. Call me back, or I’ll probably call you back, but please come to the game when I’m in Toronto so we can talk about what happened tonight. Okay. Bye.”

My heart breaks word by word. I have no recollection of what I said to him while plastered last night. What did he mean by drunk words being sober thoughts? I wonder if I told him about my feelings for him that he doesn’t return and he just wants to talk to let me down slowly. That’s probably it, he just wants to tell me, “It’s not you, it’s me.”

But it is me. It was me who had to catch feelings for him. It’s me who has yearnings to explore Chicago with him and sit with the other wives and girlfriends at the games.

So I don’t need to hear his excuses. There is no need to talk to Kirby Dach anymore.

I’m so sorry that my timing is off

But I can’t move on if we’re still gonna talk

Jay is not Kirby. Jay has some similarities to Kirby- they both like the Edmonton Oilers and having sex with me. But Jay is far from Kirby. He doesn’t ask me about my day like Kirby did or listen to the stupid jokes I would tell just to hear his laugh.

But Jay is enough right now. He sits beside me on the couch, watching a YouTube video with me on my phone. It’s two weeks into our relationship and slowly, Kirby has taken my hint of not wanting to talk to him. He called multiple times a day for the first couple of days, then it slowed to once a day, and now it’s every couple of days.

I’m waiting for the day that the calls stop.

But I’m not waiting in a good way.

The video suddenly stops as an incoming call from ‘Kirby Dach’ pops up. It definitely doesn’t help that the screen is of a picture I took cozied up with him after a great night.

Is it wrong for me to not want half

I want all of you, all the strings attached

Oh, I’m good at keeping my distance

“Why is Kirby Dach calling you?” Jay asks sternly.

I shrug, avoiding eye contact with him. I feel like it’s too personal to tell him- my relationship with Kirby was always very personal. “We’re friends.”

“You can’t be friends with a Blackhawks player,” his tone is laced with disgust and I lift my eyes, narrowing them at him.

I’m already pissed off by the fact that he thinks that he can tell me who I can and can’t be friends with, but I decide to entertain him. “Why not?”

“The Blackhawks are such a dirty team. DeBrincat laid that dirty hit on Bear…” He drones on and I stop listening to him. This conversation is ridiculous, Jay is ridiculous, this relationship is ridiculous, this whole situation is ridiculous.

“Get out.”

“What?” He asks in surprise.

“Get out. You’re not going to sit here and talk about him and his teammates like that,” I holler. I think we’re both shocked by the amount of rage that my voice holds. “He was drafted third overall, he’s very talented, he’s playing for a team packed with Stanley Cup winners. Get out if you’re going to disrespect Kirby like that.”

Jay leaves with little protest. And funnily enough, all that I want is Kirby’s arms wrapped around me.

I know, that you’re the feeling I’m missing

You know that I hate to admit it

But everything means nothing if I can’t have you

It’s been a month. Kirby hasn’t tried to contact me since he called me while Jay was there. I know it’s my fault for losing him- I should’ve answered his calls, returned his texts, and FaceTimed him when I needed him.

I should have gone to his game. I regret staying home and eating ice cream instead.

When the Hawks are playing the Leafs, he likes to see me in the crowd. He likes to see the one red jersey in the sea of blue, he likes to pass the puck with Alex in front of where I’m sitting, he likes to look at me with his eyes sparkling whenever he gets a goal or assist.

I avoid seeing the score of the game. In fact, I avoid social media as a whole. I don’t want to see how happy Kirby is without me. I don’t want him to be miserable, of course, but I’m just not ready to see that beaming smile on his face that should be directed at me.

That would be directed at me if I didn’t stop talking to him. But it wouldn’t be in the way that I want him to be smiling at me.

I can’t write one song that’s not about you

Can’t drink without thinking about you

Is it too late to tell you that

Everything means nothing if I can’t have you

A warm bath and a glass of wine have always helped me relax. I’ve used it as a way to clear my mind, a way to discover how I’m truly feeling about everything.

The wine in my glass tastes bitter as I stare down at the burgundy liquid. I feel like I’m always drinking. If I’m not drinking to forget, I’m drinking to feel something.

And all I can feel right now is longing. I miss Kirby. Even if I would be friendzoned it would be worth it just to have the brunette in my life. Kirby gave me so much more happiness than I realized he did- through ‘good morning, how are you?’ texts to funny memes he would find on Instagram. I would always smile when I saw his name on my phone.

Now I feel like I just have my phone and a missing piece of my heart.

I can’t write one song that’s not about you

Can’t drink without thinking about you

Is it too late to tell you that

Everything means nothing if I can’t have you

It’s two months too long without Kirby. And he tried to reach out to me for a month, so how much longer do I have before he forgets me completely? Before he finds another girl to make smile or laugh?

How much longer do I have to win Kirby’s heart? My eyes widen in horror at the thought of it already being won by someone else. My heartbeat picks up and it’s then that I know.

I’m in love with Kirby Dach. And I need to tell him. I need to woman up and stop ignoring him. I need to communicate and tell him my feelings like an adult, even if it might crush me in the end.

My wet hand reaches over the side of the bathtub for my phone, ignoring the fact that I’m getting water all of it before pulling up Kirby’s contact. It rings and rings for what feels like years. He never answers.

I know what I need to do. I need to go to Chicago.

I’m trying, to move on, forget you, but I hold on

Everything means nothing, everything means nothing, babe

I stare out the window of the airplane at the vast blue sky and the few clouds in it. I just know my friends would call me crazy if they saw me right now. They would tell me that the best way to move on is to get under someone new, and I tried that with Jay, but I can never get over Kirby.

At least not without closure.

I don’t think I want someone new. Kirby is familiar but he’s comfortable. I know who I am with Kirby and I know who he is too.

I’m trying, to move on, forget you, but I hold on

Everything means nothing if I can’t have you

I can’t write one song that’s not about you

Can’t drink without thinking about you

He gave me his address once when I wanted to send him a care package. I found some socks and soaps that I thought he would love, so he told me the address of Brent and Dayna Seabrook’s house and opened the box on FaceTime with me.

I remember his cheer as he saw the pug faces on the socks and the satisfied sigh when he smelled the vanilla of the soap.

I smile at the memory, nervously fumbling with the seatbelt of the Uber I’m taking from the hotel I’m staying at to the Seabrooks’ house. I should’ve checked the Hawks schedule before even booking my ticket, but I remembered to do it on my flight and was relieved to find that they had two days off starting today.

So if all goes well, Kirby has two days to spend with me. If all does not go well, I have two days to explore this city by myself.

I hope it’s the first option so much I cross my fingers so tight that they’re white.

Is it too late to tell you that

Everything means nothing if I can’t have you

I knock on the front door anxiously, balancing from my heels to my toes as I wait for someone to open the door. I hear footsteps and a beautiful brunette pulls the door open, giving me a questioning smile.

“Um, hi, um, is Kirby here?” I inquire, shoving my sweaty hands into my pockets.

“Yes, he is. Who are you?” Her tone sounds more curious than accusatory, so I’m assuming Kirby doesn’t have many girls around here. I’m relieved about that fact.

“Y/N,” I answer.

“Oh! Yeah, I know you, Kirby’s talked about you,” she connects the dots and her smile fades a bit, “Why aren’t you in Toronto right now?”

“I need to tell Kirby that I love him in person,” I blurt out before I can stop myself. “Oh, I’m sorry-”Her giggle cuts me off. “No worries, I’ll go get him for you. Please, come in.”

I wait in the foyer of their gorgeous house, looking around with wide eyes. So this is where Kirby spends most of the year. He eats in this kitchen, plays with the kids in the living room, and practices stickhandling in that backyard.

My thoughts get cut off by the sound of feet coming up the stairs from the basement. I feel my eyebrows twitch and I bite my lip in anticipation. It’s now or never.

I can’t write one song that’s not about you

Can’t drink without thinking about you

Is it too late to tell you that

Everything means nothing if I can’t have you

“Y/N?” His hair does look longer. It’s covered by a hat put on backwards, and a baggy sweater that I’ve worn a time or two before covers his torso. “What are you doing here? Don’t you have a big project due next week?”

My heart swells at the fact that he remembered that. “I do. But I need to tell you something.”

“Okay?” He urges me to continue.

I take a deep breath. “I love you.”

A wide grin spread across his face. That sparkle that I’ve been dying to see returns to his eyes and he takes a step closer towards he then stops, like he’s in disbelief. “Really?”

“Really,” I breathe out. Unable to stop myself, I take a few steps forward, closing the gap between us, and lift my lips to meet his.

Even though we’ve kissed before, this kiss is different. This kiss holds so much meaning, so much passion. We know how we feel about each other now, we no longer have to hide it.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” he whispers against my lips.

“Me too.”

[crookedndelicate]

#4 | casual affair

a/n - based on casual affair by panic! at the disco. i’ve had this idea in mind for like... two months? two and a half? before my catfish gig for sure. postponed it as always, had some free time and no wifi the other day and voila. as always, dedicated to @cosmic-hero75 for reading every single draft I had for this thing. and yeah this is still lowkey awkward but whatever. 

warnings / word count: umm... smut, as always. 4k words. it’s becoming my brand, innit?

Clothes on the floor, hands gripping the white sheets, mouths clashing against each other. Moans, sighs, soft cries and names called out repeatedly, like a mantra. Scratches decorating his back and love bites on your collarbones. Your legs wrapped around his waist, his fingers running through your hair, accompanied by the bittersweet knowledge that you might never see him again. Fingers gripping the bedsheets, knuckles turning white, a hug and the door closing behind him.

The first time you and Van had hooked up was after their All Points East performance. With your friends busy at work, you’d decided to go alone – you weren’t going to miss this. And in spite of your inner romantic wanting to tell the story differently, the truth was, both you and Van weren’t entirely sober.  You’d bumped into him and Larry after their set and offered to buy them a pint. It was sunny in London, and with the buzz you got from a day of live performances, your head was spinning; you felt invincible.

Soon, you and Van found your common ground. Both fresh out of serious relationships, neither of you was looking to get involved. You’d had your heart broken too many times to care for that. And Van, a rock star with a broken heart and the world at his fingertips, was finally learn to take advantage of that. Maybe if life was a fairy tale, you would have fallen in love and changed your mind; he would’ve asked you out, and you would’ve lived happily ever after. But life wasn’t a fairy tale, and neither of you was looking for anything more than immediate gratification.

You’d exchanged numbers anyways, mostly because you enjoyed each other’s company. You were sharp and Van was witty; you weren’t used to finding someone so in tune with your sense of humour. The banter went on and on, and by midnight you were back in his hotel room, his necklace dragging along your bare skin.

***

What you thought was a one-night stand turned into a tradition. Whenever Van was in town he’d call you up and you’d get together, usually at yours. He’d come around with your favourite beer and a cheeky smile, a smile you – like many others before you, you found irresistible. You’d torture him a bit before letting him in and you’d spend the night together, chatting, drinking, and eventually curled up in bed, hands all over each other.

“Hands up,” he mumbled and you obliged, allowing him to take off the t-shirt dress you were wearing. He pressed his lips against your collarbones, leaving a trail of sloppy kisses down your stomach. You could feel him grinning against your bare skin, his fingers stroking your inner thigh, dangerously close to your wetness. You felt your breath hitching as you lost your self-control, devoting every inch of yourself to his touch.

“Van,” you let out of a sigh, eyes rolled back in ecstasy as he focused his tongue on your weak spots. You’d always found it funny how Van seemed to enjoy touching more than he enjoyed being touched, and suspected it was a praise kink he’d never admit. Seeing you, your knees weak and body arching to the touch of his fingertips was enough to drive him wild. Hearing you beg for it, call out his name, was enough to get him rock hard and aching for more. Onstage, he got off people screaming along his lyrics and girls calling out his name. In bed, when it was just the two of you, he wasn’t any different. You found out oddly endearing.

Soon, he started staying the night. You’d share your bed, and for a day at a time, you’d get to wake up to a messy haired, sleepy Van. You’d watch as his eyes fluttered, his freckles brighter in the morning light. He’d pull you closer, almost instinctively, pressing his lips against your bare shoulder. Unlike the night before, those kisses were always softer, almost cautious. As if you’d ever kick him out of your bed.

***

You kept telling yourself it was nothing more than a casual affair. You hooked up when he was in town, and he never stayed over for more than a night at a time. Sure, you’d gotten to know each other, but that was bound to happen; after all, both you and Van were naturally chatty. You’d never met his parents or the rest of the band for that matter, and he’d never met your mates. You’d lived in your little bubble, a night at a time, and when you did, nothing else mattered.

Lucy - your preschool best mate, on the other hand, wasn’t as convinced. “Come on, y/n,” she rolled her eyes, taking a sip of her vanilla latte. “It’s definitely more than just a casual affair. He stays the night, you share childhood stories and make him tea when he wakes up. You’re way past casual at this point.”

“Luce, come on,” you shook your head, “it’s me we’re talking about. Let me talk to the barista long enough and I’ll start sharing childhood stories,” she chuckled, “it doesn’t mean anything. He comes over when he’s in town, we have fun together and he leaves. Sometimes to go on tour, sometimes to… god knows where. I rarely ask. I’m still not looking for a serious relationship and neither is he. It’s just fun.”

“Alright then,” she took another sip. “What would you say if I told you fans are speculating he’s seeing someone? Apparently, there’s this girl in New York. They say they’ve been together for a while now or something along those lines. Of course, it’s just rumours, but –“  

Her voice faded into nothing but background noise as you took a moment to ponder her question. And truth was, there was nothing to ponder. You should’ve been happy for him; you should’ve had some sort of a neural, ‘good for him’type of reaction. Casual affairs are never exclusive and you knew that… and yet, your first reaction was far from joyful. You could feel your heart breaking, aching to call him up and ask if it’s true. If there’s someone else.

And in that moment, you realised Lucy was right. You’d never meant to, but you were falling for him. You were falling for the stupid, charming, beautiful Van McCann, and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

***

You didn’t tell him. Instead, you kept your arrangement going, enjoying the infrequent nights you got to spend together. Knowing Van wasn’t looking to fall in love, you figured some was better than nothing. After all, telling him you’d started developing feelings for him would’ve probably ended your relationship, if you could call it that. Then again, it was Van McCann you were talking about; the man who wrote scruffy love songs and couldn’t imagine not getting married and having kids. Van McCann, the hopeless romantic who kept breaking his own heart, who’d do anything for the ones he loved. If the romantic in you couldn’t stay completely detached, how could he guarantee the romantic in him did?

You kept going back and forth on that, unaware that your dilemma became more and more noticeable. While at first it seemed as if Lucy and you were the only one who could tell there was more than meets the eye, by the third time Van came ‘round yours, even he could tell you weren’t your usual self. And boy, was he oblivious sometimes.

“You alright, love?” he mumbled against your skin, his fingers absentmindedly caressing your bare back. You nodded, and he rolled his eyes. “C’mon, y/n. We’ve spent enough time together. Hate to say I know you ‘nd all, but I do. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you replied, almost instinctively, and he rolled his eyes once gain. He wasn’t wrong – he did know you, better than you were willing to admit. “Look, I… when we met last summer, we were both fresh out of serious relationships. Don’t think we would’ve bonded the way we did if it wasn’t for that. But…”

You didn’t have to finish that thought. His body tensed, and he nodded. “You want one,” he muttered, and you nodded. “I’m… I’m sorry, y/n,” he took a deep breath, his eyes frantically searching for his clothes. “I’m not ready. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

He got dressed and left, not bothering to stay the night, and you didn’t argue. You figured that’s how he would react – after all, life wasn’t a fairy tale. You felt tears streaming down your cheeks as you sat there, on your bed, holding onto a blanket that still smelled like him. You hated the thought of losing him, but you knew it was for the best. And maybe, just me, both you and Lucy were wrong after all; his heart’s been torn apart so many times, and now, perhaps the boy who wrote scruffy love songs and believed in love was torn apart, too.

***

The healing process was a strange one. In an attempt to avoid anything that reminded you of him, the first thing you did was put your Catfish records in your under-bed storage, which evidentially proved itself useless. Apparently, it’s hard to avoid someone who’s an international rock star and keeps performing in festivals nationwide. You didn’t block him, even though you probably should have, but you did duck his calls and texts. You had nothing to say to each other.

The next step – quite possibly Lucy’s favourite, was a rebound. She was a big believer in rebounds, as much as she believed in zero second chances. For men, that is. She was constantly on guard, waiting for the moment you’ll say Van waltzed back into your life. But you didn’t, because he didn’t. The way you saw it, at least he had the decency to stay away from you, even if sometimes you wished he hadn’t. The videos, gig pictures and gifs were definitely not helping. You kept scanning through them, looking for signs of his wellbeing, wondering how he was doing without you. Whether he thought about you, or missed you at all.

And then, came Lucy’s co-worker. She kept insisting you’d make a perfect couple – or, at least, perfect rebound couple. No strings attached, she promised, and you finally gave up and agreed to go out with him. Just one date, no strings attached. You had nothing to lose and everything to gain, and you liked those odds. Especially since with Vans, they were the other way around.

His name was Luke. The first time he called you, he sounded anxious, almost concerned you didn’t want to talk at all before your date. That made you laugh. He seemed to be the antithesis of the confident Van you’d fallen in love with. He asked where you wanted to go, and you’d agreed to meet at a small café down the street. It was the kind of place you’d walked by more times than you can count, yet never went in. To your surprise, he lived in two blocks away, and soon enough you found yourself grabbing your favourite denim jacket and getting ready to go.

***

The place itself was just as adorable on the inside as you thought it would be. With pastel-coloured tables and a wooden floor, it felt more like a newly-designed Barbie’s Dream House than an independent café, but you liked it. Luke met you outside, holding a bouquet of roses he admittedly found cheesy, but you didn’t. As he walked you to your table, you kept thinking how long it’s been since you’ve been on a date. A proper date, that is. And as he pulled your chair back, you realised you kind of missed it.

His green eyes stared at you intently, listening to you. What started out as a conversation about work turned into childhood stories with Lucy, moments in secondary school she’d rather forget and your wildest benders. He prompted you to keep going, asking questions and laughing when appropriate. And as he toasted to your mutual friend for bringing you together, you realised Lucy was wrong. Luke wasn’t the perfect rebound partner, but he would make a damn good boyfriend. Someday.

Even though the café was down the road from your place, he insisted on walking you home. It’s dark, you never know who’s out there, he said. And so, you let him walk you home, your hands deep in your pockets. As you approached your place, you thought you’d seen a familiar shadow move, accompanied by the smell of mint and cigarettes. Your heart skipped a beat as you’d realised where that combination was oh-so-familiar from. Van.

It’s all in your head, y/n, you promised yourself repeatedly. It’s all in your head. You miss him and it’s natural, but whatever it was between you is over. He has no reason to come around, and he didn’t. It’s time to let go.

And so, in a final attempt to let go, you invited Luke in.

***

It took two glasses of wine and a shot of Malibu to get you to admit you didn’t want Luke to stay the night. Perhaps you could’ve said it more nicely – or at all, instead of mumbling something about having to work early the next day, but he quickly caught on and left. No hard feelings, he promised. It’s just a first date. I’ll call you, he added, driving your mind into overdrive over the million-dollar question: did you want him to?

And deep down, you knew the answer was no. Luke was a sweetheart, no doubt, but once again, you found yourself realising you weren’t in the right headspace for a relationship. Except this time, it wasn’t the end of a serious relationship that left you feeling like you weren’t ready, or wondering if you ever will be again.

God, why did relationships have to be so complicated?

A knock on the door forced you to snap out of it, leaving the dilemmas in the half-empty bottle of Malibu on the kitchen counter. Was it Lucy, wanting to know everything about your blind date with Luke? Was it Luke, wanting to know what had gotten into you? Was it your neighbour, fundraising for celling renovations for the pub downstairs, or whatever odd initiative he’d gotten himself into this time?

You opened the door, your heart skipping a beat at the sight in front of you. With a dead look in his eyes and an unfinished pint from the pub he’d walked out on, Van stood in front of you, and you sighed. You’d recognised the glass he was holding – The Black Lion, the pub downstairs. So you weren’t crazy after all, you thought to yourself, an odd wave of satisfaction washing over you.

“Can I come ‘n?” he muttered, and you stepped aside as he stumbled into your place.

“Van, it’s one in the morning. What’re you doing here?” you carefully grabbed the glass out of his hand, putting it aside. He just shook his head and sat down, his back against your kitchen wall. “Van, come on. You haven’t called in months, and now you’re at my doorstep?”

“I….” he looked up, spacing out. “I’m…. drunk,” he finally mumbled. You’d never seen him so drunk he could barely piece together a coherent sentence. In spite of the absurdity of the situation, you found yourself laughing. As if you couldn’t tell he was drunk.  And with him like that, you knew there was no chance for a decent conversation.

So instead, you grabbed his hand, pulling him back up. He mumbled something, but instead, you let your mind focus on the white cotton of his shirt against your skin and the sound of his breath next to you. “C’mon, let’s get you to bed,” you muttered, directing a very disoriented Van to the bedroom with you. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders, dragging his feet on the floor, hardly keeping his balance.

“Thought we weeeeren’t doin’ that ‘nymore,” he mumbled, taking the time to finish the sentence. You rolled your eyes as you closed the bedroom door behind you, watching Van stumbling down on his way to your bed. You followed him, helping him to take off his boots. He closed his eyes, allowing you to take care of him. You left the room for a second, and by the time you came back he was sound asleep on your bed.

You slept on the sofa that night.

***

You woke up with a sore back to the sound of someone stumbling into the kitchen. It took a second before the night before came back in flashbacks: the date you had, how you sent Luke home, drunk Van knocking on your door and crashing on your bed. You looked up and watched as he put the kettle on, rubbing his eyes. Not wanting to wake you up, he tiptoed around the kitchen, and you took a moment to study the man in front of you.

You hadn’t realised just how much you missed his slim figure in your kitchen, or the way he hummed his favourite songs as he made his morning tea. Even when hungover, the way he carried himself was mesmerising and you found yourself smiling, allowing yourself, just for a second, to question his presence there.  

But life wasn’t a fairy tale and you couldn’t allow yourself to ignore that. You got up and he turned around, holding a teabag. “Mornin’, love,” he greeted you, standing still. You couldn’t blame him – how do you greet your ex who isn’t quite your ex, who also happened to stop by drunk and crash on your bed? A hug? A handshake?

With neither of them feeling appropriate, you simply sat down. “Cuppa?” he asked and you nodded. You spent the next few moments in silence as he made two cups of tea, only looking up at him when he stood in front of you, handing you your favourite mug. He remembered. “Listen, y/n –“

“Van, enough. What are you doing here?” you put down your mug, and he sighed. “You were the one who walked away, remember? You have no business being he- “

“I couldn’t bear seeing you with him, okay?” he interrupted you, his words dripping with jealousy. “I came by because I wanted to talk ‘nd he was there, and I couldn’t fuckin’ bear seein’ you with him, alright?”. You’ve never heard Van angry before, yet there he was, his breath irregular and his jaw clenched. You felt your head spinning as the anger built up inside of you.

Van. Van who walked away. Van who didn’t want anything serious, yet had the nerve to get mad at you for simplytrying to move on. “Are you fucking kidding me? You don’t want to be with me, and yet you have the nerve –“

“Well, maybe I made a mistake,” he interrupted you once again, his voice low. “Maybe you’re all I’ve been thinking about. Maybe I can’t get you out of my head. Maybe I should have never walked out your door, y/n.”

You took a long, deep breath, aware of your anger more than ever. You could feel your heart racing and your blood pumping through your veins, yet instead of yelling or walking away like you wanted, you found yourself mumbling through clenched teeth, “maybe I’m over you.”

Well that’s a lie, you thought to yourself as soon as the words slipped out. Of course it was a lie. You were far from being over him – you wouldn’t have let him in otherwise, and he knew that. “Then tell me to leave,” he whispered, his eyes fixed on yours. “I’m serious, y/n. Tell me to leave and I’ll leave.”

But you couldn’t. You couldn’t tell him to leave because you didn’t want him to. The last thing you wanted was for Van to walk out the door, leaving you alone once again. So instead you lurched forward, smashing your lips against his. He wasted no time, cupping your face with both hands as he deepened the kiss. Like a smoker indulging in the taste of nicotine, you wallowed in the taste of his tongue ravaging your mouth. You kissed until you were breathless, holding onto each other.

He pulled away, his lips pink and pupils dilated, and you pulled him back in, wrapping your legs around his torso and arms around his neck as he pressed you against the kitchen table. You kissed until your lips ached, sloppy and desperate, teeth gnashing together. You kissed frantically, lips pulled between teeth. Damn, you’d missed him more than you were willing to admit.

“Arms,” he mumbled against your lips. You lift your arms up and he took off your shirt, throwing it on the floor next to you. He kissed hot and wet down your neck, his hips grinding against yours. You weren’t going to argue – it’s been long enough since the last time you felt him on top, hands and lips desperate to touch every inch of bare skin they could reach. You threw your head back and whimpered as his mouth went to your breasts, eager to make up for the last time.

“Fuck, Van,” you hissed, your hands going straight to his jeans. With his mouth on your nipple and his hand between your thighs leaving you breathless, it took every bit of control you had left in you to unbutton his trousers. After all this time, Van still knew your body like the back of his hand, and if you weren’t so intoxicated by the pleasure washing over you, you would’ve probably found that impressive.  

You watched his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as his fingers helped you remove the clothes between the two of you. With them lost somewhere on the floor and his mouth making its way down your chest and stomach, your body vibrating in anticipation. He pressed his forehead against yours and grinned as he slid two fingers inside of you. Your breathing grew erratic as he worked his way inside of you, focusing on your sweet spot. The intensity of your eye contact enhanced the skilfulness of his fingers, and you could already feel your release building up inside of you.

“More,” you whimpered, aching for more. He knew you well enough to know exactly what you wanted, and boy, was he going to tease you with that.

“What d’you want?” he murmured, his fingers still working deep inside of you. You groaned as he pressed sloppy kisses down your jawline, your stomach turning into an avalanche. Your eyes squeezed shot and you moaned his name as he whispered, once again, “what d’you want, love?”

“You,” you breathed out, hips instinctively pushing forward. “Please, Van, just… fuck me.”

That’s it. You’d said the magic words. Withdrawing his fingers, he took a moment to look at you. With your lips pink and slightly parted, your cheeks red and strands of hair glued to your forehead, he couldn’t help but appreciating how divine you looked. “Fuck, you’re…” he breathed out and smashed his lips against yours, slowly pushing himself all the way in. Your eyes rolled back in pleasure and you could feel every inch of him, every vein, every slight movement. How you could think of being with anyone else was now beyond you.

You begged him to go harder and faster until you could feel him in your stomach, which was kind of fucked but god, you loved it anyways. Then, everything happened all at once, and better than it ever did before. His hands holding down your hips as his thrusts became harder and harder. His necklace dragging across your skin, bright in the kitchen light. Sweat glistening, sloppy hot mouthed kisses and weak knees. Van’s low groans and a string of ‘fuck’s and ‘oh god’s, neck kisses and love bites you would be proud to show off the next day. Your body vibrating in ecstasy as you let go with Van’s eyes fixed on you, mesmerised by the sight of you unravelling underneath him. Van’s mouth falling open as he came, the two of you panting each other’s names until you were completely out of breath. Van, not ready to pull out just yet, enjoying the electricity of your touch and you, not ready just yet to be empty.

When he finally pulled out, you pulled you closer and kissed the top of your head. “Missed you,” he mumbled and you smiled, leaning into his touch. It was soft and intimate and real,more real than any other night you’d spent together.

“I missed you too, Van,” you whispered. “Did you mean it?”

“Mhm. I made a mistake, y/n, and seeing you with him…” he huffed and you chuckled, caressing his cheek. You didn’t need more than that – you know exactly what he wanted to say, and somehow that was enough.

The rest of the night was spent in bed, snuggling and catching up – in every sense of the word, until you finally fell asleep, his arms wrapping your naked body as he pressed his body against yours. You woke up to him caressing your back, planting soft kisses on your shoulder. His hair was messy and the bags under his eyes were prominent, but as he smiled his crooked smile, you couldn’t help but fall in love all over again.

You knew he wanted to take things slow, and you didn’t mind. Life wasn’t a fairy tale – it was complicated and risky and full of obstacles and absolutely wonderful. You had a lot to talk about and even more to figure out and you both knew it, but that could wait another day. In that moment, you were just happy the boy who wrote scruffy love songs and believed in love decided to give it another chance after all.

[qatarcookie]

Short Story Update - Echo

Welcome to my first story update, folks. 

I finished the second/second-and-a-half draft of “Echo”. It is the third (real/serious/not totally disastrous) short story that I’ve ever written. Although I’m still a mess with this art form I feel like I improved a lot since I dived into my first one. 

Still, at this current state I’m anything but happy with it. Something about the plot and the voice just puts me off a little. Maybe I need to another scene and carve out the tone of the story even more to make it work. We’ll see.

What is it about?

It follows this young chemistry student Ashton. He is staying in a cabin with his family in the snowy mountains over Christmas when he meets the young hunter Tinder (yep, I totally namend them Ash and Tinder, no shame xD) that has saved his life years ago. Now, I know it sounds super cheesy and light-hearted but the plot and the atmosphere are actually quite dark as we venture into Ashs mind.

My writing experience

After finishing the first draft I was super unhappy how it turned out. Even my style felt off - I’m used to overwriting sentences in every way possible and toning it down afterwards but somehow I managed to just underwrite so badly that the prose was just boring.  Part of the problem was my narrator. We have a first person retrospective point of view who is anything but reliable although he is super observative. On top of that, Ash is just super dissociated and depressed. So, I know. Weird choice, right? Should’ve just used a third person narrator to gain a little more psychic distance. But I wanted to write a story in which we see the world through this narrative and in which we have no psychic distance at all. May be overwhelming for the readers and I may change that in a future draft. 

After the initial draft I also changed a lot of scenes and their order, condensed the storyline, cut out some stuff that I didn’t need and ended up with 2,496 words - 1K less than before. That is to say that I will probably add at least one more scene in the future because I kind of need it ??? I don’t know??? It’s just weird to not have it??? “Let’s not go hunting” - “Okay” ??? Someone help me???

Let’s talk characters

Ash(ton) - Chemistry student but please don’t assume that he ever attended even a single course - chaotic energy™ - depressed and dissociated (my poor boy) - lowkey hates his family - can’t sleep for life  Lolly - toxic™ younger sister - creative writing student - demotes her family to characters in her creative work - no sense of privacy - feat. indigo hair

The mother - totally doens’t have a name - psychology prof who just can’t deal with her crazy* family - kinda choleric - would rather work 24/7 than spend time with her kids

*crazy = her perception of the situation. In no way do I want to intend that mentally ill people (as I am myself) are “crazy” or anything along these lines!

Tinder - what? is wrong?? with him??? - wears only wool as you would do, right folks?! - just another hunter - regressed af™ - Where does he even live???

Excerpt

DISCLAIMER: I wrote the thing in German which is because it’s my native language. So, I translated this quote but there may be mistakes. It may sound awkward or jarring because sentence flow in English and German differs so much and I’m not super amazing at translating. 

I had last met Tinder before peeling off from home and stapling myself to a transitional nest - student hostel, Bachelor's degree, chemistry. Before ink flowed through my skin and smoke weakened my lungs, before rings like bruises underlined my eyes because I never closed them.

And also:

Undermined eyes, wrinkles that had manifested themselves in furrows over the past four years, brittle lips, scaly skin. "We decorate the tree. Now.

Lolly ignored her, typed on her laptop, looked at our mother as if she were drawing an architecturally sophisticated building. Typing, inspecting, typing.

We shared the same blue eyes, the same snub noses, the same narrow shoulders and the same voices, an emulsion of scratching and squeaking. Where my brown bristles germinated, waves of blotchy indigo stretched over her shoulders, one of her failed experiments that she would paint out next week with another experiment. The same washed-out sweater had been hanging around my body for three weeks, whereas Lolly was dressed in more metal than fabric: spikes on her self-stitched dress, five layers of chains around her neck, nose ring, earring, tongue piercing

-- Cookie

[outivv]

I hate childe. *remembers the time I posted about how I wanted him to lay on my chest as I played with his hair.* oh shit-