#But it is vague enough so the reader can choose what they would have preferred in that situation

[diantheia]

Hey, just a little ask— why there's a headcanon about Halt has things for dress/dresses?

Like- i just find it little bit hilarious.

Btw how are you?

-Local Cryptid Buddy

I'm fine, thanks for asking. Just about getting over my cold, just the deep chesty cough really left.

Anyway, Halt's dress kink thing.

I'll preface this by saying, a lot of things/headcanons/ideas I write have some basis in canon. This starts with the Halt's cloak ugc. So, Halt has a cloak, we can say Halt made it, therefore conclude Halt is into textiles and sewing and such.

Frail pet is the first Halt oneshot I wrote, and plot wise I wanted it to have Halt keep a human as a fragile little pet, almost like a porcelain doll. So, Halt puts you/the reader into a dress they made.

The second is Small problem. Two things happened whilst writing that one which is what kinda lead to the whole 'Halt has a thing for dresses'. Firstly, you/reader was shrunk down. When I was writing that, I happened to think to myself: "you know, it's kinda weird how (excluding media that actually explain it) if a person is being shrunk on a molecular level, their clothes shrink too. That's not part of their body! They should remain big!' and that lead to what happened in the fic: you/reader shrink, clothes don't. You're tiny and naked. Secondly, we get to when you/reader is caught by Halt. Halt clearly wouldn't want to keep you naked forever. So, using their textile skills, they make you something simple to wear for the time being. Anyway, brain struck again with: "Halt would arguably go for the simplest design if they intend to get you better stuff to wear later/wanted to make something fast. That's a dress! Think about it, you only really need a tube dress, no sleeves, only have to stitch too ends of a fabric together and boom! Dress! Quick, easy and covers all modesty!" and that's why a dress was made. I realised after that that both my Halt oneshots feature Halt putting you in a dress and was like "Man, I either gotta stop doing that or make it a running joke" Consensus was to make it a running joke, so here we are.

[worldheadcanons]

Can you do Axis x reader x Allies? They are all fighting for reader's love.

☆ axis vs allies: fighting for your love!

starring. . . gender neutral reader and north italy, germany, japan, america, + china.

author notes; this was super fun, i imagined it to be a sort of otome game scenario with multiple routes. like the protagonist/reader goes on dates with everyone until they choose just one person to be with. i couldn’t fit all the main allies in here, sorry anon! lmk if you want a part two for them or any other characters.

feliciano vargas!

— he knows that his colleagues are also interested in you. he’s not particularly discouraged though because, really, who wouldn’t be? you were attractive, intelligent, thoughtful— the whole package. vargas knows he has his own unique charms, traits that the allies and even the another axis don’t have. feliciano is cute and he knows how to use that to his advantage. alfred is cute too, but in a different way. he doubts the boisterous american could sweep you off your feet like he could.

— in terms of competition he views francis and ludwig as his biggest enemies. feliciano is smart enough to not let anyone ruin his personal relationships, so he doesn’t hold any real ill will towards the two. in fact, it’s because he likes them so much, especially ludwig, that he even considers them to be rivals in the first place. francis is very obviously romantic. he was the one who taught vargas the ropes, after all. however his romance was rather.. mature.. meanwhile, the italian preferred to keep his romance light and playful. ludwig was cute in a stoic way. he couldn’t flirt to save his life, but that was part of his appeal. he would give you a small smile as he tried his best to be romantic and your heart couldn’t help but melt.. yea, those two would be trouble.

— he likes to keep dates vague at first, leaving you unsure of whether or not things are platonic or romantic. unlike francis or arthur he doesn’t come on strong. the first dates are still pretty high class though. dinners at expensive restaurants, trips to private beaches, live music shows— feliciano’s willing to spend every dime on you and he’s not afraid to show it. all the while he’s joking and laughing with you, looking you lovingly in the eyes with the cutest boyish smile you’ve ever seen. he’ll whine and complain sometimes, pouting anytime you tease him. he’s pretty childish but he knows when to pull back so that it’s not annoying. 

— when things get really romantic, you’ll know. he’ll take you to more public places. vargas has many family businesses that he’ll frequent with you. it’s his way of saying you’re closer than you were before. vargas will initiate a lot more pda too, holding your hand more often than not and reveling in the feeling of you leaning on his shoulder. he’s not opposed to cheek kisses either. occasionally he’ll ‘miss’ your cheek and nail a kiss close to your lips, hinting at what he could make happen in the future. what he hoped would happen in the future. 

— eventually things will escalate to a point where he’ll personally ask you if you want to be with him or not. not because feliciano views it as a waste of time if you don’t want to continue on, but because he truly wants to be with you. he can’t stand not knowing anymore and he especially can’t stand not having you all to himself. vargas will be respective of your answer no matter what.. but.. he has a feeling you’ll say yes. 

ludwig beilschmidt!

— he’s not particularly confident of himself in this area. romance was not ludwig’s strong suit. he knows that other countries are interested in you as well, which doesn’t help him feel any better. even feliciano was after you! despite it all, his older brother had encouraged him to try to win you over. so here he was. he would try his best. the german didn’t know it, but he had his own charms. he was stoic and sort of inexperienced but still a polite man. many ladies found this to be charming. in a way, his lack of romantic prowess was his power. 

— his biggest competitors, in his mind, are feliciano and alfred. both for reasons he considers obvious. they’re both rather ‘naturally cute’ men. they had this boyish charm while still being mature. alfred was really funny which only helped his case. feliciano was great at romancing others and while ludwig doesn't know much about alfred’s love life, he figured that it was likely the american was the same way. gah.. just thinking about it makes him frown. he’s been at disadvantages before though, so he’s able to convince himself that things will be fine no matter the outcome. his opinion on the two of them doesn’t change because of the situation. beilschmidt understands that no one can help the way they feel. it’s no one man’s fault that they��re all pursuing the same person. he just wishes he didn’t have to go against vargas, one of his closest friends.

— his first dates are.. regular. but not in a bad way. ludwig spends his days beforehand researching and reading up on things like date etiquette, best cafes to take someone out to, good meals to order, conversation tactics, and more. he doesn’t mind putting in the extra work to catch up with the people he’s up against. he’ll try his best to be romantic the whole time by holding doors and complimenting you whenever the opportunity presents itself. he asks a few questions about you, wanting to get to know you for who you really are. your other suitors may take you out to expensive places but they probably weren’t actively trying to learn about you— at least that’s what the german was betting on. 

— dates will slowly but surely become more tuned to your interests and personality. you like to paint? he’ll invite you out to a nice art bar where you two can create something together. you like to read? he’ll take you to a library-cafe. beilschmidt feels that these dates are the most personal. there’s more pda as he really gets comfortable. it’s mostly limited to hand holding. every so often at the end of dates he’ll ask for a kiss. if you oblige and give him one, you’ll get to see a small smile on his face as he admires you lovingly. he may even bite his lip, clearly whipped for you.

— of course, there’ll come a time where he decides to finally ask about your intentions. he asks a little bit later, not wanting to hold you down or force a decision onto you. with the guidance of his older brother, he’ll find the time to sit you down and ask if you want to date him… like, seriously date him. just him. no matter your answer, he’ll still want to be friends with you. he’s gotten to know you so well, he couldn’t just turn away from you. 

kiku honda!

— he’s whipped for you, though it took him a bit longer than everyone else to realize it. kiku mostly labeled what he was feeling as feelings of admiration. once he notices the the pain in chest as he sees francis trying to serenade you, he realizes that he’s in love. deeply in love. it’s a bit awkward when he comes to you later than the other axis and politely asks if he can take you out sometime. despite the awkwardness, you say yes, with a smile. smiles are good. he knows a thing or two about going out with people so he’s not completely stressed about that. anything he doesn’t know he just researches beforehand, similarly to ludwig.

— his biggest competitor for your love, in his opinion, is feliciano. he’s cute, he’s funny— if honda was in your position, he would have folded for the other immediately. he’s a little worried about everyone really because he’s ‘late to the game’, but overall vargas is his biggest threat. things will be okay though, kiku assures himself. he knows he’s cute in his own way. many of his colleagues have commented on the fact that his relaxed expression was a cute one. it was rare for them to see him relaxed as he mostly thought of work related things when he was in their company. for you, however, it wouldn’t be rare to see. honda would make sure of that. 

— the first dates, similarly to yao’s, are formal. they’re not uptight though, as he wants to seem cute to appeal to you as a boyfriend. there’s gift giving here and there, but he mostly focuses on doing things for you. just when you’re too lazy to cook for the night, kiku’s there to pick you up and take you to a luxurious restaurant. anytime you mention something that needs fixing, he’s on it. if he can’t fix it himself, he pays someone to do it in his stead. he insists that it’s normal and that you owe him nothing in return. he just wants to see you prosper, is all. pda is kept to a minimum, seeing as though it takes him a while to even work up the nerve to ask if he can kiss you. when he does finally kiss you, it’s immediately made clear that he’s experienced. nothing too passionate, of course. there’s a certain air of confidence and the kiss has just the right amount of chasteness to keep you wanting more. 

— as things go on the two of you only get closer. his dates shift from formal outings to extremely casual dates. sometimes it’s buying manga and books together, sometimes it’s watching your favorite movies at home. honda’s favorite ‘date’ consists of you two sitting quietly together in the same room doing completely different things. kiku finds this to be extremely romantic. you’re both doing different things but still enjoying each other’s presence. he’ll be doing paperwork and you’ll be sitting with a computer and neither of you are talking but both of you are happy. during times like this, he may even lean over and kiss you on the cheek, commenting on how much he enjoys your company. 

— he’s not afraid to ask you straight-out what you want for yourself and your future. honda doesn’t want to keep you from your version of happiness, even if that happiness is with another man. there’s no doubt that he wants what’s best for you. 

alfred f. jones!

— he’s a bit thrown off that other men are also trying to romance you. from the very beginning he decides that you’re the one who wants to go steady with. alfred is thrown off, but not enough to give up. he knows his worth. he’s a funny guy, people like that. he’s cute too, smart when he wants to be. jones would ask arthur for help but.. he’d be better off asking a math teacher for help in a history class. he didn’t think kirkland was any good with romantic endeavors. he’d just have to wing it and do his best. it’d be fine.. probably.

— the american doesn’t think of anyone as competition really, but he does hate the idea of you going out with francis. i mean, come on! he’s quite literally known for being a romantic! hopefully you’d find his flirting corny or off putting instead of endearing. alfred’s not completely inept when it comes to romance but he’s no hot shot. most of the time when a flirt of his fails, people laugh it off because he’s just so cute while trying to be a flirty guy. he’s a loser, but an attractive one. people also enjoy the fact that he’s a bit chubby. he knows this only because of past experiences. hmm.. he supposes that ivan could pose an issue too. he’s always an issue in some way or another. 

— his beginning dates are very fun! he’s more fond of going to carnivals, finding a drive in movie theater, stargazing, eating at diners, and dancing together than any modern date. lunch dates are fine and all but it’s just so boring to jones. it’s not that he needs a bunch of excitement but he wants these dates to be interesting. he hopes that after each date ends, he’s still on your mind. he doubts the others are taking you out to such cool places. he’s flirty on these dates, trying his hardest to impress you. he’ll hold your hand often on these dates, as physical contact is something he enjoys a lot. alfred doesn’t mind hugs or kisses this early either, especially if you’re dancing. if you’re not enjoying each other then why even go out? after each date he personally escorts you home. he also leaves you with a kiss to your hand, a sign that he still has some sense of politeness despite his eagerness. 

— as things continue you’ll start to notice that he’s taking you to more distinctive places. instead of finding a drive in movie theater in the middle of nowhere, the american will take you to a roller rink he comes to often. the people there will know him and they’ll know you when he brings you in. apparently he talks about you to whoever will listen. it’s flattering albeit embarrassing. a lot of the places you’ll go will be places he enjoys and wants to share with you. alfred’s much softer now and a bit goofier, backing away from the flirty persona he attempted to put on for the first few dates. you’ll often find yourself leaning onto his shoulder as you try to recollect yourself after breaking down from laughter. it’s in these moments that he’ll smile at you, soaking in your happy expression. it’s a gorgeous expression, one he’d like to see all the time. 

— one day jones realizes that he needs to be seriously dating you. he wanted to take you to an animal adoption center as a sort of surprise but he noticed that doing that was sort of a couple thing.. like a serious couple thing. alfred really thinks getting you a pet would be the best thing in the world. the two of you would make the best pet parents in his mind. it would make him a true hero. or close to one. so he swings by your place and directly asks you if you want to be his partner. he doesn’t stall once he realizes what he needs to do. jones believes that it’s best to just go for what you want. you only live once, after all. 

yao wang!

— it’s not his first time courting a lady. he’s experienced. he even believes that he could outdo francis somewhat. only somewhat though. yao’s been around for a long time so he knows what people like and don’t like. it’s not that he’s a super romantic but he’s passionate no matter what, which draws you in. he suspects you have a thing for older men, which he doesn’t mind playing into. he’s aged like fine wine and he’s not afraid to flaunt it. 

— there is no rivals or competition in wang’s mind. why think about the other guys when he can just focus his attention on you and him? if he had to choose, he’d say arthur, maybe. maybe. francis was too much of a try hard for your affections. kirkland was a mature man. he was polite. the british man seemed to know how to treat someone right. however, in the end, yao viewed himself as on top of it all. he refused to let himself get anxious over your other suitors. that’s how people lose. by worrying.

— he’s a calm and quiet pursuer, playing the long game. beginner dates are very formal. wang tries with all his might to impress you but he makes sure to do so in a way that seems effortless. like he could do this everyday. as if to say, ‘dating me will result in the best treatment for you everyday until death’. he could never say it outright, so he let his actions speak for him. he’s no sugar daddy and he never claims to be anything of the sort. he’s just giving you a taste of what your life could be like should you choose to spend it with him. yao also gives you lots of gifts, though he tries to keep them small so you’re not overwhelmed. he adores the face you make whenever you open up a present he’s gotten you. you’re always so happy to received them.. so graceful when you accept them.. he can’t help but want to spoil you. and that’s exactly what he’ll do, if you continue on.

— as you get closer, wang starts to feel younger. his few grey hairs seem to be jet black again. the dates become less formal and more casual for the both of you. often he’ll just invite you over to his house. he spends less time trying to impress you and more time just enjoying you and your company. you’ll start to hold hands, hug, and kiss a lot more now. he loves the feeling of your lips on his cheek. these dates are a lot more loose and fun, often ending with you two giggling as he holds you in his arms. yao likes to dance with you in his home, rocking back and forth with a smile on his face. he’s shown you what the two sides of your relationship would be like. the first side, what was seen by the public— expensive dinners, beautiful clothing for the both of you, and  lovely gifts— and now, the second side, what wasn’t seen by the public. kisses to the forehead, cooking for each other, reading together, and laughing over nothing in particular. 

— after a while wang will invite you over one day and pop the question. no, not marriage, though he does think you’d make a perfect partner.. he’ll ask if you want to start officially dating. he doesn’t know for sure if you’ll say yes, even though he’s used his tried-and-true method of dating on you. yao hopes for the best and prepares for the worst. he hopes for your love.. but he’s prepared to live life as just a friend of yours. boyfriend or otherwise, he’d like to be present in your life.

[disasterbuck]

FanFic Ask Game

So I saw this post (linked above) and decided to answer all the questions instead of just reblogging and waiting for asks. Enjoy getting to know a bit more about me as a writer!

💖 What do you like most about your own writing?

I love how fluffy it generally is and how my fics always have a happy ending 🥰

😐 What embarrasses you most about your own writing?

I don't think I'm embarrassed about my writing? Maybe sometimes I'll write a kiss that feels a bit cringe?

👻 What is one WIP you think you may never pick back up?

'the heist wip'. Inspired by the episode Ocean's 9-1-1, I wanted to explore what situation could make them ACTUALLY turn to crime. I had a vague idea of a woman's dog being kidnapped by her abusive ex, and Buck gets all obsessed over it and eventually asks the rest of the team to help him break the dog out or something. idk. I don't have a solid enough idea and I feel like it would end up being a long fic which I just can't commit to atm. (If anyone reading this is inspired by this idea, feel free to write it!! But please tag me if you do! I would love to read it!)

👀 Do you have any WIPs that you would never let see the light of day? If yes, what are they about?

... I don't think so?

Yeah I've just had a skim through and can't find anything that I would never share if I managed to finish it.

📥 What is your fave fic to receive comments/messages on?

Ooohhh, I love getting comments on ALL my fics but I guess if I had to choose I'd probably go with Friends Don't (8.5k) because it has a special place in my heart.

✏️ Do you write every day?

Not strictly, but most days yes.

🖊 Post a snippet from a current WIP.

"Back to my point," Chimney said once Hen's laughter died down. "You two are codependent. I bet you couldn't even go a day without having to touch each other."

Buck's face flushed a darker shade of red.

"Yes we could," Eddie argued, suddenly stubborn and confrontational. "We could go a week."

"You wanna bet, Diaz?" Chimney asked, raising an eyebrow in challenge.

After a quick glance to communicate with Buck, Eddie nodded and said, "You're on. What are the terms?"

don't say his name wip

🏅 What is something you recently felt proud of in regard to your writing (finished a fic, actually planned for once, etc).

I wrote 4 drabbles exactly 100 words each!! It took quite a bit of editing and revising but I'm really happy with how they turned out! You can read them here if you're interested: buddie month | four drabbles

😈 Is there anything you enjoy doing that you think your readers hate?

fhdskjfhs I HOPE NOT 😅

🌙  What time of day do you prefer to write? Why?

I don't really have a preferred time of day?

👖 Are you a planner, plantser, or pantser? Is it consistent?

Yes. And no. lol

📊 Current number of WIPs

............................ 104 🙈

👨‍👧‍👧 Do you tell people in real life that you write fic? 

Depends ENTIRELY on the person. But generally yes. This does not equal letting them read my fics though lol.

🌝 Who is one character you haven’t yet written for that you would like to?

Hm, good question. Maybe Athena?

📝 What is one growth area you have for your writing?

Uhhh I don't know. I feel like I'm constantly learning about writing and just generally trying to improve in all areas.

📚 Do you read your own fic?

YES ALL THE TIME. I looooove reading over my fics. Makes me so happy!!

🤔 What is the hardest part of writing fic?

Writing kisses. Or endings. Both. Every time Buddie are about to kiss I tend to abandon the fic for a while lmaoooo and then whenever I have to wrap it up it takes me 3-5 business days.

🧠 What’s an idea you have that you can’t quite call a WIP yet?

Up for anything. All I've got for it so far is this:

Buck: No, I mean it. I'm up for anything. If you can come up with something I won't do you win. But I'm telling you right now I never back down from a dare.

💻 Do you do research for your fics? What’s the deepest dive you’ve done?

fhjskfh I hate research. My deepest dive is whatever happens in the show. I'll rewatch or maybe read wikis to make sure I get show details accurate but anything else? I'm making that shit up bestie 😅

✨ Choose three adjectives to complement your own writing.

🙈 sweet, emotional, aaaaaand heartwarming? idk

💭 What is a headcanon you have about your own work?

I don't have headcanons about my own work! Everything is canon! They're my works! My reality! YOU can have headcanons about my works lol.

🍰 Name one of your fave comfort fics (doesn’t have to be your all time fave).

Of my own or someone elses?

Of my own fics, I love you (4k) is my fave.

Someone else's, the first that comes to mind is The Best Lie is a Truth (My Best Mask is My Face) (43k) by @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels uggghhh it is chef's kiss!! Fake dating my beloved! 💕

👩‍🏭 If one of your fics was going to get you arrested, which one and why?

Lazy Mornings (1k) for being so freaking adorable 🥰

��� Do you spend more time reading fic, writing fic, or do you do both equally?

I think it's fairly equal? But maybe a bit more time writing, because a lot of the reading I do is of physical books rather than fic.

-

taglist because there's a sneaky snippet hidden above:

@dluoser @taketheplanspinitsideways @loudenthusiastic @wallywise @mxrcjqckspnchqsc

@therosesaredying @stillfuckingtired @classtrialguru @smolfunpenguin

@awesome-igi @natnuszsstuff @olliesrants @crazyfangirlallert @delirium1995

@brah3280 @meanceclosetohell @anythingeverythingallofthetime @sunflower-eddiediaz

@darkrose6578 @veronae-buddie @steadfastsaturnsrings @loveyouanyway @inell

@spicyrottingbrains @gnoeltop @idealuk @donationwayne @lemotmo

@smilingbuckley @realpersonwithrealfeelings @superlock-in-the-tardis @mjthe14thdoctor @strxwbereee

@idontknowwhatimdoing777 @ashleigh2658 @mari-lwyd-fannibal-blog @mineyneedsmoney

@spotsandsocks @unlifeira @pirrusstuff @buddiedaydreamer911

@littlevampireprincessuniverse @misshiss727 @i-put-the-star-in-bastard @hermioneindisguise @dangerpronebuddie

@specialbrownieeater @blue-winged-boy @bucks-daddy-issues @lightningmcqueer8

Let me know if you'd like to be added or removed 💕

p.s. I'm updating my taglist, check out the info on this post

[saturnine-saturneight]

Oc profile tag

Tagged by @noblebs [here] and @tragedycoded [here], ty!!

I don't want to choose between Nat and Ron, so I'm doing both, haha.

This post's for Nat! Ron's is [here].

Name: Natalie King

Nickname: Nat, various fake names

Kind of being: Human plus

Age: 21

Gender: Bigender

Appearance: White, below average height, built squarely, with broad shoulders and barely any waist. Nat binds most of the time. Their face is round/square-ish, freckled, with upturned green eyes. Their black hair is long and fairly straight. Nat has a nose bridge piercing, a labret, and pierced ear lobes, and prefers gold jewelry for all of them. Sometimes they line their eyes in kajal, but they keep their nails short and blunt and dress pretty masc.

Occupation: Thief, grifter

Family members: Orphan, unsure if they have surviving family. They don't count their adoptive families as family, they were never around long enough.

Pets: None

Best friend: Ron

Describe their room: Nat lives in the car they share with Ron. They don't tend to sleep in it if they can help it, they prefer tents, hotels, motels etc.

Way of speaking: Nat is an alto. They purr and drawl a lot and occasionally dip into vocal fry.

Physical characteristics (posture, gestures, attitude): Deliberately relaxed and loose, with a vague aura of smugness. Nat doesn't fidget very much, their body language is very calm. Tends to tilt their head at people and watch them out of a corner of their eye a lot. They never slouch. Squints. They need glasses.

Items in their back pocket/purse: Nat keeps their knife close by their side. They also carry a field notebook that they sketch and take notes into, as well as their phone and a solar powerbank. They carry their entire life in backpacks and duffel bags, so I won't get into those.

Hobbies: They're a hobby botanist and a voracious reader.

Favorite sports: Sparring and wrestling.

Abilities/Talents/Powers: Good at cold reads and deductions, quick to think up believable lies. Ron has taught them pickpocketing skills, but it's more of a hobby to them.

Relationships (how they are with other people): Nat always has their guard up around others. They fancy themself charming and love good conversation, but they can't help themself and often end up bullying others.

Fears: Personal insignificance, ending up alone.

Faults: Nat is a live wire. Their feelings are hurt easily, and God help the person who hurts them. They're quick to resort to violence, but have next to no interpersonal skills that would help them approach situations in a non-violent way. They're also self-centered and have trouble seeing others as fully formed people with interiority, and let their own preconceptions and world views blind them. When Nat's idea of a situation and its actual reality don't match up, Nat has no real way to react. They're not very mentally flexible.

Good points: On the other hand, Nat is also incredibly perceptive. They're quick to suss out when somebody is lying to them. They're a cockroach of a person, surviving just about any situation and finding opportunities wherever they go. They're also deeply loyal to select people - currently, this is only Ron.

What they want more than anything else: At their core, Nat wants to be loved. Unfortunately, they don't know how to achieve this.

Tagging:

@paeliae-occasionally @rotting-moon-writes @marlowethelibrarian @writingrosesonneptune @davycoquette

@the-golden-comet @gioiaalbanoart @chauceryfairytales

[heartfullofleeches]

Ok but what if the reader instead of being a security guard for the museum they were actually its new owner? The haunted pieces already knew about you, your grandfather bringing you there to show you how to take care of the museum once they were gone, and all of this while you were just a young adult! Now you are...older, and that makes them worry. The white strands on your hair become more noticeable, the way your eyes sink into your skull sends them into a panic and so much more. (1/2)

Just give up on your mortal life and live with them forever in your new body, you can even choose which one you want!! Do you prefer marble? Or maybe even roses!? Or even paint!!!! Just PLEASE, PLEASE don't die on them. They already wanted to hold you close before, but now?? They don't want to. They NEED to.(2/2)

(A.N - Tw: light gore, injury)

-

The gallery was a place of wonder when you were young.

Even before you knew the truth, every piece breathed with life; the history behind each one like stories ripped from a fairytale. It wasn’t long before you were whisked you way to the Night Gallery. Where those figures would step from their pages, and walk about in the realm of your reality. From your first visit, your grandfather made it known what your future duties would be, but you wouldn't realize the weight of their burden until many years later.

It was towards the later stage of your adolescents. By now you knew the first floor residents as well as the friends you had back home. They welcomed you with as much curiosity as you did them; happy to have a new human to make themselves acquainted with, and one with so much energy unlike most. You weren't allowed on the upper floors unless it was daytime, but you imagined them to be as friendly as those below.

You had taken up a summer job at the gallery, and would go about your days in peace. There was the occasional rude visitor or someone who tried to sneak a picture in no photography zones, but it was decent pay and gave you time to spend at your home away from home.

Sweeping up on the third floor, you heard snickering from around the corner. There was an end of the year field trip happening that day, but you had already seen all the classes moving on to the next floor. Taking a peek, you spot two teenagers close to your age; spray painting the face of one of the statues by the bathrooms.

"Hey! What are you doing?!'

They bolt as soon as they hear your voice. Probably not the best choice of action, but the most logical that came to mind. You contact security as you walk over to the statue. The figure depicted a person in robes; their face now obscured by a heavy layer of black paint. You could vaguely make out the outline of their closed eyes and tight lips, but aside from that their face looked like a small void. Completely hollow.

"I'm so sorry this happened.. Don't worry, we'll get you cleaned up in no time.

You grab a rag and gently attempt to scrub some of it off. It only succeeded in smugging the paint more; coating the complete length of their exposed face in dark paint.

You chuckle nervously. "That... probably wasn't the best thing to do.. I think I made it worse. Let's wait till someone who's right for the job comes, so you can look as good as new."

You flash the statue a reassuring smile. You weren't sure if could see you with its eyes closed; or if it could even hear you, but you felt it was the right thing to do. You stay with it until security came a few minutes later; chatting away like it was the most lively of company. From what you heard, they hadn't found the culprits of the defacing. They never would.

And you never saw that statue again.

-

Closing up the following fortnight, you wheel the supply cart down the empty halls; heading for the janitorial closet on the first floor. Your shift had ended on the third floor, and a little later than usual due to a prankster shoving paper towels up the air dryers. If you hurried, you had enough time to get out of the gallery before midnight.

Climbing in the elevator, you press the button for the first floor. You scroll through your phone as it takes you down. As you swipe your finger over the screen, a blotch of paint smudges the glass. Where did that come from? You don't remember cleaning up any paints that afternoon.

The elevator's doors open; a chill bellowing through its gates. You push the cart out of the entrance; doors slamming together behind you. The corridors to the elevators were pretty much the same on each floor. A long hallway with a few doors on the sides; hidden by paintings or simply locked off as they were for use of the employees. You roll the cart down to the janitor's closet; pulling your keys from your pocket. The key was to small to fit in the lock- but the door was already unlocked.

You step inside; alarm bells going off like a fourth of July gone wrong. For one, the room was quite larger than what you remembered, and secondly- you weren't alone. Various pieces of art were placed around the room; all in different forms of disarray. A painting with a tear through its center, a shattered vase - the statue.

"Gah!"

You hadn't even realized it was right in front of you til your eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room. The hulking mass of stone stands a few feet ahead; face still masked in shadows. Its head was tilted higher than you remembered; angled directly in your direction. Its hood appeared to be chipped.

You breath a sigh of relief. "Oh... it's just you. You startled me."

The statue's hand was raised in an extended motion rather that at its side when you first saw it; almost- inviting in the way. You take a step closer; splatters running up the sleeve of their arm. There's.. something nestles in its palm, surrounded in a pool of dark liquid. It's small; fitting perfectly in the crook of its hand. It looked flesh like, and shaped like the half of a heart; fitted with a small diamond hanging on its lobe. You recognized it the piece. An earring worn by one of the vandals from the previous weeks. Lost in concentration, you barely notice the statue's chest rising and falling with each ragged breath it takes.

"Ta...tak.."

A wet gurgle comes from the statue's face cavity. The black paint drips down its neck; falling on the floor with a wet smack. You could make out the outlines of its exposed teeth as they gnash together.

"T..a..ke it.."

The statue extends its hand further out to you, the blood accumulated in its palm spilling over. It wheezes; placing one foot forward towards you. The stiffness of its robes crumbles as they wrap around its thin bone structure. From somewhere behind it, you heard a laugh.

"Oh, hoho. Is that our new owner coming to finally pay us a visit? What an honor~"

The other voice steps from the shadows, fluctuating with each syllable. Its eyes lock onto yours; one wide open, while the other rests half closed. The entity's body was doused in a spectrum of color; no one section the same as the other. Swirls, splotches, and other abstract patterns covered its frame. Not even its basic shape was symmetrical. One leg longer than the other, giving it an awkward stance. Bits of it technicolored flesh melting from its other parts. The only thing that was somewhat similar was its arms. They had been dyed with the ink of its body, but they were exactly alike, and appeared to house human skin. One of the nails was missing from its left hand.

"What a pretty thing you are! It seems time has been a kind friend to you, my dear."

You can't speak. What's going on? This isn't anything like what you've seen before. You don't understand what's going on.

"Speechless, are we? That's quite all right. We've been waiting for so long to meet you!"

We? The painting throws its arm to the sky in a welcoming gesture. As if awaiting the cue; damaged artworks from around the room come to life. A mannequin attempts to stand on its splintered legs; a cuckoo clock chimes with a note so off key it makes your skin crawl. There's blood on their frames... their hands. Chatter comes from every corner of the room; all excited to see the new face.

"You've grown so much! Do you remember me? I used to hang by the gift shop. You're so beautiful, you should have your own painting done. "

"We've heard a lot about you, but we'd love to hear so much more. It's all I can do without my eyes"

"Please don't leave"

Run. Your brain screams at you to run. These pieces weren't like any you'd met before. Were those one as good as they seemed? Your head was spinning. Your body startled to tremble. What do you do?

You know.. the older you grow the more that body of yours will break. We can give you a better one. If you stay here with us...

"Y/n!"

Yanked by your collar, you're dragged from the madness. Your grandfather slams the door shut, locking it as a long bang comes from the other side. Your eyes subconsciously shift over to the sign by the door. Paint drips off its lettering. Restoration.

"What on earth were you doing in there? Do you know what time it is?"

You utter your first words of the night. "Did... did someone really.. die?"

The old man's eyes soften. He lets out a deep sigh, turning his back to you.

"It will be your responsibility someday. You'll have to make sure that no one hurts them. And that they don't hurt anyone the same."

-

From that day forth, your love of the gallery lost its spark. You still cared for it and its residents, but it was hard to look at them knowing what they were truly capable of. The inhabitants of the first floor soon began to ask you to stay as well. Never a demand, but a pleaded offer. They'd seen the light draining from your eyes; the droop in your smile. It was the last thing they ever wanted to see on the face of the one they came to admire.

Eventually, the time came. Your grandfather passed, and you became the head of the gallery. It became your whole life. You couldn’t hire any guards for the risk of their safety, and if you ignored them in the vain hopes nobody would trespass the artworks would get violent with each other. You were exhausted in every way, shape, and form- and everyone knew it.

Sitting alone in your office, you watch the cameras you'd set up; sighing in annoyance as someone runs by on the second floor. People never learned. You get up from your seat, heading out to find them.

-

You find the trespasser on the stairwell between the second and third floor; using hidden passages and keeping your head low to avoid detection. You applaused them for getting this far without being spotted. They crotch by the stairs with their hands over their mouth as they steady their breath; gripping something tightly in hand.

"Hey....follow me"

The burglar turns to face you; fear burned into their widen eyes. They point their weapon at you; completely on edge.

"S-stay away."

"I'm not going to hurt you. Come with me."

"No! No... you're trying to trick me. You're one of them."

You hear shuffling from the floor below.

"Keep your voice down. They'll hear you."

"You aren't going to get me, you monster!"

"Calm down." You hold your hands in peace as you slowly edge closer; attempting to show you mean no harm. This only settles them off more, slicing the skin of your right arm.You hiss in pain; trying to keep your voice low so they don't hear- but it's too late.

DoN't ToUcH tHeM

You lock eyes with the intruder. "I'm so sorry."

Before they can reply, dozens of hands approach from the lower form; wrapping around their ankles and theur lower torso- crushing them in their grip. They plead; beg, but their cries turn to incoherent babbles and screeches as their fate is sealed. You don't see what happens, your eyes covered by a heavy hand. It coos in your ear, inserting a piece of jewelry into its lobe. Your arm stings, pleading profusely onto the fabric of your shirt. It runs its fingers over the flow.

"Look at you.... You're falling apart. The wounds you've come to bear can never be healed, and you'll only continue to break til there's nothing left. Join us... We can make your image last forever. We can give you all the love you could ever desire. Our masterpiece..."

Your lips remained sealed. You know that one day you'll belong to the gallery for good. Somewhere deep in your chest you knew that you already did.

[nail-art-no-jutsu]

🔞 Nagato nsfw headcanons 🔞

❣️x reader scenario ❣️ sfw headcanons❣️

gender neutral reader for all posts

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

*-*-*-*-* minors DNI *-*-*-*-*

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

Note: first some headcanons about his earlier years and how he conceptualizes things, and then nsfw likes and dislikes when he's in an actual relationship.

background stuff

in his youth, Nagato gave off the impression that he wasn't interested in dating, because of his shyness combined with his preference for more serious topics

in reality, he wasn't opposed to it, he just didn't prioritize it

life was hard and dangerous and he knew that others rushed into experimenting with dating and sex out of fomo, what if they die without finding out what it's like, but he didn't quite relate

he didn't want to kiss or touch anyone on a dare, or for any other playful reason, he wanted to truly bond with someone first

his inner child still insisted on believing that his parents had only ever loved each other, he had no way of knowing but he never questioned it, and that was what he wanted for himself

the only two people who would have qualified ended up being together before he was able to decide which of them he was crushing on more - but that's fine, he was happy for them from the bottom of his heart, thinking back it made sense how their friendship led to love, and both crushes just went away

then that disastrous battle took place during which Nagato lost so much more than just his health, and if he wasn't actively looking for someone to love before, he wasn't going to start after that

the injury to his legs plus having his life force drained left him unable to do a lot of things that a partner might want, but he doesn't exactly plan to have a typical life anyway, he's perfect for the job that life has given him

he knows all too well that his Tendo path is very attractive and that people lust over him left and right

and he's vaguely amused by everyone who looks at his public Pain persona and imagines that he must be the kinkiest man in the world, if only they knew what those piercings actually do

they can think whatever they want, look all they want, but that body is taboo

he'd have zero scruples when it comes to using the other paths though, but... why. he's just so unmotivated

is he a god? yes. is he a sex god?? no, lol

relationship stuff

but if by some miracle he finds someone who ticks all the boxes and passes all the tests (loves him deeply, agrees with the plan, isn't weirded out by the six paths, and his physical situation isn't a dealbreaker) ... Nagato becomes the most thoughtful lover you've ever had

he doesn't half-ass things, he takes his love for you very seriously, and he puts a lot of thought into what could work when it comes to sex, taking both his needs and yours into account

that's after he's convinced that you don't just love him for how he thinks - though he would have been satisfied with that too

and after taking some time to adjust to what it's like to have someone to love, to kiss, to hold

he knows he's had enough time when thoughts of making love to you become a constant distraction, and we don't want that, and that's when he decides to let you know what he wants

his lack of experience doesn't worry him, he's proven to himself that he can do so many things, and if you really, really, really want to sleep with him - be prepared to reconfirm a thousand times - he will get very creative

to the point of commissioning special furniture of his own invention so he can sit or lie down more comfortably for you

all he needed was someone to really, really love, and the courage to think big, and by now he has plenty of the latter, this is not young shy Nagato, it's adult Nagato who can handle any challenge

he chooses to focus on what he can do, and of course, on what you can do

he's a big fan of watching you strip for him

his comfort level can vary, sometimes his upper body hurts more than his lower body, sometimes it's the other way around, and even on reasonable days his mobility still needs to be taken into account, so usually he's the one who decides what you do together

sometimes he needs you to start with massaging his shoulders, they're very stiff

and neck kissing

his absolute favorite thing is oral, both giving and receiving

okay, he's still shy sometimes, at first he's too embarrassed to watch you as you suck him off

on the other hand he likes it when you're watching him, he pins his hair up so you can see both those mesmerizing eyes and devours you with them before he starts using his mouth on you

he gets used to watching you too eventually, and he holds your head in loving hands

he cannot get enough of seeing your lips play with his tip, gently, slowly, he needs to remember not to bite his lip because everything takes so long to heal

penetration only works with fingers, it's not something that Nagato wants very often, but if you do, he's always ready for fingering no jutsu

not a fan of dirty talk

loves to give and to receive praise

if he's uncomfortable he won't hesitate to say so, and he expects the same from you, if something hurts he might tell you to stop quite abruptly, he hopes you understand, and sometimes he might have to stop completely for the day

but he would love to watch you finish!

Nagato is always exhausted even if everything goes well, and he definitely wants to sleep afterwards, but not before looking at you with endless adoration and saying he loves you

Thank you for reading! ❣️🥰❣️

[lemony-snickers]

I’m such a slut for hurt comfort that it was so hard to choose but kakashi and “can you please come get me?” if you’re up for it!!

hey, there, my dear! apologies for the wait. thanks for playing. <3

prompt: "could you please come and get me?" pairing: kakashi/gn!reader (modern au; tw alcohol, tw suicide mention) .

You hadn't thought to answer your phone the first time it rang. Who ever did when they didn't have the number saved? In fact, you hit decline three times before finally picking up on the fourth ring, an irate, "What?" already out of your mouth before you heard the slurred voice of Kakashi on the other end.

"Could you please come and get me?"

No single question had ever sent such a jolt of fear and confusion through you. You asked for more information once he gave you an address, listening intently to his vague, rambling explanations as you gathered your keys and pulled on your shoes.

He was calling from a hospital waiting room--"Nothing to worry about," a nurse promised in the background--and he needed a ride home.

"They won't discharge me unless someone picks me up," Kakashi sneered.

You hurled yourself into the driver's seat of your car, barely getting the seatbelt fastened before you pulled out of your parking spot.

"I'll be there in fifteen minutes," you said, cutting off Kakahi's singsong, slightly intoxicated-sounding thank you as you hung up.

Of course you would come. He knew you would. That's why he'd called you. Your fingers tightened on the steering wheel. You hadn't seen him in weeks, not since he'd unceremoniously smashed your heart into a thousand pieces in your own living room.

The fact that Kakashi still knew to call you--knew you would drop everything to come to his aid--made your grip tighten even further.

The discharge process was simple enough. Kakashi had a mild concusion and had been treated for a dislocated shoulder and a cut on his left eye, which was still swollen shut and bruised, the sutures sticking out like strange antennae.

He tried to slip away from you in the parking lot, saying he'd call an Uber. You shoved his broken cellphone in his face.

"You can't, remember? That's why you had to call me from the phone at the nurse's desk."

He shrugged, and it infuriated you. "I can walk."

"Get in the fucking car, Kakashi. I'm not asking."

He held up his hands in mock surrender as he slunk down in the passenger seat.

"Exactly how much did you have to drink?" you asked, your irritation bubbling to the surface.

Kakashi let out a loud, exhausted huff of air. "Not quite enough to forget," he mumbled, staring out the window as you headed back to your place. While it wasn't your preference, it seemed Kakashi would be staying with you for the evening. He hadn't been brought in with his keys, and you'd returned your copy when he dumped you.

"Didn't think you were the type to get into bar fights," you said, which prompted another huff.

"I guess you don't know me as well as you thought."

That stung more than you wanted to admit.

Once home, you settled Kakashi on your couch with a pillow, a blanket, and the largest cup of water in your kitchen. He grunted his thanks and half-hearted pleas to leave, all of which you ignored.

"You wanna tell me what tonight was all about?" you asked, pausing in the doorway to your bedroom.

"Not really," he said.

You didn't bother saying goodnight as you pulled the door closed.

You weren't sure what woke you several hours later; whether it was Kakashi's familiar warmth or the way the mattress sank beneath his weight that first alerted you to his presence.

"What are you doing?"

"Going to bed."

You sat up, turning to face Kakashi in the darkness, incredulity coursing through you. "What makes you think you're welcome in here?"

You expected him to say something sarcastic in return, to make light of your heartache, your kindness in helping him despite how hurt you still were by his actions.

Instead, you felt his calloused fingertips reach out to gently trace the edge of your jaw.

"Nothing," he said, "I don't deserve your kindness at all."

The honesty of it, the self-deprecation of it, caught you off guard. Gave you pause.

You layed back down, facing him this time. "Tell me what happened."

Kakashi sighed and you wondered if maybe you had misjudged, maybe he hadn't meant to be open and honest. Perhaps this was not the chance you mistook it for.

But then, you felt his fingertips again, running along the ridge of your cheek.

"Tonight," he started, sighing again, "is the anniversary of my father's suicide."

You felt yourself go rigid. During your relationship, Kakashi had occasionally mentioned his father, and you'd known he was dead. But to learn the man had taken his own life...

"I"m so sorry, Kakashi."

He shook his head. "You have no reason to apologize to me." He laughed, then, suddenly, and you felt your brows draw together in confusion even as you smiled in response.

"What's so funny?"

"I'm just thinking of how much better tonight would have been if I hadn't panicked last week and broken things off." You wanted to interject, but bit your words back to give him time to elaborate. "I'm really great at that, you know."

"At what?"

"Sabotaging the good things in my life."

"I was a good thing?" you asked, voice smaller than you wanted it to be. You couldn't help, you supposed, that it still felt so raw.

There were those fingertips again. This time, running along the seam of your mouth and down to your chin. "The best thing," he whispered.

Despite everything, you really believed him.

"I'm sorry I called you," he said, "I know I shouldn't have. I just didn't know who else would answer."

You knew you should still be irritated--with him for calling, with yourself for running off to help him. But all you felt was a strange sense that maybe everything, eventually, could be made right again between you if you could both just hold on to this delicate, precious honesty.

"I'm not," you said, "I'm really, really glad you called."

[messydiabolical]

Just saw a poll about what in fanfics you dislike the most and it reminded me about a specific plot line I see in Thane fics a fair bit and, well I have a lot to say. I've thought about writing this before but I chickened out tbh, I hate getting into discourse generally. I feel the need to preface that this is personal opinion and feelings, no fic authors owe readers a damn thing, and you can write what you damn well want to! Just to make that abundantly clear. This is also not written with any one fic/author in mind, this aint some vague posting attack on any person in particular. It is a trope I have seen occur on multiple occasions with Thane in particular, and one that gives me a lot of feelings. I bloody LOVE a Thane lives AU. That's my jam, no doubt. It's a cathartic, soothing balm for me. And how you choose to get there can vary massively and I love that too. I would say that I prefer when his motivation to persue treatment is based in wanting to live for Kolyat and especially for himself, and not just because his love of Shepard. And while they break my heart, I also think stories that follow canon, or divert from canon but still have him die, are also super important and I applaud the writers who go there, because ouch. Disability and terminal illness are difficult, real subjects and having that representation is so important. I completely understand why there are people who dislike Thane lives. So to the thing I really dislike: nothing makes my stomach drop faster than the disregarding or removal of Thane's bodily autonomy/consent on his own health. They tend to go like this: Thane has decided not to persue any potential treatments, collapses/is rendered otherwise unable to have his say on the matter past his already stated wants, and while unconscious Shepard overrides his DNR wishes and has him given life saving or extending treatments. He wakes up and is upset at Shepard, but ultimately forgives or even thanks them for making that decision for him (basically saying that he was 'wrong' and Shepard was 'right'.) I do think this can be written in an interesting, character study way. There's also those grey area tangents: For example, what if the treatment suddenly becomes available after he's already unable to give consent, one that he was not aware of. Or what if the source of the treatment changes; before he was against a transplant because it would mean taking from another drell, but suddenly cloning or something else becomes available? etc. Perhaps such plot lines have been explored and I've missed them, because unfortunately after reading a handful of the type where he is just wholesale disregarded by Shepard if I get even a whiff of this kind of plotline I abandon the reading. As for why this does not sit well with me at all? It creates a situation where you have to basically make out that Thane was somehow in the wrong for ever feeling that way, that his acceptance of his terminal illness is bad, his motivations wrong. Again, something that can be explored- but not by just wholesale disregarding and overriding him then later teaching him why he was 'wrong'. We are getting into the very murky area of "if a person is depressed/mentally compromised by trauma/their past enough, they are no longer able to make decisions on their own health, this is for their own good'. And- yikes. Red alert. Because that is a story that needs to be handled with so much care, and it absolutely should not be used as a temporary source of angst to further a fucking romance plot. I think this hits hard for me especially as a disabled person who has had to deal with my fair share of medical fuckery. I'm also neurodivergent and have mental health issues. Advocating for myself is something I have had to battle many a time. Anyway hoo I had that one pent up hey? Again, I hope no one feels personally attacked by this. It's my own ick, one that might resonate with some, one that others might completely disagree with.

[perfectsunlight]

i saw that your requests are open do u have any other rules (other than the ones posted) or any specifics (ex. idol / trope) i need to add before making a request? just wondering

i mean i guess i could be a little more specific!

i can write idol x idol, but i prefer idol x reader a lot more

i will not write anything for male readers

in terms of more mature content, i can write with more sensitive topics (i.e. mental health, mild violence, implied abuse, etc.)

ofc when i say this, i do NOT mean that i will be glorifying any of it. if i write about it, it will always be with a realistic perspective, even if the work is fiction

but i will NOT write anything incest, rape, or anything non-con related

other than that, i can write anything really! but please also keep in mind i reserve the right to deny any request if i feel uncomfortable with it :)

if you would like to request anything, you can be as vague or as specific as you like! if you choose to be vague, please still give me enough so i have something to work with. if you don't, i wont be able to accurately give you what you want! but if you would like to leave it up to me, i can totally do that too :)

[ghoulpoole]

My Coming Out Letter

For All Trans People from Abusive Households

CONTENT WARNING: Familial abuse and Transphobia. Abusive situations are described with vague detail. Specific transphobic beliefs are described.

Potentially triggering material is colored red to warn readers. Please be kind to yourself and proceed with care.

One year ago, I came out to my dad as a trans woman. He was one of the last people I came out to. It took a long time because it was clear to me that I couldn't be real with him about my identity without having an honest discussion about abuse and trauma. I also knew that in so doing, I would be cutting ties whether I wanted to or not, because he has a narcissistic personality and feels deeply threatened by people naming and opposing his behavior. This letter is deeply personal. But I am posting it here for other trans people in the virtual void who are ensnared in abuse by a loved one. I was lucky to disentangle myself and have enough physical and psychic distance from my father to make this choice. So reader, regardless of whether you share my trauma, my luck, or my gender, I hope this letter gives you strength. I hope you feel as powerful reading it as I did writing it. I hope you feel the vast fear and relief of overcoming something massive, powerful, and frightening. Like climbing a mountain, or getting out of bed in the morning. To protect the privacy of all involved, names and identifying information have been removed. Because I'm an incurable perfectionist, I have done some editing after that fact. But rest assured, the message and content are the same as the paper letter I mailed one year ago.

Dear Dad,

I am a transgender individual. You already have some ideas about what that means. Here’s what it means to me.

My gender identity doesn't align with the sex that identified me when I was born. I never felt like a man or a boy. The way our culture expects a man to dress, feel, think, talk, and move has never felt like it fit me.

I feel feminine. I use this word carefully because I don't feel like my gender fits neatly in the label ‘man’ or ‘woman’. But I find that the idea of the feminine fits. Feminine clothes feel more comfortable to me. My feelings, thoughts, and speech all feel more woman-like than man-like.  

To me, being transgender means existing in the way that feels right for me, instead of pretending to behave like a man to fit in with the dominant, gendered culture.

I know this does not fit your ideas about what it means to be transgender. I have heard you say many times that being transgender is a mental illness. That being trans is unnatural and something that needs to be fixed. 

I know what you hear on Fox News. You hear that transgender surgery is genital mutilation. That transgender people are a national epidemic. That “transgenderism” harms women and kids.

I invite you to consider the implications of your beliefs:

If you believe transgender individuals are sick, you think I am sick.

If you believe transgender individuals are unnatural, you think I am unnatural.

If you believe transgender individuals need to be fixed, you think I need to be fixed.

With these implications in mind: do you want to commit to these beliefs? If you do, then it is not safe for me to be in relationship with you. This is why I am coming out to you in a letter - for my own safety.

I hope that you choose not to commit to these beliefs, or at least, to question them. I want to have a relationship with you where I can be honest about who I am.

You claim to value individuality, honesty, and personal integrity. By coming out, I am choosing honesty, integrity, and individuality. By being trans, I am living these values. I hope that you can live these values too by accepting me for who I am.

Now, there are some practicalities.

I prefer different non-gendered third-person pronouns ("they/them") or feminine pronouns ("she/her") to refer to me. I am undergoing Hormone Replacement Therapy and pursuing gender-affirming surgeries to help my body better match the gender I live. And, I have legally changed my first, middle, and last name.

This is where I get to the hardest part of the letter because the decision to change my name are entangled with trauma that I need to share with you.

Since coming out, I have been remembering things I tried to forget. Old memories and feelings from childhood that are every bit as frightening now as they were 15 to 20 years ago.

These experiences were traumatic. I didn’t know have a name for how these times felt as child. But now, I do. It was trauma that came from abuse.

When I was a child, I regularly felt unsafe, trapped and manipulated. So often, I hid in my bedroom trying and failing to block out what you said and did to other members of our family. You would tell me these things had nothing to do with me. I felt helpless. I can’t count how many memories I have of crying my eyes out over the course of eighteen years.

The tragic thing is that somebody who was supposed to give me care and love made me feel so helpless.

I have had so much therapy to process how these experiences impact my mental health and adult relationships. I am still working through it.

I don’t tell you this just because I want you to feel bad, or even necessarily to hold you accountable. I tell you this I want you to know how I feel. We can't have a functional relationship if you don't honest-to-god know where I am coming from and who I really am.

But mostly, I tell you this for my sake. I have tried to rationalize this trauma, to excuse it, to discount it, and even to ignore it. But I can’t ignore it any longer, and I won’t let it go unspoken.

That’s why I changed my name. Changing it liberates me from experiences that did me so much harm. It sets me free.

So what now?

If we are going to be in relationship with each other, it needs to be a relationship where I feel safe and respected.

I tend to think about relationships as agreements. So, if we can agree to the following:

Using my correct name; Using my preferred third-person pronouns; Respecting my transgender identity; and Never raising your voice at me under any circumstances,

then I will maintain a relationship with you.

I invite you to consider these conditions and whether you can accept them. For my part, I will give you the same safety and respect I am asking you to give me.

I'm laying down these strict boundaries because I want to have a relationship with you. To do that, I need our relationship to be safe for me. I will not tolerate any abusive behavior. If you cannot agree to these conditions, I cannot be in contact with you.

I hope that this letter is not an ending of our relationship, but an opportunity for you to to grow and change.

I have spent two years understanding my gender and coming out at various times and places. Each time I came out in a part of my life, that part got so much better. I hope that by coming out in our relationship, it can get so much better, too.

I love you.

ghoulpoole

[talesfromthemidnightride]

The Witch Collector ★★★☆☆

Synopsis: Raina Bloodgood sets out with a mission -- to kill the Frost King who took her sister from her. A threat from another rival kingdom throws off her quest and brings her closer to her unwilling ally -- the Witch Collector, Alexus Thibault. The man she was supposed to kill is now the only one who can help save her sister and capture her heart.

Genre: New Adult, High Fantasy

Quick Takeaway:

I don't connect with the main character and her struggles due to the fast-paced nature of the story.

Raina is mute, which adds a unique and interesting layer to the story.

Magic and necessary worldbuilding are not elaborated on or properly fleshed out.

Interesting character development is info-dumped onto the reader, or it's left in offhanded marks.

There isn't enough mystery or intrigue given to pull the reader in.

I gave it a 3 out of 5 as I rounded up from a 2.5 rating on Goodreads. While this story didn't hit the mark with me, please feel free to check this out yourself and support the author if a high fantasy, enemy to lovers sounds interesting to you. Keep in mind this story is intended for mature audiences!

In-depth spoiler review under the cut!

I was genuinely interested in this story by the blurb. A high fantasy new adult involving enemies to lovers? Yes, please. But, it, unfortunately, failed to live up to what I wanted.

I feel like it would be a crime to not talk about the one thing I did love about this story. The mute character. I enjoyed delving into Raina's perspective and seeing how she may choose to overcome situations where she may not be able to sign. It was a sweet gesture reading that her sister managed to teach other witches her sign language.

The first arc of the story comes and goes in a whirlwind. You're still trying to understand the lore and world and find a connection to each of the characters around Raina when everything comes crashing down. How can you feel Raina's pain when a) you just met all of these characters in name only, and b) Raina herself is more focused on how handsome her alleged enemy looks.

This leads to another weak point I encountered as I read further into the story. Everyone is flat or two-dimensional. Raina changes her goals far too fast with little build-up for the reader. Helena, Raina's closest friend, was possessed, but it was quickly brushed under. Nephele, the sister Raina wanted to save, lost her lover but that was not addressed. She remained the calm sister even while Raina had a breakdown because she may lose Alexus, the Witch Collector.

You finally get a more in-depth look at the lore of the world around the 3/4 mark of the book. But it's all in a monologue from Alexus. Maybe this is a personal preference, but I don't appreciate lore being handed to the reader in monologues. It's not very engaging as a reader.

The world needed more careful touches. The author fell too heavily on 'tell not show.' She told us Raina wanted her sister, and that she had an issue with the way things are. But show us why she wanted her sister. Give Nepehele depth, and emphasize the heartache the separation can cause. It was so much harder to fall into the story when everyone seemed to agree or be fine with the way things are.

The magick was also confusing to grasp. It was vaguely addressed. I would have loved more discussion about the witch markings, their meaning, and how exactly it functions. It's a bit confusing at times. You must sing to use your magick, but I still struggle to understand how Raina can use her magick. Everything is mainly handed to the reader with the understanding we will know, or it's vaguely addressed.

Lastly, it was very interesting to see a story where the good guys lost, but the emotional impact of it all was swept under the rug. Instead, the story focused on the romance between Raina and Alexus, so the full impact was never felt. This was very disappointing and added to the characters feeling so two-dimensional.

[mercy-burning]

Affection

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Spencer and Y/N decidedly hate each other. But when a near-death experience puts one of them in a coma, their mutual hatred might have to take a backseat— Or will it? Category: Angst / Happy Ending! + Humor and a lil bit of Fluff Content: Strong language, Reader is in a coma, mentions of injury, kissing Word Count: 2.6k

MASTERLIST

NOTE: This one’s for Pom’s ( @imagining-in-the-margins ) September Writing Challenge, Enemies To Lovers! I have another one coming up as well, but this idea wouldn’t get out of my head ever since I watched The Abyss with my dad and I had to get it out 😅 I hope you like it!!

———

I swear to fucking God, if this motherfucker really thinks he—

That was the last thing Y/N thought before she was knocked out cold.

With her line of work, it was natural to assume that she was thinking about the unsub, but unfortunately the criminal she and her team were tracking down was the farthest thing on her mind. Spencer would have chastised her for it— letting something else cloud her thoughts while she was in a dark alley, alone, and with a serial killer on the loose.

"You should be smarter than that!" she could hear him say in that high pitch he always carried when he was upset— especially with her. "If you don't get yourself killed one of these days, then it'll be the rest of us!"

Thinking about it made her blood boil.

"It's your fault," she wanted to tell him. "I had to blow off some steam because you were pissing me off!"

The only thing was... She couldn't tell him.

Well... She could.

He just couldn't hear her, because no one could.

It was like some stupid, cliché movie, where you found yourself standing over your dying body and having to choose whether to live or not. It seemed like the obvious choice, to fucking live, but... Y/N found herself wandering around her hospital room, yelling into the void and attempting to jump back into her own body.

Nothing was working.

And when Spencer showed up, his face red and his hair and clothes all messed up, she wanted to scream at him.

"Hey!"

Nothing. He was practically lifeless as he drifted to the chair next to her bed and sat down. It was nearly impossible to read from his expression and body language how he was feeling, and that alone was enough to make her angry again. (Not that the anger had really gone away since waking up next to her comatose body, of course.)

"Hey! Dumbass!"

Still nothing.

As Spencer just blankly stared down at Y/N's bed, she decided she'd had enough.

"SPENCER FUCKING REID, IF YOU DON'T HELP ME RIGHT NOW I SWEAR TO GOD I'LL HAUNT YOUR ASS UNTIL THE END OF ETERNITY, AND I'M GONNA LAY FAT, STINKIN' GHOST SHITS IN YOUR SHOES, DO YOU HEAR ME? AND—"

"I hate you."

It was a bold enough statement to stop Y/N in her tracks, no matter how quietly he'd mumbled it. She knew for sure that he didn't like her, after years of constant bickering and dirty glares and whatever else, but... The word 'hate' was like a knife that sliced through her joking rage and stopped the whole world around her.

If she wasn't already out of her own body, she just knew she would have felt her soul leave.

Spencer didn't hate anyone. Not that she was aware of, anyway. He found nearly everyone delightful, and vice versa... But for some reason, he hated Y/N.

She scoffed, crossing her arms. "Yeah, well... Feeling's mutual, I guess..."

"You're stupid, and reckless, and you don't think. And you're a goddamn nightmare to work with... You know what— You're a stone-cold bitch."

His words made her physically step backwards, and it felt like if she were a cartoon, there might have been steam coming out of her ears.

"Yeah, well jokes on you, you make it easy," she seethed. "Fuck you!"

"How... How dare you..." he continued, anger reddening his face.

Y/N watched as he balled his fists and leaned in a little closer to her body, his voice tight and strained. "How dare you walk into my life and boss me around and make it impossible to breathe... From the moment I met you, you've brought out this... this fire in me that I can't put out no matter how hard I try, and it's insufferable—You're insufferable, and I hate you, how dare—"

Whatever he was going to say next was cut off by a shortness of breath. Spencer breathed in, loud and choked, and the next breath he let out was nothing short of a sob. His eyes squeezed shut, tears rolling down them and his hands clutched the bedsheets with a vigor and rage that Y/N had never seen from him, even in all the years she'd spent visibly getting on his last nerves.

"N—No," she choked out, feeling her throat tighten. "Don't... Don't turn into a sappy mess on me now, do you hear me, Reid? You hate me, don't... Don't..."

"I don't hate you," he whispered, wiping his eyes and reaching out to grab her lifeless hand. "I hate that you make me feel this way, but... I could never hate you..."

She wanted nothing more than to be able to squeeze his hand back, to tell him, not even necessarily with words but with a simple gesture, that she was right there and wasn't going to go anywhere.

She just... had to figure out how to make that true.

Still, Spencer kept going, a small laugh bubbling up through tears and phlegm. "But I will hate you if you die, because I just know you're gonna come back and haunt me for eternity... Probably... shit in my shoes or something."

Y/N barked a laugh that was true and pure... Happy, even.

The genius may have acted like he hated her, but it turns out he knew her pretty well, perhaps even fondly in one way or another.

To think— All those years she spent seeing him sneer at her, feeling his glare burn into her soul, the amount of times she caught him making faces or inappropriate gestures behind her back, all of it... And the whole time, he was probably doing it with a little flicker of fondness deep within the confines of his heart, which he swore to fill with nothing but hatred for her.

The thought made the little flicker in her own heart burn brighter.

As she wandered closer to her bed, beside Spencer and in front of her own body, she reached her hand out to see if she could touch his face, to give him something...

Even though she had no luck, something shifted when he spoke.

"Just... Come back to me, please? I know I'm not good at apologizing, but if it means I get you back... I swear that I will make up every horrible thing I've ever done or said to you. Just... Please don't leave me."

He laid his head down in his hands and tried not to cry again, every said horrible thing replaying on a loop in his brain like some kind of taunt. He wished more than anything for a chance to make it up to Y/N, and now he might not ever be able to.

"You think I'd leave this mortal earth without getting the chance to kick your ass?"

Everything was so fuzzy and light and brimming with these high emotions that Y/N almost didn't realize she was saying these words and Spencer was hearing them. She almost didn't feel the warmth of her bloodstream beneath layers of skin, the beat of her heart slowly coming back to life at the sounds and smells of the hospital room.

She almost didn't realize that Spencer was grabbing her now, his warm hands covering her cold ones and bringing them back to life as well.

"Screw you," he breathed with absolutely no malice to be detected in his voice.

They shared a smile so bright, no one would have been able to guess that they never got along.

TWO WEEKS LATER

Not only was she stuck at home doing nothing while on suspension (Yes, it turns out that storming off into an alley and not paying attention while on the job, just because a co-worker pissed you off, can get you suspended by Chief Strauss), but Y/N was also being visited by a daily rotation of her co-workers and friends and family, and her house was nearly covered in flower bouquets and baked goods.

It was a nightmare.

The sentiment was nice, sure, but if she had to move one more vase, she was going to start throwing them.

God, maybe Spencer was right, I am a stone-cold bitch...

Thinking of him also put a little damper on her mood.

He hadn't been to visit her once... And she figured that after their nice little moment at the hospital, he'd at least stop by with flowers or an "I'm glad you're not dead!" call, but there was nothing on his end. Not even a text message or a letter.

But for all she knew, their small moment of kindness could have been a figment of her concussed imagination.

Please, she thought, if I brought it up to him he'd probably just laugh in my face.

Rather than a laugh, Y/N heard the bright sound of her doorbell, which normally would have meant a fun unexpected visit or a date she was getting ready for, but by now it only meant another vase of flowers or a pie from a neighbor she still didn't remember the last name to.

Either way, she answered the door with as polite a smile as she could muster, and instead of finding a vaguely familiar neighbor or acquaintance, she found Spencer.

Though, to be fair, he was holding a bouquet of flowers.

"Well, this is a surprise," Y/N drawled, crossing her arms. "I don't even think you've ever been to my house."

She was surprised to see him nervous around her, rather than irritated. And she would have found it endearing had they not been practically mortal enemies from the moment they met... She was suspicious.

"O—Oh, yeah... I know, I just thought... I wanted to come see how you were doing... These are for you."

He held out the flowers, which were truthfully the pretties set she'd received, and it irked her. Because of course he of all people would be the one to tell which kinds of flowers she'd prefer.

"Thanks," she said, taking them from him and allowing him the space to come inside. "Watch out, it's a maze in here..."

While she looked for somewhere to put the flowers on display, she could feel Spencer looking around her space, probably profiling what he could behind a sea of flowers.

"Hm."

Y/N sighed. "What?"

"Nothing. I'm just... I'm surprised this many people actually like you."

Despite the nature of his observation, she found it comforting. That level of playful contempt was what she was used to, and it brought a sparkle to her eye as she turned to face him. "Ha... I'm not a complete bitch, you know."

"Sure."

Between the growing grin on his face and the smirk forming on her own, Spencer and Y/N found themselves falling back into a familiar rhythm. And yet, something about it was still... different.

So much so that Y/N felt honest-to-God butterflies in her stomach when he approached, hands retreating from his pockets and head tilting off to the side. His expression held that look he got when he was trying to figure someone out, usually an unsub. She hated to admit it to herself, but a little part of her always found that side of him extremely attractive.

And now that it was right in front of her?

She didn't know what to make of it.

"What?" she snapped, looking for an excuse to hide any and all attraction she was feeling.

Spencer stepped back a little, breaking away from whatever trance he'd just been in. "God, why do you always have to do that?"

"Do what?"

"You push away every single show of affection! Any time I'm trying to be nice, you just act like it's some big inconvenience to you!"

Y/N laughed. "Ha! That's what that was? Just now? When you insulted me, and then started stalking towards me with that look you get when you're interrogating an unsub? That's what you call affection?"

"That's not... That's not what that was!"

"Oh really? Then what was it?"

"It was part of the routine! Banter! Y—You know, that's our thing! We insult each other, and we act like we hate each other but we... We don't, really..."

The longer he went on, the faster her heart raced. This was the moment in the movie where he inevitably blurted out that he loved her, and in turn she would either kiss him or slap him, or slap him and then kiss him...

But Y/N was still feeling rather playful despite the swarm of butterflies in her stomach begging for some relief.

"Oh?" she prompted, taking a slow step closer to him. "We don't?"

Spencer seemed to get red immediately, and he avoided her eyes. "U—Uh... Well I... I thought... Maybe I read it all wrong, a—and I'm sorry if I did..."

She'd been getting closer meanwhile, and now they were practically toe-to-toe. He did his best to ignore her, taking a few steps back until she cornered him against the front door. And with the way he wasn't doing anything to get out of his predicament, she took that as his acceptance and took another leap.

"What..." she cooed, crawling her fingers up the front of his chest like a spider. "You like me? Hmm?"

When he finally looked down at her, she allowed herself to smile, albeit slowly and with calculation.

In a flash Spencer went from nervous to fed-up, weight seeming to visibly lift from his chest as he sank against the door. "You're messing with me..."

"It's so fun."

"You know what, screw you."

"Is that a promise?"

"Maybe it is. What are you gonna do ab—"

She didn't let him finish.

In an instant, Y/N lunged forward and pulled him down for a kiss.

Even though she thought he might have tried to take control of the situation, he ended up surprising her with a wanton moan as his hands clutched at her sides, holding on for dear life. Their bodies and tongues collided in a mess of years worth of pent-up tension, chaotic and wild and fiercely beautiful in a way that put even the greatest first kisses to shame.

And of course, Spencer had to go and ruin it.

He pushed her away and looked almost panicked. "W—Wait, are you even cleared to do this?"

Y/N rolled her eyes, reaching out for him again. "I'm fine."

"Y/N, you were in the hospital! I thought... I thought you were..."

She appreciated the sentiment, but with her entire body on fire from his touch, she decided she needed more of it. "Yeah, but I'm not... I'm very much alive, and you know what?"

He blinked back at her, watching carefully as she leaned in close to him and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"It's because of you. You make me feel... more alive than I've ever been."

"And... You're not messing with me this time?"

With a laugh,  Y/N shook her head and leaned up to brush her nose with his. "Nuh-uh... But if you'd like to, I'd love to mess with you in a more fun way. And maybe I'll even let you do it back..."

Spencer hummed, feeling himself gravitate towards her more with every passing second. "Deal."

He barely got the word out all the way before she was dragging him through the maze of flora and contained food and into her bedroom, where piece by piece, their hatred and fondness for one another combined to create the most exquisite of nights.

———

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[emerald-chaos]

Insomnia

*gif not made by me, credit goes to the owner*

Hi Everyone! So it's been probably like...10 years since I wrote my last fic lol. Watching TFATWS has rekindled my undying love for Bucky Barnes and I just couldn't help but start writing again. I had to get my feelings out! I hope you guys enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it. I've been considering writing some more parts...so tell me if that's something you'd be interested in! I appreciate any and all constructive feedback or just feedback in general! Much love.

Pairing: Reader x Bucky Barnes

Word Count: 2533 (lowkey popped off...oops)

Warnings: Just in case...vague allusions to a dark past, struggles with mental illness, explicit language, and some suggestive conversation. Oh and some really bad jokes lol. Fluffy and angsty.

No matter how much you tossed and turned, how many sheep you counted, or how much you prayed and pleaded to any higher power that would listen – the release of sleep just wasn’t going to happen. You’re not sure why you were surprised, it’s not like this was the first time. You let out a heavy sigh and toss off the covers. This has been a nightly occurrence for as long as you can remember. When you were trying to rest, when there was no noise to block out the images in your head, it was a battle. A battle which you have always lost.

You flip on the bright florescent lights of the bathroom as you trudge in, dragging your feet in exhaustion. It takes a minute for your eyes to adjust to the harshness of the light as you place your hands onto the countertop. The cool marble feels good against your palms as you close your eyes and lean your head back, another sigh leaving your lips. You twist your neck from side to side, trying to release some tension and maybe get a satisfying pop. No such luck. As you open your eyes and gaze upon the person staring back at you a small laugh tumbles from your chest.

Jesus, she looks awful.

The dark circles that permanently reside below your eyes appear more pronounced than usual. The corners of your mouth hang low and you just look…tired. Like you were rode hard and put away wet.

The bottle of melatonin tucked away on your counter catches your eye. You pick it up and twirl it as you inspect the writing. “Sleep Support” you read, “may help promote restful sleep”. What a load of shit. You place the bottle back down and inspect the orange one next to it. The pills inside were about as useful as the melatonin. Nothing seemed to quiet the voices or stop the scenarios that plagued your mind. You splash some cold water on your face and grab for a towel to pat it dry. Your eyes drift to the mirror again, as if though the water was going to wash away the dead look in your eyes.

Yeah, fat chance.

Before you know it, your legs are carrying you through the compound. The only sounds present are the whirring of various appliances and the soft patter of your feet against the tile floors. The moonlight casts shadows over the various pieces of furniture and lights your path. Your fingers curl around the handle as you pull the sliding glass door open. The crisp outside air kisses your skin as you step out and close the door behind you. You find yourself settling down in your usual spot on the balcony and you sink into the comfort of the chair.

Many a sleepless night has been spent out here, admiring the way the moonlight gleams off of a nearby pond. Before the compound and the balcony, it was a fire escape and a bottle of bourbon. You kind of missed that coping mechanism a little bit. You were thankful, of course, to call this place your home. Thankful to feel safe for once. Thankful to be a part of a team that felt like more of a family than any sorry piece of shit who had been in your life before. Not that you were bitter about that or anything. A little baggage builds character. However, life hasn’t always been kind to you and your stupid brain had a cruel way of constantly reminding you of that fact.

In all honesty, Tony rescued you. You absolutely hated to allow him to relish in that fact, but it was true. He took a chance on a royally fucked up kid out of college who managed to skate by and earn a mechanical engineering degree. If you were to ask him, he would say it was because the first words you said to him were fuck off. Apparently, something about that translated to, “hey, I would be a great addition to your tech and development team”. Although, you were pretty sure you just really meant that he should fuck off. I mean, the guy’s reputation does have a bit of moral gray area to it. Somehow, some way, your tenacity made an impression on the billionaire. Now here you were - living at the Avenger’s compound, sitting on a balcony at 3:30 in the morning because you couldn’t turn your brain off long enough to find some peace and sleep. What a life.

Even as you were sitting here in your special spot, reminiscing about some actual good memories – your brain still tried to drift into the darkness. Glass breaking; voices, thick with hate, engaged in a screaming match, and the cold nights spent trying to find a safe space to eat and lay your head. Your fingers gripped into the arms of the chair as you felt the heaviness in your chest increase.

“God damn it,” you cursed through gritted teeth.

The panic attacks were a second nature at this point, but you still really hated when you lost control. Your eyes closed tight as you tried to rack your brain to remember the bullshit your therapist had told you earlier in the week. Something about 5 things you can see?

“We gotta stop meeting like this, Doll”

The voice ripped you from inside your mind and back to reality. Your eyes opened and were met with a beautiful pair of cerulean ones. You blamed the skip in your heartbeat on your fading panic attack - although, you knew better than that.

“Well, it seems to me that the only logical conclusion is that you’re stalking me, Barnes” you quipped as a grin spread across your face.

“Could say the same about you,” Bucky retorted as he sank into the chair beside you, “besides, been doin’ this a lot longer than you’ve been around”.

You rolled your eyes, but the super soldier had a point. Almost each and every time, aside from the ones that happened when the team was away, you two would meet like this – here on the balcony, both searching for something to replace the sleep that neither of you could find.

“Yeah, we get it, you’re old” a laugh fell from your lips as Bucky snorted at your remark, a grin remaining ever present on his lips.

The familiar silence took over as he leaned his head back against the chair, closing his eyes. Meanwhile, yours were hungrily taking him in - tracing over the stubble on his chin, the soft pinkness of his parted lips. Recently he’d gotten his hair cut and even though you much preferred the long hair, you would rather die than actually admit that to him. Your crush on the 106 year old grumpy ass was one of your best kept secrets. At least, you thought you’d kept it from being painfully obvious.

The man sitting before you, he had a tough exterior and a horrific history, but you knew him better than that. You knew about the way his nose scrunched up when you made him laugh and the way his eyes looked as he listened intently to every story you ever told him. You knew the sweet melody of his laugh and the far off stare that meant he was also held captive by his own thoughts. This late-night rendezvous had become somewhat of a routine for the two of you and you would be lying if you said it wasn’t your favorite part of the day.

The first time it was a short nod and typical white person, thin-lipped smile as you left to find a different spot to suffer alone. Shortly after, it developed into cohabiting the balcony – staying on your own separate sides of course, only occasionally sharing words. Then, before you knew it, the two of you would be sitting beside each other, shooting the shit like you’d known each other for years. Just two, incredibly fucked up individuals, trying to make each other feel a little more human.

Bucky had always given off the quiet, brooding energy. Typically he kept to himself, other than with close friends like Steve, choosing to stand in the corner and listen to the conversation rather than be a part of it. Occasionally he would give a quip during a meeting that would catch people off guard, but mostly he just sat there and stared. The Bucky you had come to know was nothing like the person that others wanted to make him out to be. Sure, at one point he was a masterful assassin who killed like he got pleasure from it – but that wasn’t him. The Winter Soldier and Bucky Barnes were not synonymous.

If only the world could meet Bucky at 3am.

“What’s going on in that empty head of yours over there?” Bucky’s voice once again brought you back to reality as you laid your eyes on the familiar grin plastered across his face.

“Please,” you huffed, cheeks tinted a light shade of pink at the thought of him catching you staring, “which one of us has a college degree again?”

His laugh was a symphony to your ears. Your smile mirrored his when he opened his eyes and turned his head to look at you.

“So, what is it tonight? That nightmare again?” he asked, voice dropping an octave as his facial features softened in a way you really hoped only you got to see.

“Mm, not quite” you responded, your voice a broken whisper.

Bucky wasn’t the type to pry, but with you he wouldn’t even have to. Talking to him, sharing your deepest secrets and fears, telling him about the nightmares that kept you awake at night – it all came easily. Too easily.

“This week it’s...it’s that image of my stupid mother. Standing there with her black eyes and busted lip, telling me that it was me that was the problem. That it was me who...” you swallowed hard, the heaviness creeping back into your chest and tears fighting to wet your eyes. God you hated that you let this get the best of you.

Just as your mind started to bring you back to that dark place it was interrupted by the feeling of warmth spreading over your body. You looked down to see Bucky’s large hand resting right above your knee. When your eyes met again, he gave you a soft look that made your heart scream.

“I’m sorry,” you could tell he meant it as he gave your knee a soft squeeze.

A small smile flashed over your face and you had to resist the urge to reach out and cup his soft, stubbled cheek in your hand.

“Hey, we’re all a little fucked up, right?” you joked.

“Some more than others,” he replied, those beautiful wrinkles appearing around his nose as he scrunched it up with another laugh.

“Thanks, Buck... I’m sure you’d rather be doing anything other than listening to my sob story,” you reluctantly broke eye contact and looked down at the hem of your shirt as you fiddled with it in your fingers.

You were all too aware at the loss of contact as Bucky drew his hand back and leaned back into his chair.

“Doll,” he started as he leaned his head back and closed his eyes again - you could swear you almost saw a grin on his lips, “there are very few things I’d rather do than sit with you on the balcony at 3am”.

At that moment it felt as though time stood still. Sure, you had flirtatious banter back and forth occasionally and made a habit out of spilling your deepest regrets to each other during the wee hours of the morning, but this felt different. This felt like a confession.

You’d be lying to yourself if you tried to convince yourself, or anyone else for that matter, that you didn’t have a thing for him. I mean - who wouldn’t? The guy was a gentleman; he was soft spoken and caring, he was a dork who loved to crack jokes at the most inappropriate times, the type of person who would give you the shirt off of his own back if it meant you were taken care of.

He....well, he was Bucky.

And god damn it if you didn’t love him.

You’re unsure of how much time has passed, but one minute you’re sitting on your chair, chewing your lip and droning on about the man in front of you in your head. The next minute you found yourself on his lap, knees seated on either side of his waist as your legs straddle him and your hands connect with the skin they so desperately craved to feel. Bucky’s eyes opened slowly and met yours as you let the pad of your thumb gently run along the curve of his bottom lip. The uneven breaths leaving your chest hitched as you felt his hands grip your hips softly. Refusing to break eye contact, Bucky gently pressed a kiss to the pad of your thumb. You dragged his lower lip down briefly.

“Well,” he began. His voice was barely above a whisper but it’s thick, lustful tone made you shiver from head to...well, you know, “are you gonna kiss me, Doll? Or do I have to do all the work myself?”

He barely finished his sentence before your lips captured his. It was messy, almost all teeth and tongue. It was needy, as if it was the last time either of you would ever kiss anyone again. It was fucking incredible.

Bucky’s metal arm snaked up your back and found its way into your hair, curling his fingers gently around the strands at the back of your head, as his other arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you closer to his form. He was intoxicating. This whole situation was something you had briefly imagined months ago, but ultimately pushed out of your mind. There was no way that he would ever be interested in someone like you. Yet, here he was, tongue fighting for entrance into your mouth.

You aren’t quite sure who pulled away first. Both of you were gasping for air, chests heaving up and down as you both stared into each other's lust-blown pupils.

“You kiss pretty well for someone who hasn’t had a girlfriend since 1940,” you teased, laughing as he rolls his eyes at the comment.

“You just don’t know when to shut that mouth of yours, do ya?” he practically growled, ever so slightly tightening his grip on your waist, and you almost lost it from just the sound of his voice alone.

“Why don’t you make me, Barnes?” you leaned in close, warm breath fanning over the shell of his ear.

A yelp escaped your throat as you were suddenly jerked up to a standing position, locking your ankles behind his back as he effortlessly held you up by your thighs.

“Oh Doll,” he chuckled darkly into your neck, almost making you pass out from the sensation, “I thought you’d never ask”.

[youwerenevermeanttofeelalone]

Obnoxious Couple | Stiles Stilinski

✦ pairing — Stiles Stilinski x female!Plus Size Reader

✦ word count — 1.3k

✦ request — Obviously the reader(female preferably) would be plus sized. Maybe, she’s having a bad day concerning her weight and image. And she compares herself to Lydia and Allison. So she wants comfort from Stiles but he’s not there atm so she takes in of his hoodies, which doesn’t fit correctly,and she gets frustrated and stiles walks in and sees her distress and then comforts her. Maybe end it with a minor make out sesh. But nothing beyond that?

✦ warnings — angst, self-esteem issues, some vagueness in an attempt to not trigger anybody’s dysmorphia, light fluff.

════════════════════════

Stiles found you crying at the foot of the bed, arms tangled in black fabric as sobs raked your body.

It wasn’t the first time he saw you cry, he knew it wouldn’t be the last either, but it didn’t hurt any less.

“Baby,” he softly spoke to get your attention.

You lifted your head, startled. Embarrassment washed over you, only making you sob harder.

He approached you slowly as though you were a hurt animal, frowning as he tried to figure out what you were wearing.

Crouching down, he hesitated as his hand trembled. He eventually placed it on your back.

You couldn’t stop crying — you didn’t know how you’d ever look at him in the eye and explain what was going on.

Your day started poorly, honestly. From the moment you made the mistake of looking at yourself in the mirror while attempting to get ready, you knew it would be one of those days.

It made you consider canceling plans with your friends which in hindsight you should have done.

But you didn’t. You sucked it up and met Allison and Lydia. You missed them, life often got in the way and you didn’t want to lose them just because you weren’t teenagers with free time anymore.

However, the moment you arrived at the meeting point, you knew how badly you had fucked up. They looked so pretty and so happy to see you — that should have been enough, and it was until you observed Allison was wearing her partner’s oversized t-shirt.

People weren’t supposed to feel like shit around their friends, even less when their friends had missed them and are glad to see them. So feeling like shit prompted you to feel guilty.

You knew it wasn’t completely rational, but you couldn’t help the way you felt.

You came up with an excuse to leave early. Allison and Lydia knew you were lying, but they let you be — you needed space.

You truly did, but you didn’t want to be alone. And when you felt like not being alone although it would be wiser, you always went to Stiles.

He wasn’t home. He didn’t tell you he’d be busy or what he’d do while you were out so everything you could do was wait.

Your shared bedroom felt too big without him and too small all at once.

Big. Big. Big. Big. Your brain wasn’t helping.

Comfort became a need as the minutes passed. You had always found Stiles’s scent comforting and seeing as he didn’t seem to be getting home soon, you took the liberty to pick a piece of clothing from his closet.

As you inhaled his scent, you remembered how good Allison looked in her partner’s clothes.

That was what lead you to cry on the bedroom floor, stuck in your boyfriend’s hoodie.

You knew the idea had been silly, he was smaller than you, but you had to try to fit in his clothes. You had always wanted to wear something of his.

“I just wish I could wear your clothes like my friends wear their partners’.” Admitting it was not only embarrassing but unbelievably sad.

You had never told him how you felt about sharing clothes so he wouldn’t get upset. What if he didn’t even want to wear yours?

“I know.” He rubbed your back in circles. “But their partners are bigger than me.”

“Well, your girlfriend is bigger than their girlfriends,” you bitterly answered. “And than you.”

He sighed heavily. “Did you expect me to change my body when I started dating you?”

“No.”

“Well, I didn’t expect you to change yours either. I’m not an asshole.” He made a pause then admitted, “I mean, I am, but not like that and not towards you.”

You attempted to huff a laugh, but your clogged nose didn’t let you.

He wiped your tears. “Let’s get you out of this thing and clean your pretty face.”

You lifted your arms, avoiding his face as you waited for him to get you unstuck from his hoodie.

Stiles tugged on the fabric and pulled the hoodie off you. “Oooh, is this new?” he asked, referring to your blouse.

You nodded.

“It’s pretty. You look good.” He threw the hoodie onto the bed and stood up. “You need help?”

“No. I’ll wash my face in the bathroom.”

You looked down at the sink as you stood in the bathroom. You felt stupid for crying over a hoodie that didn’t fit; clothes hadn’t fit you before and it had never hurt like this.

Cold water hit your skin and you reminded yourself to avoid the mirror as you lifted your head to dab your face dry.

What would Stiles think of you now? Would this make him realize he wanted to be with somebody who fit in his clothes?

It took you some courage to go back to the bedroom.

“Come here, baby.” Stiles patted the other side of the bed.

He had already changed into a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. As you approached him, you observed the tv control was on his lap.

You sat with your back against the headboard. “What are you watching?”

“Nothing yet.”

You hummed.

“Hey.” He placed his hand on your thigh so you’d look at him. When you did, he said, “You can always talk to me when you have a bad day.”

“I know.” In fact, you often told him how you were feeling and why, but this particular thing was different. “It’s kinda embarrassing, though... I mean, it’s not something I can suddenly change, is it?”

“No,” he admitted. “I just don’t want you to go through that all by yourself.”

“Yeah, but you’ll tell me there’s nothing wrong with me or whatever and—“ You interrupted yourself.

“And what?”

You shook your head. You didn’t want to put it out there and manifest it or something.

“There’s nothing wrong with you, but it’s normal to feel bad sometimes.” He turned the TV off, shuffling on the bed to face you properly. “Look, I get insecure every time you hang out with your tall coworker, but you come home to me, so who cares?”

“Yeah, but come on! You fit in my clothes but I don’t fit in yours, it’s...”

“Cute?”

You glared at him.

“I think it’s cute,” he assured you. “Besides, you smell better than I do.”

“I like the way you smell.”

“You can wear other things I own. A scarf? I think you’d look beautiful in my yellow scarf.”

“That’s a nice scarf,” you conceded.

He wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “We can also wear matching jackets or something if you want.”

“You hate it when people wear matching clothes.”

“Maybe it’s time we become an obnoxious couple.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. Resting your head on his shoulder, you told him, “I think we’re already obnoxious.”

“How dare you?” he feigned offense. “We’re perfect, baby.”

“Whatever you say.”

He wiggled his shoulder so you’d lift your head.

You did so and gazed at him. “What?”

“Give me a kiss.”

You gave his lips a peck. Stiles frowned and reached over to take you by the face. He brought you onto him and captured your lips with his.

Kissing him back, you shifted so you wouldn’t hurt him or yourself. Stiles prodded your mouth open and deepened the kiss, holding you tight.

Once you parted, you rested your forehead on his. He smiled at you. “You know I love you, right? Like a lot?”

“I know.” You inhaled and exhaled softly. “I love you too. So much.”

“Mmhmm. I like hearing it.”

It was your time to smile.

As the day came to an end, the room got darker and although you didn’t know what time it was exactly, you knew many hours had passed since you left your friends.

“I should probably text Lydia and Allison...”

“Yeah, you should.” Stiles allowed you to move as he sat up. “Can I choose what we watch?”

You nodded before leaving the bed in search for your cellphone.

[starlitheaven]

𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 “𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩” 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮 𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨 (𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲) ♡

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x gn!reader

Note: This is how I'd see him being with someone in the canon setting. I'll probably write another one soon that’s more idealistic. There’s also vague spoilers at the very end, so watch out for the red text beforehand! This man is a menace and I love him.

 Obviously, Satoru would like someone who has a good sense of humor and can laugh along with him (and at others). Although, he also would like someone he can also tease/pick on, just to see you squirm. He really likes that and it crosses over into your sex life too.

So he’d get a bit excited if he was with someone who had a slight degradation kink, as well as a brat. He likes to be mean sometimes, and through sex seems like a good outlet. (maybe I’ll talk about how he’d also enjoy subbing one day) 

If you two are going to see each other past a hookup or single date, he’d prefer if you were also a jujutsu sorcerer. While things wouldn’t be official between you two, he wouldn’t want to be with someone he has to worry about, as bad as that sounds. It’s not that he wouldn’t want to protect you and make sure you’re safe, but he wouldn’t stop himself from thinking of you as a burden. Maybe there’s a nicer word, but his mind immediately thinks that. Here, you aren’t a sorcerer.

 Loves pet names. He enjoys giving them, as well as receiving, yet he doesn’t expect that from you. He says them very exuberantly too (“sorry to keep you waiting, honey!”, “baby, are you gonna finish that icecream?” “you gonna cry, bunny?”).

As for PDA, he likes to hold your hand or have his arm around your shoulders just to show you off! Sometimes you think that he’s the one that needs to be shown off, but he does enough of that himself. He’s kind of a menace, but you get used to it and think it’s cute. 

 He likes to sneak kisses when you least expect them. Just little pecks on your cheek, corner of your lips, mouth, behind your ear, at your temple, and your neck. If he’s being especially annoying or mean, he’ll snicker at your scowl or pout. Then he’ll grab the sides of your face with his thumb and index finger, squeeze your face to briefly laugh at your funny expression, and then pull you into a kiss. 

Like everything else, he’s a good kisser. Might go into detail in another post, but he likes to cradle the back of your head with one hand no matter what. He knows the back of your neck hurts after a while of tilting up to kiss him since he’s tall, so he tries to minimize that and give you support.

Satoru probably wouldn’t introduce you to his students himself, but they would notice that he’s gone more often and declines some dinner plans they try to make. Yuuji suggests that he probably has a girlfriend, Nobara outright shuts that down and says there’s no way someone would date that guy, and Megumi stays thoughtfully silent until he decides they need to follow Gojo-sensei. Satoru lets this happen, but makes his students think he doesn’t notice them following you two around.

The students out themselves when Nobara gets a closer look at you and shouts how you’re too good-looking for “a guy like that!”. 

It’s sweet to you to see how obviously comfortable these kids are with Satoru, despite being their teacher (this is how you find out he’s a teacher but he doesn’t elaborate). You take the interruption to your date in stride and offer to treat the kids to the restaurant you were both heading to, which makes Satoru like you more. He uncharacteristically stays mostly quiet through the rest of the day, only to see how you interact with the kids. He really likes it if you get along with them. 

He’s very flighty, so he’d like someone who is autonomous and isn’t expecting much from him. Just because he isn’t always available for you, doesn’t mean he wants you to be hurting from that. He’d ideally like you two to lead separate lives where you don’t depend on him much.

He wouldn’t like someone who was completely nice and kind, even if he thought it might do him some good. He likes bite, and a little bit of selfishness. 

If you’re going on any type of date involving food, he never minds choosing the restaurant if you can’t decide. No matter who chooses where you’ll go to eat, he looks up any dessert places nearby that he might want to try and take you to. Dessert is always a must. You come to appreciate it and becomes a necessity thanks to him.

 If you’re cheerful, that’s definitely what drew him to you. He likes to have fun and not to take things too seriously, as his life has already had too much of that. 

So if you’re someone who doesn’t take things too seriously and likes to have fun, he may eventually feel comfortable enough with you to try new things. He bluntly tells you he’s good at anything he tries, are you okay with that? You don’t believe him until you two go to karaoke after dinner and he somehow sounds better than the original artist. He gets drunk a little too quickly and even then he still sounds amazing. 

[spoilers from here on if you’re an anime only] Honestly though, no matter how well you two get along and how much he likes you, I can’t see him fully committing to you or looking at things long term. At least not for a long while, and he’d want you to know it may never happen. You correctly guess that there’s someone else. You’re not accusatory or even prying too much, you just genuinely state it. He really appreciates you and finds your honesty and sincerity to be endearing, so he vaguely tells you that there was someone. 

You already don’t ask for much from him, aside from his company and as much honesty as he can give. He really doesn’t think there’s any reason for you to know, but he wants someone else to see Suguru through his eyes. Someone outside the jujutsu world. He doesn’t tell you exactly what happened, just that he’s gone. So instead he tells you what kind of person Suguru was. How he had good principles he didn’t understand at the time, how he was funny, his equal, mischevious, strong, and had the right intentions. He ends this with a simple: 

“He was my one and only.” He doesn’t bother adding best friend like he did with Yuuta, as that doesn’t quite cut it. Suguru wasn’t just his best friend, he really was his one and only. His one and only everything.

He tells you that he knows that he’ll never love anyone like that again. He doesn’t want to commit all of himself to anyone that isn’t Suguru. 

Satoru actually apologizes to you, no smiles and no jokes. He doesn’t seem too upset, at least not the way you’d be in his situation. Just solemn. He’s really unlike anyone you’ve met before. 

It’s completely up to you if you’d stay with him.

it’s a good thing you met Yuuji and he got along well with you. After Shibuya, he does what he can in his situation to make sure the message gets to you that you won’t be hearing from Satoru for a while. From your hotel resort across the world, you hang up the phone and realize Satoru didn’t book a last minute flight and trip for you on Halloween morning just because, as he had said. You hope he’s okay.

[a-monsters-love]

Hit with a quirk that turns adults to children

Shoto Todoroki x Reader

Genre: massive fluff. angst if ya’ squint

Warnings: implications of abuse, little OOC Shoto but its cannon that he smiled more when he was a kid (the gif is a perfect example) 

A/N: FIC SWAP WITH @hxwks-gf​ ILY2 SWEETS - You’ll find her fic [here] 

(Y/N) = Your name

(E/C) = Eye color

(H/C) = Hair color

[Master List]

—————

“How could this happen?” Endeavor hissed at Aizawa.

Aizawa, who looks like he’s about to explode on the man in front of him, lets out a deep sigh. “As I said before, Shoto got hit with a civilians quirk. It should wear off in the next couple days.” Endeavor scowls at you as you cross your arms and deadpan at him, your frame standing protectively in front of a now child Shoto. Shoto’s been holding on to you desperately for the past few hours since the incident, only letting go once to get changed into the smallest gym uniform the school could provide.

You offered to hold him but he chose to take refuge in the back of your legs rather than face the situation. The two of you had been working together on a project for Aizawa when you ran into villains on the street, at some point Shoto had a run in with a civilian who accidentally turned him into a child with their quirk. The face of despair and unbridled childlike tears that welled up in his eyes will haunt you.

“I don’t have time for this.” Endeavor groans, he pulls out his phone and calls Fuyumi. She’s a school teacher she should be able to handle this, right? After about 20 minutes of light bickering on the phone, he comes back. Neither of his siblings can help and his mother is ‘sick’.

You look back at Shoto’s shaking frame and take a deep breath, “I’ll take him.” The two heroes look at you with raised eyebrows. “As Aizawa already knows, I have the next few days off for personal reasons. Which means I have plenty of time on my hands to take care of a kid.” You squeak through the tension in the air.

Aizawa sighs, “Are you going to be able to handle it though? With everything going on?”

You laugh softly and rub little Shoto’s head, “I’m great with kids, and I could use the company.” You smile sadly at your teacher, who only nods in response.

Endeavor huffs and kneels down to Shoto, who hides himself further in your knees. “Contact me if anything happens.” He says looking at you.

“Of course, sir.” You had your suspicions before about Shoto’s childhood, this only brought the situation to light. Never have you ever seen the calm and collected Shoto petrified enough to have him in tears. “I will be running by your family home to pick him up a few different pairs of clothing. We don’t know how long this will last.” You tell him, you don’t bother asking. You don’t care for his opinion, he just needs to leave.

He nods in agreement and provides you the address and a vague idea on where to look. After he does, you scoop up your quivering classmate and speed walk out the door. He freezes at first but instinctually wraps his arms around you and buries his embarrassed face in your neck.

He hasn’t said a word since the incident and you don’t know how much of the man you know is still in there. As much as the idea of your crush burying his face into your neck makes you blush, protecting him is your first priority.

You quickly make your way to the Todoroki residence, well, as quick as you could. Shoto quietly asked to be put down about half way there, you walked as quickly as his little legs could comfortably take him.

When you arrived you looked at the note Endeavor gave you once more, “Alright, so, your father said there’s should be a box in the attic with your old clothing.” You squatted down and smiled at him, a small embarrassed expression was still present on his face. “Do you want to look with me, Shoto?”

He glances at you with a blush, the two of you weren’t on a first name basis outside of fact that his Hero name is his first name. Honestly you couldn’t find it in your bones to call a little kid by his last name, it felt too weird. He nods shyly, “Yes…(Y-(Y/N)…” His voice was almost a whisper.

You giggled a bit and finger combed out a few ruffles in his hair, “Wonderful, because I have no idea where your attic is.” The comment earns you a stifled laugh from the boy and he pulls you along by the finger.

After pulling down the latter to the attic you send Shoto up first, following close behind. You both cough at the dust but quickly find the boxes, after he pulls out a few outfits you inspect them for signs of deterioration. When you find no problems you both leave the attic and head down to wash the old clothing.

Shoto freezes as he passes through a hallway, the color has run from his face. “(Y-(Y/N)..” His voice shook as he stared at a door, you walk up to him slowly and offer your arms for him.

He awkwardly steps into your embrace, “Lets wash these at my house.” You say quietly, rubbing his back.

When you get home you walk in and show him where to put his shoes, “I’m home.” You say loudly to the nearly empty home. A meow is heard from upstairs and you wait as your old cat walks down the stairs to greet you. “Hello Cali, I’m home. I brought a friend.” You pet the cat who wasted no time rubbing up on Shoto. “This is Shoto, he’s going to be with us for a few days.” You explain to the cat, who meows lazily in return.

You chuckle as Shoto shyly pets the cat, “I’ve never had any pets before...” He says quietly.

You hum a bit and head to your wash room, “Well, you’ll have plenty of time to experience having one while you’re with me.” You smile at him, he slowly follows you poking his head around doors and entryways.

“Where’s your family?” He asks, noticing the lack of life in your house.

You croon at the question, “It’s just me and Cali. It’s been like that for awhile.” That was all you could manage on the situation as you made sure his clothing was set in the washer.

Regret is visible on his young face and he brought his hands to his mouth, “O-oh..I’m sorry..” He murmured towards the floor.

A chuckle escapes you, how can he be so cute? He looks up in confusion at you, “You did nothing wrong Shoto, you don’t have to apologize. Why don’t you go explore while I clean up a bit?” He nods at you and runs off, you walk up stairs and open up your little brothers old room. You move to open up the window and start dusting off the contents of the room when you hear heavy little feet making their way up the stairs. “Find anything interesting?” You ask.

Turning you see him carrying Cali, his arms scooped under the cats front legs in a manner that makes the beast look long. “You have a piano.” He says, you can hear stifled interest in his voice. Your heart breaks at the fact that a 5 year old is stifling their emotions.

“I do indeed!” You chirp while putting new sheets on the bed. “Do you like pianos?”

You can almost see the gears moving in his head. “They sound pretty.” He finally says, releasing the cat.

You chuckle as you finish cleaning up. “They do, my mom taught me to play when I was your age. She told me that music is the window to ones soul.”

It’ll be nice having him around, you think seeing him look at you in awe. “You can play it?” He asks, excitement can be heard in his voice for the first time.

“I can, I just had it tuned too.” You smile widely at him, glad his wall is coming down. “But first, we must bathe!” You scoop him up and tickle his stomach, “I think we’re both pretty stinky.”

He giggles from being tickled and then blushes at the idea of bathing with you. “Together?” He mumbles, you blush a bit at the comment.

“I-If you would prefer me being there, I su-suppose we could figure something out.” You stammer.

He doesn’t say anything as you walk to the bathroom and start filling up the bath when he pulls on your shirt, you look back at him and squat down. You tilt your head to the side, waiting for him to choose his words. “Stay?” He asks.

You smile, “Of course. Let me go grab a few things and we’ll get in.” You rush to your room and change into a bathing suit, grabbing your brothers old swim suit from his dresser. You hear a loud splash as you walk back, you see Shoto wet in his clothing from the trying to turn off the water. “Someone’s excited.” You tease.

He looks at you with a distressed pouting face, “N-No I-.” He stutters as you move to turn off the water. “I was trying to do that..”

You laugh and offer him the shorts, as he changes you move to grab a few bath soaps and bubble bath. “I appreciate all your help, Shoto.” You say walking back, helping him into the tub. Both of you let out a small sigh as you sink into the hot water, causing small chuckles between you.

You scrub off some of the slime from the day and start pouring bubble soap into the bath. “What’s that stuff?” He asks.

“Oh-Ho. Bubbles of course.” You wink at him and quickly mix the soap to create bubbles. He helps you make bubbles, he giggles a bit at the action and then blushes.

Shoto doesn’t understand what’s come over him, his mind is still all there but he has so much less control over his emotions, let alone his behavior. He hasn’t meant to say half the stuff he has since the accident. He watches you happily go along with his childish antics as if the whole situation were normal. You smile at him when you catch him staring and scoop bubbles onto his head. “H-Hey!” He whines, pushing bubbles at you.

You laugh as he falls into you, the tub is smaller than you’d like but you’re content with space you have. “Careful there.” You scoop him up, you find his eyes wandering along the deep scars all over your body. You reached for the sponge, “Let’s get you cleaned up.” You say softly.

Without realizing it Shoto found himself sitting on your thighs, tracing the scars on your shoulder with his fingers. He jumped back when he felt the soapy sponge touch his arm. “I can do it!” He said louder than he meant.

You hand him the sponge and grab another to scrub yourself. You get out of the tub to rinse off and wash your hair before he’s done. “Come here when you’re done, I want to wash your hair.” You say, he just nods with a bright blush.

He gets out by the time you start putting conditioner in your hair. “I can wash my own hair..” He mumbles, awkwardly sitting in front of you.

“I know you can, but I want to.” You say quietly, this whole situation is like a fever dream for you. Getting to wash your crushes hair and satiating the hole that was left without your family? Win-win (Y/N). “I like doing these things.” You say as you put shampoo in his hair.

“Why?” He asks plainly.

You hum as you massage his scalp, a small sigh leaves him from the feeling. “I like spoiling people I care about.” You blush a bit at the statement, blaming the steam for the heat in your face.

“Y-you care about me?” The question broke your heart.

“Of course I do, I wouldn’t have brought you to my family home or shared a bath with you if I didn’t.” A smile can be heard in your words, he doesn’t say anything.

He sat with his thoughts as you rinsed his hair of shampoo and started applying conditioner. The ‘shared a bath’ comment running through his mind, partially clarifying the fluttering in his chest when he’s around you. Maybe I can ask these questions since she thinks I’m a kid mentally.  he thinks, “Hey, (Y/N)?” You hum in response. “What does it mean when your belly flops around?”

“Hmm, in the literal sense or do you mean when you feel like you have butterflies in your stomach?” You ask, focusing more on detangling his unfairly soft hair.

“Like butterflies.” He murmurs.

“Well, it can indicate excitement, anticipation, nervousness but often times it‘s a sign of love-“ Your breath hitches in your throat are the last word, a deep blush taking over your face. You make a feeble attempt to finish your work.

You were so focused on trying to hide you embarrassment you didn’t see Shoto’s reddening face. He stood up quickly and grabbed the shower head from the floor. “I’ll r-rinse your hair.” He says, giving you no time to argue as he walked around you and started the rinsing the conditioner out of your hair.

Both of you felt like your heads were going to pop, while the feeling of his little hands in your hair provoked giggles from you. You reached back and helped him, he struggled getting out knots from your hair and elected to leave them for you to sort out. His small frame doing him no justice as his hands traced the scars on your back but froze. “It’s okay.” You said softly, letting his childishly addled mind explore. You imagined if you had children they’d would do the same thing. “Let me rinse your hair when you’re done studying.” You tease. The comment pulled him from his wonder and he sat in front of you.

After the bath you both changed into pajamas. He lets you blow dry and brush his hair and followed you around like a ducking into the kitchen. “Can I help?” He asks on his toes at the counter, watching you pull out food for prep.

“Of course, pull up a chair.” You respond pointing at the kitchen table and he does just that. He pulls up a chair and you have him washing vegetables while you prepare a pan to cook in and start the rice cooker. “How does Oyakodon sound?” You ask looking through your fridge.

“I don’t mind as long as you make it.” His tone was soft, he didn’t dare to look at you in his own embarrassment. I didn’t mean to say that, he thinks.

You smile widely and pat his head gently, “You are too sweet, ya’ know that?” You giggle softly. “I’ll get you to decide on what you want tomorrow.”

He smiles lightly as you take the vegetables from him. He pushes the chair closer to the stove to watch you cook and watches how delicately but precise each movement you make is. He knows a little about cooking but he can’t understand how you quickly made a dish that seems so complicated.

He drags the chair back to the table when you start serving the dinner, he sits down excitedly as you bring out his plate. A happy noise escapes him as he starts to eat. You smile softly at his childish behaviors, “You’ll be a good mom.” He says with after chewing.

You chuckle and pull rice off his cheek, eating it yourself. “Maybe, I’ll need to find a husband first, and I’m pretty sure boys are terrified of me.” You recall interactions with other students after the sports festival, the girls were all excited but the boys seemed to shy away.

“You’re not scary!” He says almost dropping his spoon, you laugh and roll your eyes. “You’re not! You’re so nice and helpful and smart and-and pretty!” He felt like the room was spinning as he spat out how he felt, why did I say that?! He scolded himself internally, looking down. “If I could eat your food all the time I’d be your husband.” His words were so quiet you almost didn’t hear him, but you did.

You felt like your heart could jump out of your chest, my crush just said he’d be my husband! HOW DO I RESPOND TO THAT?? You tried to keep your face passive, coughing slightly to hide the quandary you’re in. “Maybe when you’re older.” An awkward giggle escapes you, “You’d have to be my boyfriend first though.”

His face was red but he nodded and scooped the last of his food into his mouth. “Okay.” He said with food in his mouth, “I’ll be (Y/N)’s boyfriend.” He continued, more to himself than you, nodding as if he just came to an agreement. You nearly choke on your drink before you both chuckle awkwardly, “Are you gonna play a song on the piano?” He asks as you take the dishes and wash them, letting him help store the left overs.

“I can, what kind of song?” You hum.

Shoto pauses and thinks about it, he doesn’t say anything until you walk up to the standing piano. “Something for me?” His voice was almost a squeak.

You turn and look at him, he’s looking down and fiddling with the hem of his shirt. Maybe a song that reminds me of him? That’s not too tough, you hum and pat the space next to you on the piano bench. “I think I’ve got one.” You scoop him into your lap, giggling as he makes a feeble attempt to escape. “I don’t want to elbow you on accident.” When he stops wiggling around and you start playing the song, singing out the lyrics quietly as he watched your finger fly delicately across the keys. The harsher notes surprise him, but he glances at you with a slack jaw. Your eyes half lidded followed your hands across the keys, a small smile curled at your lips.

“You can do everything.” He gasps, earning himself a bashful blushing smile from you.

“Why don’t we watch a movie?” He nods happily at your suggestion.

He ended up sitting curled into you, under a blanket, you made herbal tea and put on some movie he chose. While finishing his drink it didn’t take long to get tired, he rubbed his eyes incessantly. “I’ll lay down after the movie.” He yawned a soft plea, you can’t imagine how tired his young body must be. Even as an adult, the day you had was a bit much.

He fell asleep not long after, you scooped him up and laid him down in your brothers old room. You left his door open after tucking him in and walked into your own room. You plopped on top of the blankets and dozed off quickly.

You woke up a few hours later to the soft sounds of crying, stifled and buried noises. You quickly got out of bed and walked over to the source, “Shoto? What’s wrong?” You asked softly.

He made an awkward grunt while wiping his face in the pillow, “Nothing, bad dream. I-I’m okay.” He pleas, but his childish form betrays him. “I’m sorry for waking you..”

“Well, you don’t look ‘okay’ to me.” You tease a bit, “Come here.” He instinctually follows you back to your room, you sit him on your much softer bed and wipe his face. “It’s okay to not be okay, Shoto.” You pat his scarred cheek, thumbing at stray tears before crawling into bed behind him. “Come lay down, take advantage of being little.” You say, you’re clearly still half asleep as you lift you arm for him to choose to lay with you or not.

It doesn’t take long for him to crawl into your bed, curling his sleepy small frame into your arms. The smell of you consumes his mind, calming him down. You pet his hair and rub shapes into his back until you both fall asleep.

——

“AH.” You woke to the sound of a surprised little Shoto, I thought that was a dream. He thought when he woke up wrapped in your arms and nuzzles into your chest.

You rubbed and picked at your eyes as he scooted away from you, glancing over at him. Oh yeah, “You sleep okay?” You’re far too tired to be embarrassed.

He watches you stretch out, your hair and clothing are disheveled. You’re glancing at him with half lidded bedroom eyes, your morning voice was softer and raspier than usual. A blush consumes him, I wish I was grown right now. He thinks, Wait…What? “Ah, y-yeah actually.” He rubbed his own eyes, “I slept good.” Better than he had in a long time.

You smile and sit up, quickly getting out of bed. “Good, why don’t you go get dressed and we’ll start breakfast.” You wink and smile at him as you head to the bathroom. He just stares at the door for a moment before rushing to the other room.

Shoto follows you down the stairs after you’re both dressed, noting you’re semi-casual clothing. “I have one thing I have to do today.” You tell him, “After that we’ll be free to do whatever you want.” You start reheating rice and cooking meat for breakfast, along with prepping food for lunch.

“You’re cooking a lot of food.” He comments from over the bar.

A soft smile graces your face, “We’re going to see my family today.” He notes the mild sadness in your face but doesn’t push.

“What are they like?” He asks walking around the counter to enter the kitchen.

“Oh they’re wonderful, my mom is very goofy. She loves music and weird philosophy that I still don’t understand.” You laugh talking about her, “My dad was a loud man, he’s soft and loved when he could take care of me and my brother. My brother on the other hand is a lot like the other boys in our class. A bit of a screw ball but he always means well.” Shoto quietly watches you talk passionate about your family, he smiles softly at the way you smile wide enough for dimples to show.

You set a plate down for him, you eat in the kitchen while you finish packing lunch. “You think they’ll like me?” He asks between bites.

You laugh, “They would have loved you.” Thoughts flash in Shoto’s head, she’s introducing me to her parents? He’s enamored with the idea but his current situation makes it very strange.

He loses himself in thought, not noticing you packing incense into your picnic basket. You feed Cali and start cleaning up, check the weather, and take your time cleaning up. You make a glass of fruit tea for Shoto, who’s watching cartoons. You watch him blow on it and take a careful sip when his face lights up, “This is yummy.” He smiles shyly.

“I’m glad, it was my favorite when I was your age.” You chuckle.

“What’s your favorite now?”

You hum at the question, “I haven’t met a tea I didn’t like. I’m not sure.” You stared blankly at the TV in consideration, it’s been a long time since you’ve been unsure of something so simple.

A couple hours pass before you leave for your picnic. Shoto wishes he could help you carry the basket and blanket, he fails to notice where you’re both headed until you stop. You pull out a key card and open the gate to a cemetery for Heroes, he looks up at you in concern but you smile softly back at him and pat his hair. When you finally stop you set up a blanket in front of a decorated family head stone, he just stares at you in surprise. He goes to say something when someone else calls your name. “Miss (Y/N)!” You look over and see an older man. “Is it the anniversary already?”

You wave as he walks up, “Takahashi! Good to see you old timer. It is, I can’t believe you still work here.”

He laughs loudly, “Your parents saved my life so of course I do! Who’s the tyke?” He asks peering around you.

Shoto bows politely, “I’m Shoto! Who are you?”

You both chuckle, “Polite young thing,” He says to you. “I’m Takahashi Jin, grounds keeper of this ‘er cemetery.” He smiles to Shoto, “You two enjoy your lunch, don’t get into trouble like last time missy!” He teases and turns to leave.

“Me? Trouble? Never. Not even once.” You snort, winking at Shoto who chuckles. You both chuckle further when you hear the old man huff.

Shoto lights the incense and both give your prayers before you open up lunch. Neither of you pay any mind to the strange looks you get as time goes on. Shoto doesn’t understand your happiness as you sit in a cemetery eating lunch with a classmate, you’re alone in this world. His heart aches but he’s glad you seem okay. The old man from earlier stop by again and hands you a few flyers, “You think we should go?” You ask Takahashi with knitted brows. He nods, sending an empathetic smile. You shrug and hand the papers to Shoto.

“A festival?” He looks at you wide eyed, “Can we go?”

“If you want to, then absolutely.”

“I’ve never been to one,” He whispers to himself behind the paper.

——

When you return to the house you drop the basket off on the counter and run upstairs. Shoto follows behind but waits as you head into a room he hasn’t seen yet, “Shoto, come here.” You call, he walks in hesitantly and looks around. “Face the door for a moment.” He does, only glancing over as he realizes your measuring him. “Yeah, this should fit.” Your voice was excited.

He turns to see you have a set of matching yukata’s, a larger white one with red geometric flowers on it, the smaller one was white with fine red and black lines running across it. “We’ll match?” He asks, these types of things were never something his father allowed.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” You poke at him, “Let’s get changed. It’s a bit of a ways away.”

You got him changed first, making sure the Geta sandals fit him. Once he’s sorted you make your way to your room, of course putting on a yukata alone isn’t easy, you groaned internally. It took you longer than you would’ve like to get ready, the outfit then the hair, natural makeup, the whole nine. You grabbed a small shoulder bag and your shoes as you finished.

You stared at the hair stick before grabbing it and walking down the stairs. “Shoto, can you help me with something?” You heard him run over before you saw him, he blushed and gasped at you.

“You look so pretty.” He whispered, cupping his mouth in embarrassment.

You hand him the hair pin and kneel down, “Can you put this in for me?” He looks at the hair stick and then at your hair, his expression softens as you allow him to put it where he likes. “My hero, thank you.” He blushes at the comment but doesn’t say anything. You offer him your hand to hold, he grabs your pinky and ring finger and the two of you set off.

—

“Wow.” He gasps, the streets are lines with lanterns as stalls, you hold his hand and let him pull you to everything that grabs his attention. You buy snacks as you go, you show him and a few other kids your goldfish catching skills and ended up giving all the fish away. You wouldn’t be able to take care of them anyway, the two of you stop by a mask stall. He stares at them in curiosity, the person running the stall explains them and lets him try on a few.

You look at your phone for the time and lift him up, “Look up.” You tell him, as he does fireworks go off. It’s the first time you’ve seen pure childish glee on his face since the incident, if ever. Everyone stares at the fireworks calmly as they go.

When they finish you walk over to a food stand, “Soba!” He cheers, you laugh and order him a bowl. You quickly find a bench to sit at and eat, “Did you know I like soba a lot?” He asked innocently.

“Yes I did, I thought you’d like to have some at your first street festival.”

He watches you eat Takoyaki with a content smile, he didn’t realize you heard that comment. “How long is this going on for?”

You hummed as you finished chewing, “3 more days, I think.” You wipe your mouth, “Did you want to come back?”

He chuckles softly, “Maybe when I’m older.” You smile at him, not quite sure what’s on his mind. “Is this a date?” His question caused you to almost choke on your food.

You looked away as you regained your composure, “I s-suppose i-it is.” You stammer out, your cheeks dust with blush and you’re grateful for the dim lighting. When you glance back at him you see a soft smile on his face, what on earth is going through his mind?

After another hour of playing around you both head back to your home, “Thank you.” He says, squeezing your fingers.

Squeezing his little hand back you hum, “What for?”

“Everything.” His voice was small but content.

You pat his hair with your free hand, “It was my pleasure, Shoto.” You watch the stars as you walk, “Thank you for meeting my family, it’s lonely to go by myself.” You sigh softly.

He glances up at you, “You’re welcome. I don’t want you to be lonely.” You look down at him, a sad smile graces your face. “I’m here for you since you’re gonna be my wife.” His hand quickly covers his mouth at the comment but you can see the smile he’s hiding.

The single comment broke the sadness on your face, causing you to laugh. “That’s a good reason.” You snicker as you make it back to your house.

“We’re home.” You say to the mostly empty house. “Let’s get changed and off to bed.” He nods and follows you up the stairs.

He falls asleep quickly as you tuck him into bed, when you’re sure he’s asleep you press a soft kiss to his forehead and head to bed yourself.

Shoto wasn’t completely asleep when you left a soft kiss on his skin. A smile grew on his face as he got comfortable, you curled into bed quickly dozing off yourself.

You were stirred in the middle of the night by heavy weight of a body curling into your chest and neck. You didn’t bother opening your eyes as you sleepily remembered your guest, you lazily wrapped your arms around him and found his head of hair with you hand to pet as you drifted. “Sleep well, Shoto.” You mumbled as you started to doze back off.

Shoto, now fully grown, had made quick and delicate work of wrapping himself into you. A soft happy noise escaped you as you got comfortable, “I think I love you, (Y/N).” He said softly into your chest, assuming you were asleep.

You hum sleepily and squeeze him a bit, “I think I love you too Sho…” Your voice trailed off indicating your sleep, Shoto squeezes you back as a small happy smile crept up his face.

As much as being turned into a child could have been an absolute nightmare of a situation, he was happy to have had this time with you. He never understood why he was so drawn to you but after all this he seemed to understand more. He never thought being a kid again would have its advantages. He never thought you’d let him so deep into your personal life, between meeting your family, cooking for him and taking him to his first festival. All he wanted to do was stay in your life like this, now he was certain he actually could.