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cloversnstrawberries · 3 months ago

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“safespace” platonic!yandere!og michael myers & gn!bullied!teen!reader [oneshot] ! !

masterlist !

description; For a while now, you've been using the old Myer's house as a home base of sorts; previously, your bullies had never dared to rush in after you, too afraid of the history of the house. That changed one fateful Halloween night, and unknowingly, you'd just sealed yourself into a fate different from death, but not much better.

The Haddonfield Boogeyman has taken a liking to you, and that's not something you can easily retreat from once it happens. Not safely, for that matter.

additional notes; this is. extremely long and I managed to write it within two days. help. i hope you enjoy it, because it was actually really fun to write. it might be in a bit of a different style than normal, because i've been reading. so much junji ito & gothic lit and i don't know if that affects anything.

warnings; bullying, possessive behavior, overprotectiveness, Michael being unsettling, discussions of past murder (judith primarily), violence, blood & gore, murder/murder of teens (reader's bullies), slight/implied neglect (reader's parents are very lax), soft michael (as soft as he can get), kidnapping/imprisonment, and if there's any I missed, please let me know!! i do believe this is the most intense (?) one i've posted so far?? mayhaps?

w/c; 10.2k (OH SWEET MOTHER OF PEARL!)

It’s silly, stupid, some would say-- and you know it is. You know it’s not a good idea to set up shop in the old Myer’s house, and that it was, realistically, the least safe place you could camp out at in Haddonfield,

Structurally speaking, considering how long it’s sat vacant and unattended for the most part. The story and tragedy surrounding it kept squatters away, but it was surprisingly easy to sneak into.

For you, it was one of the safest places possible-- because everyone knows about how unsafe it was. An oxymoron in a way, that you claimed this old rickety house as your safe space because you know it’s dangerous.

Because your tormentors know it’s unsafe, so they’ll leave you be for the most part-- once you’re inside the house that should’ve been torn down ages ago.

It’s a nice house, but you’re sure someone will roll up to a city council meeting and propose tearing down the place. No one’s going to buy it, no amount of polishing the hardwood floors and replacing the peeling wallpaper is going to change that.

The Myer’s house could be renovated into the most gorgeous, affordable home for a good sized family-- and still, no one would buy it.

Judith Myer’s blood, spilt by her own little brother one normal Halloween night, was like a curse laid on the house. Even you have to admit, there’s a strangely foreboding, suffocating atmosphere about it that doesn’t suit how… plain it otherwise appears.

For a few years now, you’ve had your claim staked on this house. Over those few years, you’ve gotten used to that atmosphere. It even began to feel comforting, at some point-- like a hug, kind of.

Your bullies know you’re in here, but they can’t bring themselves to enter it and drag you out. Sometimes they’ll wait outside for you, but don’t take into consideration is that you’ve supplied yourself with enough snacks and various forms of entertainment to be able to wait them out most times.

Cowards, the lot of them-- that’s all they ever were to you. A bunch of unruly, rich assholes that take their grievances out on you for lack of a different outlet,

More like you’re the most interesting outlet-- you’re sure their parents have enough money to get them another way, other than razzing and beating on you constantly-- but they don’t want it.

They like watching you cry, the sickos. But that’s not a sight they get to see too often; not since you’ve almost accidentally made the old Myer’s house into your own kind of fortress,

Guarded by a moat of bad energy and an awful story behind it. Judith still lingers, maybe not her ghost like most would think-- but she’s there.

One time, you walked into her room. It was almost pristine, kept nearly the same as the night she died, you think. The blood is gone, but the chair to her vanity is still knocked over.

You haven’t gone near that room since that one time-- spotting the rotting bag of melted taffy on her bedside table, her brush on the vanity top with golden hair still stuck in the bristles; an opened bottle of lip gloss, long dried up…

It made you sick like nothing before or after could, the knowledge that this was just a normal girl. A normal girl who expected to live another day, to eat the taffy by her bed, knowing she had to clean her hair out of her brush eventually--

She never even got to screw the cap back on her lip gloss, maybe her favorite one if you think about it. A part of you wanted to do it for her, to clean up her room a little for no real reason other than self-imposed obligation.

You’re taking up this space illegally, not quite a squatter, but still a consistent trespasser. The least you could do was clean it up for a family who’ll never come back.

But then, wouldn’t that be rude to mess with a deceased person’s belongings? You stepped out of the room, shutting the door as you clutched your stomach. In your mind, you barred off ever entering it again.

You’ve only had a peak in the little boy’s room-- Michael. Such an ordinary name, and an ordinary room to match. Hell, he could’ve been your little brother, it all appeared so average from the quick look-see you’d gotten.

As soon as you realized who’s room it was, you slammed the door and vowed to never open it again. You didn’t even go near it most times, if at all.

How can someone so normal-- a child so young, just snap like that? It made you sad, thinking about it.

Eventually, you knew it’d come to this, though. When your bullies’ need to torture you overrode the fear, and they followed you into your previously impenetrable fortress.

Your safe-space desecrated, the next time to ran in-- nothing too damaging to the actual house, but your books and magazines were torn. Snacks either eaten or crushed, and the little nest of pillows and blankets you brought from home was tossed around, dirty footprints all over.

“You’re such a coward,” the head boy spoke up, and you know his dad was a real estate agent, the one that oversaw the house, you think. That’s why there wasn’t any real damage to the place.

In your anger and grief, at your one good thing being wrecked like this; you spoke up. These kids-- no, you all weren’t kids anymore by most’s standards. Well into high school, and they were still messing with you for no good reason.

Tears welled in your eyes, not from sadness but from rage. You’d been chased in by two other kids, who were now behind you. Two kids were already inside along with the head boy,

You were surrounded, 5-to-1, and stood no chance. Not because you couldn’t fight physically, but because you knew the consequences of fighting back against these daddy’s money types.

They’ve broken bones before-- your bones, but if you so much as left a scratch on them, they ran to their parents and the repercussions were… dire.

You’d nearly been booted put of school before, because you left a tiny, already healing bruise of one of the girl’s arms after you shoved her down so you could flee.

“Look who’s saying that!” It’s not like you haven’t fought back with your words before, but it’d never been this up close as of late. You’d grown too comfortable, taunting the kids through the door as you did.

Poking a sleeping bear. You really wished this method could’ve lasted a bit longer, hopefully until after you finished high school and left Haddonfield; but beggars can’t be choosers.

You’re lucky it’s worked for this long anyways.

Before the kids could say anything, you started on a tirade. Letting out every little grievance you’ve had over the years-- they can’t let you have this one good thing.

They all get friends upon friends, secret admirers and good partners; they participate in school, they’re active in the community-- meanwhile you’ve been shunned for a good half of your life, resorting to hiding in an abandoned house while they were out living their best lives.

Once you were done, chest heaving up and down, did they say anything further. They mocked you, of course they did-- and when you asked “So what are you gonna do now, huh? Break a couple fingers? Strangle me? Kick me until I’m bruised all over--!”

They called you unoriginal, then grabbed ahold of you. They wrapped rope around your wrists and ankles-- then started dragging you upstairs.

No.

And they didn’t tell you their plan, but you were smart. You picked up on it, especially from how they were talking about the recent breakout from the nearby mental institution.

The institute currently home to none other than the Haddonfield Boogeyman himself, Michael Myers. Or, more accurately, no longer housing the man.

He was among the escaped, one of the few that hadn’t been rounded up after the transport bus crash-- it was October 31st.

You were doomed.

They dragged you to the little boys room, the atmosphere you’d become accustomed to suddenly cranked up to 11, choking you, clinging to the inside of your throat like cling-wrap. Making it hard to breathe, as they tossed you into Michael’s room,

And boy, did they really not want you to leave without their help. They tied you to the wooden poster of the bed, and you couldn’t help but cry.

Ghost stories about Judith staying behind were all fine and dandy, but the very much alive perpetrator being on the loose? The one who’s spent the past god-knows-how-long confined in a mental hospital, since he was a child?

That was a real threat, because it was to some extent predictable and unpredictable what he’d do next. There was no set guarantee that he’d stop by his childhood home, but there was a chance.

And the bullies knew it.

“Stop! Stop, I’m sorry--!” You hated groveling, but this was a real threat. This wasn’t funny-- it hadn’t been for a long time, but this time you can’t comprehend why they’d be laughing at all.

It’s not funny.

You could die. Even if it’s a slim chance of happening, there is a chance nonetheless. A chance greatly increased by Myer’s unpredicted ‘discharge’ from the hospital.

As always, they didn’t care. They were all giggles and smiles as they bid you farewell-- you heard another door open, then a scraping sound as something was set down in front of the door.

You’re sure it was Judith’s vanity chair, that they’d pressed under the door handle. Why? Why do they hate you so much-- there wasn’t even a promise of them returning, either.

Even if the Boogeyman doesn’t show up like you’re afraid of, they might just leave you here to rot with the house. No one would come looking for you, you don’t think-- unless they’re pointed in this direction by your bullies.

What an awful way to spend your Halloween night, huh? Not like you had much planned in the first place, but still.

This isn’t a position you wanted to be in right now. Or ever, thank you very much.

It got dark out a while ago. Inside here, somewhere, there's a clock that still works. Or maybe you’re already going crazy, imagining the ‘tick-tick-tick’ to try and make something for you to do.

Restrained as you are, it’s not like you can do much besides slump against the bed and wait it out. Hope your exhaustion from coming down after an adrenaline rush takes you out sooner or later, because it’s getting awfully boring.

Boredom overrode fear, maybe because you’re loopy from said exhaustion, but too high strung and uncomfortable, sitting on the hardwood floor with your wrists and ankles tied, to take a little nap as it is.

Throughout it all, you kept your eyes shut. Not because you particularly want to sleep, (though you do want to, if only to pass the time quicker) but because you’re trying to pretend you’re anywhere else but here, on this night, at this hour.

Your only other hope at being released right now was if some stupid kid got dared to come in here, like they did every Halloween. But the outlook wasn’t too good, considering the different framing the Myer’s house had with Michael’s recent escape still fresh on everyone’s minds.

Distantly, you can hear kids laughing, screaming, playing around-- all in good fun. You ache, sad that the experience of it had been cut short for you. For years now, you’ve stayed inside as much as possible.

Even on Halloween, and it hurt. Childhood cut short because some rich kids decided to make you their stress toy, punching bag, and scapegoat all in one.

When you hear a creak downstairs, you fight with yourself not to open your eyes. It’ll be pitch black anyways, your reason with yourself. It’ll only make you panic even more.

It was futile, trying to convince yourself that it was just the house settling. For hours, all you’ve been able to hear for the most part was the house settling.

This was different.

Someone was downstairs-- no joking, no yelling at their friends, no egging each other on; and it wasn’t a cop either, because they’d be shouting by now, telling anyone in here to get the hell out before you’re arrested.

It was uncanny, how quiet this person was-- both literally and with their movement. You first heard them faintly, on an especially creaky board near the front door. Then nothing-- until you heard them on the 3rd step, the one that’s about to cave at any moment from termite damage.

A primal kind of terror curled deep in your gut, the hair on the back of your neck stood straight up; silence again, until you think the person stopped moving.

Straining your ears, you heard a semi-familiar scraping noise. Whoever it was, was standing in front of this room, and was planning on entering it.

Your eyes flung open, desperately blinking as you tried to force your vision to adjust to the darkness. Surprisingly, the room was a lot lighter than you’d think it be.

No doubt aided by the moth-ravaged curtains serving as the only barrier(s) between the moonlight shining in through the windows.

When the door opened, your heart soared for a moment-- someone wearing work-boots and a mechanic’s jumpsuit. An adult, a scarily quiet adult, but hopefully a responsible one.

All hope was dashed when you looked up at your savior-- and saw a sun-bleached, cheap Captain Kirk Halloween mask staring back at you. Something glinted off the moonlight, you looked down and sure enough; he was clutching a large kitchen knife.

Maybe it was an impersonator, or not Michael at all-- But something made you doubt both ideas. The kitchen knife was a big giveaway, not the plastic kind with fake blood, or a retractable prop one.

It was real, as real as your terror-- was this a hallucination? That thought soothed you more than it should have. Or maybe a dream-- and that’s what made you work up enough courage to speak,

“…Hello.” Voice croaky and trembling, it took away from the casual aspect of the greeting. Trying your best not to look at the knife, or the unsettling mask, you took to staring at the person’s boots.

They looked bloody, drying and tacky-- and you did your best to ignore that for right now. The floor was interesting. Yeah, you opted for looking at the floor instead as you continued, introducing yourself with a shaky voice.

The person didn’t answer you, but they didn’t attack you either. You looked back up at their mask and-- wow, you must look pathetic, you realize now. Eye’s puffy and red from crying, lips chapped and bitten to hell and back, your voice nasally from your stuffed nose.

After a couple minutes of agonizing silence, the person started to move forward-- slow, almost placatingly so, like they were dealing with a startled animal.

You think that’s a very apt comparison, right now. As you jerk away, uncaring as the wooden post dug into your spine-- glancing at the person’s knife, you tried to swallow past a lump in your throat “Don’t hurt me-- please. I-I don’t have much to say, uhm, other than that.”

In all honesty, you don’t think you’re that important of a person-- in everyone else’s eyes, that is. You won’t be missed by a good majority of Haddonfield, and that’s what makes you want to live this through.

For a moment, the person stopped dead in their tracks-- and slowly shook their head. That could be interrupted one of two ways,

One, they have agreed to not hurt you. They shook their head as in ‘okay, i won’t hurt you’, or the more likely option in your mind-- considering they still held onto the knife-- they were disagreeing with your plea.

When they went to move again, you jerked back again. It didn’t do much, and wouldn’t do much unless you suddenly gained the ability to fuse with objects, that is.

The person stopped dead in their tracks again-- even taking a few steps back, and shook their head again. You piped up, despite the way your heart pounded and blood rushed in your ears.

“I-I don’t know what you mean. By that-- the shaking your head.” Almost as an afterthought, you tacked on “I’m sorry.”

Make no mistake, it was a genuine apology. Originally brought on by fear, yes, but you did regret not understanding them nonetheless.

When they started moving again, they were slower. You would’ve felt insulted, being treated like a wild animal ready to bolt-- if this had been a normal situation.

Right now, though? You appreciate how careful they seem to be, as they make their way to the little desk pushed up near the head of the bed.

The placement of the furniture in this room was odd, in your humble opinion-- the desk was where a nightstand would be, but what you assume to have been the nightstand was pushed under a window on the far side from the bed.

Then again, you can’t really expect interior decorating to be the specialty of the homicidal 6 year old that once lived here.

Reaching into the second drawer down, the person pulled out a little journal-- and crouched down to grab a pencil off the ground, before standing back up.

they’re too comfortable here, you anxiously realized. Almost like they’d put that stuff there-- but this can’t be Myers. If or was, wouldn’t he be hacking at you with his knife by now?

The stranger (which you’re hoping and praying isn’t who you think it is) set their knife down on the desk, much to your surprise. You don’t want to touch on why it surprised you, not right now, anyway.

Again, the person moved slowly, this time without the knife-- which let you relax enough to stop trying to actively fuse with the wooden bed frame. For now, at least-- who knows what the near future may hold, maybe you’ll succeed in it.

Weirder things have happened, and weirder things are happening right now-- as the stranger plops down on the floor, just a few feet away from where you sat restrained.

You couldn’t help but smile, as they sat criss-cross applesauce-- half delirious and sleep-deprived, yes, but a smile nonetheless.

Flipping to a page, that was random to you, hut didn’t seem to be to the person, they put the pencil to the paper and started writing something.

Refraining from trying to discern what it is they’re writing. you waited patiently until they stopped and turned the pad to face you,

Heart sinking to the bottom of your stomach, you read the words (god he presses hard with that pencil, even left dents in the paper from what you can tell) written on the pad.

“I won’t hurt you. It’s too easy.”

Simultaneously relieving and distressing-- the confirmation that you won’t be hurt (for now, you’re choosing to believe this person), but the ‘reassurance’ that it’s because you were too big of a target. Too obvious of a target,

If only your bullies had taken that sentiment to heart, too. Then you wouldn’t be here in the first place.

Curiosity outweighing your caution, you ask “What’s your name?”, despite being about… 85% sure you know who this is.

Turning the pad back around, he scribbles something else. When it’s facing you again, you can very clearly ready what name he’s written down.

“Michael”

You can tell yourself ‘It’s a common name!’ all you want, but that didn’t stomp out the feeling of dread as your suspicion was proven correct.

This was the one thing you’d hoped desperately to be wrong about. Guess life just hates you like that, huh?

You’d say it couldn’t get any worse-- but this is actually going pretty well, all things considered. You aren’t dead, and he’s actually communicating with you-- so that’s something, right?

“Is… was this your room?” For once, his answer was immediate-- he nodded. You suppose there was no reason to hide it, your face must be showing that you figured it out already.

It fell silent, and you didn’t know how to feel about that. Glancing around, you spotted an older edition of Clue sitting on a bookshelf nearby-- right on the top.

Looking back at the man-- Michael, the Michael Myers, which is a fact you’re trying not to dwell on too right right now-- you hazarded to say “Do you wanna, uh-- do you like board games?”

Tragically, he didn’t respond as quick this time. Leaving you to wallow in your own thoughts, wondering if you’d misstepped right into his steadily growing roster of victims.

a short, almost jerky nod, following by him abruptly standing made you jump. Hilariously, he seemed to jump as well; just a little twitch of his hands, but it was reaction nonetheless. You think that’s the closest you’re going to get to scaring a guy like him.

Then he headed to the bookshelf, and easily grabbed Clue from the top. He hadn’t always been this tall, obviously-- you spotted a step ladder, rusted and coated in dust like a majority of the room (and house as a whole) is;

It’s a cute thought, the idea that the kid this bedroom belonged to needed a step ladder to grab a boardgame. As you looked closer, you saw quite a few boardgames up there that you hadn’t noticed before,

The idea that Michael Myers was such a mundane kid, with an interest in board games-- liking them so much that he needed to have a step ladder of his own because he accessed them so much, was a jarring idea.

Another jarring idea-- or realization, more like, is that he must’ve been watching your line of sight very closely to immediately figure out that you were referring to the Clue game.

Before you could get pulled into a panic attack in full (you’ve narrowly been avoiding such a thing by pretending that this was some dream, and you had managed to fall asleep against the dusty children’s bed), Michael came back and sat down again,

This time, he was a little further away. He set the box down, and started opening it-- before you stumbled over your words, remembering that you were a little tied up right now.

“Do-- can you undo the rope around my wrists?” Slowly, ever so slowly, Michael’s head rose from where he’d been looking down to set up the game, black eyeholes eventually meeting your gaze.

Another nod, and he stood. Walking over to the desk, you realized your mistake in wording-- and as you feared, he picked up his knife again.

You’d said undo, not untie. It’s not a stretch to think that meant you have permission for him to cut the rope.

Let’s just hope he doesn’t catch any flesh while he does, yeah? When he walked back over, closer than he’d been this whole time, you valiantly fought back the urge to scream. To tremble, kick, try to fight--

Something about the way he crouched down by your side, still taller than you, with the knife gleaming made you feel vulnerable like never before. It made you feel exposed, flayed open and waiting to prepared into clean cuts of meat for packaging.

Michael was careful with it, his hold almost gentle on your arms, silently telling you hold still as he hooked the knife under the ropes and began to pull up.

Must’ve been a pretty damn sharp knife, or maybe some exceptionally cheap rope on your bullies’ parts, but either way, he got you free pretty easily.

Avoiding any sudden movement, testing the waters; you lowered your hands down to your lap. Michael stayed there a few seconds more, before quickly walking back to desk the drop the knife off on top.

When he came back, you’d already started sorting the cards-- which had gotten a little jumbled in the box. He set up the board, meanwhile.

Is it a very sad thing to say, that you felt more connected to this enigmatic, urban legend-esque serial killer (well, he killed one person definitely and a few other were suspected, but the knife didn’t paint a very good picture) than you did your classmates?

In part, that may be your fault. Alright, it may actually be mostly your fault-- but you were self-isolating for a reason.

You wouldn’t want any possible close friends to incur the wrath of your tormenters-- and become another victim, just for being near you.

Something tells you that Michael wouldn’t-- literally couldn’t-- succumb to that fate for obvious reasons. Maybe that’s why, as you two played a couple rounds of Clue before a cop came nosing around the place, you felt the safest you ever have.

And when the cop did show up, Michael was gone in an instant, almost like a ghost; but you knew better. He just had very quiet footsteps, the kind you would think impossible to achieve with his height and all.

You stayed in that room, waiting until you were sure Michael was gone to shout for help-- the cop came, and you hoped it gave Michael ample time to hide or run if need be.

And you didn’t rat on him-- to show your gratitude for him, y’know, not killing you. And being the closest thing to a friend you’ve both been allowed and allowed yourself to have as of late.

The cop walked you out-- but not before you noticed a little note folded on the accent table near the front door. “meet again?” it read, the pencil still lying next to it.

Taking a short detour, you quickly scrawled "yes :)" and while the smiley face was shaky at best, you hope he'd get the message. Besides, something tells you he'd understand that you were being rushed by the cop right now.

Because something also tells you that he's still here, watching-- you just don't know where. It's the way your skin crawls under the feeling of eyes on you, that tips you off.

When you leave the Myer's house this time around, you don't dread exiting it, some part of you afraid that your bullies had waited it out on the porch, or the yard. Maybe it's because you have a cop escorting you out this time,

Or maybe it's the lingering feeling of the Haddonfield Boogeyman himself keeping on eye on you. Presumably, of course.

The next time you visit the Myer's house, you aren't being chased in for once. If you were, there'd be no real reason to hide in here anyways. Your tormentors evolved, now being able to enter what you previously considered you safespace.

But you had to be sneaky regardless, as the country sheriff had been observed walking around the premise. Maybe to catch Michael, who was still on the loose as far as you knew, or to prevent foolhardy kids from entering the house on a dare.

That'd always been an issue, but before now the cops never cared to do much. The kids almost always psyched themselves out after taking a few steps into the house anyways, and there was hardly any vandalism to worry about.

Now, however, it was far more about keeping the kids themselves safe rather than the house. When you got there, the country sheriff was nowhere to be seen; there was a cop car in the driveway, but you recognized it as one of the ones used for false speed traps.

There was no one in there, and no cop in the house either. The car was enough to deter most, but you've been coming here for a while. They've done something like this before, especially around Halloween.

The difference came with the fact that it was November 3rd, and they usually did away with the deterrent by now. They have good reason, considering you know Michael Myer's is definitely in the house, or at least visiting regularly, but it's a little annoying.

Knowing they'll keep this up for a while longer, indefinitely, and you haven no way of telling if they suddenly decide to plant a cop inside the house to switch things up.

You entered through the back kitchen door, something you don't often do. Usually, when you enter this place, you don't care how you enter it-- just the closest possible entryway.

Which was usually the front door, or a window on the side that's easy to open from the outside. But this time, you get the luxury of picking where you get to enter from.

You brought a wrist watch with you, to monitor the time. Your parents never cared about how late you stayed out before,

But after a cop showed up at their door, you in tow, informing them that you'd been 'hanging out' in the old Myer's house (of course he left out the part where your ankles were bound), suddenly they had something to say about what time you returned home.

And maybe you'd think it was annoying, if you didn't know they had good reason for it. Honestly, you don't know what possessed you to come back here. To agree to meet up again, with a known murderer.

Years of isolation and ostracization at the hands of your peers and bullies alike must've corroded a part of your brain, is your theory. Your need for friendship and belonging was so big that you settled for meeting with a Boogeyman for social interaction.

A Boogeyman that was both parts legend and fact, because when you headed upstairs-- and was almost scared so bad you tumbled down the stairs, when you saw that sun-bleached mask staring back at you.

There was no way you could stifle the little shriek you let out when you felt a hand, large and warm and real-- wrap around your upper arm, your entire body going tense as you were pulled forward, and you could already imagine how it'd feel to have the blade of a kitchen knife lodged deep in your stomach and--

But no pain came, your eyes screwed shut out of terror, you didn't keep track of where he was taking you. In this blinding moment of fear, you forgot all about why you came here in the first place.

This was a bad idea, coming back here when you'd escaped last time by the skin of your teeth, and a few rounds of playing a murder mystery board game with a real mysterious murderer.

When you were pulled to a stop, static filling your ears as your heart pounded a mile a minute, you didn't open your eyes at first. Not until Michael let go of you, and your eyes promptly shot open.

It was only 5:12PM, so there was still some sun shining in through the motheaten curtains, but it wasn't much and you knew it wouldn't be staying for long. It casted long, eerie shadows into the room.

But nothing could compare to how to fell on Michael's mask, making it even more menacing than before. Who thought that a cheap reproduction of William Shatner's face was strike such fear in you?

He was just standing there, which you guess you can't fault him for. When he noticed you were looking at him, he pointed to the floor, near the foot of the bed. Where you'd been sitting last time.

Taking the hint, you quickly plopped down, this time unhindered by ropes restraining you. Funnily enough, you were subconsciously treating Michael as a dinosaur; a T-rex, to be specific.

You moved slowly, trying not to trigger his prey drive or whatever. Trying to make yourself seem as small and weak as you could, to try and keep up his sentiment of “I won’t hurt you. It’s too easy.”

Awkwardly clearing your throat, you tried to start a conversation as Michael walked over to the bookshelf again. "Uh-- so... how have you been?" Obviously, he doesn't respond.

Honestly, you don't know where you're going with this. You try to save yourself, by adding on "Have you been good?", and after a moment, you saw him nod from behind-- as he stood, facing the bookshelf.

He didn't reach up for any game, just slowly turned to face you; when you finally realized he was giving you room to choose, you panicked and squeaked out a little "Sorry--"

Comically, you'd forgotten that was a game-- and game he had, apparently, as he pulled away a few other games and got it out from the back. Task failed successfully, as your math teacher always said back in 7th grade.

When he came back over, you weren't any less high strung. He didn't seem to care-- maybe he didn't even notice-- and went about setting up the game. You busied yourself with reading the manual, having forgotten how to play it.

You weren't perfect with it, though. Sometimes you'd mess up, and it'd lead to Michael moving your piece back to where it'd been, or just pointing at the manual again; sitting innocently beside you on the floor, easy access.

Eventually, when you finished up the first game, only 34 minutes had passed. The sun was almost completely down, but something kept you rooted to your spot for a little longer. A few more rounds of Sorry, and you were well on your way to worrying your parents;

It was only 7:18PM now, but it was November. The sun was long set, and you were getting antsy to leave. After your fifth game concluded, you quickly blurted out "I have to go home."

You tried your best to catch Michael before he started setting up for another round, to minimize any irritation-- but it was obvious he'd been expecting to have another go at it.

Slowly, as everything he seemed to do was either methodically slow or terrifyingly quick with no in between yet to be seen, he lifted his head and stared at you point blank. His eyes hidden behind the mask, but that didn't mean there was any room for you to delude yourself into think he didn't have his full, undivided attention on you.

"My parents will be worried, they're already, uh, suspicious of how late I stay out." Michael doesn't move at all, staying still as a statue, just like you are. You don't make any move to get up, not until you get his express permission.

No matter how human he seems, playing board games so innocently with you-- the fact he was a cold-blooded killer never left your mind. There was no lead-up to his original snap, when he slaughtered his sister in the room just across the hall.

There's no reason to think you'd be an exception to that. One moment it could be fine, and the next you'll be bleeding out on the floor; it made you uneasy, for good reason.

Relief flooded you, a weight lifted from your shoulders as Michael nodded, the relief was pulled away when he stood and approached you-- but reinstated when he got close, just to extend a hand and offer to help you up, it seems.

Palm up, slow with his movements. Like he was dealing with an especially skittish dog. You felt like one, cornered as you were-- but you took his hand, and he was...

Well, it was like he tried to be gentle, but he didn't know how to be. He pulled roughly, but the way his grip faltered when you stumbled-- how he caught you with his other arm, almost desperate. Like he didn't know his own strength.

That terrified you more than the idea that he'd stab a knife through you. The idea that it was more likely for him to accidentally hurt you, how he was trying to restrain himself but it'd always end the same way.

In your panic, you didn't realize the way you'd grabbed onto him. Almost like a hug, one you pulled away from quickly. His arm lingered on your back, barring you from gaining any meaningful distance from him. Before you could think to panic some more, he let you go.

Grabbing onto your hand, he led you out of the room. Down the stairs, and to the living room. He didn't drop your hand once, even as he opened the door and pulled it open for you,

It was you, who wrestled away from the hold. You were on edge, freedom so close you could taste it-- the frigid midwestern wind blowing against your face had never felt so nice, a reprieve from the stifling presence that is Haddonfield's own personal Boogeyman.

Belatedly, you realized what he'd done. He walked you to the door, and he let you pull your hand from his grasp. if he didn't want you too, it'd be easy to not let it happen. His arm stayed where it was for a moment, before dropping heavily by his side.

You took a few small, miniscule steps; careful as you crossed the boundary between the inside of the house and the porch. Michael made no move to stop you,

A part of you wanted to run, a vestigial part of the human mind; buried, fear for something so closely human but so damningly not. Something that landed in the uncanny valley, when it should be human but something was off.

Michael Myer's was the only thing that's ever dredged up this forgotten kind of terror, something that was bigger than you'd ever be resided in him, you think. Deep down, though, you knew you two were similar. Similar enough for him to take mercy on you, for whatever reason.

Similar how? Well, you just don't know, but it's all you can think of as to why he's doing this. Why he not only let you go, but asked for your return-- not to cut a loose thread, but to play board games.

A few steps further, and you stood on the edge of the porch. When you turned around, seeing Michael standing in the doorway like it was normal; like either of you were normal, softened something in you.

Fear loosened it's hold on you, and in that moment, all you could do was smile and give a little wave, saying "I'll see you again?" He nodded, slow again. Smile growing wider, you let yourself giggle-- why? You don't know, you didn't find anything funny. It just felt right.

"Okay. I'll... see you later, I might get grounded for this, so it might be a while." You flashed a little thumbs up, before turning around and staring at the three short steps before you.

Feeling freer than you had in years, a bit of your childhood returned to you-- the childhood stolen by your bullies, you let yourself take a few steps back; gaining a running start, you hopped all three stairs.

Landing hard on the concrete, you wobbled a bit. Legs shaky from sitting for so long, but you didn't fall. If you had, you probably would've scraped your knees-- and the idea of it was freeing.

Being able to get hurt in such a meaningless way, getting hurt in a way kids should be getting hurt. Not coming home with broken ribs after school, before shutting yourself away in your room and seldom going outside, But coming home with a big smile, despite the shallow cuts on your legs.

When you turned around again, the door was closed-- but you saw a hint of movement from the window beside it, and sure enough, you saw the telltale white of Michael's mask.

You spared another wave, before you were off on your way.

5 months.

It's been roughly 5 months, since you started hanging around Michael. The feeling of guilt comes and goes on a whim, when you'd remember who this really was. A few more murders, some rich people from the nicer part of Haddonfield; the news attributed it to Michael Myers, which you couldn't argue with.

You could turn him in. You should turn him in, should've done it ages ago, you know-- but you can't bring yourself to do the right thing. It's wholly selfish, your want to keep him a well-hidden secret.

As sad as it was, he was your only friend. He didn't ask questions like your parents, questions that never lead anywhere-- it didn't matter if you told them the truth or not,

Whether or not you said "it was awful, the kids are still bullying me" or "it was okay" when they asked "how was school?", you always got the same kind of meaningless, cookie cutter response.

Sometimes it was more insulting, though, when you used to answer truthfully. Condescending, as your mom once again told you to "Think of what they're going through" and it irked you. She's the one who took the brunt of the bills, had to do the co-pay after you got a cast for your broken arm.

Those kids... they aren't bullying you because their life is bad. The worst they've gone through is their favorite perfume being out of stock, or their siblings got to have the TV remote the night prior.

Why should you give them that kind of consideration, when they obviously didn't spare you a second thought? You had a metal bat by your bed for a reason, walking everywhere with a small switchblade nestled in your coat pocket.

You never used it, but even Haddonfield could be dangerous-- there were three main sections of it, the Diamond District, a gated community for the ultra rich; the suburbs, and the closest to 'slums' as it got.

Where you lived, far from the white picket fences of the suburbs, and the glitzy modern exteriors of the Diamond District

But now, you practically live at the old Myer's house. Your bullies are still after you, but you always try to lose them before making it to the Myer's house. You hated them, but you didn't like the possibility of Michael going berserk on them.

He's probably snap at you too, and you wouldn't know how to cope with it-- for the remaining few minutes of your life, that your only friend would turn on you on a dime. Even though you knew it from the get, that this was dangerous. This agreement.

Sometimes you slept over, and you'd tell your parents that you finally made a friend. They wanted to meet them, but you'd just say they're shy, or something along those lines.

It was on accident, the first time you did it. It was in the dead of winter, bundled up in your outerwear while in the house. It was cold, and Michael was kind enough to wrap a few blankets around you.

And you kept delaying leaving, as cold as it was in the old Myer's house, you knew it'd be worse outside. You ended up falling asleep, waking up when the sun began to rise.

Michael came in, and handed you a granola bar. You don't know how he sourced it-- sourced snacks he'd give you, but you never thought to ask. You wanted to, but you never actually considered prying.

You scarfed it, before saying your gratitudes, goodbyes, and rushing out the door-- your parents were surprisingly lax with it. Under the false pretense that you'd been safe and sound in a warm house, with your friend from school.

Besides, everyone assumed that Myer's had moved on back then. There was this 3 month gap between his killings, and even when that broke, they were sparse enough that your parent's still didn't care much.

It was early April, and it was getting nice out again. You've managed to avoid your bullies trailing you as of late, by... just letting them whatever at school. It's not like they want to brave the cold weather anyways, so you knew sooner or later they'd start harassing you outside of school again.

Even if you let them hurt you at school, do whatever they please-- it still won't be enough. It'll never be enough, nothing will for people like them. You just can't wait to graduate and get the hell out of dodge.

The past few weeks, they've been trying to follow you. Every time they did, you managed to lose them; probably because they weren't too intent on it yet. They liked toying with you, but didn't care enough to keep following after a certain amount of times.

As a diversion, you've been sitting around the park a lot, in a little grotto near the playground no one plays on anymore. It's wooden, rotted, and should've been torn down ages ago-- the swings are still functional though, if a little squeaky.

It wasn't a stretch to assume you'd succeeded in tricking them; that they assumed this was your new home base. Again, no matter how much you hated them, you didn't want them dead.

And you definitely didn't want to be the one responsible for leading them to their death; to the murderer you deemed a friend, your only one. It was a moral dilemma. Michael was still a killer, and you should turn him in--

But you don't. Again, it was selfish, but he wasn't... doing that much harm right now. Just a few people, rich people who you have no connection to. It makes you sick, the fact you, by default, don't care that much.

You care, you care when you realize they were people with lives and families, that they were just like Judith. Ever since you started coming to the old Myer's house, you've been making a picture of her in your head.

Those people, too, had taffy left uneaten by their bedside. Hair brushes to clean, caps that needed to be screwed back on lip glosses; not those items exactly, you're sure, but the allegory stood the same.

The guilt is unbearable somedays, the idea that you're also partly responsible for those people's death. If you'd just turned in him, then you wouldn't have gotten in this deep.

just a bit longer, you tell yourself. I'll... report him if he kills anyone else, but maybe he's getting better, you think-- knowing more than well he isn't.

He's stagnant right now, but that's because he's satiated. Maybe by your near-daily meetings, the feeling of human contact that he probably hasn't felt since he was child. Since before he was locked up from such a young age.

i hope it stays that way, and deep down, you know it's in vain; recognizing that hope will do no good in situation like this, when dealing with a man-- an entity-- like Michael Myers.

This can't be real. It's a nightmare, it's a nightmare-- you can scream it all you want, but it won't take away from the scene before you.

You were toying with danger, with death itself; you stared in its face and dared to call it a friend, and look where that got you. It was always going to end like this, wasn't it? And you knew, you knew it would but that didn't stop you from it.

A lonely child will always seek the comfort of anyone who offers it without hesitation, and no matter how much you've grown-- how close you are to being an adult, teetering just on that edge,

Once a lonely child, always a lonely child. The bruises have healed, but it still feels like they're marring every inch of your skin; ribs that were broken are just fine now, but if you move too quick you swear you can feel them like you'd felt them back then.

"Why?" Your voice is choked, and you haven't felt this afraid in a long time. Cowering as you were, in the far corner of the attic. A large circular window loomed behind you, casting light onto you like Heaven was calling you home.

Do you even deserve Heaven, though? You might not have been the one to wield the knife, but you're guilty by association. There was no blood on you, but your hands were still painted red.

All five of them, crumpled on the ground; they looked so scared, but something in the back of your mind told you that they'd never understand true fear. This was momentary, before they met their swift end,

They didn't know the fear of anticipation. The fear of never knowing what would happen next, when or how it would come about; but just knowing that it would. That you weren’t at the end of the tunnel just yet, and fearing that you never would be.

Michael just stands there, unmoving. His head tilted like a curious bird, like the crows you fed at the park sometimes. He wasn't wearing the mechanic's suit anymore-- you'd bring him clothes when you could, picked up from thrift shops or garage/yard sales;

It felt even more damning, the red staining his previously pristine sky blue t-shirt. The shirt you’d given to him. Blood once again caked on his shoes, after he'd worked so hard to clean them when you expressed discomfort at it once.

The mask never came off, you never saw his face-- but at this point, you feel like any face that wasn't the mask wouldn't be Michael's. The most you've seen was up to his mouth, when he'd eat with you sometimes.

Again, as you pull your knees to your chest, and fight to hold back a shuddering cry, you ask "Why? Why would you do this?"

And he just stands there. He just stands there and stares at you like he always has, like he always will. You've long come to terms with the fact that he doesn't speak, and in your opinion it makes him a little easier to interact with.

Slow, steady steps-- he turns, and walks to entrance of the attic. He climbs down, leaving you alone for now. With no way to tell the time, you just sit there. The sun doesn't dim, since it was just a little past noon when you got here.

When you saw that note on the accent table near the door, telling you come up to the attic. You didn't question it, you didn't think anything was amiss until you were halfway into the room and Michael stood between you and the exit, bloodied and pointing to the heap of bodies.

Bodies that had once been so full of life, active in the community; beloved by most, feared by others. The golden boys and girls, the ones everyone strives to be or envies in some ways, unless you happen to be their punching bag.

Even with how terrible they were, it wasn't meant to end like this. You shake and tremble as you press your face against your knees; you don't forgive them, you never would, but they have lives.

Had lives, something you were never afforded the luxury of, holed up in your room half the time, and hanging out with the serial killer that did them in the rest of the time.

Michael was being loud, louder than you've ever known him to be. All you could think was maybe... he was trying to ease your worries? Wordlessly let you know that he wasn't going to sneak up and add you to that pile?

For once, you hear when he comes back up. You don't look up, fear seizing every muscle and making you unable to move an inch-- until he's just a few feet away, and your head flies up from where you'd pressed it against your knees.

He was sitting on the floor, right in front of you-- he was writing in a notepad, the same one he used when you first met. Michael's used it since then, but usually just communicates with shakes or nods of his head.

When he turns the book around, it's hard to read the words-- not for lack of light, but because of the way your tears blur your vision. When you're able to blink them away long enough to read, you almost can't believe what he wrote.

"Didn't mean to scare you. They were hurting you, and I didn't like it."

Didn't... didn't mean to scare you? He-- he brought you up here, just to find him covered in blood and pointing at five dead bodies!

five dead bodies of people you knew, even if you didn't like them, you still knew them-- and you knew this was likely to happen, but you tried to convince yourself it wouldn't. For your own sake.

"Are... are you going to..." Kill felt like too heavy of a word right now, too real, so you opted for "...Hurt me too?" Voice small, smaller than you think it's ever been. God, you feel like a child again, asking your mom why the kids at school didn't like you.

Small and helpless, lost and unable to come up with answers on your own. Michael shook his head quickly, and it made you jump-- it wasn't often that he moved quickly like that. He stopped immediately, and turned the notepad around and quickly scrawled something, before turning it back to you.

"Never hurt you" It was hastily written, messy in a way that disturbed you, when addressing Michael. He didn't even add punctuation. For a third time, you ask "Why?" But this time with more intention, knowing what exactly you were asking about.

He didn't move for a bit, and turned the notepad around more slowly, and his pencil hovered above the page-- like he was really thinking this through. A few minutes passed, moving at an agonizing crawl, before he finally turned the notepad around so you could read it.

There were a couple messages scribbled out, but you didn't bother to try and make them out. He'd finally settled on a simple "Because you're my friend."

"How do I know you won’t hurt me?" It was a hard pill to swallow, the knowledge that you just... there's no way to confirm that he won't. He's unpredictable in a way that scares you, because you can't even begin to wrap your head around how he operates.

This time, the answer came quickly; it was messy again, the handwriting, and it made your heart sink to the bottom of your stomach. It made you turn inward and ask why you did this to yourself, why you couldn't have just turned him in at the start.

There's no one to blame but yourself, and that's what hurts the most-- you knew the risk, you took it, and now you're reaping what you sowed.

"I don't hurt what's mine", written in dark letters; once again, he was pressing too hard with the pencil. Once, you thought it was endearing, but now you can't help but realize why he pressed so hard in the first place.

Michael didn't know how to be gentle. Yes, he tried, but there's no telling that he won't give up eventually. For a while, you just stare at the words, at the claim-- he doesn't turn the notepad away,

It's damning, it's a vice gripped around your heart; a steel wire wrapped around your throat. Rope around your wrists, a lock on the door. Everything that can and will be used to keep you here,

To keep you with him.

"I want to go home." You choke out, but he just shakes his head. Oh, how badly you want to scream, to shove him and run; it's broad daylight, surely he won't follow you.

But he's... God, you hate to admit it, but he's all you have. And-- and the bodies, oh god, you're going to be blamed for it, aren't you? It's a perfect story in the making, you've been tormented for so long, so publicly.

It wouldn't be a stretch to say you went mad, that there was something innate to the ground below the Myer's house; a curse weaved into the floorboards, that makes anyone who spends time in the house lose it eventually, if they're capable of such a thing.

That you took the knife in your hand, and slit their throats yourself.

The notepad was facing you again, and you hadn't even noticed he was writing in the first place. It was an explanation for his refusal, but it only made your skin crawl,

"This is your home.", and you just sit there and stare again. Slowly, Michael sets the notepad down. Slowly, he inches forward-- you don't flinch, eyes glazed, staring at where the notepad had been.

Then, his arms are wrapped around you-- and you just... you just melt. You cry, there's no way you can't. You weep until you have nothing left, face tucked into Michael's shoulder.

The blood, still a bit tacky at first, clung to the front of your shirt as well. Michael pulls you as close as he physically can, without merging you two into one continuous being.

He's right, isn't he? This is your home now, and has been for a long time. Before Michael showed up, even, you were spending nights in the Myer's house. Despite the history, it felt leagues safer than your own room.

When your tears are all dried up, still hiccupping and trembling, Michael carefully picks you up. Handling you like glass, but it's unnatural. Stilted-- not a performance, but it's new to him.

Going down the ladder was a slow process, and you were half asleep from pure exhaustion when he set you down on a mattress-- his old bed. You sat, slumped sideways against the headboard as he pulled the cover back and helped you lay down,

He tucked you in, and the thought crossed your mind that his parents must've done this for him when he was younger. They were a normal family, the Myer's-- over the years, people had tried to prove that Michael's snap was caused by abuse, or neglect, or something bad that happened to him in his early development.

But nothing was found on the topic, if anything, the digging exposed the Myer's as the picture-perfect American family. No reason for a 6 year old to kill his sister, other than he just wanted to.

Demonic possession was also a proposed explanation-- more by the townspeople than actual professionals, but it had merit, didn't it? Something about Michael was off, and even if you removed the mask, you're sure it wouldn't change anything.

By the time you're drifting off, weighed down by bone deep weariness from all that happened, Michael is still sitting at the foot of the bed, off on the edge. He isn't watching you, his head facing forward, but it was still unnerving.

When the news of six missing teenagers hit, the town went into a frenzy. Michael has long since dropped the bodies off in the forest-- he didn't want it stinking up the house, because he knew it'd make you uncomfortable,

They found the bodies there, but that didn't stop the cops from searching the Myer's house one last time. That night, Michael took you on a walk, and you two visited the park his parent's used to take him to often.

You were actually swinging, while he kind of just sat on it. Nobody saw you two, there were no reports of you still being alive. Everyone assumed you'd died with your bullies, but your body was elsewhere.

That you fought more than your bullies had, or maybe less-- either way, you died further away from them.

Isolated, just like you’d been in life; even in death, Michael’s sure those horrible kids would make to not be near you.

The cops never considered the possibility that they were killed elsewhere, and dumped later. An oversight on their part, but Michael obviously wasn’t going to correct them on it.

Michael cleaned the attic, not like they'd check it anyways. They never did when they searched the house, and Michael thought it was ridiculous. It was almost too easy to avoid them, but he didn't want to take a chance with you.

He doesn't know what he'd do without you now that he has you. There's no solid reason why he spared you that first night, the 'it's too easy' had been little more than an excuse to spare you, or why he kept sparing you. Why he began to look forward to your meetings.

Something about you was comforting to him, a comfort he hasn't felt in so long that it feel alien now that he's feeling it. Those kids had it coming, he thinks. He's considered going after their parents, as well-- for raising such awful brats.

To torment someone like you-- it both enraged and confused Michael to no end. You were the most innocent person in his mind, even if it was just dumb luck that he found you when he did; that he wasn't in a bad mood.

He doesn't know what comes next, but all he knows is that he'll keep you by his side the whole time. Maybe... you two could move, he'd take on a false identity and flee to Canada with you. Pretend that you're his... younger sibling, because he doesn't think he can get away with claiming you as his child. He isn't all that much older than you, in the grand scheme of things.

As long as you're by his side, then he doesn't really care about what comes next. He just wants you, and to keep you safe and happy. Michael isn't familiar with this, with being soft or gentle; but he'll try for you.

He'd do anything for you, if he's completely honest with himself.

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satorusugurugurl · 1 year ago

Text

JJK Men: Seeing You Without Makeup For the First Time

Warning: Fluffy sweetness, insecurities, suggestiveness, language

Characters: Gojo Satoru, Choso Kamo, Modern!Ryomen Sukuna, Nanami Kento

Word Count: 2,993

A/N: Ah yes, I love this trope. It was fun to write!! Please Enjoy, don't blame me from any cavities from this sweet fluff. Request Open.

Gojo Satoru:

The smell of freshly brewed coffee was the only thing keeping your eyes open. You grumbled and cursed the sun for rising another day as you leaned over the kitchen counter, watching the magic bean juice filling your cup. The higher-ups must not like you because the mission they just sent you on was hell.

A week, a damn week, you were gone. A week from your bed, students, and your boyfriend. Stupid old men and their dumb missions. But who were you to complain if you paid your bills and you were able to teach the next generation of sorcerers? So life wasn't that bad.

Then again, your somewhat happy outlook on life might be the sleep deprivation talking.

The bastards were sweet enough to give you one day to recuperate. There was no time to relax, though. You had laundry to sort through, groceries to pick up, and the normal mundane things you'd missed out on during the WEEK you were gone!

A day off was a day off despite it being a busy one. You would get it all done after you drank this coffee Satoru got you from Mexico on his last mission. As soon as you downed it, you would off. You were already dressed to go. You had on sweats and a t-shirt, and you opted out of putting on any makeup, seeing that you would just be running around.

Your phone chimed as Satoru’s name popped up on your screen. You smiled as you opened the chat.

Satoru: Good morning, beautiful! 😙 Welcome back! I had breakfast delivered to you; enjoy! 🍳🥓🧇

“Oh, he's getting laid later.” You squealed, running for the door to your apartment.

You flung it open, staring at the ground, expecting a bag, but instead, you were greeted by shoes. Designer shoes that you knew all too well. Slowly trailing up dark uniform pants and jacket that was from the same school you worked at. Further up, you caught sight of a wide grin, a blindfold, and fluffy white hair. All of which belongs to your boyfriend, who was holding a takeout bag.

“Special delivery for Y/L/N Y/N!”

Your boyfriend was here. The same boyfriend who was utterly gorgeous no matter what condition he was in. The man could be caked in blood, and you still wanted to kiss him. Then there was you; you always put in the effort to look nice around him, hair styled, cute outfit, some form of makeup always on.

Today was not one of those days.

In a panic, you squeaked, slamming the door in his face. “What the fuck?! What the actual fuck!?” You glanced around for anything you could use to hide your appearance. You panicked and grabbed the first thing off the couch.

“Uhm, babe?” Satoru questioned, opening the door. “I know you were gone for a week. But I'm Gojo Satoru, your boyfriend.”

“I know!! Sorry, I wasn't expecting to see you!” you had your back turned to him, covering your face with your hands. “T-Thanks for the food! But I have so much to do!”

“Really?”

“Yep! Laundry!”

“I had Ijichi pick it up this morning.”

Fuuuuck.

“O-Okay! I have to get groceries!”

“Your fridge is fully stocked, courtesy of yours truly.”

The room felt like it was shrinking in on you as you listened to him come up behind you. The bag was discarded as his arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest. You weren't sure how he would react, seeing your bare face, and that was terrifying.

So many men thought women wearing makeup was like lying. You had always done very light and minimal makeup, but it didn't make it less scary. Sensing the tension, Satoru gently turned you around so you were facing him. He stiffened, his mouth turning from a grin to a shocked expression.

“Y/N?” His voice was so quiet.

“Y-Yeah?”

A choked laugh erupted from his throat. “I-Is that one of my blindfolded?!” He called as you stated at the darkness his blindfold provided. “Oh my god, hold on! Hold on!” You could feel him near you with the camera on his phone clicking. “Oh my god, wait until the second years see this!” Fingers hooked under the blindfold, yanking it up and off your head.

Your hands flew up, hiding your face. Your attempt was foiled as Satoru's gentle hands pulled them away. With a shuddering sigh, you looked up at him, biting your cheek as he fully saw you. For you, no makeup, fancy clothes, or styled hair.

Satoru just smiled, leaning down before he kissed your lips gently. “Welcome home.” He pulled back, tilting his head to the side. “What was with the off-brand cosplay?” Your cheeks are flushed, the darker pigment visible without any trace of makeup.

“I-I don't have any makeup on.”

“Oh!” He straightened, his large hand patting your head. “You're so cute.”

His grin grew wider at the confused expression inching its way over your face. “Seriously? Do you think that? Even without the makeup and the baggy clothes? You still think I'm cute?” Satoru’s head bobbed up and down so fast you thought his head would fall out. His sincere reaction made you giggle, shaking your head. “Satoru, you are so strange. But also extremely sweet.” When you looked up, you blinked, seeing Gojo holding up one side of his blindfold. His bright blue eye looked you over, inching over every curve and surface of you. “Satoru, stop staring.”

“I just was confirming something.” he snapped his blindfold back into place before draping an arm over you.

You poured yourself a cup of coffee while Satoru pulled your breakfast out of the bag. “Confirming what?”

“Just confirming with Six-Eyes that I have the prettiest girlfriend in the entire world.”

Gojo’s smile slowly faded as you slammed the coffee pot down. Oh fuck, what did he say?! You led around; fire swarmed in Y/E/C eyes as you stormed over to him, grabbing his wrist.

“W-What?! What did I say?” He huffed out a gasp as you shoved him onto the couch.

“Everything.”

You unzipped his pants, and Gojo’s eyes were wide behind his blindfold. Even with Six-Eyes, Gojo did not see this coming. Spoiler alert: It was him, he was going to cum.

Choso Kamo:

A knock at your door had you straightening from your spot on the couch. Looking at your phone, you quickly got up. It was well past midnight, and it was never a good sign when someone knocked that late at night on the door.

Much to your relief, when you opened the door to your apartment, your boyfriend looked down at you. “Choso?” a sigh of relief escaped your lips.

“I'm sorry. Did I wake you?” he asked before entering your apartment.

“No, I think you just saved me a stiff neck.” You yawned out before locking the door. “Did you and Yuuji finish up with that mission?”

“Yes, he went back home; I wanted to see you.”

Choso watched as you moved around the apartment. You straightened up the pillows on the couch and wiped down your kitchen before grabbing his hand and leading him to the bedroom. The entire time you went about your mundane tasks, Choso just stared. He couldn't put his finger on it, but something was different about you.

Choso’s eyes moved over you. Trying to depict what was different tonight. Haircut? No. New pajamas? No, that wasn't it, either. Everything Choso tried to think of wasn't the right answer. Not knowing what it was frustrated him to the point that Choso’s eyebrow twitched.

What had you glowing in the lowlights of your bedroom as you pulled the sheets back? “Cho?” You finally asked with a nervous chuckle. “Are you okay? You're staring holes through me.” Realizing that he had been caught, Choso flinched.

“I'm sorry, sorry I just—” Words trailed off as his cheeks flushed.

You had noticed Choso staring at you since he came inside. The poor guy never saw you without makeup, which was probably strange. He seemed to be struggling, trying to find the words to the mountain of questions he might have.

“It's okay. I think I know what you're going to ask.”

“Huh?”

“Yeah, you’re going to ask what’s different.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I look different because I’m not wearing makeup.”

Choso tilted his head to the side.”Oh, no, I was going to say you look radiant tonight.” The words that left his mouth had both of you standing in silence.

You just eyed Choso as he smiled, nodding his head like he'd figured out the mystery of what was different. Pleased with his conclusion, he helped you pull the sheets back. His hands smoothed out the covers before he peered up at you. You were blushing, smiling ear to ear as you finished pulling the bed back.

“I just finished doing my skincare routine,” you announced as you crawled into bed after Choso showered. “I have a new serum that is supposed to make you look luminescent.”

Choso studied you carefully as he crawled into bed with you. “Mmm, maybe that’s it.” He pulled you into his arms. “Or maybe it’s just me.” Choso hummed, staring into the face that he loved so much. “Falling in love.” Love?! “Yeah, I think that’s exactly what this is.”

That was the reasoning behind your radiant glow. A glow that always surrounded you no matter what you wore or looked like. Choso saw utter perfection in you. So it only made sense that the reason you looked extra stunning was that he had fallen in love with you even more.

You just snuggled closer into his chest, grinning wide as he yawned. “I love you too, Cho.”

Ryomen Sukuna:

Ten minutes. All it took was ten minutes before chaos erupted in Sukuna’s apartment. He had just finished changing when he heard the commotion. Yuuji and Choso were bickering before you gently tried to break up the argument. The next thing he heard was a scream, your scream, to be exact.

He bolted, running into the kitchen, where he found you wiping at your face. “What the fuck?!” His younger brothers both stood in shock, watching you in fear. Yuuji was holding a box of baking soda, and Choso held a bottle of vinegar.

In the center of the kitchen was the volcano experiment you had been helping Yuuji make. Sukuna was able to put it all together in an instant. He didn't bother yelling. He instead lifted you into his arms, carrying you to the bathroom.

“What the hell happened?” You flinched when you felt a warm, wet rag gently cleaning your face off.

“The boys wanted to see how big of an explosion they could make. But you know the boys, they both were arguing about who should do what. Words were said, contents were thrown into a beaker, and I didn't have my safety goggles on.”

Sukuna sighed, continuing to rub off the mess on your face. “You're not hurt, are you?”

“Nope!” Your confident response had your boyfriend chuckling as he wiped more of the foamy goop off your face.

After about five minutes of wiping and rinsing the rag, Sukuna sat on the tub's edge, examining your face. It was without the small amount of makeup you had on and the lighting of the bathroom that he stared at you. You were stunning, gorgeous in everything. But here in the bathroom, his eyes mapped out your face.

“What happened here?” he asked, fingertips pressing against a small scar under your eye.

Thinking it was food coloring, you turned to the mirror, seeing your bare face. “EH?!” You touched it, groaning as you looked back at your boyfriend, who was smirking. “You wiped off all my makeup!” For a second, Sukuna thought he was dealing with a third child in his apartment.

“Oh, I'm sorry. Did you want to have vinegar on your face?” You shook your head. “That's what I thought. So confess what happened there?”

“Acne scar.”

A soft him rumbled in his chest before he learned over, thumb grazing over a tiny scar at the bottom of your lip. “This?” gentle fingers moved up, brushing over your bottom lip as he stepped closer towards you.

“I-I fell off my bike.”

You swallowed hard, whimpering as Sukuna’s fingers grazed over your face. You were feeling how soft your delicate skin was. All of you mesmerized him. Every time you came over, he learned a little more about you. And god, he fuckin’ loved that.

His hands gently mapped your face out. The softness had you breathing heavily, his eyes glued to your lips. Having your boyfriend gaze over you with such a soft yet burning gaze had you shifting. The air in the bathroom became thick with need as he slowly slipped your tank top sleeve down.

“Y/N, let me see all of you. I want to map out your body and learn everything it has to say.”

“W-What’s gotten into you?”

The whisper tone of your voice had Sukuna sliding the other sleeve of your tank top down. “You. You’ve crept your way into my heart.” The confession that spilled from his lips has you leaning in, wanting him to touch you everywhere. The same way he had touched your face.

“Hey, is she okay?” Choso’s timid voice whispered through the door. “Yuuji’s worried.”

“Take Yuuji out for ice cream.” Your tank top is slowly pulled over your head. “My card is on my dresser.”

Silence spreads out as you tug Sukuna’s shirt up and off. “R-Really?” hands began working on jeans.

“Yes, I have my own project to work on.” Sukuna turned the shower on, and he never heard Choso collecting Yuuji so fast. Refusing to answer any questions as the door to the apartment slammed shut.

Sukuna’s antics had you giggling, licking your lip, and he stripped you completely. “A project, huh?” he nodded, following you into the shower.

“Yeah, but it won't be vinegar foam that covers that pretty face this time.”

Nanami Kento:

The hotel sheets were cold and crisp over your and your boyfriend's bodies. Between the chill and the heat Nanami was putting out, you felt so comfortable. It was the perfect combination that made you want to relish the feeling forever.

The sun was up, which meant you both would be going home soon. You both had been called out on a mission, one that took a bit longer to handle than you both were anticipating. You missed the last train back to Tokyo. Leaving you both stranded in Kawasaki for the night.

Instead of having one of the assistant supervisors drive all the way out to get you, you and Nanami decided to stay at a hotel. God, it was nice: room service, wine, a hot shower. Missing that last train was a reward for the two of you. Nothing more than relaxation and joy. But the moment Nanami pulled you tighter against him, you realized you didn't have your overnight bag.

Meaning you didn't have your makeup.

“Oh no, oh god no.” You whined as Nanami lifted his head.

“What’s wrong?” His groggy voice asked, trying to assess what was going on.

Burying your face in your pillow, you grumbled, cringing as you felt Nanami shift beside you. “I don't have my bag.” The covers move as Nanami props himself up.

“Your overnight bag?”

“Mhmm.”

Silence stretched out. “Did you need something out of it? Aspirin or tampons? I'll go grab you some.” The sincerity of his words made your heart soar. God, Nanami was the best boyfriend.

“No, no, I'm okay.” You shyly turned, swallowing hard. “I just realized you've never seen me without makeup.”

Nanami’s gaze was soft; honey-brown eyes slowly roamed over your face. He took his time, his hand reaching out, knuckles grazing your cheek. It was so gentle and sweet that you pressed yourself against his hand. The warmth spreads to every part of your body.

The bed shifts as Nanami’s hand cups your cheek, pulling you closer. “You are still as stunning in the morning bare-faced as you are all dolled up.” Before you could even think of what to say in response, his lips were on yours.

His lips were warm, like a spring day. You moaned happily, kissing him back as his hands slowly ran down your arms. Breaking the kiss, had you pouting with a displeased groan that shifted into a moan. Those warm lips slowly moved down your face. Nanami was trailing the softest, warmest kisses down your body, over your shoulders and upper arm.

“I want to see all of you.” Hot breath whispered over your skin. “See every part of you, body, mind, and soul in the raw.”

Soft kisses were replaced with gentle nips. The sensation had you arching your back as Nana crawled on top of you. His morning wood was pressing against your hip. It felt like you were melting into the mattress as the once-comfortable room suddenly became too warm. The need to get naked grew stronger and stronger.

“Kento~”

He didn't respond. He was too busy being love-drunk off of you. His fingers, lips, and teeth slowly mapped out every part of your body. Nanami’s actions left you a squirming mess underneath him. One that he was so pleased to see and feel.

Only once you were gasping for air, gripping his shirt, begging him for more, did Nanami finally pull back, taking his shirt off. “Every inch of you is the most beautiful thing that's graced this world, Y/N.” You sat up, pulling him into a starved kiss as he took your shorts off. Limbs entangling as he gently laid you down.

And yes, you missed the morning train. . .and the afternoon train. . .poor Ijichi had to pick you up.

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cimtee · 10 days ago

Text

Actually. Here’s a thing.

Below: all canon physical descriptors of the characters. That I remember. And likely some that are made up bc my brain doesn’t have a working file system.

If any of them are incorrect please do let me know! And if there is anything significant I missed out, let me know that too! It will be very helpful as I finalize their designs 🙏

To be clear, my intention is NOT to be canon patrol. I love love love seeing all the different interpretations of characters. They are all so wonderful and distinctive and personal.

My own design development has been based on given details + incorporation of my own ideas, imaginings, etc. (Oft they are self-indulgent too. Always fighting the urge to put freckles and diastemas and prominent noses on every single person I ever draw)

Without further ado. A masterpost of sorts.

Edits in blue!

Blue

Race/ethnicity unspecified (personally imagine her with Desi roots, through Maura ofc. Artemus is her Welsh half. Presumably. His DNA may just be chloroplasts…) See @transronanlynch’s reblog about this. Btw all these green edits are thanks to their infodumping I LOVE INFODUMPING

Short (5’?)

Brown eyes

Short dark uneven hair, often held in place with clips

Doesn’t shave

Both her and Maura are “compact, athletic, and hard to tip over.” Strong enough for the fair bit of manual labor she does on page

Weirdo clothes (affectionate). Lots of self-made or secondhand items and layering. Look at reblog for some specifics!

Gansey

Anglo-Saxon poster boy

Average height

Light brown hair

Hazel eyes

Contacts mostly, round gold wire-rims otherwise

Straight nose

Straight white teeth

High cheekbones. I think he’s even described as having a “regal” face structure but I could’ve pulled that outta my ass

Dimples!!! How did i forget to write this. I marked it as Extremely Important the moment i read about them

Tanned and fit. Described as muscular several times and was also on the rowing team, so at the very least his upper body is strong. Apparently rowers have a pretty square build lol. Mentioned in trb that he has square shoulders actually!!

Good hair (usually styled)

Not very hairy, Ronan makes fun of him for not being able to grow a beard and Blue remarks as much at toga party

Golf club clothes fr🪦 often in brightly-colored polos. khaki slacks. boat shoes🪦🪦 fancy watch.

Adam

“White trash.” Really he is just some Creature

Tall and slim and “wiry” shoulders

He’s beautiful but it’s unconventional enough that he refuses to believe it

Dirt/sand colored hair that he cuts on his own (“close-cropped” in cdth. Nice. Always imagined he keeps it short for practicality). Perhaps he is the Sandman (google just told me the Sandman controls dreams. Idk what fucked up esotericism I just unearthed. Haha ‘earth’ like Adam’s hair. I am sleep deprived dawg what was i on about)

Blue eyes

Tanned

“Barely there” eyebrows

Prominent cheekbones

Hands - yess all these details are ringing a bell: they’re quite knobby, prominent knuckles and “thumbs that jut out boyishly” (still thnx Ronan for being rlly gay and supplying us with these highly important details)

Straight teeth (thnx Ronan?)

Alas the freckles are NOT canon but they might as well be

Secondhand uniform. Washed out/frayed. Always wears a cheap wind-up watch until he gives it to Opal in TRK. In TDT he has a dreamt watch that shows the time of wherever Ronan is

Casual: basic tees (infamous coca cola,, I think he looks so good in red tho) and jeans and cargos (wore a camo pair with the coke shirt). Has been described wearing boots. Probably sneakers too but I don’t remember a specific instance

Work: mechanic overalls for the most part. He’s often streaked and greasy from fixing cars

These three canon descriptors highly influence how I draw him: elegant, gaunt, sepia

He inherited Persephone’s tarot deck, whose cards are illustrated in pencil “vague, scratchy, and dark”

Ronan

Irish ancestry (again, presumably. He wasn’t exactly bred)

Tallest of the bunch. “Built” shoulders

Dark brown hair. Buzzed. Naturally curly

Icy/shark blue eyes

Pale skin

Thick brows

Misses one shave and looks like he crawled out of the backrooms (also affectionate)

Back tattoo (later: left arm)

Scars on forearms

Niall clone. They look the same

I believe Declan has been described with a Roman nose, and the Gray Man notes some of the brothers’ facial similarities, including their noses. In conclusion Ronan’s nose is arched in some sense. But in general his features are narrower/sharper than Declan.

Mostly black clothes. Tanks and jeans and boots and leather jackets (on the jackets: pretty sure he wears one in TDT when he’s on the run with Hennessy and Bryde. Also found a paper from when I first read trc that I wrote a bunch of descriptors on, and it said “has a biker jacket.” Not that I particularly trust my past self much). Leather bracelets that used to be Niall’s.

Incapable of wearing uniform properly. Loose tie, untucked shirt, just imagining him in the suit jacket is an atrocity

Noah

Czerny is a Slavic surname

Short

Pale. Light hair, eyes, and skin

Small eyes

Large ears yay!! I thought so but wasn’t sure enough to write it originally

Pointed, crooked nose (wonder if it was broken when he was killed?)

“Smudge” over his left cheekbone

Timid disposition, often slouching/making himself smaller. His hands often hang at his sides (it’s making me think of the typical socially-anxious “what do i do with my hands”)

Perpetually disheveled Aglionby uniform that is also perpetually on him

My guy wears Topsiders… (this makes sense but it also makes me uneasy. He’s a Vans kid in spirit. Is it even possible for him to change clothes, I have no idea. Weekends wearing Aglionby uniform would raise questions, but then again many other things should’ve raised questions too)

When he’s feeling particularly ghosty he becomes transparent/blurred/difficult to focus on. His eyes look dark and empty. The smudge on his cheek looks like an obvious injury.

Close to the end he starts lookin dead dead without Blue’s amplifying. I think bones n rotting flesh n stuff? “Soul threaded through naked bones.” Though I think what Blue perceives to be a terribly dead Noah is mainly metaphysical

Henry

Many thank to @robobee for all the Henry details (and some others above). I wrote this post at 3am and by the time I got down to Henry I was crashing out. I knew I had too little on him

Korean/Chinese

Tall!

“Glittering black hair.” Spiked but in a very deliberate Aglionby way idk

Can’t believe I for got the WICKED EYEBROWS they are literally my favorite part of his face to draw TT

And prominent cheek bones? What’s with all these boys and their chiseled faces

Wears showy clothing/accessories. “Snazzy jacket” I also could’ve sworn he wore Gucci glasses once but again my memory has a history of being fallible

Has been caught in HD in a Madonna tshirt

#the raven cycle #trc #maggie stiefvater #blue sargent #gansey #richard campbell gansey iii #adam parrish #ronan lynch #noah czerny #henry cheng #maybe this will be useful to other fanartists

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illogicalchaos1 · 4 months ago

Note

I hear you had a sort of art block?

My ideas I will simply shout to the void for you

One of the emperors as a hallow knight character (if u don’t know wut that is feel free to ingnore)

Empires pearl holding a sunflower while bees are present?

I dunno write something starting with dreaming of a past

Esmp1 Pearl, you say?

This was very fun to draw, and I'm enjoying this new style I'm trying out. Let me know if you guys like it.

#empires smp #hermitblr #trafficblr #pearlescentmoon #gilded helianthia #empires s1 #Goddess pearl #pearlescentmoon fanart #empires fanart #hermitcraft #hermitcraft smp #hermitcraft fanart #life series fanart #life series #pearl hermitcraft

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elllisaaa · 1 year ago

Note

Hey, how are you? First of all, I just want to say that I'm absolutely in love with your writing 🥹 you make it so fluid and fun to read 🖤

I'd like to ask a scenario/reaction for seventeen (ot13 individually, if possible) in which they have have a crush on reader, and then the reader gets cold and some other member offers them their hoodie, and they get kinda jealous and then might come up with some excuse for the reader to use their hoodie instead or something else of the sort. You can decide what each of them will do on your own, I wanna read it hehe

But just making it obvious they have a crush, even if they think they are not

Thank youuu, hope you have fun 🖤🖤

hiii lovely !! i'm doing good and i hope you are great too ! and thank you so much for these compliments, i'm glad to hear that you like my writing !! this was so fun and adorable to write even if it took me a looot of time but i hope you'll still like it ! thank you for sending in an ask !

seventeen getting jealous of you wearing another member's hoodie

-> pairing : svt × gn!reader

-> words count : 1.6k words

-> genre : fluff

-> sorry if I made any mistakes, english is not my first language.

-> reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated !

-> masterlist | svt masterlist

CHOI SEUNGCHEOL

He truly loves Jeonghan, he really does. But to see him smirk at him while giving you one of his hoodies was not on his bingo card of their friendship. He knew how teasing Jeonghan could get, but to do that when he perfectly knew the fat crush Seungcheol had on you felt wrong. He would get a little pouty, crossing his arms and shooting deadly glares at his friend. Right before you all had to leave for the bar, he told you that the color of Jeonghan’s hoodie was absolutely not fitting with the rest of your outfit and handed you one of his in a color that was going so much better with your other clothes. Cheol is very proud of the annoyed look on his friend’s face, and the sweet smile you give him as thank you.

YOON JEONGHAN

When he gets back from the store and sees you all comfy in Joshua’s hoodie, he’s not having it. He plays it off, asking you who this belongs to since it’s clearly not your usual style. And you give him exactly the answer he was waiting for. Jeonghan gives the piece of clothing a judging look but says nothing and just leaves for a few minutes. When he comes back, he throws another hoodie at you, one of his. And when you ask what was the problem with the one you had on, he argues that it doesn’t fit your aesthetic. You are a little confused but still put on Jeonghan's hoodie. He will spend the rest of the day watching over you with a little smirk on his face, proud of seeing you wear his clothes.

HONG JOSHUA

I feel like Joshua is not so much a jealous guy but more of a possessive person. So he does not feel very jealous at seeing you wearing Jun’s hoodie, but he wants to make it clear that you’re his crush and not anyone else’s. He’s not even trying to hide it, it’s comical at this point. Joshua is straight up telling you that he would like it better if you wore his hoodie instead. He loves how you get a little shy by his bold demand but still agree, immediately taking off Jun’s hoodie and putting on the one Joshua is handing you. He will be so touchy the whole day, making it even more obvious that he wants you to be his.

MOON JUNHUI

He’s so fucking smooth about it. Jun doesn’t want to see you wearing Soonyoung’s hoodie, even if he’s your best friend, but he doesn’t wanna make it too obvious either. He wants to confess properly, not giving it away because he’s jealous. So he will tell you that the hoodie your friend gave you had a stain on it, and that you couldn’t wear it for when you will all go out after lunch. Jun so kindly offered one of his instead, discarding the other boy's clothes and giving you one of his hoodies. He feels a little bad for Soonyoung for one second, and then you flash him your prettiest smile and he doesn’t even know what guilt is anymore.

KWON SOONYOUNG

On the contrary, Soonyoung is so fucking obvious, it’s painful for everyone else watching. As soon as he saw you walking around in Wonwoo’s hoodie, he got pouty, refusing to talk to you. His argument ? It’s a betrayal to your friendship, regarding the fact that he’s your best friend and that Wonwoo is not. He’s such a baby about it, it’s cute. And Soonyong will keep crying about it until you finally give in and accept to take one of his sweaters instead. Except that he completely forgot to do his laundry and there is no more clean hoodie for you. It’s pretty comical to see his face fall and his pout return.

JEON WONWOO

As I’ve already stated, Wonwoo is not a jealous person, especially over his crush that is not even his partner yet. So he will not try to absolutely get you to not wear Jihoon’s hoodie or come up with an excuse like the others, even if he would’ve preferred if you wore his, just so it could smell like you once you give it back. Next time though, he’ll be prepared, either with a spare hoodie, or by wearing an outfit that allows him to give you his hoodie without getting too cold. And to think that Wonwoo does this just for you makes you feel all giddy inside, and when you make sure to acknowledge and appreciate his efforts, it’s his turn to get a little shy and bashful (he’s so cute i’m dying).

LEE JIHOON

I swear he’s stopping it before it even happens. He told you before going to take a spare hoodie or jacket with you because even if the weather was good, it would start to get colder soon. But as usual, you didn’t listen to him because it would’ve ruined your cute little outfit. Jihoon knew that you would end up complaining because you were cold, and that’s why he put on a hoodie himself - just so he could give it to you. But he wasn’t ready for how fast Seokmin offered to take his off and give it to you. But Jihoon is quicker and he is handing you his sweater before you even had the time to respond to his friend. We love a careful king like him.

LEE SEOKMIN

Another who’s a baby about it and so not subtle about it. He sees you laughing about how big Mingyu’s hoodie looks on you. And even though you’re not wrong, Seokmin knows that his sweaters would look big on you too, and that they would even suit you more because the colors he has match your style better than his friend’s. You can see how unhappy he is about the whole thing, and you take this opportunity to tease him a little. Seokmin would not even try to hide it, arguing that if you wanted to wear an oversized hoodie, you could’ve asked for his instead. He will only stop pouting when you agree to wear one of his.

KIM MINGYU

This big bay is sulking, like you had just back-stabbed him. And it’s only because you’re always barging about how big and oversized hoodies are the best ones, and here you are, wearing one of Minghao’s when you could’ve asked Mingyu and it would have been even bigger. He’s not telling you anything though, even if it’s kinda obvious that he’s upset over something. The next time you’re asking Mingyu about his opinion on your outfit, he doesn’t remind you to bring a jacket with you only so he could hand you his sweater and watch you drown into the fabric. Bonus point if you give it back without washing it and it still has your perfume and scent on it.

XU MINGHAO

Minghao would not say anything about the fact that you were currently wearing Seungkwan hoodie’s, but he would still give his member a kind of side eye when he comments on how well the piece of clothing suits you. During dinner, he will unfortunately drop some food on the sweater. Oh no ! But don’t worry, he will give you one of his instead so you can stay warm. Minghao will ignore all night how Seungkwan is sulking and will simply smile at you when you say that his hoodie is very soft. It’s just feeling very right to see you walking around in his clothes, and he definitely wouldn’t mind seeing you wear them more.

BOO SEUNGKWAN

He’s not having it, like at all. Especially since he’s very obvious about his crush on you around his members, and that they all know how much he loves you, he doesn’t like the fact that you’re wearing Hansol’s clothes. Seungkwan is not even really jealous, he’s only mad at his friend for doing this even though he knows everything. He’s giving deadly glares to Hansol all day, as if he really wanted to kill him for handing you his hoodie. He knows that he’s only doing this to tease him, but still. When you ask Seungkwan what’s wrong, he’s only telling you that he’s in a bad mood. But from now on, he will jump in before anyone else if you ever need a hoodie.

CHWE HANSOL

Nobody knows about Hansol’s crush on you, because it is no one else’s business. So he can’t be upset at Chan for giving you his hoodie because you were cold, he just wished he was quicker and gave you his. And it even feels strange that you accepted his friend’s clothing, because Hansol had told you countless times that you could borrow anything from his room, even when he was not there. Later on, he will ask you why you were wearing Chan’s hoodie, thinking that his approach was casual (even when it’s really not). When you explained that you just didn’t want to make him feel bad when he offered, Hansol simply nodded. But his cheeks quickly turned red when you admitted prefering to wear his sweater.

LEE CHAN

Chan really tries hard to not show his crush on you, but the way he looks at you is not as subtle as he thinks and everyone has understood what was going on, even you. Hence why you’re wearing one of Seungcheol hoodie’s right now. Yes, Chan is kinda obvious, but you still want to be 100% sure that he won’t reject you. And what better than jealousy ? Plus, he’s always making a point of giving you his clothes when you’re cold, so he doesn’t understand why you didn’t ask him this time. He’s pouting and sulking for sure, even complaining to his hyung about how he’s trying to steal his crush. Honestly, he’s just very cute and he’s being a baby. The only way to get him to smile again is by agreeing to take his hoodie instead.

-> i don't allow any copies, reposts or translations of my works.

svt tagglist (fill in this to be added) :

@lil-kpopstan @hann1bee @iraisswiftie @bewoyewo @lichyuu

#eli answering your questions #seventeen x reader #seventeen fluff #seungcheol x reader #jeonghan x reader #joshua x reader #jun x reader #hoshi x reader #wonwoo x reader #woozi x reader #dk x reader #mingyu x reader #minghao x reader #seungkwan x reader #vernon x reader #dino x reader

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crescenthistory · 6 months ago

Note

your last animagus fic was so sweet! it even made some ideas popped in my mind. i was thinking about feisty (gn) reader being a crow animagus accompanying barty into his mischief, which could be scaring the skittles or pranking people in general. if you could write this, it would be wonderful 💞

(fun fact: crows can mimic sounds such as ambience noise or even human voice, this is so amazing and a bit scary, imagine encounter one while you walk in the woods AAAAAKXNSM!!! i love them so much, thx for reading me yapp xx)

hi lovely<33 thank YOU for yapping to me, i find it very endearing and entertaining 🤲 people who are passionate about what they love>>>>

now, i personally don't think i would be able to write this as a full-length fic, as pranking and mischief is not reallyyyy within my toolbox BUT this is very cute so i'm giving you some belated headcanons 🫂 if anyone's able/willing to write a longer version, please do share with the class and tag me!!

i present to you my thoughts of crow!animagus!reader x barty:

i imagine you become an animagus before you and barty get together

(because if you wanted to do it while the two of you were friends/dating he would INSIST on doing the transformation process with you)

and i think deciding when your relationship is at the point where you can/should divulge that part of yourself would be difficult to pinpoint

so what happens is that you would be laying on the floor beside each other in the astronomy tower, stargazing together. a date of sorts, in the way every second you spend with barty somehow feels like a date as he is fully, wholly dedicated to you.

the later it got, the more you two would switch between genuinely trying to find and remember constellations and just goofing around

those type of late night conversations where you seem to get to know someone 100x more in just a few hours than you otherwise could over the spans of months

asking each other increasingly deep questions

"tell me something about you no one else knows"

when else would you get the perfect opportunity to reveal your animagus status to your boyfriend?

stupidly, you feared his reaction. would he be upset with you hiding it for so long? would he think your animagus form was silly? would he look at you differently?

but when i tell you this man shrieked with excitement

"show me, show me, show me"

when you turn into a crow and fly around him in circles, he genuinely would jump up excitedly and twirl in the same direction you're flying so that his eyes never have to leave your form, laughing and screaming

the only thing on his mind would be how spectacular and remarkable you are, excitement and love filling any space that the hostility you feared might have fostered

not to mention; "that's bloody badass, baby"

you would land carefully on his shoulder and barty would scoop you up close to his body, almost squishing you and making you squeak

"we're gonna have to perfect the art of cuddling with crows," he would say gravely

barty, the secret academic weapon and swot that he is, would SO do his due diligence with research immediately upon the discovery

we're talking library trips, tomes and scrolls purchases, books upon books of muggle literature on crows and wizard literature on animagi that he chases through faster than you could imagine

when he learns of crows being able to mimic noises, including human voices, his mind floods with ideas

"oh, we are going to have fun baby"

that's how you start accompanying him into his many tirades and mischief

most of the time it is just as a companion, the crow sitting on his shoulder as he runs around the castle wreaking havoc

it adds to barty's general intimidating aura and the reputation that just barely proceeds him — the crazy guy with the facial piercings, acid green streaks in his hair, punkish style, chokers and a volatile wand now also has a crow with him everywhere? hell no, people steer clear of him

it doesn't help that many students swear he talks to the crow and seems to hold an entire conversation with it, based solely on its body language and occasional caws

"i swear to bloody merlin, the crow looked at me when i spoke badly of junior. it's like it understood, some human-like capabilities or what not, fucking scary."

it doesn't take long before you become a more active partner in his shenanigans, though

you will call out people's names to get them to enter a room barty needs them in (because let's be real, if barty called for them, nobody would be stupid enough to fall for it and go to him)

you deliver letters and packages for him, you caw behind first years so that they jump in fear, you borrow people's clips and rings and pens

poor regulus and evan get the most shit from you among the skittles, while dorcas finds the most amount of entertainment through it

i imagine it's through your animagus form that the skittles learn that when pandora talks to animals she actually does understand them -> you two have lengthy conversations, much to everyone's eventual chagrin

and while the skittles of course all learn you're an animagus, no one else in the castle does

(though i imagine the marauders have their strong suspicions from early on)

barty was already showering you in gifts — "my father's outrages amounts of money should be put to good" — but now he has taken it upon himself to get you anything and everything shiny he sees

"you're a literal crow and i'm your dutiful partner. i have to contribute to the nest."

(mind you, this would likely be a thing even before he ever sees you seek out something shiny while in animagus form; he just assumes)

ironically, barty starts behaving like a crow himself in how he seeks out shiny trinkets for you

and while you try and tell him you don't have those instincts when outside of your animagus form... you actually really do and you revel in the love and attention

after a while, i do believe he would attempt to become an animagus too

honestly, he would begin getting on your case about it every single day from finding out. same way he would immediately learn his s/o's native language imo — he needs to be included.

especially if regulus is a cat animagus in this universe, because his two favourite people simply cannot have something in common that he is excluded from. this man is the epitome of fomo

my default animagus form for barty is a raccoon, but i think he would also make a lot of fun as a bat animagus which fits perfect with you as a crow

can you imagine, just you two flying around on school grounds and later on in your neighbourhood when you move in together?

the crow and the bat<3(shit crazy boy who loves them)

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ghosty-writes-23 · 2 months ago

Text

I Feel Like I Am Failing. - Leon S Kennedy.

TAGS: NSFW Content, Mental Health, Angsty, Depression, Overthinking, Mentions of Alcohol Addiction, Unprotected Sex, Mirrors, Soft!Dom!Leon, Mirror Sex, Cum Eating

Pairing: RE6!Husband!Leon + Writer!Fem!Reader

Rating: Mature.

Summary: You had been having a hard time with your own mental health and your husband Leon noticed and tried to make you feel better. "I'm Sad Again, Don't Tell My Boyfriend." - Billie Eilish (What Was I Made For)

Word Count: 3.6k (Unedited)

Ghosty's Notes: Hello beautiful people, I am back with another oneshot, i will admit this one is a little more personal to me and hits a little close to home as somebody who deals with these sorts of mental health issues, such as perfectionist, overthinking and guilt but i thought instead of trying to ignore it like i have been for a while that i would channel it into a oneshot.

!So Please Remember Your Mental Health Matters, Reach Out If You Need Help!

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Thank you for all the support, it means alot❤️

-Ghosty :] ❤️🦝

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The last 6 months in the Kennedy household had been super busy from You and Leon buying your own place on the outskirts of town, it was an old gothic style house with a long tree lined driveway that lead to a beautiful manor, there was something so hauntingly beautiful about it was private and not to far out of town but not too close to the country just in the middle, Leon could have sworn the house was haunted with how cheap the price was, but the moment he saw your eyes light up when you first arrived to the showing, he knew this was the one.

It needed a little work and fixing up but that was a project you loved doing while Leon was at work, but he would send Chris over to help you or make sure you didn’t injury yourself on the job. Leon wanted his own bit of land that he could play around with Ace, you where happy to be out of your city apartment even though you loved it very much especially with the home Library Leon had built you last year for valentines day you both knew you needed a bigger space.

For the last couple of weeks you had been traveling for the new release of your books and going to signing and meetings fans, which was such a fun experience and just made you feel so lucky and blessed for the career you have as a writer and your amazing fans.

You were a little bummed Leon couldn’t join you this time since he couldn’t get the time off work but he promised he would be home to pick you up from the airport, giving you his special home delivery service where included him carrying you to the car and your bags, getting you your favourite drink and treat on the way home and of course getting take out for dinner.

Tonight, you were sitting in the living room on the couch, Oero sleeping and softy purring on your lap, Ace as asleep beside you, if you moved he would move with you. The house was quiet since Leon was out on a mission for the next couple of days so the house was quiet, you knew you should be writing tonight but you didn’t really have the energy to even get up from the couch. This had been happening the past of days these depressive episodes, you didn’t want to worry Leon because his mission needed his full attention.

You had gone to see your doctor when these episodes started and she changed your medication, you even told your therapist what going on and she gave you some tools such as things to do to distract yourself like maybe writing since your where an author, but right now the hobby that used to bring so much joy and happiness to your life now felt like a work and pressure that she didn’t need.

But you didn’t really feel a difference with either the medication or techniques, you knew your friends and family where seeing a difference in your mood but you reassured them with a smile not wanting them to worry. But when you were home alone like this, and you could hear the small voices you always pushed to the back of your head or tried to ignore.

Not good enough…

Useless at writing….

You won’t amount to anything…

Leon deserves a better wife….

You knew none of these words where true, but you couldn’t help but think about them or entertain the idea. Maybe Leon deserved better, maybe a wife that didn’t just write smut for a living, feeling tears start to gather in your eyes you pulled your knees to your chest as a soft sniffle left your lips, Oero hissed as first before settling beside you on the couch, Ace on the other seemed to know something was wrong and light pressed his wet nose into your cheek and tried to lick the tears from your face.

“Its okay Ace.” You tried to reassure him, but it was almost as if he could tell you where lying because he nuzzled up closely beside you and let out a huff, sometimes Ace reminded you of Leon when you didn’t tell him what was wrong at first, he would then wrap his arms around you and pull you close to him and then let out a sigh. You laid your head against his and let out soft sniffles as she let herself sink into her little whole, not realising how deep it was.

4 Days Later

You didn’t even realise the days had been going by, you had mostly been spending your time laying on the couch, your laptop was abandoned in your new library upstairs that will be constructed when Leon gets back because he wants to build you a new and bigger one, he even got you to send him Pinterest pictures and aesthetics so he can create something you will love. You hadn’t been answering your phone just laying on the couch in a blanket watching whatever pops up on the tv absentmindedly, you did feed and take care of Oero and Ace just because you didn’t have the energy didn’t mean your pets should suffer, you knew Ace could tell something was wrong, he brought over his most prized toy it was a toy rope, he always played with it with Leon when he was home, he would sleep with it too that is how much he loved it.

So, you were a little surprised when he grabbed the toy and brought it over to you and dropped it beside you on the couch. Your heart ached at the gesture knowing he was trying to make you feel better in his own way, you gave him a soft kiss on the head and opened the blanket for him, to which he happily got in and snuggled up next to you and gave your face a soft lick.

Later that day you stirred hearing the front door open and close, you felt Ace leave the couch growling deeply before it turned into happy barks as the person walked into the house, you could hear hushed whispers as heavy boots hitting the floor then the soft thud of a bag being placed on the ground then the coldish gloved hand touching your face. “Darling you awake.” Leon spoke softly as you felt him gently stroke your cheek, you nodded your head and slowly opened your eyes.

Leon gave you a small smile and leaned forward and softy kissed your cheek, but there was a worried look on his face. You turned over so you where fully facing him. “You okay?, Chris send me a message saying you where replying to his text or answering his calls, he wanted to drop off some supplies for your library yesterday.” He asks you in a soft tone as he keep stroking your cheek, you causing a lump to form in your throat, you knew you weren’t okay but didn’t want to worry him. “yeah I must have been busy writing.” You told him and he looked at you for a second before nodding his head seeming to believe you or at least you thought.

You replied with ‘just brainstorming’ before you locked your phone for the night, you ran your fingers through your hair and gently tugged as you could feel tears welling up in your eyes in frustration, you knew this was your job and that soon you would have to start thinking about your next book but what used to feel like a fun hobby to connect with people and share things now felt like a jail sentence of expectation of are people going to like it?, what if they don’t’ like certain characters or ways you write certain characters or if you try something new and nobody likes it, a lot of what if questions started flooring your mind and your reasoning went out of the window.

But later that night you were lying in bed the blankets pulled up to your shoulders, this was the first time you had slept in your own bed in the last 4 to 5 days, Leon was currently in the shower so there was only his bedside lamp, you had replied to Chris’s message apologising and making up a small lie about not answering either his messages or calls and that he could drop his things off tomorrow, to which he sent you a thumbs up.

But just as you where about to put your phone down a email caught your eyes it was from your best friend/ editor for your books. She was wondering when you would be starting on your next book and what would it be about, you knew the message was harmless but the peace you had felt since Leon came home seem to vanish and it felt as if a weight had been put back on your shoulders.

You were so deep in your head you didn’t even hear or notice Leon had come out of the shower and was now putting on some sweatpants then coming over to the bed, you only noticed him when he wrapped his arms around your waist and pull you towards his chest and he placed a kiss on your shoulder. “its okay sweetheart you can talk to me.” Leon encourages you softly and that was when your walls crumpled, and you started crying in his arms.

“I don’t know what I am doing anymore.” You cried into his arms as he gently rubbed your back and placed soft kisses on your forehead. “Its okay, I got you.” Leon said gently against your forehead as his other hand was gently rubbing the back of your neck knowing it helps calm you down. “I feel like I am failing, I’m a terrible writer and wife, I can’t do anything right and even when i try i just mess things up.” You sobbed at your words you felt Leon’s hand stop before he pulled back slightly so he could look into your eyes.

“never and I mean never say that again you hear me, you’re an amazing writer Y/n it takes a lot of talent to write even a paragraph, and you can write thousands of words a day, just because it’s not getting 1000s of like a day like some other writers doesn’t mean your work is any lesser then theirs, you just need to find your group, your people that love your work because they either connect with you or with what you have written.” He says as he reaches up and gently wipes your cheek with his thumb a small smile on his lips. “as for being my wife, sweetheart you are the heart of this home I brought you this house, but you made it a home for us, you gave me the space for me to fix my motorbikes and have my own personal gym, I love you so much that it hurts me to see you like this, but I don’t want to spend my life with anybody else that isn’t you.” Leon says before placing a soft kiss on your forehead.

“but all I do is sit at home and write smut about characters based off our sex life all day.” You tried to weakly protest, but Leon just smiled and put your head against his chest and started playing with your hair. “as long its not about somebody else and it makes you happy then I’m happy.” Leon says causing a small smile to come onto your cheeks.

“how do you always know what to say.” You asked him as you turned your head to look up at him, he had a small smile on his lips before he his face went serious. “because I have been where you are mentally, the doubt, the expection you put on yourself which causes anxiety, depression, it’s a dangerous slope without the right support that if you fall to deep then it could be game over." He says before his eyes softened and he started to trace random shapes on uoir back with his thumb.

"it was because of you helping & guiding me that I was able to find my way back and try and become a better man and not try and not try find solutions at the bottom of bottle.” Leon says as he looks at you his blue eyes sparked with a small hint of guilt for what he had put you through, from having to pick him up from bar’s across town and drag him home, or having to hold his hair back as he vomited into a toliet at 4am when he finally stumbled home smelling like a brewery.

"Some day you will have great days, bad days and then just days where you just exist and that is okay, nobody is perfect and we all have our own struggles in life, but it's better to speak about it rather then bottle it up." Leon says with a soft hum, but his words caused you to look up at him with a raised eyebrow.

"When did you get so....wise?" you asked him but there was a small smile on your lips. "Instead of drinking I've been reading in my spare time while on missions." He says with a small embrassed blush slightly coloring his cheeks, you smiled and leaned up and kissed him.

The following morning.

“I love you.” You whispered softly, he smiled against your lips and kissed you back before pulling away slightly. “I love you too honey." He said as he pulled you closer and let out a soft breath as he rested his cheek on top of your head.

"You want a blowjob?" You asked him and all Leon did was chuckle. "I'm trying to be a supportive husband and you are being a little pervert." Leon says causing you to playfully roll your eyes. "It's been a while." You tried to argue but soon Leon was pulling you closer and his eyes where closed.

"Yes it has been a while, but not tonight and your not in the right headspace." Leon says before you could protest, you wanted to argue but you knew he was right so you settled down next to him and closed your eyes falling into a light sleep.

You had been working on a small paragraph, you where taking Leon’s advice and taking it slow and one day at a time and not pressuring yourself to write and trying to find the passion that you once had for the hobby, your doctor changed your medication again and this time you felt better, not so weighted down and the small voices in your head seemed to have stop for now, you knew some of the reason the voices stopped was because Leon was home and he could always reassure you vs when he is away on a mission, but you tried to not think about that as you tapped on your keyboard.

currently you were sitting cross legged on a bench press as Leon worked out in his gym, he had wanted to start getting into shape but didn’t want to go to the gym, glancing up from your screen you saw Leon pulling himself up on some bars causing his back muscles to bulge out slightly, you found yourself biting your lip as your eyes trailed down his body not even being subtle about it, his sweatpants hung dangerously low on his hips and threatened to slip off any second.

“Enjoying the show, why don’t you join me?.” Leon comments causing a blush to colour your cheeks as he looked at you through the mirror, you just smiled and closed your laptop before setting it to the side. “tempting offer but I’m getting enough cardio in just by watching you.” You said with a smile as you got off the bench press and walked over to him.

Leon dropped down from the bar with a soft thud as his feet hit the ground, only he could make looking sweaty sexy. “I could think of another way for you to get your cardio in.” Leon suggests with an innocent smirk, but you knew these was nothing innocent about his expression.

“Oh, and what do you suggest?” you ask him before you are backed up against the mirror, your inches apart you looked up at him through your lashes as you bit your bottom lip, you could feel the cold temperature of the glass even though Leon’s shirt you where wearing but you didn’t find in fact you welcomed it because it help with the rising temperature of your own body.

Leon began to open his button up shirt you where wearing only to see you wearing a bralette and panties underneath, you heard him softy groan and curse under his breath because it was his favourite set, It was a simple black lace bralette and panties combo, it was mesh and see through with small floral designs sewn in gold thread, it was one of your favourite because of how comfortable it was.

“you beautiful darling.” Leon purrs softly against your neck as his hands gently gripped your waist and pulls you closer to him. “Your too sweet.” You softly whisper and Leon just chuckled before he captured your lips in a soft kiss, but soon turned into something hungrier and more desperate as you wrapped your arms around his neck, as he hooked his hands under your thighs and picked you up with ease.

Soon you started to grind your hips against his as you could feel his bulge pressing against you. “You know what mirrors are good for sweetheart?” Leon asked with a groan against your lips, you shook your head and let out a soft whine as he broke the kiss.

“watching you cum.” Leon spoke in your ear causing a soft gasp to leave your lips as you looked at him blushing but your bottom lip was between your teeth, to which he captured your lips in another kiss but this time it was slower and more sensual as if he taking his time to taste every inch of your mouth.

When he pulled away from the kiss you started to kiss, suckle and bite his neck leaving little marks. ”gods look at you darling, breathless, flushed and so beautiful.” Leon spoke as he gently pulled you away from his neck and ran his thumb across your bottom lip.

“Please Leon.” You whined softly as you looked at him, you wanted him no you needed him either inside you or his fingers. “we don’t have condoms in here.” Leon says looking up at you wanted to groan before you looked at him.

“you could always pull out.” You suggested and in that moment you swear you saw Leon’s pupils dilate and get slightly bigger. Soon Leon is pushing down his sweats with your legs still around his waist, his shirt you where wearing was now open, and your bralette was pushed up exposing your hard perky nipples and your panties where pulled to the side.

“You ready?” Leon asked his face was flushed as yours was as well, you tightened your legs around his waist and let out a soft gasp as you felt him gently tapping the tip of his cock on the quivering entrance of your slick folds. “Yes.” You says nodding your head as you rested your head on his shoulder.

When he finally pushed inside you couldn’t help but whimper and arch your back as he took him inch by inch as he rolled his hips, almost hitting your sweet spot with each roll of his hips. “fuck you feel so good.” He gritted his teeth groaning softly as he finally bottomed out. You had to keep your eyes from rolling back, gently tugging his head down you captured his lips in a kiss that was nearly all teeth and passion.

“Harder.” You whispered against his lips as your fingers went into his hair and softly tugged causing a strand moan to leave his lips. He didn’t need to be told twice and soon he started moving his hips rougher but hungrily as if it wasn’t him that just craved your touch but also his body.

“Oh god Leon.” You cried out as your nails dug into his shoulders, you could hear how wet you were and felt it running down your thighs with each of Leon’s thrusts, his rhythm was angled so he would hit your sweet spot with each thrust, it was enough to make you see stars as your orgasm was fast approaching.

You knew Leon wasn’t too far behind as the hand that was on your ass helping stabilize you tightened, you knew you would have a bruise there later but when you felt his teeth sink into your neck you lost it and came with a loud hitch pitch cry of his name as your back arched and your eyes rolled back, he soon followed with a grunt as his hips stilled and you felt him fill you up.

It took a couple of minutes for your breaths to calm down, Leon pulled out with a soft hiss leaving you feeling empty as his come started to run down your thighs. “did you forget to pull out.” You asked him with an amused smile as you looked at him, to which he gave you a boyish grin that melted your heart.

“sorry but you got to admit you look fucking sexy like this.” Leon commented as he spread your butt cheeks slightly to watch his come drip out of you, playfully rolling your eyes as you grabbed his shirt you had been wearing. “I’m gonna go and shower, since Chris is dropping somethings over.” You says putting on the shirt, but Leon pushed it up slightly and before you could ask him what he was doing you felt his tongue between your legs.

“Wait I’m too sensitive.” You gently protested trying to push him away, but he just grabbed your hand and laced your fingers together as he licked and sucked your folds, you mewed softly and bit your lip as your eyes fluttered closed.

But thankfully he pulled away after a few minutes and to your surprised he kissed you and used his tounge to push the come into your mouth causing you to go wide eyed ad you tasted your combined juices, you swallowed and looked at his playful grin. “we better shower Chris will be here soon with paint.” Leon says nonchalantly as if he didn’t just feed you his come in a kiss.

You nodded your head and followed behind him, thinking your husband may seem stoic but underneath that make he was a little pervert....

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©Ghosty-writes-23, 2025. all rights reserved. !I DO NOT! consent to translations or replications or reproduction of my work on any other social media platforms and or make AI Bots without my explict consent and permission.

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