#and bringing some chopped up kids back to life

[blueflyingturtleontheway]

What is St Nicholas day? Can you explain to me what it is and some of your family’s traditions of you feel comfortable?

Of course!

It's a Catholic holiday, the feast (commemoration) of Saint Nicholas is on the 6th of December. Historically we know that st Nicholas was the bishop Myra and he's known for things like for example punching the heretics, but there's a toooon of legends of the miracles he did. According to one legend st Nicholas once heard about three girls who were too poor to marry (and some sources say they were supposed to be sold to a brothel because of that) so, despite not being very rich himself, Nicholas decided to help them and three nights in a row threw the money needed for the weddings through the window/chimney (that's where Santa Claus coming through the chimney comes from but that's the topic for another long rant post).

As for the traditions, in Poland children traditionally get little gifts under their pillows on the night between 5th and 6th (yes, we get gifts twice in December because Christmas too 😌) and I suppose the only difference in my family is that we never stopped doing this even though me and my sibling aren't children anymore.

Thank you for asking! I really like talking about my religion :>

[gorejo]

▸ A SOUVENIR FOR THE MORNING - GOJO SATORU. - forbes gojo!au

synopsis: you’ve avoided him for the last eight years, only for him to pop back into your life, leaving you with no room to run away as he asks you to kiss him. catch is, he now has a golden ring on his promise finger.

content: 9.2k words (idk how this happened, and it's unedited bc it's too long to go through) afab!reader, she/her pronouns, cursing, explicit smut, light angst, mentions of alcohol, unprotected sex, fingering, cunnilingus, creampie, and anxiety triggers (picking at nails), pet names (baby, sweetheart, love, angel, good girl). minors do not interact.

The room is packed with people when you walk in. It was hard to recall some faces from the mirage of dimmed lights making you feel mildly dizzy and it didn’t help how the buzzing in your head from the smell of champagne and the loud chatter from the already drunk almost thirty-year-olds that can’t seem to contain their liquor-like novices, made you want to go home increasingly more.

“It’s only 9:41, and they’re drinking like they’ve never tasted alcohol before,” you heard Shoko mumble as she searched through her purse to reach for her perfume, “you want some?” Your best friend offered with a smile as she looked at you through the bathroom mirror. 

“I’m okay,” you smiled back, “can’t have all the boys following me around with that,” you teased.

Shaking her head in disapproval, “If you see me go home with any of these drunks, I give you full permission to hit me, no, in fact, I’ll pull up to your apartment every morning with coffee and take you to work for a week if I do,” Shoko shuddered while furrowing her brows only to quickly soften the moment she saw you lightly picking at your thumb – an anxious habit you’ve picked up throughout the years, only but the keenest of eyes being able to notice your anxiety.

“You okay love?” Her voice was sweet as she leaned against the restroom sink.

“Mhm, of course,” you faked a smile, “I guess I’m just a little nervous seeing everyone, you know,” lightly chuckling as you bit your lips. Little was underlying, when the knot in your stomach was building up, making you force down the urge to entirely vomit in the moment. 

“People are thrilled to see you again,” placing her hand on your shoulder, “it’s literally been years for you,” she huffed, pouting as she reminisced over the years she attended alone.  

“well ‘m sure one will be sure thrilled —” her voice suddenly drained from a crowd of people entering the restroom, slightly pushing you towards her, “nevermind come on, let’s go get something to drink,” Shoko muttered as she led you out, gently massaging your tense neck as she encouraged, bringing her lips to your ears, “if anyone bites, I’ll chop their dick off,” Shoko threatened with a flashing smile as she led you to a nearby table.  

It’s only 9:41 — no, 9:42.

College reunions, who looks forward to that? 

There was no particular reason for you to be anxious, it’s been years since. You’ve prepared yourself for this, meditating every single day since you got the notification in your email on a Tuesday evening — an invite to rsvp for a room at the Aman Hotel. 

Maybe it wouldn’t have been so nerve-wracking if you’ve been consistently going out to these every year since they’ve held one. But every year there seems to be a conflict in the schedule that forbade you to go.

One year it was your boss last-minute asking your team to work overtime, when a rookie employee lost all the data when he supposedly fell asleep, accidentally losing months of all your blood, sweat, and tears to make it for the deadline on your next advertising project. 

Poor kid was fired the next day.

The following year, you were determined to go, going as far as walking to the restaurant, when the sudden nausea of socializing plagued your mind. The joyous welcomings and celebrations annoyingly muffled in your ear as you groaned past a familiar voice that seemed to call out your name from a distance. Your feet walking on their own volition through your sleep deprivation. Only to wake up in your bed with countless text messages from your best friend asking what the hell happened. 

No wonder it was so fucking loud that night. 

Another was simple, not your fault this time. Shoko couldn’t make it because of her rounds at the hospital. 

Never in hell were you going to show up alone. 

And the last one, well your taxi got a sudden flat tire. That in itself was a confirmation for you not to go, nor did you have any dying wish to go. Quickly texting your best friend, huffing out a sigh of relief as you pressed send.

&lt;< sorry… can’t make it tonight. I promise, next year!! 

Today, well things seemed to have aligned. No overtime, no flat tires, no sleep deprivation, no nothing.

Maybe it was an excuse? 

Maybe you were subconsciously avoiding it? 

But ironic is it, that life seems to protect you when most fragile, only to push you out into the void when least expected making you feel even more vulnerable, feeling so exposed in such a cruel world. 

Or maybe the universe was waiting for this moment, that despite your consensus or approval, it was determined that you were ready to confront it — well it, being the owner of a pair of brilliant light blue eyes that sparkled like an aqua jewel, shining brighter than when you’ve last seen them clouded in tears as you let go of his trembling hand for the last time, crushing his pure heart as you left him with, “i’m sorry.”

Was that already eight years ago? 

But whether it was the consequence of your selfish choice or a blessing of choosing to be selfless, luck was on your side today…

… well, you hoped at least somewhat on your side.

“My … look who it is,” you heard a voice from behind you.

Turning around, though the shame of suddenly cutting him off enticed your heart as you faced him, you couldn’t help but smile at his familiar face walking over with two drinks in his hand.

Holding the same gentle eye smile, with a lock of his black hair falling down on his left side, donned in a white dress shirt with his sleeves cuffed at the elbows, no tie but buttons loosely opened with a pair of dark slacks and shined dress shoes. Geto Suguru walked over.

“Aren’t you still handsome,” you complimented with a sweet smile.

“Don’t feed into his ego like that,” Shoko chimed as she nudged your arm, “his head is already big enough.”

“Who me?” Exaggerating his response, only to soon level down to the same amiable smile, calm cadence you’ve remembered him to have as he offered you a drink, “I have to take all the compliment I can get, don’t know when you’ll go awol and go missing for another eight years.”

“Funny…” you muttered, rolling your eyes while taking the drink by the stem, “and thank you, Suguru.”

“Where’s mine?” Shoko jabbed while shooting a glare at his nonchalance.

“Not here,” Geto flashed a smile, innocently shrugging. 

“Whatever, I’ll get my own,” shaking her head in disapproval, grumbling while making her way to get a drink, but still making a point to stop in front of the man to warn, “Don’t say anything weird Suguru, I barely got her to come today.”

“Relax, ‘m just trying to catch up with an old friend,” Geto countered, making a point to whisper while smiling at you.

“I won't hurt her, that I promise,” Geto affirmed. 

Your best friend walked off only to turn around for a brief moment as she worriedly looked back at you “Text me for anything okay?” 

“I’ll be fine! Don’t worry,” you reassured.

“And don’t forget what I said, I’ll even cut his,” deadpanning while looking at your male counterpart, “I got no problem doing it, I’m medically certified anyways, there’s nothing that a sharp scalpel can’t fix, ” Shoko stated with an innocent smile while walking off. 

“So,” releasing a sigh as he pushed the strains of his hair back, “how’ve you been?” Geto smiled.

“I’ve been… okay,” you confessed while placing your lips against your glass before taking a sip, “could be better.”

“Thought you were living your life,” Geto teased, his voice laced with sarcasm, “Shoko wouldn’t tell us much about you.”

“I… I told her not to,” you confessed while leaning against your table, the pain of your heels starting to ache up your back. 

“How come? Weren’t we your friends too?” 

“I just didn’t think it was best to keep myself in the circle when I —” biting the inside of your mouth to stuff the suffocating knot forming underneath your lungs.

“ — When you broke up with him?” Geto finished your hesitation.

Nodding yes, you softly whispered, “I thought it was for the best for him.”

“For the best huh?” Geto chuckled, “well I guess you didn’t know him too well then.”

“What do you mean?” Your brows furrowed as your mouth started to feel dry, “I did it because we weren’t compatible, I would’ve been a stumbling block for him,” you stammered as your voice started to shake, “I- I would’ve halted his growth, and he would’ve hated me in the end if I selfishly held onto him when he was worth so much more than being with me,” you confessed with lips quivering as a tear fell, only to quickly brush it away before Suguru could notice.

But nothing passes with him, he reads right through you. His voice softened, “Was this your insecurity you’ve decided for him or — ” turning his body to face you while his body leaned on his arm against the standing table, “Was this something he actually would’ve struggled with?”

“I can’t change the past Suguru.” You shamefully avoided his gaze, “I still stand by my decision.”

“I don’t doubt that,” shrugging as he exhaled, “I mean, you did avoid him for almost a decade.”

“H-he seems happy,” you let your thoughts slip.

“You think so?” 

“Shoko would tell me about everyone, you, him” you unnoticingly spewed out your thoughts. “Of course not in full detail, but that you’ve established your own studio, and that you’ve finally released those photos.”

“Mhm, that’s correct, would’ve loved to have invited you to the exhibition, it was quite… a moment,” he chuckled while playing with his fingers. 

“That Megumi’s in high school and that he’s gotten in trouble for beating up the school bullies,” lowly laughing as you remembered how cute yet scarily mature he was for his age.

“Nanami hates corporate life, but still listens to what he has to say even if it’s outrageous.” Taking a sip of your drink, the sparkle of the beverage mildly burning your throat, “... and that he’s traveling the world living his life.”

Mumbling under your breath, “he’s even recently gone to Paris and had a night picnic with —”

“You stalked him?” Geto teased as he huffed out a laugh when he caught your shocked expression

“No — I mean, Shoko would tell me,” you stammered.

“Sure, whatever you say, sweetheart," Geto teased, "but just to let you know, he just got back. And from what I know, they haven’t met since he arrived. His plane should’ve landed,” while dramatically looking at his watch, “I don’t know like an hour ago? He’s probably on his way over here,” Geto handsomely winked as he suddenly placed a gentle hold of your waist and brought you near his side.

“You know… he’ll look for you, now knowing that you’re here” Geto whispered into your ear.

“How does he know… I told Shoko to not tell —”

Blinking innocently at you with a smile, while playing with his phone, “can’t avoid the poor guy forever.”

“I’m not avoiding him,” you sighed knowing what Geto had done, “just didn’t have a chance to run into him.”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart,” releasing you with a smile, “ if you’re really sure about where you stand, then don’t run away from him.”

Geto's eyes flash to the entrance doors for a split second and land back on you.

“But would you look at that,” humming as he pointed to his empty glass yet his eyes caught sight of a familiar figure. It was the first in a while that you felt your heart sinking, all the blood in your body rushing out, making you suddenly feel lifeless and queasy.

“Gonna get another glass, you want one?” Suguru suggested.

“I’m okay, but thank you Suguru,” you quickly stated as your heart started to beat faster by the second.

“Sure, just don’t be a stranger again,” Suguru teased as he started to walk off, but your hand immediately reached out to catch his arm to quickly reinforce, “I- I mean it… thank you.”

Knowing your implication, smiling as he received your thanks, “No need, as fucking cringe it is,” chuckling as he shook his head, looking over your shoulder and back at you, “he’s my best friend, of course, I’ll be there for him.”

Letting go of his arm, your hands anxiously balled into a fist as you quickly turned around to avoid him, doing anything to hide from his sight. You felt your breaths becoming increasingly more difficult to inhale, and stagnant as your palms started to sweat. 

“I’m not avoiding him… I’m not avoiding him” you quietly mumbled to yourself, your words contradicting your actions as you walked further away onto the balcony, texting Shoko, 

<< I’ll be outside getting some fresh air (: let me know when you want to leave.  

Closing your phone, as you let the night breeze wash against your face, leaving light chills around your body, you nervously sighed, “It’s been eight years you say…”

— 

Your story was nothing short of the typical — difference in class and status, trying to make things work just for the convenience of love. It wasn’t hard at first to situate yourself into his life, nor was it any difficult for him to become accustomed to yours. 

They say time will change things, circumstances will get better. Be patient with your season, and you’ll be rewarded for your hardwork.

But somethings never change no matter how hard you try to alter the dice. He’s rich and you’re just average.

Money works for him, while you had to take on multiple jobs just to make your next rent at the start of your career. 

He was bound for greatness at a young age, trained by the best professionals and tutored by an exquisite league of mentors. While you had to settle for things, simply dreaming of the what can be. Thus, you worked even harder. You pushed yourself to keep up, to become of the level of who he’s supposed to be, and what he could accomplish. 

When he dozed off in class, you stayed up. You studied, pulled all-nighters, chugged caffeine, and oftentimes had to push back dates with him for simple study sessions — he didn’t complain, said he liked to just sleep with his head rested on your lap while he cuddled into your stomach while you studied. 

“Don’t mind me, I’ll be your personal radiator,” he would chime with a boyish grin on his face, taking off his sunglasses as he stretched his long legs before latching behind you like a koala, “wake me up when you’re done, I’ll drive you home,” Gojo peacefully murmured without forgetting to place a kiss to your shoulder, while you stressed over your next exam. 

With him, even the coldest days always felt warm.

And on the next day, he’ll always take you to class with some soup and hot tea, murmuring about your poor dietary choices and how you often neglect your health to study. But at least he’ll be gentle, and wish you the best on your exam with a light kiss — an innocent kiss that lasts a bit too long, his hand always gracing your body as he reluctantly releases you, brushing off the saliva that linked your lips together — his good luck charm he’ll argue, a little tease of what he’ll reward you with later when you got home for being his good girl. 

Gojo will always try to convince, “Life isn’t always about studying, baby,” stating with a pout, after your fifth time canceling a date he’s planned to instead go on a simple walk outside your flat, “you gotta live life to the fullest! And why stress when you’ve snatched me?”

“Well, I can’t live life to the fullest if I don’t study now, Satoru. And who’s gonna pay for all that ice cream you eat? All the sweets you stock up on?”

“What do you mean?” Deadpanning as he stopped in his tracks, “you have me, what more else do you need? I'm a double threat — I’m rich and handsome.”

“Satoru — I… never mind,” rolling your eyes, as you were hit with his puppy eyes. 

“Just promise,” his tall frame blocking you, “that you’ll always stick with me.”

“I’m not a piece of gum to just stick onto you, Satoru,” pushing him away, only for him to reach out to delicately hold your hand, “You know, if you’re a gum, you’ll be the sweetest one.”

“Yea, why so?”

“Because every time I eat you, you taste so sweet,” he teased with a flirty wink, “if you get what I — ow!” 

Rubbing his forearm that barely hurt, Gojo loved to exaggerate when he was with you. 

For Gojo, things came easily for him, as if the universe highlighted his life as a thousand-year blessing, nothing was out of his reach — that is, nothing but you. 

Shocking to many, he pursued you first. When asked about how you guys met, or what’s the story behind you two, or even if no soul asked… he’ll blabber on with an outrageous story, saying he fell in love the moment he laid his eyes on you, that you were the apple of his eye — an over the top fanfiction of you and him of how he just knew you were the person for him when you stumbled into the library, arms full of books and coffee in the other, and you magically just happened to just bump into him. And if it wasn’t for that encounter, then he would’ve never gotten your number. 

And without your number, he wouldn’t have been able to woo you with his charm, he’ll always add with a wink.

“You can say it’s fate,” he’ll proclaim, “I never went to the library, you know,” as he munched on his icecream with Megumi and Tsumiki savoring theirs, both unbothered by the story he’s told them countless times, “and the one day I chose to follow Suguru because he was simping over someone, I get coffee spilled all over my clothes and meet her? Damn, the heavens just wanted us together.”

All you remember of that day was that your precious coffee went to waste, with your books embarrassingly spread out on the floor, and you were stuck having to dry clean his ridiculously expensive clothes. 

But with him, you experienced all your firsts.

Your first handholding — Satoru confidently took your hand, immediately interlocking his fingers with yours, his palms engulfing yours entirely, “don’t be scared baby, I’m not scared,” flexing his muscles as he proudly smiled,  “I’ll protect you!” as he leads you through the haunted mansion, jolting through every jump scare, absolutely refusing to scream. 

You remember his palms felt particularly clammy that day. 

Your first kiss — on a spring picnic as he laid on your lap, his eyes sparkling a little more than usual as he looked up at you, innocently asking, “can I kiss you?” 

Your first argument. Ignoring him for a whole week, only for your resolve to quickly break when Suguru urgently called you to his house stating that Satoru was deathly ill — dark circles under his eyes, cheeks frail from not eating, wrapped up in his blanket as he dramatically announced his dying wishes while sneaking obvious glances at you. 

Geto’s diagnosis: pure insanity. 

To your first cuddle buddy, to innocent make-out sessions, to wonton looks and lustful touches for more. leading to your first sexual experience, both unknowing and inexperienced as he groaned into your ear in the back of his car one rainy night as you struggled to take his girth.

He was your first taste of goodness — like a forbidden fruit, you increasingly wanted him more. In soul, mind, and body, you etched yourself into him, making the tear even more painful to rip apart. 

Sure, loving him was easy — but loving you, the version who was so lacking compared to him and insecure was hard.

You tried to ignore it, you did your best to brush off the insecurity that came with each day of choosing him. But having the message that you were worth less than he was being constantly blasted to your face — the blatant discrepancies between social classes and the nature of how you both grew up, to the constant side glances you’ll get wondering how someone so normal like you, got with such a high net worth — gradually, it all made you dissociate from him. 

So you worked even harder. You stayed up longer than anyone else just to get that better grade. You worked that extra shift just to prove that you were capable. You doused yourself in knowledge, yet tried to stay humble to be seemingly perfect… but in that, you unknowingly pushed him further away, losing parts of yourself while at it. 

And your final straw? It was a text message you accidentally read on his phone while he silently napped, cutely dozing off as you massaged his scalp.

From: Mom.

>> Remember the girl I talked to you about? Nitori-chan’s family requested that we set up a date for you two. The faster the better, no need for our families to meet, it’s all settled. 

To: Minako.

<< Let’s meet. When are you free, Minako? 

From: Minako.

>> Whenever! I can meet now!

>> Is this about our potential engagement?

To Minako.

<< Yea, let's meet tonight to talk about it.

You remembered, that night you couldn't reach him.

The final trigger that blew it over. The rambling of your thoughts paralyzes you from thinking rationally.

You didn’t need to search up who she was. Nitori Minako, the youngest daughter of Japan’s leading technology company that rivaled to that of America’s fruit. A girl that was a year younger than you — smart, adamantly cute, cunning and rich — always following him around a bit too closely for your liking, preaching about how “Gojo-san promised he’ll marry me when we were young! Isn’t that so cute?”

how long was this going on for? 

Has he always been going on secret dates like this? Was he always just willing to let it slide when you rejected his dates because he had other options?

Was he leading you on this whole time before he’ll leave you for what he rightfully deserved? 

Was all of this a lie? All of what he said?

The pinnacle of your sanity breaking as your thoughts became corrosive and brittle the more you dove deeper into the pitfalls of your insecurities — of course what people said was right, there was no way someone like him can settle for any less.

... Ultimately, everything led to you quietly blurting out as he rambled about his day. 

Playing with your hand, smiling like a loser as he intertwined your smaller fingers with his, “Geez, there was this jeweler that I wanted to take you to, but dammit, the store closed early today. Maybe we can go — ”

“Let’s break up,” you suddenly announced, looking straight ahead.

The room suddenly felt quiet, so quiet that the thumping of your heart felt like loud sirens blaring next to your eardrum, and your body felt numb. 

After a few seconds, Satoru stammered, “w-what?”

Sighing as you closed your eyes, “I said, let’s break up, we aren’t — ” you reiterated.

“I heard you the first time,” Gojo hissed, still playing with your fingers but his grip now harsher, “just wanted to make sure you weren’t bullshitting right now.”

“I’m not joking, Satoru,” your voice stripped of any emotion, “we aren’t good for eachother.”

“Says who?” the man challenged. 

“It’s something that’s been on my mind,” you responded back while trying to pull back your hand, “l-let go, Satoru, it hurts…”

“Is it because of the text?” Gojo refused to let go, even more so gripping even harder, “Fuck... I'm sorry I should've explained earlier," his voice pleading for you to listen.

"I swear nothing happened, and nothing will ever happen, b-baby look at me,” your boyfriend’s — now, ex-boyfriend's — voice elevating and shaking. 

“Gojo,” softly pausing after his name, “let’s end it when things aren’t so bad… I can’t have you hating me more when we have no other choice but to break up,” finally pushing his grip off, “it’s inevitable, we’ve been walking towards a destined finish line from the beginning, let’s just call it quits a little earlier.”

“no... you can't do this, you can't do this to me,” he vulnerably uttered, his body noticeably trembling as a tear dropped onto the back of your hand as he reached over to touch you, hoping it'll mend whatever hatred you had towards him, “you.. we promised,” his voice shaking.

“I’m sorry Gojo,” you dodged his grasp, “guess promises are only good if you can keep them, and I can’t.”

Days of him begging at the forefront of your door, crying as he asked for an explanation, his missed texts and calls that would go straight to voicemail, to Suguru stepping in to ask what the hell was going on… all leading you to cut off every aspect of Gojo Satoru out of your life, except Shoko.

After two years of dating, at the ripe age of 20, you experienced your first heartbreak with Gojo Satoru, marking the end of the final chapter of your love story with him. 

To you, he’ll be the greatest warmth you’ll ever experience. 

To him, you’ll be the heartless bitch that left him cold.

—-

“Hmm,” looking at your empty notifications, “guess she’s a little busy right now…” you hummed. Despite your outwardly calm demeanor and the stillness of the serene summer night, juxtaposed was your mind with wandering thoughts that wrecked havoc in your head. 

Shoko would update you occasionally about him, not going too far into details. You knew he was successful in his craft, excelling in it as he ranked 11th in Forbes 30 under 30 list, losing the tenth spot barely to a Zenin. It would be a lie if you weren’t curious about him, your mind wandering and weak during the quietest of nights, making a burner account to stalk his socials, only to immediately regret the moment you see photos and stories that presumably show that he’s in a relationship — with a gorgeous one in fact.

You’ve briefly heard of his dating history, hearing it from Shoko directly, as it mindlessly slipped through her tongue as she complained that he’s broken up with another girl. 

Throughout the years, you’ve concluded maybe this was your punishment for leaving him. Damnation to feel stuck in the same perpetual regret of hurting his heart, of choosing to look at your fears instead of maybe trusting in him. 

But, at least he looked happy. and you clung onto that reserve.

Maybe it was for the best that things happened this way  —

Your ears perked up as you heard the tapping of shoes coming towards you, your stomach suddenly dropping to the floor. 

“Were you planning on avoiding me the whole night?” 

You were sure, there was no denying that was his voice. 

Yes, it was a bit deeper from when you last heard it. The decibel of his voice is now infused with power and confidence, yet still with the underlying tone of softness from what you remembered. 

“Ah, sorry… how rude of me,” you mumbled, the pounding of your heart beating through your ribcage. You quickly placed an arm over your chest, a hand over your heart, doing anything to muffle the harsh pulsing, terrified that he was going to hear, “it’s been a while Gojo,” you offered him a light smile, “I’m sorry, but if you’ll excuse me Ieiri is waiting for me,” you tried excusing yourself only to be met with his stance unchanging, unmoving. 

You felt his eyes pierce into your skull, “Gojo?… ah that’s right,” his voice guarded as he looked over in another direction, his face pointing specifically elsewhere, the moonlight highlighting his perfect features.

“I think she’s pretty busy, don’t you think?” he shrugged.

Dammit she was your ride home. Guess coffee is on her for the next week. 

“Oh sorry,” you muttered under your breath.

Grinning as he licked his lips, “You’re awfully saying sorry a lot over nothing,” Gojo chuckled, “guess old habits die hard,” his last words spewed with a hint of bitterness as he clenched his jaws. 

Only to relax seconds later, placing his drink on the railing, softly grunting as he pulled off his jacket, and placed it over your shoulders, “It’s cold, don’t want you getting sick now,” the smell of his cologne filled up your lungs, hypnotizing your senses — a bit strong but nonetheless intoxicating.

You couldn’t help but feel guilty for feeling a sense of security from the weight of his heated jacket, and in response, you started to immediately pick at your thumbs. 

“It’s okay!” You tried to object, trying to take it off only to be met with a stern yet gentleness of his voice, his large hand stopping you, now calloused and thick yet the warmth of his palm brushing against your smaller one felt nostalgic and sinful, as your eyes immediately noticed a gold sparkle on his ring finger, “it’s fine. my body runs hot, remember?” 

“T-thank you,” you muttered, the harsh beatings of your heart quickly making your cheeks feel hot. 

A ring? you wondered.  

“So, what made you come today?” Gojo huffed as he looked off into the distance.

“Had no excuse not to come.”

“I see,” his voice deep, taking the last swig of his drink, deeply inhaling to release a long breath, “It’s good to see you though.”

“Yea, me too,” you quietly responded, the awkwardness of the conversation eating at your bones, the tightness of your stomach knotting increasingly more.

Laughing as he turned around, his long legs crossed, showing a bit of his socks peeking out of his slacks as his dress shoes reflected the moon's shine. Surely, they were expensive, probably equaled to a month of your rent on his feet. With his arms crossing his chest, leaning against the railing, the quiet winds brushing against his soft hair, lightly masking his cerulean eyes as he faced you, “Liar, you were always good at that.”

Taking you off guard, your eyes immediately connecting with his, your breath stopping as if a sudden load was pushed onto your chest, you felt a wave of sadness rush over you as you ventured into his empty eyes. 

Since when did he have that ring? 

Did he find someone at Paris? Shoko told me — no, there’s no way he found someone so soon.

Or maybe he’s trying to settle down —

“Are you happy?” His question brought you back into reality.

“What?” you whispered.

“I don’t think I’ve asked a hard question,” he responded, his voice now harsh and impatient, “I asked if you were happy.”

Your finger pricks at your thumb, “I guess so…”

Rolling his tongue against his teeth, his finger playing with his ring.   

Taking no regard for catering to your comfort, he jeered, “Why’d you do it?”

“What are you talking —” you stammered.

“You know damn well what I’m referring to,” Gojo spat. 

“Excuse me,” You muttered, your eyes refusing to disconnect despite your whole body fighting against it.

“I- I got to go, Ieiri is waiting —”

“No, you already used that excuse,” pulling you in by your wrist, immediately caging you in between his arms, with you now leaning against the railing, your eyes level to his broad chest — has he always been this big?

“Answer me, at least you can have the courtesy of honestly telling me why you left me like that eight years ago.”

“I don't remember,” you stated with eyes threatening to spill.

“Liar,” his body leaning down, the hurt in eyes even more apparent than before, “you’re a fucking liar,” Gojo spewed with no resolve to withhold a solid tear from falling, his face now dangerously close — lips even more threatening to touch.

All you wanted to do was say sorry, to cup his face and kiss his tears, to say it was a mistake that you’ve never intended to let him go — you selfishly tortured him by continuously keeping him in your heart without giving him a chance to prove you wrong. 

“I’m so sorry,” was all you could respond.

“Did you not trust me?” Hurt was apparent in his voice, “Was I that untrustworthy for you to just leave like that and just disappear for eight years?”

“No, no… it’s not like that,” you tried comforting, unknowingly placing your hands on his chest, “it was never like that.”

"then tell me why," he forced out through gritted teeth while furrowing his brows.

"I just thought it was for the best," you quietly whispered.

"you thought it would be for the best?" Gojo scoffed, "And how the hell did you come to a conclusion to just leave like that?"

" 'm sorry, Gojo... I - I truly am," you pleaded while clenching his shirt.

"You must've really enjoyed watching me beg huh," Gojo challenged, "absolutely thrived knowing this was all for my own good, right?" Gojo spat out his anger.

"It wasn't like that, i'm so sorry, I was hurting —"

“Stop fucking apologizing! you don't get to do that," His voice shattered the serene night. Chest heaving as he clenched onto the stone railing, "I didn’t go through shit these past eight years just to hear your selfish sorry's,” he stated with gritted teeth, as he threateningly moved even closer, “d-did you even love me?” 

“Yes, of course!” You immediately cupped his face, finally letting go of the years you craved his touch, your heart shattering as you felt him melt into your wicked hands.

“Then kiss me,” he suddenly whispered, the slight scent of alcohol mixed in with cologne altering your judgment.

“Y-your drunk, Gojo,” you pleaded, immediately letting go of his face as you tried to push him off.

His voice elevated, "Why not?" Gojo growled, "Like you said, it's not like you left because you didn't love me. Or are you lying about that too?"

“don’t make this hard, we — I can’t do this with you anymore,” guilt running through your veins as the image of his ring blared loudly in your head.

You couldn’t do this to another girl, he wasn’t yours anymore… 

“stop the bullshit,” Gojo growled before his lips slammed into yours, his large hands cupping your face, leaving you no room to run away. his tongue forced its way into your mouth, teeth painfully clashing yet you didn’t mind. because against your resolve, your arms immediately wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer to taste the sweetness of his saliva and feel the warmth of his tongue.

The groan of his voice vibrated against your lips, as his clothed hip bucked into your pelvis, his lips trailing down from yours to your neck, tongue sloppily trailing down with it as his hands wandered down to hold your hips.

“Tell me you missed me,” he moaned out as you gripped the ends of his hair,  his tongue teasing down your sweet spots, pecking kisses as he inhaled your scent.

“Say you loved me, I don't care anymore if it’s a lie,” your ex now pleaded, his hot breath heating your cheeks.

“… I love you,” you confessed.

Lowly laughing like a maniac, staring deep into your wanting eyes, the man whispered back, “aren't you fucking heartless.”

...

You don’t recall how you made it into the hotel room. In a moment your lips crashed with his on the balcony, and only a second later you found yourself with his large hand securely wrapped around yours, silently waiting for the elevator to bing on the twentieth floor as your ex-boyfriend led you into his hotel room.

Now, currently, you’re pressed against the wall, shoes thrown aside groaning with your hands tangled in his soft hair, as he hurriedly stripped you out of your dress, lips hungrily moving against each other as he growled into the kiss.

Though its been years, his touch never faltered from remembering your body — immediately tracing over your sweet spots that he’s located in your early twenties, now with more experience and strength he dove deeper in.

“Fuck, missed these beauties,” he groaned as he cupped your breasts, his thumb playing with your hardened nipples as he quickly released the back strap of your bra, promptly latching his lips onto your swollen ones again right before you released a moan.

Your body had a mind of its own. Fallen into sin, your hands unbuttoned his shirt, quickly revealing his toned, muscular build as your hands ran against his pecs. You felt his stomach flex as you started to unbuckle his belt and zip down his pants, his lips hungrily chasing after yours as he caressed your body, hands slipping down further into your inner thigh, his index starting to play with your swollen clit — his fingers have always been so pretty, especially with his ring

“G-gojo stop!” Your eyes immediately shoot open.

“What,” annoyed, the man hissed, looking into your eyes with his pupils dilated, hair absolutely disheveled, until moments later his lips are impatiently back onto yours again. 

“We.. we can’t,” you cried out as you melted in his touch, “y-your ring,” you gasped out, suffocating as he stripped you of oxygen.

“Ring?” he stopped for a brief moment, chuckling as he brought up his finger, “you worried about this?” he teased.

Intoxicated in his touch, you were willing to throw away your pride and dignity just for one night — one night can’t hurt, right? So you take the ounce of courage you had left, placing a tender kiss on his lips as a sign of surrender as you gently cupped his face, “take off your ring,” you whispered as you guilty looked away.

Chasing after your kiss, pushing you further into the room as you yelped at his force, your arms entangled around his neck and fingers around his hair as you tried to stabilize yourself, “I promise you it’s nothing, sweetheart,” he coaxed with his sharp canines flashing through his wickedly handsome smile. 

And running his lips against your chest, leaving small denture marks on your skin that forced moans out of you, with his pants now pooled at his ankles before shimming them off, his cock fully erect, unapologetically twitching in his briefs.

“For you, I guess,” Gojo hummed as he watched the thin line of spit that connected you both dissipate away, existing as a sign of proof of the situationship he currently had with you. 

Taking his ring off, he set it down near the bedside table, "there it's gone."

At least for this night, he was yours. 

You’ll repent for your sins, and receive any punishment the gods had to give you tomorrow, but today, you chose him.

And right now, you also chose to kneel in between his thighs, hooking your finger under his waistband to pull his briefs off. Satoru immediately lifted his hips to help you while releasing a sultry groan as he felt the cold air elope his sensitive tip. 

Was he always this thick? You remembered his cock being pretty, but also what the fuck were those two veins running down his shaft? And was he always this… groomed? 

“Are you just gonna stare at it… or do I need to use your mouth to get some action?” Satoru impatiently asked with his cock twitching, his finger brushing against your heated cheeks as he palmed his member.

“It’s just been awhile,” you murmured, licking your lips before you opened your mouth to have him enter.

“Fuck, " Satoru shuddered as the base of your tongue brushed against his frenulum.

"i must be dreaming,” Gojo murmured under his breath, your head rising up as you released his cock with pop! With your hot tongue swirling against his head, there was no chance for Satoru to stay strong. and you enjoyed every second of seeing him slowly unravel in your power.

“j-just like that,” he ordered while placing his hand on top of your head, guiding your momentum. 

His precum tasted salty but pleasant. Hell, he wasn’t even close to the other men you’ve been with, incomparable starting with the size of their dicks to his.

Hallowing your cheeks and expanding your throat to take in his shaft, with your hands gently playing with his balls, you felt his cock hit the back of your throat the moment you saw his head fling backwards, gasping as he pushed down his spit down his dry throat.

“You like that?” Gojo hissed as he bucked his hips into your warm crevice, “you missed my cock, angel?”

You honestly agreed, tears staining your vision with his length stuffed into your orifice, only to get a spiteful laugh in return, “well, guess that makes two of us,” he huffed while crowning over your body, pushing himself deeper into you, his stomach hitching as he groaned out your name.  

“Fuck this shit,” he moaned, as he urgently pulled himself out of your mouth, sacrificing his impeding release for abstinence. 

“You’re driving me crazy,” he gasped when your thumbs swirled around his pulsing head, “you always do,” he purred as he nibbled on your lower lip, promptly pulling you onto his lap, one hand straddling your waist while the other mounded your ass.

And looking up at you, with his blue eyes now darkened in full blown lust, his hot breath sending chills down your spine, “tell me what you want? I’ll give you anything.”

“Y-you,” you shamefully confessed, gasping as his cock grazed against your sensitive folds, your fingers gripping his shoulders as you started to grind against his length, “I want you inside me again, Satoru” you whispered into his ear, lightly moaning out his name.

“Shit,” Satoru croaked, pulling himself down as he gently released you to lay on the bed, “I dont have a condom,” he confessed as he gently kissed your cheeks, “ you gonna be okay without it?” he asked.

“Mhm, j-just hurry… please,” you murmured. 

“Good girl, now come here,” he coaxed as he placed a soft pillow under your head. 

Taking a brief moment to observe your face, reading any sign of forced emotion that you might try to hide, only to ease himself into the kiss when he feels you impatiently desiring his touch, “relax, baby,” he cooed as his kisses traveled southward.

Placing each delicate kiss on your body as his soft hair trailed behind, lightly tickling you as your thighs gently caged his waists into you, “you know they wanted me to thank you,” Gojo breathed out as he split your thighs open, settling himself in between your legs.

“W-who?” you whimpered as his calloused hands massaged your muscles, his soft lips easing out the tension boiling in your core while your hands immediately went straight to grip his hair.

Lips drawing closer, closer and closer until his breath knocked against the frame of your dripping cunt.

“God you’re so fucking wet,” blowing air onto your sensitive nerves, looking up to watch your body shiver at his power as he slid his finger down your folds, pushing in one finger, two, and eventually three into your tight hole as he watched you stretch, your viscous juice soon dripping down his forearm.

“They wanted me to thank you for how good I eat pussy now,” Gojo smirked before he took a swipe of his tongue against your womanhood, spreading out your cunt as he purposefully flicked his tongue against your clit, lightly sucking on the bud thereafter.

… 

How many times as it been, you wondered? More than once or twice, maybe four… five — you moaned out when you felt your legs hitching up to his shoulders, his cock hitting just at the right spots he remembered from years ago. 

“Angel,” Gojo huffed as sweat dripped down his temple, grunting as he felt your tight walls fluttering against his length at the call of his sweet pet name, “you have that much leisure to be thinking about something else when I’m fucking you?” 

Kissing your ankles, his pelvis showing you no mercy as his wet skin slapped against your ass, the sound and sultry smell of hot sex filtrating your room, “still so fucking tight,” Satoru grunted as he pushed his body onto you, your legs hooking against his shoulders, his strong arms holding you from under.

“G-gojo!” you rasped out, barely audible and inable to breathe from his heavy weight and humidity of the room, “it’s too deep! Slow down!”

Growling into your ear, his teeth nibbling against your earlobe, his hot breath stinging your face as he scoffed at your choice to call him so mundanely.

“you gonna be so impersonable,” his thrust going deeper, harder into you, “when I’m so deepily inside you?”

“Ngh,” gasping, “it’s too much,” you sobbed with his face planted into your neck, and his ass clenching with every push he drove into your gushy walls that still wrapped so perfectly around his — just like how he’s last felt you around him, just like how he’s molded your insides just for himself.

“You let anyone else fuck you?” He suddenly hissed, panting as he tried to catch his breath, the sweat on his back making it difficult for you to hold onto him, “you let anyone else see this side of you?”

“It’s too much —” you pleaded, avoiding his question.

“Answer me,” he lowly ordered.

Unable to withstand his power, absolutely willing to fold for him and his desires, you fastidiously nodded, “only a couple,” you shyly confessed.

"how many," he growled, disappointed in your answer, "how many fucked this."

"o-one or two, ngh I-I don't remember," you panted.

“One or two, you say,” he cooed as he pulsed his cock swiftly into you in rhythmic motions, satisfied seeing his length disappear inside you. his pace driving you to the brink of insanity as your lower belly started to fire up again as he knowingly pressed his palm down on your stomach.

“Then I gotta fuck you twice more to force out all memory you have of those stupid fucks,” grunting as he cupped your face to look at him, lips swollen with his skin marked by your nails, hips unapologetically thrusting into you as he watched you unravel in his lead, “because this pussy’s always been mine.”

Seven.

He’s definitely made you cum seven times. you remembered the count just before he groaned out your name, his thrusts sloppy and strained, gasping as he pulled you tighter into his embrace, face caved into your neck as he finally released his thick loads into your abused walls, sobbing out cursed moans as you held him, expending out every last ounce of energy you had for him in mere four words,

“I’ve always loved you,” you whispered before completely passing out. 

You failed to notice a tear fall from his eyes drop to your face. He hoped that it’ll stain you, wished it would reach all the way through to your heart to burn you. But he couldn't, so instead he carefully wiped it away as he gently kissed your face — inch by inch of your canvas before he chose to face you again.

“you’re so heartless,” Gojo chuckled as he pulled you in for a tight hug, straight into his chest as he laid beside you, refusing to pull out and have his cum spill onto the sheets — a feat he’s never dared to do with anyone else, he’s always fucked protected.

“what am I going to do with you," he breathed out.

"even with all this time, I’m still so weak for you,” he quietly confessed, reaching over to the side, reaching for his ring to put on the empty finger, before he too fell into the abyss of another dimension with you in his arms. 

—-

Lowly groaning as you opened your eyes, your body felt oddly heavy and aching, but yet warm and safe despite feeling on the absolutely verge of possibly snapping in half and breaking with any force.

Blinking a couple times before you started to register the room, you felt a slight huff next to your ear and the tightening around your waist as your back leaned against something hard.

Gojo Satoru, in all of his glory, was sleeping so soundly next you.

Carefully turning around to face him, you observed his features as you ran your fingers against his skin.

His lashes were still so long and soft, you giggled when Gojo twitched his nose at your touch.

His cheeks were still so smooth, without a spec of a blemish, but you can see the little bags under his eyes and the small creases on his skin. he’s probably tired from traveling.

Your finger travels down to his chiseled jaw, and defined collar bones, examining the light scratch marks on his pale skin, and the bruising of his nipple — wait… his lips are chapped and swollen, and his cock… oh god, his cock was brushing against your stomach — hard and pulsing. 

Immediately gasping, you felt the blood in your body drain at the revelation that you’ve fucked your ex — no, you fucked your ex of eight years, that you were still crazily hung up over that most likely had a girlfriend waiting for him to respond back to.  

Before you could think, your adrenaline pressed forward to act before your mind, immediately unlocking his hands from your naked waists, standing up too quickly only to stumble from your trembling legs. You felt something drip down your thighs — white viscous slowly running down your legs, your face heating up at the memory of last night. 

“I- I need to leave,” you whispered, quickly gathering your discarded clothes and undergarments as you rushed to the restroom, forcing down your whimpers as your sensitive cunt brushed against your thighs with every step you took.

“I can’t be here, t-this was a mistake,” you stammered while putting on your dress, quickly stuffing your used panties into your purse.

You looked like a mess, but it didn’t matter because you needed to get the hell out of there before he woke up, but somehow your feet didn’t move in the direction you wanted them to — out the door — but instead towards him unknowingly sleeping.

And quietly sitting against the edge of the bed, carefully pushing away the edges of his bangs that covered his handsome face, you decided to take a minute to absorb the last images of what you’ll have of him. And there you decided to let a tear or two drop from your eyes as you said your last goodbyes, gently kissing his lips before you made your way out the door, whispering, once again,

“I’m sorry…”

—- 

It’s been close to an hour since your walk of shame out the door. Since then you quickly checked out of your room and made your way out of the hotel. 

You immediately called for a taxi to get home, groaning as you were hit with the realities of your mistakes last night.

Treading up the stairs your legs quivered with every move. It's been a while since you've been fucked that hard, nor even had a partner that lasted so long.

You needed to text Shoko, you prayed that she didn’t blow through your notifications when you suddenly went missing last night. Sighing, you absentmindedly tried to find your phone in your bag as you punched in your door keys.

You started to think, maybe the whole fucking universe was now against you, for your sins, because your phone wasn’t in your purse.

You tried to retrace your steps to where you’d last used it as you made yourself over to your bed, stripping off your clothes as you walked over to the shower.

And to your last memory, you texted Ieiri out in the balcony… and then,

“Shit,” you hissed, remembering how your bag was tossed to the side when you were being feverishly stripped of your clothes, “it’s probably under his bed or something.”

“I hope no one calls… or tries to contact me until he leaves his room,” you groaned as the hot water massaged your tense shoulders while your fingers ran down your body.

Washing every crevice as you also tried to erase away the memory you had with him, you forced yourself to retract your tears. This was your punishment you repeated, this was the outcome of your selfishness. You lathered yourself in soap, trying to scrub away the pent-up guilt until you noticed something flash under the light.

You never wore your jewelry into the shower, you’ve always had a habit to take them off to not tarnish. 

But there was a golden ring, a ring that fits a little loosely on your promise finger.

Unable to understand why, all that circled through your mind was to go back.

Quickly washing off, throwing on any pair of clothes before running to your door, you could feel your anxious heart beating loudly in your chest as your ears started to feel plugged from the tension. And just when you’re about to open your door, you hear a buzz that silenced every chaos around you.

Looking through the peep hole, you felt faint, your heart entirely about to burst — is this reality or am i still dreaming?

“It’s me,” you heard his calm voice.

Your hands trembled as you slowly opened up the door, your eyes taking a moment to quickly scan his body — donning the same clothes as yesterday with the top buttons of his white shirt undone and ends stuffed into his slacks, his hair lightly messy and eyes a little sunken.

“How’d you get here?” you gasped with your ringed hand clenched, hidden behind your back, while the other pricked at your thumb.

“You left your phone in my room, and I found it because Ieiri was blowing up your phone," Satoru calmly stated as he handed over your phone, "so I asked where you lived to drop it off.”

“She didn’t say anything?” you warily asked

“Well, she did ask about us."

“And… did she threaten you or anything?”

“No, why would she? But,” stretching out his arms as he released groan, “I told her we fucked,” he boyishly smiled. 

Afraid to confront your messy rendezvous with him, you nervously bit your lips, and you avoided his gaze. Noticing your tendencies, you felt his hand cup your face to meet his while his thumb gently soothed your aching lip, "hey," he whispered, "don't do that."

And stepping closer to you, the mild fragrance of his shampoo dancing in your nostrils, “Did you see it?” he asked.

“Mhm,” you acknowledged, “I saw it just now while showering,” you looked into his eyes to seek an answer, tears starting to cloud your vision.

“You know, I’m not the same anymore,” he confessed, “I have power, I’m strong, and I’m able to do things now,” pressing a kiss onto your forehead, “but the only thing that stayed the same about me," chuckling as he shook his head — as if he couldn't even believe it himself.

"is that I didn’t change my number since we’ve broken up,” he stated before taking a step into your apartment, the click of his shoes hitting the tile floor echoing throughout the hallway, “I just hoped maybe one day you’ll call.”

"why?" you honestly questioned, unable to understand why he would choose to do that.

"I don't know," Satoru shrugged while pulling away, "guess I really tried to subconsciously manifest the we were fated to be bullshit that I preached."

“But that girl,” you quietly muttered while you unknowingly pouted when you saw his arms cross against his chest, the tightness of his sleeves about to burst from his muscles bulging.

“Girl… what girl?” Your comment took him aback.

“The one you were in Paris with,” your face feeling hot, embarrassed that you outed yourself for stalking him.

“You stalking me?” He chuckled while leaning against the wall, "it's not what you think," Gojo sighed as he pushed back his hair, "that girl, it was Suguru.”

Raising an eyebrow as he examined your expression, sighing as he saw the unbelief in your eyes, “Here look,” he commented while pulling out his phone to show you pictures, “we went for his art exhibition or some shit because his girl couldn’t make it with him.”

“B-but you came late to the reunion.”

“Yea, because I wasn't going to pull up looking mid when I needed to make you regret ever dumping me,” he joked while pinching your cheeks, "I didn't have plans on attending until that jerk sent me a photo of you," he shamelessly confessed.

“You’re stupid,” you grasped his hand to check his finger — ringless.

“But it was worth it, no? Got you to indirectly confess,” emphasizing his last few words, “that maybe you still love me."

"Whatever," you mumbled, "I said I loved you."

"fine by me," Satoru accepted, " but the fact is that you still think I’m hot, no? Or maybe you just missed my cock? ”

“You’re crazy,” you stated while wiping your tears.

“Yea, I know,” his gaze softens as he sees you playing with his fingers, your small ones wrapped around his.

“and this ring is too big for me,” you cried as you melted in his touch, his right thumb gently rubbing against your cheeks.

“That too, I know,” he smiled stepping closer into your house, and slowly closing the door behind him, “we’ll get another one together soon, only if you'll let me.”

"I'd like that," you whispered.

“I just couldn’t get it for us when you heartlessly broke up with me eight years ago," Satoru confessed while brushing the tip of his nose against yours.

“I’m so sorry Satoru,” you snuggled your face into his strong chest, his arms tightly wrapped around you, cooing as he steadied your breaths, “Shhh, it’s okay baby, it’s okay.”

“I’ve hurt you, I’m the one that caused all this,” you heaved as he pressed light kisses all over your face.

“Through everything,” kissing your swollen eyes, taking his time to savor your touch as his lips traveled their way back to its home, briefly kissing your ringed finger as he looked into your eyes. 

And sealing his final destination, he whispered before locking his lips with yours once more,

“I’ll always find you even if you run away because you’ll always be mine.”

author's comment: sheesh, I didn't expect this to get this long... but here it is! I wanted to write the typical exes-to-lovers trope, but I was stuck on the quote with Satoru teasing how his past partners wanted to thank the reader for teaching him how to eat pussy... and here we are over 9k words later.... oh wells

again, i hope you enjoyed it!!

p.s. i might just have one exes to lovers in the drafts for geto, as well.... hahahahaha but you didn't hear that from me, nope (,:

[beatrixstonehill2]

"I'm ready for my injections," Holly told her boyfriend, Ryan.

"Good, you're becoming so obedient. I told you you'd come around eventually. You almost look eager."

Holly blushed, feeling the weight of her breasts hanging off her chest, already about twenty-five pounds each. Fifty whole pounds of pure breast. It felt absurd to her, so wrong, and yet inescapable. It was her new reality. "I'm excited to see them grow for you....."

"That's a good girl," he said, inserting IV needles into her breasts at various points.

Holly winced as her boyfriend injected her breasts with over a gallon of saline each. She remembered when she first met Ryan barely a year ago. He was so charming, they met at the gym and were both very passionate about being fit and healthy. She worked as a gymnastics instructor. Now she couldn't imagine trying to work her old job. The mothers would be horrified at such a huge-breasted cow of a woman trying to teach their daughters.

Soon into their relationship, Ryan mentioned having a big tit fetish. She thought nothing of it, what guy doesn't? Before long, she noticed her breasts were getting bigger and started lactating. He fessed up that he was drugging her water bottles, and apologized, but said he wanted her EE-Cup breasts much bigger. She was angry but as her girlfriend was still excited to please him and get bigger for him, despite not wanting large breasts.

Her breasts got bigger and bigger, impeding her ability to do gymnastics. Women began recommending she get a reduction or chop them off outright. Holly had to reluctantly admit her boyfriend was making her grow them out like this. His fetish consumed her life, made her lose her job, getting so bad she found herself becoming a living embodiment of his kinks. No longer Holly at all, just an object he acted on and molded into his perfect toy.

She gasped as the gallons of saline flooded her breasts, his new favorite means of torturing her. When they were done, her breasts ballooned to double their size, red and swollen, round and very taut like fake tits. He took out the needles and placed heart-shaped bandages over them to help keep her tits from springing leaks. This new way of increasing her breast size would ensure once the saline is absorbed her breasts would stretch, getting saggier, longer, emptier. Instead of being beautiful and full from the breast growth drugs, like a woman who's pumped out a dozen or so kids, her breasts would switch between extremely saggy, floppy and empty, and enormously round and heavy, filled to the point of popping with saline, heavy as two water coolers strapped to her chest.

Holly winced as Ryan tightened her leather straps and added the rest of her corrective harness, which looked a bit like bdsm gear, to help keep her back upright, pushing out her giant saline-filled boulder tits. Ryan smiled, smacking Holly's breasts, which made her recoil in pain. "It feels incredible when I hit them, doesn't it?"

Holly nodded, barely able to catch her breath. "Y-Yes.... Smack them all you want. They're yours."

"Good girl, but they're about to be all of Lower Manhattan's. I want you bringing in lots of money tonight, OK? Smile a lot, eagerly service any man, even the homeless ones or violent looking ones. I can't have you saying no to any clients. Don't worry, I'm taking my anti-STD pills every day so I won't contract all the bugs you're collecting. Oh, and if you don't mind, I want you whoring on the corner by your old dance studio, hopefully some of the moms and other women you worked with might get to see your new occupation. Doesn't that sound nice?"

Holly was blushing beat red. "B-But....."

"None of that. You don't have 'no' in your vocabulary. Now off you go!" he said, smacking one of her breasts again.

"OK.... I won't disappoint you."

"Good, otherwise I might have to paddle all that saline out of your tits when you get home"

Holly yelped as he spanked her, sending her out wearing only her harness and nothing else, to go enjoy her new occupation as a whore with giant saline-filled breasts. Which she slowly started to feel was exactly who she was always meant to be.

[theemporium]

[1.4k] in which a silly little prank sends quinn spiralling that he's the worst boyfriend of the year (based of a commented suggestion left by @huggybear13).

series masterlist

.

When you and Luke were kids, it was a reoccurring habit for Jack and Quinn to push you to the side. Not necessarily in a mean way, but in that classic sense that older kids always felt like they had a superiority, an understanding in stupid games that you two were just unable to grasp. 

It took one particularly annoyed seven year old Luke to start the tradition—for both of you to prank his older brothers. 

When you were young, it was stupid things that would cause them to huff and pout and run off to Ellen. Those kinds of pranks that would make the two of you snicker and giggle as you hid under his bed like that would protect you from everything and anything. 

As you got older, the pranks got a little more sly and convoluted. They became more impressive, the pranks you and Luke were pulling were more thought out and it was just another one of those things that bonded you two closer. 

The pranks eased up when the boys started going off to college and going pro. It never truly stopped, especially not when you spent the summer at the lakehouse all together again. But they weren’t as constant and not really as annoying as they were when you and Luke were young. 

But it was in your blood. It was like a part of you both urged you to mess with Jack and Quinn a little, like it was your life’s purpose. 

And maybe that wasn’t something that entirely stopped when you started dating Quinn too. 

Most of them were harmless and usually got him to crack a smile, finding the pranks more endearing than irritating like he did when he was younger. And after knowing you so much better than he did when you were kids, it was easy for Quinn to spot the signs, like that smile on your face that promised chaos and mischief before you pulled one of your attempts. 

That was exactly why it made you so much more determined to pull one over on him—this time your inspiration being a flurry of videos you had whilst scrolling through your phone.

It started that morning when you were sitting at the kitchen counter, eating your breakfast whilst Quinn rushed around the apartment to collect his things before heading off to morning skate. Truthfully, he was so wrapped up in not being late that he didn’t have time to question the way you swiped your mouth against the back of your hand after he kissed you.

It wasn’t until a few hours later when he came back from practice when he noticed, huddled in the kitchen making some lunch for the two of you when you came in. 

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” You teased as you walked towards him, wrapping your arms around his waist and peaking over his shoulder to see what he was making.

“Thought I’d make you something while you were studying,” he said with a small grin as he turned his head to look at you. He ducked down, pressing his lips against yours in a soft peck (his first one since he left earlier that day). 

“Thank you, baby,” you grinned at him before raising your hand, wiping the back of your palm over your lips again. 

Quinn paused, frowning a little at the movement. “You good?”

“Yeah, of course,” you said, looking at him as if he was the one acting weird. “How can I help? If I look at any more cell biology, I’ll hit my head against a wall.” 

Quinn laughed, but it was still a bit strained. “Chop the onions for me?”

“You got it, chef.”

But just when Quinn assumed he was losing his mind and hallucinating the whole thing, you had wiped your mouth again when he kissed you after placing your plate down in front of you. And you did it again when he kissed you before you headed back to the small office in the apartment to study. And you did it again when he kissed you after bringing you a snack and some water. 

He would be fucking lying if he said a part of his stomach didn’t twist bitterly every time you did it. 

He spent the rest of the day trying to wrack his head around the whole thing. He didn’t get it. You never used to do this before. Not even when you were really fucking pissed at him. You would have especially never done it so blatantly in front of him. 

Which, to Quinn’s spiralling thoughts, only meant one thing—he fucked up and forgot something big, and you were pretending you were okay. 

It was embarrassing how quickly he grabbed his phone, frowning at his calendar like it would have all the answers he needed. It wasn’t your birthday. It wasn’t your anniversary. Hell, it just seemed like an average day and that made his stomach drop ever more, because how could he forget an important day with you?

He didn’t even think twice before grabbing his keys, determined to try and salvage the day even if he wasn’t entirely sure what day he was saving in the first place. 

It was around an hour later when you heard someone softly swearing, frowning as you got up from the desk and began making your way towards the living area. However, you came to a stop when you saw the room completely decorated. 

There were colourful banners stuck to the wall, balloons covering the floor and ceiling with ‘I love you’ written all over them, and even a fucking cake sitting on the table. Quinn hadn’t even noticed you yet, frowning down at the pack of tealight candles he was struggling to open.

“Quinn?” 

His head snapped up comically fast, his eyes widening like he wasn’t expecting you to leave the office so soon before a sheepish expression washed over his face. “Surprise?”

You let out a short laugh, a little disbelieving as you took everything in. “Surprise for what? What’s going on? What’s with the decorations?”

He looked at you with a cautious expression, almost like he was waiting for you to blow up at him. It only made you frown, brows furrowed together at his sudden shift.

“Quinn?”

“I’m sorry!” He blurted out before he had the chance to come up with some semblance of a thought out response. “I…I forgot what today was and I know you’re pissed, but I promise to make up for it—”

“Quinn,” you started, taking a step towards him. “What are you going on about? I’m not mad.”

He frowned. “But you’re doing the thing!”

You blinked. “What thing?”

“You keep…wiping my kisses away!” He said before wincing, as though he realised how whiny he sounded.

You paused before your expression softened, your lips twitching upwards when you realised just how quickly the boy spiralled. You were expecting Quinn to call you out on the kisses, expecting him to corner you until you finally broke and laughed about the whole thing. You never expected him to do anything like this.

“Baby,” you murmured before crossing the room, wrapping your arms around him tightly. “It was a prank.”

Quinn blinked. “What?”

“It was a prank, to just wind you up a bit,” you admitted with a sheepish expression. “You didn’t miss anything and I’m not pissed at you.”

It was like those words alone let his body finally sag in relief. “You’re not?”

“Not at all,” you assured him with a smile.

“And if I kiss you now, you won’t wipe it away?” He questioned.

You shook your head. “Promise—”

But you barely had a chance to finish speaking before his hands were cupping your face and he smashed his lips against yours. You let out a small whine, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt in tight fists as his tongue darted against your bottom lip, practically begging for you to give him more and you happily did. 

He didn’t pull away until you were both panting, lungs burning for fresh air and cheeks flushed at how warm you both were.

“At least we have cake for dessert today,” he murmured after a few moments, grinning back at you when you let out a loud laugh in response. 

“All thanks to you,” you teased, though your arms tightened around his waist.

“More like, all thanks to those pranks of yours,” he muttered, acting like he was annoyed even though a huge grin was plastered on his face as he leaned down to kiss you again.

.

[ateezthings]

Stray Kids reaction: you cooking them dinner

Fluffy domestic slice of life

Pairings: each skz member x genderneutral reader (established relationship)

Warnings: food talk, mentions of knife cz cooking, slightly suggestive

Word count: 1.9K

Songs, that convey the feeling I was going for:

     milk. – you're so

     dvwn– fairy

someone, benjamin longman - true love will find you in the end

khalid - saturday nights

*~Chan~*

He was totally enamored with you. The fact that you were able to cook generally, making a meal from scratch with just some time, a few ingredients and your pretty hands.

As your were chopping up some veggies, he came up behind you, hugging your waist and laying his head on your shoulder.

"Channie, i love you, but are you sure you wanna do this while I'm holding a very sharp knife?" He immediately let go to pout a little.

"I can't help it, baby, I'm so in love with you"

"Is that just your stomach talking?" You chuckled at him as he leaned against the counter.

He playfully gasped. "I'm offended".

You turned your attention back to the carrots that needed chopping, the pan was already heating up on the stove.

"Oh, I'll show you that it's not just my tummy that's in love with you" He stated.

He carefully took the knife out of your hand. Swiftly, he grabbed your hips to press you against the counter.

Before you could protest he connected his lips with yours in a hungry (quite literally) passionate kiss. His soft lips moved slowly against yours, tongue making its way into your mouth. You could feel his grip on your waist tightening.

Suddenly his belly started grumbling, sounding like a beast that started roaring. You both stopped all movements, eyes wide open. After a second you broke away in laughter.

"Yeah, how about I help you cook, baby?"

*~Minho~*

"Jagi, you're not doing it right" He tried to take the whisk out of your hand but your grip on it tightened, not wanting him to take over. Ever since he came into the kitchen his only mission was to throw you off your cooking game, cause he wanted to see you flustered and blushed.

Not today, Minho, not today.

You were determined to make a delicious meal for your boyfriend since he rarely even had the time to sit down to eat.

"No, babe, I can do it. You can just relax, it'll be done in a minute." With that you turned your attention back to the sauce.

All of a sudden, his hand smacked your right butt cheek, making you jump a little. "Minho!"

Anither hand landed on your left butt cheek. "Whaat, honey?" He shot you the most innocent looking smile.

"I can't cook like this, you're distracting me too much." You half-whined, not wanting to spoil the only evening he had off this week.

"Well, then how about you take a short break?" He spun you around to look at him, his hands finding their place in the back pockets of your jeans again. He easily pulled you closer, working to connect your lips.

His hands made their way up to your waist, while his warm lips moved against your own in a slow rhythm.

*~Changbin~*

My god, was he excited. After you told him in the morning, he could expect a homemade dinner made by you, his true love, in the evening, he sent you texts almost hourly, asking you if he should bring something, help with something oder just praising you for doing this.

You got off early from work, picked up a shit ton of groceries and got to cooking.

When Changbin arrived home, he dropped all his bags and almost came running to you. "I'm so excited, baby. Can I do something, do you need something washed? Should I lay the table, what can I do?" He really was just an excited puppy, always wanting to help.

He continued to ask you, if you need help about 79 more times. After you reassured him you were fine and he could just keep you company, he gave you a tight back hug and wouldn't let go. He pressed a few kisses to the back of your neck. You couldn't really move in his grip, it was so tight.

"Binie, I think the sauce is about to boil over, can I-"

With one move he turned off the stove, without letting you go.

You turned around to give him a proper hug. "Aw, my Binie, you're so cute. Who knew it was that easy to make you happy." You moved your hand through his curly hair. Finally you embraced both his cheeks and pulled his face close. "I love you"

A small smile spread across his lips, finally closing the distance and kissing you properly.

*~Hyunjin~*

This one was completely mesmerized by your movements. Grabbing different vegetables, washing them, placing them on a cutting board and finally dissecting them with your knife, however you needed them.

You've done this about a hundred times, cooking being a hobby of yours. However it felt more special knowing you did it for your boyfriend and realizing he watched your every move so intently.

When everything was prepped and on the stove/ in the oven you slowly made your way over to Hyunjin. His lips were slightly parted, still being hypnotized with your movements.

You took his hands into yours and looked up to him sweetly. "Are you doing okay, Hyunjinie?"

"Do you even know how wonderful you are?"

"When you look at me like that, I think I'm getting an idea" You replied cheekily.

He smiled into the kiss that followed. Feeling his warm hands on your cheeks, you both got into it quite quickly, tongues meeting in the middle. A slow moan escaped your lips, after breaking away for a short moment to catch some air. The expression in your eyes was slightly dazed.

"Alrgiht, when's the food ready, I'm starving." Hyunjin exclamied, like he wasn't just exploring the inside of your mouth with his tongue a minute ago.

*~Han~*

"Oh my god, you're amazing for doing this! My baby is cooking for me!" He exclaimed after you told him what you were doing bringing four grocery bags into the kitchen.

After some begging you allowed him to help you chop some peppers. He was however a bit to eager with helping, talking all the time.

"Ow shit" you looked over to him and saw blood on the cutting board. He accidentally cut his finger.

"Oh no, Sungie, here hold it under the water, I'll get some bandages."

When you came back he was sitting on a chair pouting, making the biggest quokka eyes at you. You looked at him with worry.

"It hurts" Holding up his bloody finger, he explained.

It couldn't however been that bad because when you went to bandage up his finger he insisted on pulling you onto his lap, placing his hands on your booty cheeks.

When you were sitting on his lap, concentrated on cleaning up his wound, he gazed into your eyes with so much fondness, it made you flustered as soon as you realized.

He looked straight into your eyes and opened his mouth a bit, almost like he wanted to say something. But he didn't.

"What is it, Sungie? You're making me blush" you admitted uncomfortably.

"I just love you so much, i can't believe it... oh, and i love doing this." And with that he placed a short but sweet kiss onto your nose.

After seeing you all flustered and cute, he placed another one on your forehead. Making you blush an even deeper shade of red, he continued his kiss attack on your cheeks, chin and finally lips. You both sank into the kiss, like slipping under the covers after a long and intense day.

*~Felix~*

"I didn't know you could cook?! Like actually cook well? Why did you never mention it before, Y/N?" Felix stood in the door to the kitchen where you were currently putting the finishing touches on your homemade ramen, that you made especially for his evening off work.

"There's a lot you don't know about me, Yongbok" With that you presented him with two picture-perfect, steaming bowls of ramen. You gave him a cheeky grin. His jaw dropped.

"Woah, how did you- why, when have you... what did I do to deserve you?" He smiled so widely, eyes sparkling with adoration.

"Remember how hard you worked for the last comeback? That's your reward, I think" You jokingly replied.

He took one bowl from your hand, inspecting the boiled eggs, curly noodles, soft tofu pieces, seaweed and toppings you added.

As you both sat down and started to eat, his eyes almost popped out of their sockets.

"Oh my god, Y/N, that is delicious"

A smile crept onto your lips. "I'm glad you like it, my love"

Now it was his turn to smile fondly before leaning over the table to kiss you sweetly.

*~Seungmin~*

"What are you making me?" He playfully stuck out his tongue a little.

"I'm trying to recreate the creamy pasta you liked so much the other day when we were at that restaurant, Minie" You wanted to do something nice for your boyfriend since he's had a really stressful work week. You researched a few recipes, combined the parts you thought would work best and got to cooking: putting pasta water in a pot, chopping up garlic, spring onions and a zucchini.

Seungmin leaned against the counter for a while, just quietly observing you, lips slightly curled upwards.

You tried to do everything according to the recipes, which is why after a while Seungmin started to scroll through his phone. Every once in a while he showed you a funny tiktok to keep you company though.

"Do you want me to help you with anything, sweetie?" He must've gotten a bit bored because you were taking a while, measuring the ingredients for the sauce.

"Yeah actually, could you make the salad?" You were currently hands deep in your creamy pasta sauce.

"Uhh, I'm not sure how to do that... you're gonna have to give me instructions." He looked like a little lost puppy, eyes big, wide straight smile, you know the one.

He looked so endearing, you couldn't help but press a short kiss on the corner of his lips. "Of course, Minie"

*~I.N~*

"Y/N?" You heard your boyfriend's voice yell through your apartment.

"In the kitchen, bub" You answer-yelled. Having both hands in a dough didn't leave you with many other choices.

You'd decided to test out your somewhat decent cooking skills by trying a new, very challenging recipe for dumplings with Jeongin's favorite filling.

"Wow, what are you doing, babe?"

"I'm trying to make a dough for dumplings but it doesn't want to come together" You pouted in the direction of your hands.

Jeongin raised his eyebrows moving closer to inspect the dough. "Are you sure, you're not trying to poison me with that?"

You gasped in shock, grabbing a piece of dough and throwing it at him. He tried to cover his face, starting to laugh.

"Ok, ok, I'm sorry, Y/N sweetie" Holding both hands up, signaling a truce, he moved to stand behind you and pressed a short kiss on your hair.

"I feel like it just needs some more water" He suggested. "Here let me help." His hands suddenly appeared next to yours from behind, trying to help with the kneading. He pressed a short his on the back of your neck every once in a while. After a few moments and with Jeongin's help, the dumpling dough came together well.

[unclewaynemunson]

A soft knock on the door and a half-whispered "hey there" wake Eddie up from an uneasy sleep. A strip of light shines through the gap of the door, illuminating the figure of Steve standing in the doorway.

"I got some soup for you. Are you feeling any better?"

Eddie shuffles into an upright sitting position while Steve comes into the room and hands him a warm bowl filled with what's unmistakably his aunt's homemade creamed potato soup. Even with his blocked nose, Eddie can still tell that it smells exactly how he remembered it.

Before he knows it, tears start blurring his vision. It's the fucking soup that does it. The smell that brings back memories he tried so hard to leave behind when he suddenly had to leave what he once called his home more than ten years ago.

“Oh, honey,” says Steve in a voice that is so soft and caring that it makes Eddie want to cry even more. He sits down on the bed, right next to Eddie, and wraps both his arms around him, careful not to spill any of the soup. “This fucking sucks, right?”

“It does,” Eddie says quietly, and that's really all he needs to say. Steve will understand. Steve knows exactly how much Eddie was looking forward to this week, how excited he was to return to the mountains and to be reunited with his family and to show Steve all the places that hold so much meaning to him. 

For ten years he hadn't been able to visit. He had missed the mountain air like a chopped-off limb and seen his cousins grow up only through grainy polaroid pictures. And now that he's finally here, his body decided to betray him and keep him chained to his bed with the worst fucking cold he’s ever had.

It's been so long since he has been home that it almost doesn't really feel like home anymore. He never wanted to leave in the first place, but the circumstances gave him no choice. When his dad got locked up Eddie had nowhere else to go but to his Uncle Wayne, who lived states away and who he had only met twice before in his life. He had to leave everyone he cared about behind: his grandma, who would've taken him in within a heartbeat if she hadn't been too old to take care of a ten-year-old kid; his mother, who had already slipped away too deep into her addictions to keep Eddie around in good conscience; his aunt and uncle, who had too many mouths to feed with too little money and couldn't afford the additional burden of another rapidly growing teenager; and his many cousins, of course, who grew up side-by-side with him and made the move feel like he was leaving an unmissable part of his soul behind.

Granted, moving in with Wayne soon turned out to be not by far as dramatic as Eddie had prepared himself for. It turned out that Wayne was actually a better parent to Eddie than his dad ever was. But no matter how much love and care Wayne gave him over the years, it could not be enough to replace home. Nothing was.

Ten years had passed since Eddie left. Most of the cousins moved out, either to find a better life for themselves or to follow the path that Eddie's father had taken. Some of them had kept in touch with Eddie, some of them hadn't. Some of them had gained a family of their own, with spouses and nephews and nieces who Eddie never got to meet.

And now he's back, and everything keeps going differently than how he envisioned it.

He blinks away his tears and tries to eat as much as he can stomach of his aunt's soup.

“Your cousin Jay called,” Steve tells him. “He insisted on visiting tomorrow, whether you're feeling better or not. He said he can’t wait to see you.”

“That's nice,” Eddie answers flatly. “D'you know he hasn't reached out to me in years?” He sighs. “It's so weird to be back here. I thought it would be different.”

“Different how?”

“More like coming home, I guess. But all the places have changed. I barely know some of those people anymore.”

He places the unfinished bowl of soup aside. Steve pulls him closer in his arms and presses a gentle kiss on his curls.

“I've felt so angry about Hawkins for so long,” Eddie admits to him, “but now it's like I don't belong here anymore either.”

“You do belong in Hawkins, you know,” Steve tells him.

Eddie huffs.

“No, I'm serious,” Steve insists. “Has Wayne ever told you that he thinks you coming to live with him was the best thing that ever happened to him?” He doesn't wait for an answer as he continues: “And your bandmates, the Hellfire Club, all those lost sheepies you've been looking out for over the years... Maybe Hawkins didn't exactly welcome you with open arms when you just came there, but you made a home there. You did that.”

“And where are you on that list, Stevie?” Eddie asks, a teasing edge returning to his voice despite how awful he’s still feeling.

It takes Steve a few seconds to answer, but when he does, he sounds surprisingly soft and genuine, almost shy.

“Wherever you want me to be.”

“Don't worry big boy,” Eddie tells him softly, nuzzling his face into Steve's chest, where it's warm and where the sound of Steve's heartbeat forms a comforting presence. “You're the most important part of what home means. Top of the list, whether we're in Hawkins or here in the south or on the other side of the world.”

Steve hums and kisses Eddie's temple.

“I do wish this week would've been more like how you wanted it to be,” he says. “But for what it's worth, it sounded like Jay was really excited about reconnecting with you. Let's see if you can sleep off this cold, and tomorrow will be a new day, alright?”

Steve starts to pull away to leave Eddie alone in the bed again, but Eddie clenches his fists around the fabric of his polo.

“Stay with me?”

Steve chuckles softly. “Of course.”

He sits back down on the bed with his back against the wall and gently manhandles Eddie until he's lying with his head in Steve's lap. And with Steve's fingers softly stroking through his hair, Eddie quickly drifts back to sleep again.

Tomorrow will be a new day. And even if being back is bittersweet, at least Steve is with him - and the sound of Steve's heartbeat will always be home.

This one's for my dear friend dae @strawberryspence because sometimes life sucks and while nothing can actually solve it, some warm soup and a loving hug can at least make things a little bit more bearable <3

[gyqru]

BABYDOLL — ethan landry

warning: child bullying? (😭)

summary: being the “baby” of the group isn’t as fun as it seems, especially when you can’t go a day without the core four breathing down your neck.

word count: 1.6k

growing up with the meek martins and carpenters has changed your life for the better. meeting them in elementary, you grew close to the youngest carpenter. a bratty little kid tara was, she would always find a way to make sam worry. 

adding chad and his sister to the group added another level of chaos. always arguing about who should be "it" while playing tag. the four of you made an inseparable little bunch; promising each other that no matter what you always be there for each other.  

recess was where the four of you would hang out often, meeting together in a corner of the playground. your pigtails swaying as you walked toward the playground. a group of boys decided it would be fun to take the stuffed animal you always carried with you, holding it high in the air. 

they laughed at your feeble attempts to try and get your teddy bear back, tears welling up in your eyes. they continued to torment you until mindy passed by and noticed what was happening. 

she quickly called out to the rest of the group, marching her lanky body towards you and the bullies. “hey! leave her alone” mindy shouts, spinning the first boy by his shoulders and forcing him to face her. chad and tara approached standing behind mindy, sending death stares to the bullies.

as intimidating a group of ten-year-olds can be, chad tries to settle this peacefully. the bully, still spewing insults, tara decides the best course of action is to get physical. shoving mindy aside tara lifts her tiny leg and kicks the main bully in the crotch. falling to his knees he groans in pain, the meeks stand stunned. 

“keep messing with my friends, you're going to end up ball-less," tara spits out. the two other boys get down to help their friend, dragging him away. chad picks up the teddy bear the bully dropped and approaches you. 

lifting yourself up, you dust your knees off, wiping the tears from your face. “here y/n, sorry we weren't here” chad apologized, hugging you to bring you some comfort. “it's okay chad, thanks t and mins for sticking up for me” you turn to the two girls, engulfing them in a group hug. 

that day solidified something in tara, chad, and mindy; they had to protect their baby from any harm. no one could hurt you, if so, they would be there to protect you. 

you made it through the woodsboro massacre, now in college with the meeks and carpenters. a new chapter in your life after the traumatic events, moving on with your life was easier said than done. though you tried your best to move on, finding solace in spending time with your friends and studying. 

as a third-year year, you sometimes felt out of place compared to your fourth-year friends. but they reassured you that you will always be part of the group. soon new people joined the core four: ethan, anika, and quinn.

anika and quinn were easy to get along with. quinn played an older sister role to you; teaching you all sorts of sex ed. anika was a kind soul, always looking out for everyone and ready to help whenever she could. 

ethan was a weird one, he was awkward and didn't try to chat with you. you would catch him looking at you but never approached you. chopping it up to him being shy, you tried to ease a friendship with him. 

after the incident with tara at the frat party you found yourself walking next to ethan. after falling back to give sam some tissues to help her dry off, you and him stood side by side. awkward tension followed the two of you, avoiding your gaze ethan tried his best to keep his distance. 

not because he didn't like you, it was the total opposite. if he even looked at you for a moment he would end up staring at you. the short white dress you wore and glittery wings clipped to your back; an angel is how ethan would describe you and that’s what you were.

the cheap halo you had now replaced with chad's cowboy hat, but that didn't change the fact you looked angelic. the way your hair cascaded down, a white bow accessorizing the back of your head, framing your face. god ethan could admire you for days. 

snapping out of his thoughts, ethan sees you walking towards a shady alley. following behind you, he calls out, “hey.. y/n! where are you going?” turning, you stand to wait for him as he jogs to catch up with you. 

“oh i'm taking a shortcut, there's a 7/11 near here i was going to stop to get some snacks. do you wanna tag along?” you ask him with a smile. god the way the moonlight illuminated your face; it looked like there were stars in your eyes. ethan couldn't bring himself to decline your offer. 

nodding you two continue your stride along the shady alleyway. a cool breeze hits the streets of new york; now even more aware of how bad of an idea it was to wear such a short dress. shivering you wrap your arms around yourself, trying to keep yourself warm. ethan notices and decides to make his move. (chivalry isn't dead people) 

ethan stops walking and starts to strip himself of all the cardboard he has on. confused you stop walking too, “e.. what are you doing?” you question. throwing the cardboard up in a nearby garbage bin, he took off the blue sweater he was wearing. leaving himself in a white muscle shirt, he hands you his sweater. 

“oh no, you didn't have to do that! i swear im fine” you denied, stepping back from him. rolling his eyes, he walks up to you and forces you to put his sweater on. removing chads cowboy hat, he slides his sweater over your head, careful to not ruin your makeup or hair. 

you don't stop him, letting him manhandle his sweater on you. “see, now you won't be cold” he boasts, a boyish smile splaying on his face. the sweater fell right above your knee, hiding the short dress you wore. the sleeves engulfed your hands, to the point you had to roll them up to be able to grab chad's cowboy hat from the floor. 

“now you'll be cold eth... that wife beater doesn't look warm ya'know.” taking in the way his strong shoulder, defined arms, and the outline of his broad chest looked. your face grows red when you realize you're shamelessly checking him out. my god, it's always the nerdy guys, isn't it?  

“it's fine y/n i swear, let's hurry and get to that 7/11, i need a slushy.” ethan continues his stride; trying his best to hide the fact he feels insecure about only being in this tank top. 

stumbling out with a large big gulp, and a bag full of snacks you two don't stop laughing. “oh my god e, i'm never letting you live that down” you wipe fake tears from your eyes. “please y/n no one knows about that, not even chad.” ethan pleads. you continued to snicker about how he almost burned the apartment down trying to make himself breakfast.

“it's okay ethan, your secret is safe with me” you jester zipping your lips and throwing away the key. arriving to the front of your apartment complex you turn to ethan, “want to go up to my apartment and watch movies?” you offer him. 

ethan tries to hide his giddiness as he accepts immediately. laughing at his enthusiasm you lead him to your apartment. reaching into your bag, you pull out the key to your apartment and lead him inside. 

kicking your shoes off you enter the dark apartment, yelling out to your roommate as you turn on the lights. shocked to see a group of people sitting in your living room. ethan turns the corner to see tara, chad, and mindy sitting on the sofas. 

“what the actual fuck are you people doing in my house?!” you scolded, putting your purse down on the coffee table that stood in the middle of the room. all at once they bombard you with questions.

why didn't you answer your phone?

where were you? you could’ve been hurt!

why the fuck are you with ethan?

“okay calm down! my phone died while at the party which is why i didn't answer. i'm with ethan cuz' we were walking in the same direction; i offered him to come with me.” you huffed out, plopping down on a love sack you had next to the couches. 

mindy keeps pushing, "why are you wearing ethan's sweater?" she sees that ethan is basically shirtless. “my god mins! i was cold and he offered it!” you whined, bringing your sleeve-covered arms to your face. 

silence fell, you were unaware of the looks mindy, chad, and tara were giving each other. ethan cowering in the corner, moves to sit next to you on the love sack. looking up, you scoot over to make room for him. 

“well, that confirmed it” mindy retorted out loud, tara and chad both nodding their heads. getting up in unison, they shuffle to leave you and ethan alone. before they can get a foot out the door, they start their string of uncomfortable remarks. 

don't forget to wear protection!

ethan if you hurt her, i will kill you

call me after y/n! i need to know all the details!

both you and ethan's faces turned bright red. you both got off the love sack and put some distance between each other. after hearing the door close, you sigh and apologize to him, explaining how you're the "baby" of the group. 

"so "babydoll", what movie are we watching?" ethan teased. a respective smack to the face with a pillow was enough for him to stay quiet. 

god, you were going to end tara, chad, and mindy before ghostface could.

alice talks ⋆ ˚ ꩜ ｡ ⋆୨୧˚

i maybe got side tracked from the original plot i had in mind, but i think it still turned out cute. lil oneshot for the babes. i swear ill get back on my avatar grind!!!! i have so many wips for jake and miles so plss bare with me.

[mikeywayarchive]

Mikey Way: “I was borderline terrified a lot of the time My Chemical Romance was active. I was learning the bass in front of 20,000 people every night!”

By Gregory Adams ( Bass Player ) published June 9th 2023

The reunited emo kings’ low-end ranger reveals why he swapped out his signature Fender Mustang for a sparkling new signature Jazz Bass, learning bass in arenas, and how he overcame insecurity about his chops

Full interview under cut:

My Chemical Romance’s reunion has seen bassist Mikey Way thrumming through the high pomp punk of The Black Parade and Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge favorites with a familiar rhythmic fortitude, but keen-eyed band obsessives have probably noticed the musician is no longer sporting the snazzy, silver-flake Squier Mustang signature model Fender built for him back in 2012. 

The good news is that’s because, as Fender have just formally announced, Way has a brand-new – but just as glammy – Jazz Bass out now. There’s a good reason why Way’s made the switch: the Jazz Bass is his first love.

Though he started out on guitar, Way got the hang of a four-string in the mid ‘90s while playing a loaned-out Jazz Bass in his pre-My Chemical Romance project, Ray Gun Jones. He upgraded to a silver-finish Jazz of his own by the time MCR started touring in the early ‘00s, but a trailer mishap led to that instrument getting smashed to pieces on a highway.

Way tells Guitar World that he eventually became obsessed with the short-scale sturdiness of a Mustang bass guitar as My Chemical Romance were writing their 2010 full-length, Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys, after fooling around with a model Duff McKagan had left at North Hollywood’s Mates Rehearsal Studio. By 2012, Way had his Squier model in stores.

It was during the downtime after My Chemical Romance went on hiatus in 2013, though, that the stubbiness of his Mustang became a little hard to handle.

“I stayed away from playing bass for a little while, which is natural – I was just decompressing,” Way explains. “Then, sometime in 2014, I picked up the bass again, to get my chops back, [but] I noticed that the Mustang felt strange to me.” 

After reaching out to the folks at Fender, Way got a grip on his playing by stretching out on the longer-necked Jazzes they sent him. Way’s take on the Jazz Bass is outfitted with ’70s-style single-coil pickups, and a thinline “C”-shaped maple neck the bassist says is super-speedy.

The finish is silver, of course, but Way also wanted an aesthetically inkier black pickguard. The headstock, likewise, pops with its matching gloss-black finish.

Speaking with Guitar World, Way gets into the glam and grunge gods who inspired his love of a good sparkle coat, overcoming performance anxiety, and why a steady attack wins the bass race every time.

What were some of the musts when it came to designing this latest signature?

“I’ve been obsessed with the sparkle finish as far back as I can remember. Growing up in the ‘90s, the silver-flake [finish] was big in alternative music. Chris Cornell had the Gretsch Silver Jet, [Daniel Johns] from Silverchair had one – [with] the imagery the Smashing Pumpkins used, they liked sparkles.

“Ace Frehley, of course, was big into flake finishes, and as a kid, you love the larger-than-life, comic book world of Kiss. [And there’s] David Bowie – the glam rock stuff. That flake finish makes me think of so many different things, but that’s why I love it so much.

“I remember being younger and going into stores and seeing a flake finish and being like, 'Oh my god, that’s an expensive [looking guitar] – I can’t afford that, let alone play it.' It was almost intimidating.”

One aesthetic difference between your Mustang model and this Jazz is that you didn’t throw a racing stripe on this one.

“I thought about bringing it back and keeping the continuity. Maybe somewhere down the line we’ll throw a racing stripe on this. The thing with [seeing a] racing stripe was always like, 'This player is a badass!'”

Is there a psychology behind removing the racing stripe, then?

“The psychology behind it is that I forgot about it. When My Chemical Romance was talking about doing reunion shows [in 2019], I’d contacted Michael Schulz from Fender and was like, 'Is it OK if I make a new bass for this [next] era of My Chemical Romance?' I wanted to take my past and bring it to the future – taking my Mustang and melding it with the Jazz Basses that I loved so much. 

“I tried to have my cake and eat it, too. I wanted the thinner neck, and I wanted the silver-flake, but I wanted it on a Jazz Bass. They knocked it out of the park immediately.”

Getting back to how you used to admire those silver-flake guitars in the shops, you actually started out as a guitarist, right?

“So, the story goes that my brother [My Chemical Romance vocalist Gerard Way] had a Sears acoustic guitar when he was 10 years old. We would take a shoelace and make a strap, and we would stand on the couch pretending we were in Iron Maiden. And then it got real around ’93-’94, which lines up with the rise of alternative music. You started to see people that looked exactly like you, and they were playing guitar. They were playing Fender Strats! 

“My brother got a Mexican Stratocaster, Lake Placid Blue. I found it not too long ago, and Michael from Fender hot-rodded it. That’s how I cut my teeth – that Mexican Stratocaster [was] my first foray into really trying to learn how to play guitar. I would watch bootlegs of concerts, and watch [guitarists’] hands and fingers – Thom Yorke, Billy Corgan, Noel Gallagher, Jonny Greenwood. I would watch what they were doing. It all started from that.

“Bass came out of necessity, twice. Me and my brother had a band called Ray Gun Jones, I guess in ’95-’96. It was kind of Weezer-ish, or us doing a surf-punk thing [with] a little bit of pre-mid-west emo. At the time we were really into Weezer, Jawbreaker, Promise Ring, Smashing Pumpkins, Nirvana, Sunny Day Real Estate. 

“[Ray Gun Jones] needed a bass player, so my brother was like 'Hey, do you want to play bass for my band?' I was already a huge fan – I’d always tag along to practices. The ex-bass player let me borrow their bass. We had 4-5 songs, and I got the rudimentary from that. In that era, everyone was like, 'I want to be a guitar hero,' but I realized I had a natural knack for [bass]. I picked it up right away. 

“Then, with My Chemical Romance, it was the same thing. My brother was like, 'We need a bass player,' and I was like, 'Well, this is familiar' [laughs]. 'Here’s the demo; learn these songs.' They weren’t terribly difficult.”

Was that bass you had borrowed a Fender Jazz?

“Yup, I’ve only ever played Fender. I’ve tried tons of other basses from other companies, but it always feels alien to me.”

You mentioned studying the playing of Thom Yorke or Billy Corgan through those bootleg vids. Were there any bassists that you treated similarly, to understand the mechanics of bass?

“Matt Sharp from Weezer. I tried to ape him in the beginning, but my attack sounds vaguely reminiscent of a Smashing Pumpkins recording. I would learn Siamese Dream and Melon Collie and the Infinite Sadness, and the Blue Album [the band’s 1994 self-titled debut] by Weezer. Those were the three albums that I put the most time into learning. That’s in my DNA.”

How about from a hyper-local perspective. If My Chemical Romance started out playing New Jersey basements and VFW halls, where there any bassists from that scene that inspired you, or that you appreciated?

“Yes! We shared a rehearsal space with this band called Pencey Prep – that was [MCR guitarist] Frank Iero’s original band. John McGuire was their bassist, and he let me borrow his equipment all the time. He taught me fundamentals, and gave me pointers – he taught me a whole heck of a lot. 

“I always respected Tim Payne from Thursday, I loved his attack and stage presence. And when I’d watch Gabe Saporta from Midtown, I thought 'This dude is the coolest guy in the room.' He’s got this calm, cool, and collected [presence] that you can’t fake or learn. And then Eben D’amico from Saves the Day – brilliant! 

“I would try to learn Saves the Day basslines. They were pretty complex [compared to] what most bands were doing in that scene. Most bands in the post-hardcore scene had simplistic basslines, but Saves the Day did not.

“There’s also Ray Toro, the guitar player of My Chemical Romance. Not only is he truly gifted at guitar, but he’s truly gifted at bass and drums – Ray can do everything. He was instrumental, early on, with showing me the ropes. Ray gave me lessons when I was a novice. I can’t thank him enough for that.”

What kind of pointers was he giving you?

“He showed me proper fretting, or [how to maintain] a steady attack. I got a really great compliment from our front-of-house guy, Jay Rigby. He told me that I’m one of the very few bass players that he doesn’t have to go in and tweak the volume [for]. 'You’re steady, throughout.' I think that’s something that Ray Toro instilled in me: the consistency of attack. 

“It’s funny thinking about it, but I was such a novice going into My Chemical Romance that I would bring myself into an anxiety-ridden state of, 'Oh my god, we have a show tonight; I have to start practicing right now.' I would be practicing four to five hours before we played – I’d play the set [in the green room], and then I’d play it again. Other bands would be like, 'What are you doing?' I was so neurotic at that point, because there were so many people around me that were beyond gifted. 

“I got pushed into the deep end; you’ve got no choice but to figure it out. Ray and Frank are so gifted that I had to keep up. I didn’t want to ever do the music a disservice.

“That brings me back to the simplicity of the early My Chem basslines. The first album [2002’s I Brought You Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love] was me learning the bass, and somehow [producer] John Naclerio recorded me and said, 'You did a great job,' which I did not expect. 

“I thought I was going to go in there and they were going to have to do some studio magic, or someone would come in and play [my] part. I thought of the worst-case scenario, but I went in and did it. I played the bass seriously [enough] by that point.”

What are you generally looking for in a My Chemical Romance bassline? 

“What makes it for me is if I do a fill, I’ll only do it once. If you listen to [the band's 2022 comeback single] The Foundations of Decay, any fill on there I only do one time. What’s interesting about The Foundations of Decay is that it’s very loose and run-and-gun. We went in and punched things in for timing, which everyone in the world does, but the meat of that is first-or-second take. Which brings me to someone else who was very instrumental to my bass playing: Doug McKean.

“He’s no longer with us, unfortunately, but he was our engineer from The Black Parade [until his passing in 2022]. He was always a huge cheerleader for me – he instilled confidence in me. He was always good at getting a killer performance out of me.”

What are some of the biggest My Chemical Romance bass moments for you?

“I’ll say that fill in on Foundations. No-one saw that coming.”

There’s a YouTube video out there of someone playing their favorite Mikey Way basslines, some while using your signature Squier Mustang, but one standout in particular is The Black Parade’s The Sharpest Lives.

“What’s funny is Sharpest Lives has a bass solo, and I was terrified of it. I had performance anxiety [through] the 12 years before we broke up – I don’t have it anymore. Somehow when the band got back together, a switch in my brain [got] flipped. [But] while My Chem was active, I was borderline terrified a lot of the time.

“I’m playing with people far above my skill level, I’m playing [on bills] with bands where their bass players are way better than me, [and] our shows were getting massive. We were playing arenas! So not only are you learning the bass, but you’re learning the bass in front of 20,000 people every night. It made me tweak a little, but I think it shaped me into what I became.

“That solo gave me anxiety. It was when we were playing the biggest venues of our career, and it would break for the solo [Way starts singing his ascending bass lick]. I practiced it relentlessly, then it [became] second nature. Later on, it [became my favorite part of the show.”

You’re already playing the Jazz signature in your live show, yeah?

“It’s what I use for the live show. Basically, Fender built [it] for the reunion, and then we made a couple tweaks for when we release it.”

Was there a learning curve at all towards transferring My Chemical Romance songs you’d written on a Mustang onto the Jazz?

“There was Planetary (GO!), a song off Danger Days. I’d guess you’d say the whole thing is a disco beat. It’s dance-y – [Mikey starts singing an octave-popping bassline], I do that for the entirety of the song. I was very happy that I only had to do that on a Mustang, initially [because of the shorter scale]. But going back to what I said, [after] I took a little break, [I] went back to a Jazz Bass. 

“I missed the room, or the way my hand went up and down the neck. I wanted to go back to that, so I jumped back in and felt right at home again.”

How many Jazzes are you bringing on the road?

“I bring two basses out, [but] I stopped even switching [during the set]. This is a testament to Fender craftsmanship – that thing stays in tune. It’s got the four-saddle bridge, and it stays in tune so well. I’m a little neurotic so I’ll tune every few songs, but if I went five to six songs you probably wouldn’t even notice.”

What does it mean to you to now have a fully-formed Fender signature model – as opposed to the Squier – and with the body shape you began your career with?

“It’s really a dream come true. It’s funny, in 2002-3 we started touring across the country. I had a Mexican Jazz Bass, but [the band] were like, 'You have to use something with better electronics; better wood. Step it up!' So, I went into the Guitar Center on Route 46 in New Jersey, and at the time Fender had released a special Guitar Center edition that was silver-flake. 

“It always bugged me that the pickguard was white – it threw me off, aesthetically, and I was like, 'I’m going to change that pickguard one day.' So, I got that, and I was using that for a while. 

“We were out with [Boston emo quartet] Piebald – it was one of our first cross-country tours ever – and one night someone forgot to close the trailer door. We’re driving on the highway, and half the contents spilled out – unfortunately, my bass was a casualty of that.

“But Frank Iero, and his heart of gold, jumped out on the highway in the middle of the night and tried to recover [the bass]. He was like, 'Maybe we can fix it!' I’ll never forget him doing that. He got a chunk of it – it’s in one of our storage units.”

For more information on the Limited Edition Mikey Way Jazz Bass, head to Fender.com.

[mysecretlittlelibrary]

New Faces in New Places

Pairing: Derek Hale x Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: none really, just run of the mill teen wolf dangers lol

Genre: fluff I'd say

Summary: After a few signs from your familiar you're moving to a new town and you find out very quickly that it is anything but ordinary

***

You cross-reference the address your mom gave you with the building you're currently parked in front of. It looks like the right place but man, moving to a new town is always a hassle.

"We finally made it Ellie. You almost burned down my old apartment to get me here but- we made it. You'll have to wait here though, okay? I know mom trusts this guy but I'm not too eager to bring you into a vet's office for no reason." You say to your bird before you get out of the car. You make sure to leave the windows down because heavens know how long you'll be here. You walk into the office, startled slightly by the sound of the bell over the door. A Black man walks out of the back room wearing a lab coat over his maroon colored button-down. He's bald and has neatly trimmed facial hair.

"Hello. How can I help you?" He asks.

"Hi, Dr. Alan Deaton, I'm guessing?"

"Excuse me, do I know you?"

"Not me. But you do know my mother."

"And who is your mother?" He asks, an eyebrow quirking up at you. You wave a hand over your wrist, exposing your family crest marked into your skin, and show it to him.

"My goodness." He gasps stepping back. He swings open the door by the counter and gestures for you to follow him through the doorway he originally came through. "It's like seeing a ghost. I never thought I'd be seeing that crest again after your mother and I went our separate ways. Wait is she-"

"She's fine. Living her best life in Europe." You say, eyes shifting around the room to take it in as you lean against the metal exam table.

"That's good. What brings you here then?"

"Actually, my familiar. Kind of. She knocked over a candle that burned this spot on a map and when I did some digging, spoke to my mom and she told me it had to be here. Also that I'd find you at this place."

"I wasn't aware your mother still knew where I was but honestly leave it to her to keep track of her associates." He chuckles.

"Yeah, she told me if I was coming to Beacon Hills I had to find you first. So what do I need to know about your little town?" You ask.

"Oh well, we definitely get a lot of strange activity here. Beacon Hills has a nematon."

"Beacon Hills has a nematon?" That gets your attention. You had no idea.

"It was cut down many years ago so it's been dormant for quite some time until recently when a group of teenagers accidentally reactivated it."

"A group of teenagers reactivated a nematon?! What the hell kind of teenagers are running around here?" You blink at him.

"They weren't trying to. They were only trying to track down their parents and stop some human sacrifices."

"And they somehow reactivated a nematon? And they did that accidentally on their own?"

"I didn't know it would reactivate a chopped down tree but we also didn't have many other options at the time."

"So I take it you're quite involved with this group of teenagers?" You ask.

"Their ringleader works for me." He shrugs.

"Their ringleader works for you? So you're the adult to our resident Scooby gang." You laugh.

"What?"

"A Scooby gang is the term I use for a group of teenagers who have a knack for getting into shenanigans they have no business getting into." You shrug.

"Well, you know. Druids are advisors by nature."

"Sure- to supernaturals usually. Is this group of kids supernaturals?"

"Not all of them."

"Not all of them?! Are there a lot of supernatural kids around here?"

"Relatively?"

"What does that mean-?" You shake your head.

"Deaton! We need your help! It's Isaac- something's wrong he's not healing!" The frantic yelling along with loud movement from the front of the office turns your attention from Deaton to the doorway, your question forgotten as a man with dark hair comes barrelling in with a younger boy behind him carrying another. They all halt at the door when they see you standing there and you're smart enough to pivot so you're standing next to Deaton, out of the way assuming they intend to lay the half-conscious one on the table.

"Well don't just stand there bring him here. What happened?" Deaton asks. The man steps to the side boy carrying the other can lay him on the table.

"Wolfsbane." You say quietly, immediately picking up its signature with a magical scan of the boy.

"What?" Deaton's gaze snaps to you.

"It's Wolfsbane, we have to get it out of his system if you want him to heal himself. Do you know what kind? How it got in his system?"

"Does that matter?" The man asks staring at you from across the exam table.

"Kind of. All of that stuff affects potency and subsequently the best solution to-"

"Y/n." Deaton says gently.

"He's a bit old for your Scooby gang but I take it he's part of it?"

"I should've prefaced. They aren't all teenagers."

"Noted. But he is. And he's dying." Your gaze shoots down to the kid on the table again. "How do you want to go about this?" You ask crossing your arms.

"Can you tell me if it's yellow wolfsbane?" He asks.

"It's not." You say after a moment of your eyes flitting across the gash in his side.

"Good. So we can burn it out of him."

"You're going to induce a fever?" You ask and Deaton shakes his head.

"He's bleeding too much too fast. You'll have to burn it out."

"Me?" You blink at him.

"You know how to right?"

"Of course I do." You say.

"Well I don't keep a torch in the office so yes you'll have to do it." Deaton nods. You hardly notice the other two watching your conversation like it's a tennis match, both sets of eyes darting back and forth between you as you talk quickly with Deaton.

"Very well." You sigh rotating your neck and cracking your knuckles in preparation. You grasp the young boy's hand.

"What is she doing?" The man asks, almost growling as he shoots a glare.

"Saving Isaac's life. Back down Derek. You came here for help." Deaton says.

"Hi, Isaac. My name's y/n. I'm gonna do my best to make it quick but this is gonna be uncomfortable for a little while so- feel free to scream or break my hand." You say gently to the boy on the table, Isaac you presume, before closing your eyes. When they open again your irises are literal flames that shock the two people watching you carefully as their friend's life is in your hands. Isaac groans, his back arching off the table and his fingers squeezing around your hand with a strength that would probably crush it if he wasn't currently bleeding out on the table. It takes longer than you expect, seeking out and burning the wolfsbane coursing through his blood, but after a few minutes his blood starts to boil and you know there's no more of the deadly plant in his system. You close out your spell and wait for his grip to loosen before releasing his hand.

"I think you should wrap that gash. He's clear now but- there's no way of knowing when his healing will kick in." You tell Deaton. Deaton nods and grabs a gauze pad and medical tape.

"He'll be okay?" The other teenager looks at you and Deaton.

"Yeah he'll be fine." Deaton nods.

"What are you?" The teenager looks at you curiously.

"Who are you?" The man asks, his gaze is still skeptical but much less hostile, there's something in his eyes that you can't quite identify. Akin to awe but not quite.

"Scott, Derek, this is y/n. She's new in town. Y/n, this is Scott McCall and Derek Hale."

"Members of your Scooby gang." You say.

"Why do you keep saying that?" Derek asks.

"Before you walked in here Deaton was telling me about a particularly atypical group of teenagers that had a knack for getting into shenanigans."

"I'm not a teenager." Derek says.

"You haven't already met Stiles have you?" Scott asks. You turn to Deaton with a confused look on your face.

"Scott's best friend. Shenanigan might as well be his middle name. He's quite the erratic kid." Deaton explains.

"Ah- well, no. You, four are my intro to Beacon Hills." You say. Isaac groans as his eyes finally start to open. His half-lidded gaze turns to you and his brows furrow as he tries to identify the stranger in the room.

"You saved me." He mutters. "Are you an angel?" He asks suspiciously making you giggle at the question.

"No sweetie. In fact, some people would call me the opposite."

"Y/n don't freak him out." Deaton chuckles.

"No angel, just a witch. But welcome back. Whoever did this knicked you real good." You tell him with a soft smile and gentle squeeze of his arm.

"Well- thank you." Isaac says.

"A witch?" Scott blinks at you.

"Yep. I don't understand how this kid got wolfsbane poisoning. Are there hunters in Beacon Hills?" You frown at Deaton.

"Sometimes." Deaton says.

"One of them's an ally now though. He helps us a lot." Scott says.

"Hunters and werewolves working together. This is one interesting little town." You muse.

"You'll get used to it pretty quick." Deaton chuckles.

"Oh I'm sure. I'd hang around but Ellie will start to get antsy if she doesn't get out of her carrier soon so I have to find my house. I'll be in touch Deaton. I have a feeling this conversation is far from over." You say.

"You can call me when you get settled if you have any immediate questions. Or swing by later." Deaton says writing his number on the back of a card.

"You rest up Isaac at least a few hours before you do anything strenuous. And watch that gash, if it doesn't start healing within the hour come back to Deaton. And I assume you two will look after him. Nice to meet you all." You say to the trio of wolves before taking the card from Deaton and leaving the office. You don't notice the way Derek's eyes follow you but Deaton does, and he has to make a conscious effort to stifle his smile.

A week later and you're mostly settled into your new home. Ellie is also pretty well acquainted with her new space, which is great because she can be quite particular.

"Something interesting out there Ellie?" You ask when your bird perches by the window, staring outside as intently as a bird can. Her wings flutter fiercely for a moment and she attempts to pry open the window with her beak. You quickly stand from your couch and whistle at her, tapping your finger to guide her over.

"I take it we have to be somewhere? Now when I take you out there wait for me to get on my bike before you start rushing off to whatever danger you're chasing." You warn her as you put on your shoes. She coos at you with her head tilted slightly and you roll your eyes before leaving your apartment. Outside you barely manage to get the bike running before Ellie flies off down a street.

"Dammit Ellie." You huff, speeding after her on your bike, looking up every so often to check her flight path. She eventually perches on a perches on a light by a warehouse and you take off your helmet ready to curse her for being so frantic but the sound of voices inside grabs your attention.

"I told you not to rush off you silly bird." You hiss at her when she flies down to sit on your shoulder as you approach the door curiously. You can see two people standing to the side but ready to jump in along with three, no four, people circling each other and you can hear growling, which is cleared up when one of the faces is revealed to be Scott from Deaton's office. You've had a couple more conversations with Deaton since your first one and have since learned that Scott is the ringleader he'd mentioned that first day and that he's got a whole bunch of supernatural friends. You whistle loudly enough to get everyone's attention and six pairs of eyes snap to you. You recognize Isaac in the bunch too. The two other guys they were growling at don't match any of the descriptions Deaton's given you so, process of elimination tells you the other two people looking at you must be Stiles and Lydia.

"Whatever you think you saw, you didn't we were just teens doing- teen goof things." Stiles, you're pretty sure, frantically says.

"You know Stiles I'd have expected a better excuse from you." You say. "That is Stiles right?" You ask Scott. He and Isaac nod which causes Stiles to look frantically between the three of you.

"How do you know my name?! And you two know her? Why don't I know her? Who are you?" Stiles asks.

"I'm gonna ask that you hold all questions briefly." You tell Stiles before turning your attention to the two unidentified individuals who still look to be on guard. "You two, I'm guessing, do not belong here." You address them only to be met with a growl that you immediately counter with a command. "Ciúin." You say sharply and their aggression dwindles. "I suggest you both return to where you belong of your own free will while you can. This territory is not up for grabs." You say sternly, flashing your magic in warning. The boys glare at you as if they are planning to challenge your demand but neither seems willing to take the risk when they meet your warning gaze. After a stretch of silence, they let out another growl at Scott and Isaac before leaving.

"We totally could've taken them." Isaac huffs.

"What did you do?" Scott asks.

"Nothing really just- a scare tactic I learned some years ago." You shrug.

"Well thank you." He nods.

"Can I ask my questions now?" Stiles asks.

"Stiles, Lydia, this is y/n. She's new to Beacon Hills." Scott says to his friends.

"So how do you already know her?" Stiles asks.

"She knows Deaton. And, she saved Isaac's life." Scott says.

"Yeah." Isaac nods. "Hi again." He says to you with a shy smile.

"Hi, Isaac. You look much better than the last time I saw you." You return his smile with one of your own when he straightens up at your attention.

"So do you! I- I mean, now that I'm not like half-conscious or whatever." He says awkwardly shifting his gaze from you.

"Hey, how did you even know we'd be here?" Scott asks you.

"Ellie." You say lifting your shoulder slightly to show off the bird still perched there contently. "She flew right to you." You add, handing her a treat you conjured.

"That's a pigeon." Stiles says.

"She's my familiar." You correct him.

"You have a familiar?" Lydia asks.

"Correct." You nod.

"What does that mean? Is she not human?" Stiles asks Lydia.

"I'm a witch. Think druid but cooler." You wink at him. "Don't tell Deaton I said that." You add in a stage whisper that makes the others laugh.

"So is that how you knew my name?" Stiles asks.

"No. Deaton's just been giving me the 411 on everyone I need to know about so I made a guess based on the names and descriptions I have." You say.

"Scott we've gotta have a talk man. When you meet people who might be of significance like witches you're supposed to tell me!" Stiles says.

"I figured you'd meet her yourself soon enough." Scott shrugs.

"Before this continues- because I'm sure it will. What were those guys doing here anyway?" You ask interrupting the couple's quarrel that's about to start.

"They were- sending a message." Isaac says.

"A message? To whom?" You frown.

"Scott. Looks like word's gotten around that he's an alpha."

"It's a good thing you showed up when you did because I had a really bad feeling about them fighting." Lydia mutters.

"I guess Ellie's taken a liking to you all. She's the one who sensed there was trouble."

"Thank you Ellie." Scott says nodding at your bird.

"You all should get out of here and head home before any more trouble comes looking for you." You say.

"Will you be alright getting home?" Isaac asks you.

"I should be asking you all that." You chuckle.

"Stiles will drive us." Scott tells you.

"So?" Isaac prompts.

"I appreciate the concern hon but I am an adult, with enough magical power to level a city. I'll be fine on my bike." You laugh. "Now you guys get going." Everyone starts to move towards the door except Stiles, who starts to object when he sees his friends leaving.

"Hang on now just because you stopped a fight doesn't mean you can- woah woah hang on!" Stiles loses his train of thought as Scott drags him towards the warehouse entrance and you chuckle.

"Come on man don't be an ass." Scott mutters to his friend.

"I just want you to know I have more questions for you that I will be asking at a later date!" Stiles calls to you even as he's being removed.

"Deaton has my address! Have him give it to you and you can come by and ask as many questions as you want!" You shout after him.

"I will do exactly that!" He points just before the group exits and you laugh to yourself in the empty warehouse.

"You brought me across the country to protect this group of teenagers?" You ask Ellie. "I hope you know we'll have no more peace." You scoff at her before the two of you leave the warehouse yourselves.

A few hours later a knock on your door pulls you away from the movie you're watching. You place your mug of hot chocolate on the table before walking over to your front door and checking the spyhole to find Derek on your porch.

"Derek?! What are you doing here?" You ask with a frown. You haven't seen him since you met last week and quite frankly you weren't sure you would. He seemed rather apprehensive around you all in all.

"I- heard you helped the kids out of a jam earlier. I wanted to thank you." He says.

"Oh- no need. They probably could've sorted it out themselves honestly but Ellie really felt we had to step in."

"Ellie?"

"My bird, familiar."

"Familiar- that's right, you're a witch."

"I am indeed." You chuckle. "You- said you came here to thank me? I don't want you to feel like you have to do-"

"Oh I don't! Didn't. I'm not here out of obligation I wanted to come. It's not every day someone as pretty as you moves to Beacon Hills."

"Are you flirting with me Derek Hale?" You ask, surprised at his direct line.

"Depends on if it's working." He says.

"Are you here to ask me on a date or not Derek?" You ask. There's a moment of silence before he replies.

"Will you go on a date with me?" He asks.

"I would love to." You smile at him.

"I've been trying to work up the courage to ask you that all week." Derek breathes out.

"How cute. Do you have a phone?"

"Of course I do."

"Do you have it with you?" He hands you the device eagerly and you input your number for him. "You can call me when you've figured out the details." You say handing it back to him. "Okay?" You prompt when all he does is give you a goofy smile.

"Okay." He says still giving you a pleased look that makes you want to laugh at how cute he is. You jolt suddenly when your own phone rings on your coffee table.

"Oh shoot- one second." You say rushing to grab it. Unknown number. "Hello?" You answer walking back over to your front door where Derek has his phone pressed to his ear, looking at you cheekily as he speaks and his voice comes through your device.

"I'll pick you up at 7:30 on Friday?" He asks and you laugh before you give him an answer.

"Didn't realize you already had a plan."

"Oh, I've been planning all week. If you said yes I wanted to be ready."

"Then I will see you Friday. For now, you should go home, looks like it's going to rain." You say noticing the clouds obscuring the usually starry night sky. Derek looks up as if he didn't even realize.

"Right. I'll see you Friday." He says with one last smile before he takes off. You smile to yourself as you return to your movie and hot chocolate. Friday just can't come soon enough. Maybe moving to Beacon Hills was a more perfect idea than you gave Ellie credit for.

***

[tackytigerfic]

Fledgling

Some scrap words I won't be using for another fic, repurposed for the @drarrymicrofic prompt Hatch. Anyway, this is another dads Drarry piece (i know i know). Newborn Albus and newborn Scorpius, tired fathers, both recently separated. Harry struggling a bit with life as a parent. No major warnings that I can think of but do please let me know if there's anything. Unbetaed

ETA: actually re CW there is mention of an unwanted/unexpected pregnancy. Pls do proceed with caution if that's a tricky topic as I don't delve into it with the nuance it deserves. As to my stance, i am firmly pro-choice and it's not the sort of topic i usually take lightly.

Harry hadn’t thought the sling thing through before he left the house, and now his whole back is aching and he keeps whacking people with the unwieldy changing bag that won’t stop slipping off his shoulder. Albus is weeping noisily, one side of his tiny face pressed against Harry’s t-shirt, his new-blue eyes shutting and opening in bewildered exhaustion. Looking down into the sling, Harry can only see the fluffy top of his head, the fuzz of eyelashes, the slack weight of his plump cheek, but he can feel the tear-wettened patch of fabric spreading. They're both exhausted, the heat of summer making Harry's back prickle with sweat under the straps of the sling.

Harry's at the farmers market off Diagon, trying to buy vegetables. He doesn’t actually want to eat a vegetable, or indeed anything that involves chopping or cooking or making any sort of effort at all. In fact, what Harry wants is to go home and lie alone, in total silence, on the sofa in the back parlour, where the air is always cooler, and drink a very cold beer, and eat nothing but Monster Munch and Dairy Milk for dinner.

However Harry has to buy, cook, and eat vegetables, not just because he has to set a good example for his children, but also because if he dies of scurvy then he’ll be no better than his parents were, having a kid they were too young for, then going off and getting themselves killed. Though at least Harry's boys would have the Weasleys, which means they’d be loved at least, which is more than Harry was, and now his eyes are prickling with self-pity and guilt, and Albus is crying so hard he’s hiccuping, and god, Harry needs some sleep. But he won’t get any, because Molly can only keep James for another twenty minutes, and Harry has to get his grocery shopping done, and then it’ll be bathtime and bedtime and another broken night, and so the cycle continues, a relentless loop that might feel like a time-turner is involved except that Harry somehow manages to find brand new things to feel absolutely grim about every single day.

He sighs, pokes at a flabby-looking aubergine, then remembers how much work he’d have to do to make it taste good and just grabs some carrots instead. His hands are already full, the changing bag swinging and banging against his hip. Albus’s little legs are squirming in rage now, his whole body in muscular rolling motion against Harry’s chest.

“Please, baby,” he whispers, kissing the damp little head. “Please just calm down.”

He reaches for a butternut squash, and the bag swings forward and drops into the crook of his elbow, hitting the vegetable stall. Somewhere below him, a point he can’t actually see over the lump of screaming baby, he hears the hollow thumping noise of something falling and hitting the ground. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a cabbage trundling onto the footpath, then another and another. The man who works at the vegetable stall gets his wand out and starts Accio-ing the fallen cabbages, giving Harry an unimpressed look which he extends to the baby in the sling. Harry feels suddenly enraged, and he drops the carrots so he can bring his hand up in front of them, a protective shield against the horrible man’s disapproval, and now the other shoppers are staring too, a woman with a bored-looking teenager giving Harry’s strewn carrots a pointed look as she bends to pick them up off the ground.

Harry can’t bear it anymore, hating himself, hating the people shopping like their worlds haven’t come to a standstill like his has, hating the great fucking changing bag and the carrots and even, for one awful shameful moment, the crying baby, and he moves further down the street to where there’s a break in the stalls, a mercifully unoccupied bench, and a busker playing some sort of multi-horned instrument that is making enough noise to drown out Albus’s wailing. He sits, carefully, so Albus is higher on his chest with one plump cheek against Harry’s fast-beating heart, and closes his eyes.

“Here,” a voice says, and Harry opens his eyes to see a plume of green feathery leaves, a hand clutching… is it the bunch of carrots? And then he looks up, beyond weary now, and it’s Malfoy there, because of course it is. “I saw you dropped these.”

Malfoy sits down uninvited, just sags down onto the bench next to Harry and lets the bunch of carrots fall on the seat between them. Harry hasn’t seen much of him since school, though he knew Malfoy had got married, and he’d definitely seen something in the papers when the baby was born. He looks awful, Harry thinks, too pale even for him, with sickly blueish shadows under his eyes. His hair is long, curling round his ears, slightly damp at the temples from the heat. He’s wearing a shirt that has some sort of greyish white stain all down the front, and the points of his collar are soft and floppy in the heat, like a puppy’s ears.

“Please, make yourself comfortable,” Harry says.

“I just want some rest,” Malfoy says, and he stretches his legs out in front of him and tips his face up towards the sun, closing his eyes. His throat is one long bared line, and in the crisp afternoon light Harry can see the fine glint of stubble all along his jaw where he clearly hasn’t shaved in a while. 

“This doesn’t quite seem like the right place for resting,” Harry says. “This one won’t shut up, for one.” He looks down at Albus, his throat tight, then back at Malfoy. “Sorry. For the noise, I mean. I’ve tried everything and he just won’t stop.”

“Oh.” Malfoy waves his hand vaguely in Harry’s direction, eyes still closed. “I can’t even hear him, really. It’s practically a holiday for me, hearing a baby crying that isn’t my own. Not my problem, for once. No, this one here is the reason I need a rest.” He opens his eyes as though it costs him effort, and jerks his head to the side. There’s a pram parked there, the old-fashioned silver chassis winking in the sun, gleaming hood drawn up to shade the baby inside. Harry can barely see through a haze of brightly coloured sun protection charms, anti-hex shields, and elaborate cushioning charms. The pram looks like something Harry had seen in old photos Petunia had, like a relic of some half-forgotten time, but Malfoy puts a hand out almost proudly and rests it on the handle, rocking the pram back and forth slightly. 

“He’ll only sleep if the pram is moving,” he says, sounding grim. “And I’ve only just got him to doze off. If he wakes up now, I don’t think I’ll be able to bear it.” He looks at Harry, eyes wide, and places a hand to his mouth as though he wants to snatch the words back.

“Give us a proper look, then,” Harry says, and Malfoy gently lifts the shielding charms for a moment as Harry leans over a little to peer over the edge of the pram to see the baby. He's small and pink and not at all pointy, just a soft squidgy-looking bundle under a light summer muslin, with an almost invisible sheen of hair the same silver as Malfoy’s on his little head. 

“That’s Scorpius,” Malfoy says, and he’s grinning a little, gazing distractedly into the pram as though he can’t quite help himself. Harry feels abruptly and surprisingly fond towards him. He’s seen that expression on his own face in countless photos of him with the boys.

“He’s cute. Interesting name.”

Malfoy goes pink, which makes him look a bit more like his old self, Harry thinks.

“It’s a family tradition,” Malfoy says stiffly. “And I happen to like it. And anyway, you can’t exactly talk, naming your child Albus.” 

“Hey, no,” Harry says. “I wasn’t being— I mean, sorry if I sounded sarcastic or something. I really do like it. There were three Harrys in my form, at my old school before Hogwarts. I would have loved something different. I always wanted a cool name like Rocket or… Trent or… McGuyver, or something. I’d have loved to be called Scorpius.”

“You’re making it worse,” Malfoy says, though his lips are twitching. “Trent? Honestly, Potter.”

Then, as if compelled by curiosity, he leans over towards Harry and gently eases down the side of the sling so that he can look in at Albus from the side. Harry wonders what the baby must look like, in this heat, having been crying for so long, but Malfoy’s eyes soften and he smiles into the sling like he’s forgotten Harry’s even there, and Harry feels that irrational glow of pride he gets whenever anyone admires his babies. He’s mine, he wants to say. I made him. 

Albus, as though sensing he’s being looked at, takes in a huge gulp of air with a sweet little wheezing sound and then, miracle of miracle, falls silent. 

Harry and Malfoy look at each other over the baby’s head.

“Oh my god,” Harry mouths, and Malfoy mouths back at him, pointing into the sling, “He’s asleep!”

Harry isn’t sure how long they sit there. He thinks he might doze off for a while, though he can’t be sure. When he opens his eyes, Malfoy is still there beside him, resting his head on the back of the bench, pushing the pram wheel idly with one foot so that the whole thing rocks gently back and forward. He must sense Harry moving, because he yawns hugely and then blinks at Harry, or maybe into the sun, which is now setting behind Harry. At some point, the street musician must have moved on, because everything has the quiet, winding-down hum of early evening.

“This idea might be utterly mad,” Malfoy observes in a whisper, since both babies are, miraculously, still asleep. “I don’t know, since I’m so sleep-deprived I think my sense of reason has been affected. But would you possibly like to do this again sometime?”

“What, present each other with root vegetables and then fall asleep next to each other on a public bench?” Harry asks, amused. “No one could ever say we don’t know how to have a good time, I suppose.”

“Are you lonely?” Malfoy asks abruptly. “You seem lonely. Is that okay to say? I was watching you, you know, trying to buy your vegetables, and you looked about as miserable as I feel, and guess what? I was glad. That’s why I came to talk to you. I don’t think I’d have got the courage up if you’d been just standing there in the sunshine all golden and dewy and— and healthy looking—” He waves a hand dismissively in Harry’s general direction, the gesture somehow taking in every exhausted cell of Harry’s body. "Which, by the way, you do. Which is bloody unfair. But you also looked absolutely bloody livid and like you were about to cry.”

“I was,” Harry admits, because if Malfoy is oversharing, he might as well too.

“And I was glad,” Malfoy finishes, with a vicious satisfaction, and sits back. “I would have assumed you’d be really good at this, like you are at everything. No, no, I don’t mean you’re not a good father, Potter, anyone can see you’re hopelessly devoted to your offspring. I just meant, you looked like you were struggling. That you weren’t enjoying yourself. It was… refreshing. Reassuring, in a way. Like I’m not the only one who’s not a natural at this.”

“Albus was an accident,” Harry blurts out, covering the baby's ears carefully with his hands, though he's so deep in sleep he doesn't even stir. “Ginny and I were already separated. She had taken the job in Wales. She didn’t even realise she was pregnant for months, because she was training so hard she thought that’s why she felt tired all the time. And when she told me, I was so happy. She was crying and crying, she hates crying, I don’t know if you know that about her, probably not. But she just couldn’t stop, these big tears sliding down her cheeks. She was completely in shock, and I didn’t care at all. I wanted him, so badly, straight away. I could barely believe I got to have him. It felt like everything I had ever wanted, and that was all that mattered to me at that moment. And now he’s here and it’s like I’m being punished for it. It’s so hard, Malfoy. I’m on my own most of the time. Ginny was meant to have them at weekends, but she’s so busy and I don’t really want them going all the way to Wales without me just yet. And Ginny can’t fly after a week of broken nights, it would be too dangerous. So it’s just me, most of the time, and I’m so bloody lonely. Some nights when I’m up with one of the boys I just stand at the window and look out, just to see if I can find another house with a light on, so I feel like I’m not the only person in the world.”

“Wow,” Malfoy says. “That is a lot to be carrying around with you. Emotionally speaking, I mean, though it looks as though you’re overburdened physically too.” He eyes the changing bag with distaste. “Honestly Potter, are you a wizard or not?” He swings a hand over the bag, and Harry sees the tip of his wand sliding into his hand before Malfoy does a complicated little shivery wand movement over the bag. Then he sets his wand tip to the shoulder strap of Harry’s sling and performs a mild sticking charm, giving the sleeping lump of Albus a little pat before he sits back again. “There, that should hold until you get home.”

“Home…” Harry feels a familiar lurch in his stomach, the knowledge that he has forgotten something crucial but can’t quite put a finger on it. “Oh my god, Malfoy. I was meant to be at the Burrow to collect James at five o’ clock. What time is it? No, don’t tell me, I don’t want to know. If I’ve made Molly miss her Witches’ Institute meeting she will hex me sideways.”

Harry stands, Albus wriggling and grumbling at the sudden movement and then subsiding back into sleep. The sling feels secure, more comfortable around the tired muscles of Harry’s shoulders. He grabs for the changing bag, which he lifts easily with one hand, the dead weight of it now lightened. 

“Wow, Malfoy. What was that charm you used on the bag? It’s actually manageable now.” 

“It’s a variation on the Feather-Light charm. Same principle and same incantation but a slightly different wand movement. Makes the results a bit more stable.”

“Nice.” Harry slides the strap of the bag onto his arm. “You’ll have to show me. Next time?”

“Next time,” Malfoy said, then grins, a sudden and charming smile that shows his nice teeth and makes him look younger and somehow softer. He has a dimple, Harry notices, tucked right into the dip next to his lip, easy to miss unless you’re really looking.

“Great, I’ll owl you. And Malfoy— Thanks. For the bag, and listening to me, and… well, everything.”

“And for the carrots.” Malfoy picks up the bunch with a flourish, the delicate green fronds quivering at the movement as he hands them to Harry. “You mustn’t forget those.”

“Well, I think I’m going to get a takeaway,” Harry confesses. “But I shall make sure to put these carefully into the salad drawer of the fridge so that they can moulder away gently there for a few weeks.”

“As is right and proper,” Malfoy replies, very seriously, then the slight quiver of his lips turns to a grimace as a squawk arises from the pram.

“Once more unto the breach,” he says, already moving towards the pram, reaching in to where the blanket is rippling from tiny kicking legs. “I’ll see you soon, Potter.”

“Good luck,” Harry says, tempted to pat him on the back or shake his hand, but catching himself at the last minute and realising how odd it would be to just start touching Malfoy all of a sudden. 

He sets off for the Leaky, hoping that that queue for the Floo won’t be too long. At his chest, Albus sleeps on, and Harry feels the tension leave his shoulders, somehow unburdened.

[blackdragoness]

PICK-A-CARD READING

IF YOU WERE A DRUG, WHAT DRUG WOULD YOU BE?

WHY DO PEOPLE BECOME “ADDICTED” TO YOUR ENERGY?

Do you give off ALCOHOLIC vibes, CRACKHEAD energy, OR STONER vibes?

**THIS IS PURELY FOR ENTERTAINMENT** I am not calling any of you addicts. Its just a game to have fun so just enjoy it for what it is: ENTERTAINMENT. I am not a professional and the advice given is based off my own personal experience with these addictions. I share what helped me free myself from these vices but I strongly recommend speaking with a professional that can help you better. Without further ado....

LESSSKOOOO

PICK A CARD:

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PILE 1: ACE OF HEARTS

If you chose pile 1, the vice that best describes your personality is:

***STONER***

**** DISCLAIMER: I am not insinuating that you smoke alot of pot, even if that's true haha. I am not your doctor, pastor, therapist, parent, sibling, boss, the police, your parole officer, NONE OF THAT. So I dont care what you do on your own time. I am not condoning those actions either but at the same time, it’s your life and you can do whatever you want with it.****

Regardless of your personal choices, this is what it says about your personality:

Laid-back, chill AF – almost too laid back it can sometimes be mistaken for laziness – but at the same time, a lot of you reading this probably are lazy and already know that. Its not a roast, I’m just affirming what you already know LOL. Big couch potato energy. Very laxed. As contradictory as it sounds, this is actually why people become addicted to your energy. There isn’t a lot of people who have the chill factor that you have and being around you is like a break from the hustle and bustle of life.

The cool kid – the IT Boy/Girl. Everything you do is effortless

Iconic – does your own thing & known for not following the crowd

You guys have a mind of your own!

Unbothered – it is very hard to ruffle your feathers or get a reaction out of you. It is both an admirable and irritable trait depending on who you’re talking to. If not, you may just react to things very slowly and may find yourself hot and bothered after the fact

Very easy going and easy to talk to – you can chop it up with almost all personalities because you are very relatable and relaxed.

CLASS CLOWN VIBES - you may not take things too seriously and can find humor in anything! You say some funny shit man, and you aren’t even trying to be funny.

EFFORTLESS COMEDIAN.

Very witty and intelligent

You can hold a conversation with a variety of people. Whether its small talk or deep intellectual conversations.

People remember you for the conversations that they have with you and the energy that you bring to the conversation. You may not even realize the effect your words or energy have on people but it lingers on their mind and energy long after you have gone away. All a person needs is one “hit” of your energy.

Might be apart of the “woke” culture or many people would describe you as being “woke”

May be labeled an overthinker, borderline paranoid but also a very critical thinker. You may think about things that most people don’t think about. It may shock others how much you know about a variety of topics  

Very grounded and rooted in whatever it is that you do.

Natural beauties and very natural bodies.

“LOVE CHILD”

Hippy vibes

You have a reputation for always being in a good mood and always being happy for no reason. Its very rare that you are in a bad mood. It doesn’t mean that you don’t have those days. You just know how to guard your emotions and only let a small number of trusted people see your vulnerable side.

Y’all are A VIBE. Periodt. Point. Blank.

You can vibe with a crowd AND you can vibe all on your own. You could be both introverted and extroverted depending on your mood. Sometimes you might be in a corner on your own doing your own thing, other times you’re mingling with a variety of different people. Just depends on your mood.

You probably have lots of conversations with your self all the time. People might think you’re a little weird for that but you might find it funny

Very unique and one of a kind

You might have your own distinct smell. Maybe you have a certain perfume/cologne that you use all the time that people know you for. OR maybe you just stink and smell like body odor. It can be either one of those two extremes LOL (Smokers LOVE the smell of weed, nonsmokers tend to strongly DESPISE the smell of weed so it goes both ways. Don’t shoot the messenger HAHA)

May have a love for music or be very musically inclined

Lyricist, journalist, writer/author - may be very good at articulating your thoughts and emotions but you may mumble or speak softly.

Every moment with you is a HIGH moment – by “high”, I mean when people see you, even if the interaction is short, its most often the HIGHlight of peoples day.

Everyones BUDdy

Wall FLOWER vibes

May be looked at as slightly ditzy

ADVICE:

Tap into your creativity more. This pile has the creative abilities, if improved and mastered, can be monetized on greatly.

Don’t be afraid to put yourself out there and to stand out.

If you struggle with overthinking, it means you aren’t taking enough action. Start moving and putting your amazing thoughts into action so you can manifest the life you dream about all the time. Mistakes are inevitable and part of the growing process so don’t be afraid to make mistakes or make a fool out of yourself. That’s how you learn. The longer you sit on your ideas, the easier it is for doubtful thoughts to creep in which in turn will stop you from taking any type of action. It is time to take action and slow down the voices in your head telling you that you aren’t enough.

Believe in yourself more and learn to love yourself for all your flaws. Your biggest critic and your biggest competition should always be yourself so build yourself up more. Quit the negative self talk. Critique yourself towards improvement but not to the point of giving up. You’re more than you give yourself credit for.

Be more comfortable speaking your mind in the moment instead of bottling everything up all the time. You only end up beating yourself up in the end and it slows down your progress.

If you are addicted to the drug, my advice is to take a break from it for a bit so you can start being active again in your own life. You don't have to quit cold turkey. Take it one day at a time but the wheels will start moving for you soon as you make that change. Too much of anything, even if it's good for you, can eventually start to work against you. But it's your life. If you can find that balance while still keeping it in your life, more power to ya! 😊

CHANNELED SONG:

MOVING ABOUT MY WAYS by Josh Wawa White

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PILE 2: ACE OF CLUBS

If you chose pile 2, the vice that best describes your personality is:

***ALCOHOLIC***

**** DISCLAIMER: I am not insinuating that you drink a lot of alcohol, even if that's true haha. I am not your doctor, pastor, therapist, parent, sibling, boss, the police, your parole officer, NONE OF THAT. So I don’t care what you do on your own time. I am not condoning those actions either but at the same time, it’s your life and you can do whatever you want with it.****

Regardless of your personal choices, this is what it says about your personality:

BIG GOOFBALL ENERGYYYY

Very energetic and MAFANA (pronounced “mah-fah-nah” meaning “heated” in the Tongan language). You might always be MAFANA and ready to do anything at any moment. Also you might literally be MAFANA in body temperature. Might have a warmer body temperature or may always be hot even in colder temperatures. May enjoy very hot showers as well.

Extremely physically attractive. Sexy and sultry type of aesthetic

Very seductive mannerisms and voice

Very spontaneous and slightly chaotic

You might speak in slang a lot – doesn’t matter the slang, but you have your own way of speaking

People would probably describe you as being very bold and confident. You aren’t afraid to say what’s on your mind and you don’t care who hears.

True to yourself

Very genuine and authentic in all your interactions

You’re probably sociable and outgoing

Extremely outgoing – very rarely are you ever alone. You always have a crowd of people surrounding you or with you.

You have your own unique sense of style and fashion taste. People know and recognize you for your fashion sense. It’s just very……YOU.

Brutally honest but honest nonetheless – people may avoid you because of how honest you can be. But people know when they really need an honest opinion, you are the first person to come to mind.

People may describe you as having multiple personalities. It can be both a good thing or a bad thing depending on who you are talking to. One things for sure, getting to know you is NEVER a bore.

Never a dull moment when you are around

LIFE OF THE PARTY

You are the person everyone hopes to see at an event or a party because they know it will be a fun time if you are around.

Very confident – ALPHA vibes – BOSS energy

You may be everyone’s “go-to” person when they need to vent or get things off their chest. Interacting with you is like a glass of wine at the end of a really rough day. If it was a really tough day, you’re more like 3 shots of Henney instead of wine, lets be honest.

You have a “numbing” effect on people – interacting with you is like nothing else matters but the present moment. You’re a very rare type of person

You are the person to impress! Every room you walk into and every person you interact with, you are the center of attention & people will do anything to get your attention praise, & validation.

Not only are you the person to impress, you are also a very impressive person. You impress through your looks, your skills, your intellect, etc – ALL AROUND impressive

You are very expressive, blunt, and outspoken. You say whatever is at the top of your mind and react to everything based off of your emotions in the moment.

May at times be very moody

Night owls

Kareoke King/Queen

Shameless

No one ever knows what to expect with you. You keep everyone on their toes

Maybe a bit clumsy and silly but thats why people love your energy. Its giving "overgrown child" vibes and its refreshing.

You help heal alot of peoples inner child just by being yourself. You bring that young vibe to any occasion.

ADVICE:

Take more time for yourself and away from the noise and the audience. I sense that you don’t enjoy being alone because that is when the dark thoughts creep in. Maybe you dislike feeling lonely. Get more comfortable with being on your own and in your own energy. Sort out those dark thoughts. Try to figure out where the darkness originated from and learn to heal it. It will improve your social interactions greatly.

Learn to enjoy silence. A lot of positive ideas, peace, and self discovery can be found in the silence.

Your greatest strength is your outspokenness. However, by remaining silent, you can avoid a lot of regret for yourself. You can also learn a lot about others simply by listening and remaining silent. Stay outspoken, but add silence into your personality every now and then to bring more balance to your character

SLOW DOWN - in all areas! Speak slower, walk slower, think slower, react slower, develop relationships slower, etc. You may start many things very quickly and burn out just as fast. Learn to pace yourself and develop your mental/physical stamina

If you are addicted to the alcohol, my advice would be to find a healthier hobby to substitute that vice. Exercise helps with regulating your emotions as well as a healthy eating plan. Get more sleep and start journaling. Having an outlet to really pour out your emotions will keep you from pouring another cup. Take it one day at a time, but the wheels will start rolling for you once you make that change. But it's your life, do as you please! If you can find that balance in your life, more power to ya!

CHANNELED SONGS: ALCOHOLIC by COMMON KINGS

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PILE 3: ACE OF DIAMONDS

If you chose pile 1, the vice that best describes your personality is:

***CRACKHEAD***

**** DISCLAIMER: I am not insinuating that you’re a meth/coke head, even if that's true haha. I am not your doctor, pastor, therapist, parent, sibling, boss, the police, your parole officer, NONE OF THAT. So I dont care what you do on your own time. I am not condoning those actions either but its your life and you can do whatever you want with it.****

Regardless of your personal choices, this is what it says about your personality:

The most energetic of all the piles

CEO/Supervisor energy

Very focused and determined to accomplish anything you set your mind to. You are willing to start things over as many times as you need until you get it right.

You may have an addictive personality but also others may find your personality very addicting as well. Once someone has tasted your energy, its very hard to shake you.

People may become very obsessed with you. You circle peoples minds multiple times a day. They just cant figure you out. You may also be very obsessive and possessive yourself.

FOCUSED. FOCUSED. FOCUSED, Extremely focused individuals. Your focus is probably your most admirable trait.

As focused as you are, you are also probably a very great multitasker

Entrepreneurs or entrepreneurs in the making. You may be very business minded

You are usually always 10 steps ahead of the game. You see all sides and make very calculated moves based off of your observations.

Very observant individuals. You probably notice and remember the tiniest details about people and you know how to make people feel really special in every interaction with you. People don’t expect you to remember certain things they’ve mentioned or worn, but when you bring it up to them long after the fact, you really make people feel SEEN & HEARD. This makes you more trustworthy in their eyes.

May be accused of being narcissistic but that’s not necessarily a bad thing. You may have been a victim to narcissistic abuse in the past so you’ve learned the ins and outs of all the mind games being played. So when someone uses a mind game on you, you flip it back on them and then they have the audacity to call YOU the narcissist. It has become your tool for self defense but also agitates those on the receiving end of your narcissism. To put it into perspective, most super heros and world leaders are narcissistic because they need to be. If not, they would get chewed up and spit out by the world and wouldn’t last a day in their position. If they wanna call you a narcissist because you refuse to adopt their mindset or their perspective, then so be it! Accept the title and keep it pushing. Remain true to yourself.

Very self-reliant and reliable. You conquer every task and assignment thrown at you and you do an amazing job at it in a very time efficient manner. People may try to discredit you or say you couldn’t have done it all by yourself but the proof is in the pudding darling. In reality, these folks are just projecting their own insecurities on to you because we all know, if they were in your position, there is no way they could have done that on their own. No one can deny your workmanship because you prove it time and time again.

Lone wolf vibes. You may not have many friends or you may not be open to inviting new people into your circle. “NO NEW FRIENDS” vibes

You probably have a sturdy set of friends and you’ve known them for a long time.

Very secretive and private. You may enjoy your privacy and may tend to keep a lot of your life hidden from the public eye.

Very protective of your energy and your space.

May have a lot of people who constantly have an opinion on your life. You do a great job at blocking them and their noise out of the way and continuing to push along.

STRONG STAMINA – yall can last for a lonnnngggg time (however you interpret that LOL)

Great debater – if someone wants to come at you sideways, they better come prepared with their arguments because going against you isn’t easy. You know yourself, you know your facts and you know what happened. Barely nothing gets past you.

Out of all the piles, this pile has the most haters. I don’t know why and neither do you. You must be someone of significance to have this many haters. You represent PRESSURE and people feel that energy as soon as you walk into the room. This is a compliment for you but a threat to your haters. No one wants to feel pressured to improve. You don’t try to apply pressure. You just ARE pressure.

You cant be tamed. Very hard to lock down and hard to pin down.

Unbeatable

Invincible

Immunity

Misjudged and misunderstood but never stops remaining true to yourself. Let the haters do their thing but keep doing you booboo.

Diamond in the rough

Might wear a lot of jewelry or you should wear more jewelry but this is something people notice about you. Maybe you have tons of jewelry or you have a piece of jewelry that people remember you for. If not, I suggest wearing more jewelry because it looks great on you.

ADVICE

Learn to handle the pressure that comes your way. You attract what you put out there and unfortunately, this is one of those things that is out of your control. People feel pressured when you are around therefore, you may feel as though pressure is constantly being applied to you. Don’t sweat it. These experiences are to show you how strong your character truly is but you must remain true to who you are if you want it to work in your favor.

Its okay to be more open and available to others. You can still maintain your strong boundaries but you don’t have to shut the entire world out. Remain open!

Keeping an open mind may also be helpful for you. Not everything will play out the way you envisioned it in your brain so keep an open mind so you can solve your problems as they arise.

Take some time to relax. You give off very strong workaholic vibes and sometimes you can overwork yourself to exhaustion. Give your body the rest it needs through sleep. Remember to eat throughout the day and fill your body up with the nutrients it needs to keep you going and alert for your various tasks. Go outside and enjoy the outdoors. Take time to care for yourself.

 Learn to lighten up a little. Your laser focus can sometimes make you too serious to be around. Laugh a little. Smile more. Let loose. Enjoy the life in front of you. Balance out your work and play and you’ll find your life is more enjoyable that way.

If you are addicted to the drug, my advice would be to invest in yourself more. You won't have the money to spend on drugs if you throw your money into something that will benefit you more in the long run. Take a class to build on a skill you already have, sign up for a committee, give yourself responsibility and bring purpose back into your life. But start small. Learn to depend on yourself and hold yourself up before trying to overextend yourself for others. Too much responsibility is probably what got you to this point or maybe it was the lack thereof. Whatever the case be, you need to love on yourself more & know that you are more than enough. The wheels will start moving for you once you make that change and the clarity that follows will bring you immense joy.

CHANNELED SONG: WINNAH WINNAH by RIA ft SPAWNBREEZIE

[the-kr8tor]

I’m feeling in a really wintery mood today, so may I suggest for fluffy friday TTN hobie x reader as kids playing in the snow during winter break from school?

(Love your hobie x readers btw! Especially ttn!)

AHHH A TTN REQUEST I LOVE U FOR THIS ❤️❤️❤️ Thank you!! I'm glad you like my lil series 💕

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, TTN! Hobie, TTN! Reader, Fluff

TTN! Hobie is based on my series ❤️

It's Fluffy Friday!

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

You build a fort with snow, walls almost as tall as you, cold biting at your bare hands. Maybe you should've taken your winter gloves with you. It's too late now though as Hobie places his finishing touches on his side of the battlefield. The tip of his tongue poking out from his lips, brows furrowed in concentration. He's bundled up nicely compared to you, missing your gloves.

"Hurry up, Gromit!" Hobie pats the last bit of snow on his fort, hands already forming his first snowball.

"I'm trying!" Briskly trying to complete the fort, it looks wonky on the side. You huff in annoyance.

"Need help?" Hobie asks with a snicker, you glare at him across the snow covered field.

In retaliation, you hastily mold a snowball in your hand, hiding it behind the wall. It's not a perfect shape but it'll do. Aiming for his head, you throw it with a grunt. The snowball flies across, hitting Hobie square in the face.

"Ack!" Snow slides on his skin, wiping it clean off, revealing his mischievous smile, fiery eyes staring at you. "I'm going to destroy you!"

You screech, wide smile on your face as you duck away from Hobie bombarding you with snowballs.

It was a fight to the death, giggles and laughing sounding out in the cold winter air. Hobie gets numerous hits on you whilst you focus on precision, hitting him where it hurts. His fort tumbles down from your pelting, leaving him unprotected.

He gasps out in realization, you laugh triumphantly, arms at the ready to throw your arsenal.

"You cheeky–" Hobie gets cut off by your snowball smacking him on his temple. You laugh like an evil villain. "That's how it is, huh?!" He runs towards you at full speed, snow crunching under his footsteps. Hobie grabs a handful of snow on his way.

Your eyes grow wide, yelping as he grows closer, running for dear life. Unfortunately for you, your opponent has longer legs, he catches up to you in seconds. Feeling ice sliding on your back where Hobie pushed snow inside your thick jumper.

Yelling, you try to take out the ice from your clothes, jumping and wiggling about. Hobie guffaws on the sideline, clutching his stomach in laughter.

Finally getting rid of the snow in your clothes, you tackle Hobie while he's distracted. You two tumble in the snow, bringing your frozen hands to his cheek. He shrieks at the cold making you copy his earlier laugh.

"Why aren't you wearing gloves?!" He howls out, pushing you off.

You fall on the thick snow, giggling as he fists your jacket collar. Sticking your tongue out, you try to rile him up more. "I forgot it"

"Y'know you could get frostbite from that" He tries to scare you.

"Pssh, no, I won't" you roll your eyes.

"Yuh uh, then I have to cut your fingers off just to save your hands!" He takes your hand pretending to chop it off. That does it for you, gasping in fear of losing your fingers, how are you gonna draw without them?

"Noooo!" Sitting up, you rub your hands together in a futile attempt to warm them up.

"That's not gonna work, here" Hobie takes his gloves off, putting it over your frozen hands for you.

Heart warming at the scene, you let Hobie give you his gloves. "Thanks" he lets out a quiet 'sure', "softie" you continue, he flicks your wrist at your quip.

"You want hot chocolate? I have some at home" you ask, eyes twinkling.

"Sure, but no milk for me" Hobie stands up, extending his hand to help you up.

You take his hand without question, clouds puff out of your cold lips as you beam up at him. "Let's go then! I have tiny marshmallows for it"

Hobie follows you with a wobbly smile.

Reblog banner by @/cafekitsune

[thestarfishinjootsoffice]

I've seen your child reader stories and I love them ❤️ can you do slashers (Michael Myers Jason Voorhees Freddy Krueger and Sinclair brothers) reaction when child reader is being kidnapped/attacked. Sorry my English is not very good

Yes finally someone specificed the slashers, god is good, god is greeaaat. Also don't worry your English is amazing!

Slashers when child! Reader is being attacked/kidnapped.

Michael 🔪

It was very uncommon for Michael's 🔪kid to get attacked, since more than half the town knows about the presence of Michael always seeming to loom around you.

So whoever attempted such a thing must've been one hell of an idiot. Especially on Halloween.

He walked insanely fast over to the girl who was dragging you into her car with a cloth stuck to your mouth, limiting the range of your scream.

"I can gain so much money and fame by doing this. After I'm done with you I can send some money to your parents to shut them up." Her smile was cut short when she suddenly jerks and the sudden sound of her screaming escapes her throat.

She let go of you and cried and wailed as the man behind her yanks her hair up and keeps slashing her back until her back was nothing but a dark bloodied mess.

It was night and this scene had already caused half the town to wake up and get ready to fight against the shape but he grabbed your hand and walked back somewhere secluded instead.

You were now somewhere in a playground with michael standing next to you. Him not quite understanding that you actually need to be at home right now but what happened earlier was traumatising and having Michael protecting you was better anyways.

You fell asleep and found your parents pick you up frantically and bring you inside and asked if you were hurt or anything. All you said was.

"he protects me."

Jason 🪓

Now it really is unsafe for a kid to be roaming around the woods with bear traps laying around. And so Jason 🪓 is also watching you 24/7. He just puts you underground when he has to deal with trespassers.

But you and him were outside and it was just 12 seconds when he turned his back, heard the sound of a vehicle and you were gone. So now he was running to every inch of the forests making sure you didn't trip near a bear trap and crushed your head or got kidnapped.

But just as he feared he heard your echos of cries and a man swearing at you. He marched over to the location of your cries and was having absolutely no hesitation in chopping off the man's head. As his mother was basically yelling for him to do so.

"Shut the fuck up before someone hears us! Bi-" in a flash the man was pushed aside roughly and Jason pulled you next to him, looking at you he pat your head a few times and then pushed you behind him.

Your crying earlier was visible on your face and he couldn't contain his anger any further.

"who the hell are you?" the man asked before Jason went to swing his mechete at the man's kneecaps, immediately the man fell and started screaming.

Stings of profanity rolled off his tongue as he was at the same time begging for his life and trying to crawl away into his car.

The hockey masked hulk cut off the man's arm and leg, now two matching pair. You were about to peak but Jason turned your head around and led you somewhere far and signaled you to stay here.

He will the end man's life quickly by decapiting him. But only because the most he did was make you cry.

Next person will have it much worse.

Freddy 💤

Assholes at your school weren't uncommon. And that's what Freddy 💤 was most annoyed about. It was about time where he had ought to teach you how to defend yourself.

He had brought himself into the outside world and he didn't find you getting beaten up by a group of rich snobby students very funny.

"are you sure this is okay?" a male chuckled nervously, his kicking to your ribslosing passion but not stopping. The girl next to him grip your hair (or scalp) roughly, her long nails adding pressure to your head.

"of course is it. No one will catch us anyways. Unless Y/n runs her mouth over to the police." the the supposeded leader of the group said while checking herself in front of a mirror. Ignoring your grunts and struggles, you could've fought them off or ran away but they suddenly came behind you and hit your hedda with a metal bat.

Freddy's fingers and eyes were twitching in frustration.

Her words immediately stopping the group. "what!? Are you crazy we can't just kill her and we can't keep her in our basement either. What will we do now!?" one of the other girls said, letting go of your hair. (or scalp)

"calm down, she'll bail u-"

"I know what you'll do."

The group snapped their necks to the sound of your voice, you are there. Standing and bloodied but you seem to pay no mind to your injuries.

"what the hell!?" they screamed as your body opened and out came a man in the appearance of a skinned man, with a Christmas sweater and a brown fedora.

This obviously freaking them out but it was easy for Freddy since they were in the schools gym and locked all the doors and windows. But they were persistent in openening them.

"It's an easy solution, you can't be charged if you're dead!" he laughed to his hearts content and did his thing.

You woke up somewhere in your classroom with zero stains and ambulances near the school gym, knowing exactly what happened.

(I have no idea what kind of father figure krueger will be but he seems to really want a kid in a few movies)

Sinclair brothers 🕯

Context: a soon to be dead man speeds up their death clock by attacking you because you're a sinclair.

Prologue: a man has his hand around your neck, cutting off your air supply but not enough to kill you. threatening to if any of them (your brothers) come closer.

You can't do much as this man was about 20-30 years old and you were already turning red.

You can only look at your brothers from the side of your eyes, waiting for their next move.

Bo 🧰 cannot think of how dumb of a person this man is. He really thinks threatening you will make him stop in his tracks and be at his mercy? Well yes. But not he won't be the one begging for mercy. He glares sharply at the man and he knows the man is not kidding, his eyes hold everything except pity, remorse and guilt. He's struggling and doesn't know what to do except try a telepathic plan with his artistic brother in the back. He feels helpless and how much fuel it added to his burning hate was enough to burn an entire forest "even if you're a child you are just like the monsters there. You have their blood.." the man's face really meant it. It took everything in bo not to scream and jump at the man but it was visible. But then...

Vincent 🕯 was pondering how this turned out so bad, you couldn't die yet. He just wished the man turned his back so he snatch you away. Vincent had no weapons on him and he was fast at running but they far, far enough that the man would notice. He couldn't take the risk. He hated this man currently to his guts why would someone stoop so low that's just pathetic. He knows expressions very well and the fact the man wasn't kidding makes him further more nervous. "even if you're a child you are just like the monsters there. You have their blood.." Vincent was irritated you could clearly see his eyes of anger through his mask, he guesses he should saving more wax for next time. He's about to lose but then...

Lester 🚙 didn't even need to tell Jonesy to start gnawing that man's leg off. Its never wise to piss off a dog. The usual happy and cheerful facial on Lester was no longer, he can't believe all of this was happening without his knowledge before a few seconds ago. It was just a few hours ago he decides to visit his cute dear younger sibling and now there's this. "even if you're a child you're still like the monsters there. You have their blood.." it was for their own sake. He's the one putting an innocent child's life on the line. He watched as he heard his two elder brother's sigh of relief and the growling and chewing of Jonesy and the screeching of the man who has let you go. He walked over to you and hugged you.

The man on the ground tried to kick the dog but to no avail. He only felt the unbearable pain of his disappearing flesh. He now laid down still crying and saw the three of the sinclair brothers above him. Looming over him as the worst torture methods flood through their head, it was too easy to see what they were thinking about. "wait, please, no, I was joking alright!? I wasn't serious about that!"

"too bad dumbass, we're way too angry to angry to have mercy on you now. really caused some trouble for me and my siblings." Bo crouched down. Looking at him smirking and sadistically. Unfortunately for him the two of their brothers hold the same look too.

WOWIWW I HOPE I DIDN'T MAKE IT TOO BORING.

[lonleydweller]

Can I request hcs for Chop Top as a dad?

🌹Chop-Top as a dad hcs🌹

This was fun!! Thank you!!

!Warnings!: murder mention, cannibalism mention, mentioned generational trauma, some toxic mindsets due to time period, chop tops slightly neglectful at times

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● Now wether by some miracle he's had a biological kid or he's adopted some kid off the street.. I feel like he'd be a bit hesitant. Him, a dad? Having to take care of another human being? Especially with the life style him and his brothers are living? Maybe that's not the best idea.. kid would probably be better off with someone else, yeah?

● In this case however he ends up taking care of the kid anyways. He tries his best, rooting through books, magnezines, and such about parenting. He also often thinks back on what Bubba was like when he was younger as reference too, especially if the kid acts similar to him. It's been awhile since he's had to take care of an actual child.

● He certainly isn't going to ask Drayton for advice, even if he did practically raise him and his brothers while grandpa was working. Considering his method of parenting involed beatings with a broomstick and shouting. However it takes him time to realize some of his own behaviors need changing.

● During the first few months he has a tendency to walk off and leave the child unattended, after all its not like he has to constantly hover around his brothers. They're fine by themselves. He has to remind himself he's taking of a child, someone who's gonna need extra help, someone who he can't just leave completely by themselves to do whatever. Luckily Drayton and Bubba are around to monitor the little one too to make sure they don't maim themselves.

● Eventually he gets in the habit of taking the kid with him most places he goes, whether he's aimlessly wandering around the amusement park, in his room, or sometimes even out in public when he occasionally goes. Although someone might want to teach him how to properly carry a child first.

● He then has to try his best to turn down his teasing. He teases his brothers all the time mockingly, curses at them, makes light comments and insults. To him it's just his way of showing brotherly love, for the most part. Debatable when it comes to Drayton. However he quickly learns that type of behavior isn't going to fly well when it comes to his kid. It just makes them cry.

● Then of course, there's the whole being a serial killer and cannibal thing. Assuming they're younger he'll try his best to desensitize them to it slowly. Putting bits of human meat in their food to see if they like it, let them see a few chopped up bodies, Drayton might let them help him cook if chop top bugs him enough, then maybe they're a bit older he'll bring them on a few killing trips with him and Bubba!

● Once he gets a hang of what he's doing, he's pretty fun as dad, he has the hyperactivity and energy of a child so he can keep up pretty well with the kid. Also plays a lot of games with them, tag, hide and seek, board games if they have any, or anything either of the two can come up with.

● Very supportive with it comes to intrests! The like pins? He'll get the some. They like a certain band? He'll pick up some records. They like art? He'll steal them some supplies. They wanna go someplace real bad? He'll sneak them in at night.

● Maybe not the absolute best as a dad, but he'll try his best.

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[eskawrites]

Anyway Nancy hates cooking because she isn’t naturally good at it. There are very few things Nancy isn’t naturally good at, so when she’s 8 years old and accidentally dumps too much salt into the pan—and when Ted mutters something about how the food is inedible, despite Karen’s pointed praise of how Nancy made them dinner—she decides she’s never going to cook again.

That’s unrealistic, of course. Her mom all but forces her to help out in the kitchen, no matter how much it stresses out little 8, 10, 12 year old Nancy. She can chop vegetables and stir pots, but she refuses to touch the seasonings.

Once she’s a teenager, and her parents start leaving her to watch Mike and Holly once in a while, she finds herself floundering even more in the kitchen. After burning eggs, letting pasta boil over, and nearly poisoning her siblings with undercooked chicken, Karen starts making sure she always leaves leftovers if she and Ted are going out. It might be her imagination, but 14 year old Nancy swears her mother gives her a disappointed look every time she points out the leftovers in the fridge.

And once when she’s 16 and spending a rare night alone, she steps into the kitchen, determined to do this right at least once in her life. She ends up with little burns on her arms and a small cut on her thumb, frantically opening windows to get rid of the smoke. She gives up, fighting back angry tears as she cleans the dishes so no one knows she was even there. She goes to bed without eating at all.

Meanwhile you have Robin, who doesn’t really think she’s naturally talented at anything (even though she very much is) and so she doesn’t mind being bad at something at first. She’s creative and flexible, and the last thing she expects is perfection. If she messes something up in the kitchen—which she does, often—then she either comes up with a way to fix it or she tries again. She also has plenty of time on her hands with her parents either working or hanging out with friends so often. Her mother teaches her a few basic recipes, and by the time she’s 10, her parents deem her competent enough to feed herself whenever.

So she does. And, because she’s Robin and she gets bored easily, she makes a habit of finding new recipes whenever she can. She cuts them out of magazines or memorizes the ones she overhears other women sharing. Some of them take a few tries, but the more she learns, the more she enjoys cooking.

She loves it even more when she can share what she cooks with someone else. Once she learns Steve only gets home cooked meals when he has dinner with Dustin and Mrs. Henderson, she makes a point of keeping his kitchen stocked and cooking whenever she stays the night at his house. Which means she cooks for them—and for whichever munchkins are around at the time—nearly every day of the week.

So Nancy is hanging out with everyone at Steve’s one afternoon, and they dig through the abundance of leftovers in the fridge to make dinner. She asks when cooking became part of his babysitting resume, but the kids all jump to tell her that it’s Robin, actually, and how have you not had her food yet, Nancy, she’s such a good cook

A week later she goes over to Robin’s house to study with her and finds her in the kitchen, wearing an apron, a streak of flour on her cheek, beaming at Nancy when she walks through the door. “You didn’t have to make cookies just for our study date,” Nancy tells her. “I know. I wanted to. I like baking.” “What? Why??”

Cue Robin talking about how she loves cooking, loves the creativity, loves playing music and doing something that lets her move around a lot without thinking too hard, and especially loves getting to share with others, when so many of her childhood meals were just made for one.

“You don’t like cooking, I take it?” Robin asks. “Not my thing,” Nancy says quickly, not meeting her eyes.

Robin comes over for dinner at the Wheelers and brings a pie. Karen adores her just for the gesture, but when it turns out to be amazing, she decides Robin is her new favorite of all her children’s friends. Even Ted gives an absent compliment after taking a bite, and Nancy quickly excuses herself from the table.

Robin finds her upstairs later, pretending like everything is fine. She asks if the pie was really that bad, and despite holding back tears, Nancy laughs.

And it’s stupid, because Nancy knows she’s good at many things, and in the grand scheme of things she doesn’t give a fuck about cooking. But she’s just so bad at it, and she doesn’t like being bad at things.

Not to mention the fact that she doesn’t remember the last time she got a compliment from her father, but she sure remembers him insulting her food.

So Robin sits down beside her and tells her about the time she ruined her mother’s favorite pot by burning chili in it. She spent four hours trying to scrape a rock hard layer of beans and peppers and stewed tomatoes from the bottom before her mother found out. She had to save up for two months to replace it.

“But I’ve had your chili,” Nancy says. “It’s amazing.”

“Yeah, once I learned how to not turn it into charcoal.”

Robin tells Nancy, not for the last time, that her father’s an asshole. And the next time she cooks dinner for the two of them, she casually asks if Nancy wants to help.

Nancy doesn’t. Robin says that’s okay, too.

But Robin’s kitchen is such a pressure free environment. There’s music playing, and dishes everywhere, and she can’t use an ingredient without spilling it. So one day, Nancy nervously walks up behind her and wraps her arms around Robin’s waist. She stands on her toes and rests her chin on Robin’s shoulder and asks, quietly, “Can I help?”

Robin asks what she wants to do. So she chops vegetables and stirs the pot. Next time, she lets Robin guide her through stacking layers of lasagna. After that, they make Robin’s favorite vodka sauce. The next Saturday morning is spent trying to flip pancakes. There are plenty of mistakes and much more laughter, but even the ones that fall apart still taste good.

Nancy decides cooking really isn’t for her, but she doesn’t mind being in the kitchen with Robin one bit. Maybe, even, she learns a thing or two along the way.

[twothpaste]

thinkin bout kumatora & postgame claus

How surreal it must be - after fighting for their lives against the Masked Man multiple times - for Claus to suddenly be airdropped into Kumatora's periphery. How she knew, quite possibly from the first time she laid eyes on him, who he really was. But she refused to intervene, couldn't bring herself to tell Lucas, bitterly resigned herself to writing him off as a lost cause. Now, against all odds or reason, he's still here. And he's literally just a scared broken kid.

The fact he looks just like Lucas is probably beyond gutwrenching. Kuma traveled their whole tiny fuckin' world with Lucas at her side, put all her trust in him, welcomed him into her life as her dearest friend. She came to admire his bravery. She saw his innocence pitted against everyone else's cruelty, and swore to protect him. And now there's this kid - who shares his face - who got kidnapped and chopped up and stitched back together with incorrect metal parts. Got fucking lobotomized, totally mind wiped - everything Kuma finds wholesome and earnest and lovable about Lucas was ripped away from Claus. One of his eyes is sick with exhaustion, the other's some intrusive mechanical mockery they stuffed into his mess of scars. Even just glancing at him probably invokes horrific hypotheticals and gruesome imagery in Kumatora's head, what if they'd done that to Lucas, if they'd done that to Lucas she'd burn down the whole fucking planet Earth!! And why shouldn't she, when they did it to his identical twin brother?! And Claus flinches at the way she looks at him, senses her telepathic fury - probably thinks she's vying for vengeance against him, for what he did to her friends and her family - and he wouldn't blame her! And Kumatora's gotta stand up and leave the room, before her tears start boiling over.

How Claus tries his darndest to rekindle his old self, tryin to cast necromancy on his goofy childhood sense of humor, the boisterous little schmuck he used to be. He musters toothy grins, he attempts reckless stunts, he pokes fun at his brother. And sure, Kuma's heard plenty of stories from Lucas about that funny ol' farm boy. She's sharp as a knife though. She can tell Claus is forcing it. But somehow the effort is all the more tragic, even endearing, maybe even relatable. Hasn't she been putting up a tough front all this time, too? While she too oughtta be grieving her family? Claus cracks some corny-ass joke, and she catches the dry strain in his awkward tweenage voice. But she laughs with him anyways. And reaches over to ruffle his stupid orange hair.

He has trouble sleeping, often plagued by night terrors, and insomnia, and all the strange aches in his mangled and mutilated body. Kuma has trouble sleeping, too. It's hard to shut her brain up at night, now that her whole universe has been twisted inside out and turned on its head. While Lucas snoozes like a pile of rocks, she stays up to accompany his brother. They try to talk about everything besides the shit that's happened to them. If not just for their own sakes, for each others'. She'd like to take his mind off it, if she can. When he tells another dumb joke, this time about how badly Duster's socks reek, she blinks. Recognizing he's tryin' to do the same for her. His strains and migraines sometimes steal away his humor, his sleep, and even his breath. Kuma's got PSI Lifeup. Not as potent as Lucas'. But she'll offer what she can. Mixolydia taught her to knead tension from temples, and how to give a halfway decent shoulder massage. She's mortified to discover his muscles are just as tense as the steel on the other side. She tries to laugh that off, too. And hold back another round of broiling tears, when he musters a weak chuckle in reply.

Claus should've known the "tough older brother" schtick wasn't built to last. They're twins, for christ's sake. A difference of fourteen minutes doesn't make him any more reliable, doesn't make him a better protector, doesn't charge him with any more responsibility than Lucas. Still, the cutesy mythos their family and neighbors'd built around the two of them stays lodged in his chest. Alongside the bygone image of his wimpy younger twin, cryin' his guts out over a scraped knee. Claus' failure feels immense, unconscionable, treachery of the highest degree. Somehow, though? Havin' a big sister almost seems to balance the scales. Puts it all into clearer perspective. He used to wear 'eldest sibling' as a badge of honor. These days, he's relieved to find the burden's not quite all his. Kuma guides both twins to trespass with her on a high rooftop. And catches Lucas by the collar, when a clumsy overstep nearly has him slippin' off the edge.

She confesses her darkest secret, on one of those sleepless nights. Tells him she knew from the start, that Lucas had a twin. Put the pieces together the minute she saw him, leering down from that airship, his helmet gleaming in the sun. And her molten tears finally get the better of her - "damn it" - when she reckons she might couldda saved him, freed him that much sooner, kept him from havin' to fight his brother - if only she'd been brave enough to say so. Probably not, really. But maybe. Kumatora may expect somethin' akin to vengeance, in the way he looks at her. She wouldn't blame him. He shakes his head, though. Says he's sorry, too - for what he did to her family. That maybe each n' every one of 'em would still be here, if not for him. Probably not. But maybe. When she lost Ionia, Kumatora'd been convinced there was no one left in this world who would love her. She's starting to realize these days that she was gravely mistaken. She's not only loved, but needed. It's a warm, curious, brand new feeling in her chest. Deep in Claus' guts, twisted as it all seems, some part of him is just glad someone recognized the kid in the mask.

They hug it out. And maybe wrestle a little, before falling asleep at dawn.