#because nothing else matches your mental state

[emotionaldisaster909]

a non-hualian doodle, but i like it very much so here you go

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

When They Accidentally Bring Up an Insecurity |Hyunjin

The evening was quiet in the shared apartment you and Hyunjin lived in. The air was filled with a gentle hum from the city outside and the occasional flicker of streetlights casting shadows on the walls. You were sprawled on the couch, your laptop open in front of you, surrounded by papers and notes. A mountain of work and a looming deadline had you feeling overwhelmed, and the pressure was building up inside you.

But you couldn't manage the stress and just sat there, letting it ruminate in your mind that you had these deadlines.

So while you were getting some work done, it was getting done really slowly, and you were utterly exhausted.

But all your life you had been told you were lazy; so work ethic had been engrained in you, and you felt like sometimes it was all you knew how to do.

The deadlines making you stressed, but the stress not allowing you to work on the things that were due. But your deep seeded insecurity making it so you pushed yourself to work even when you weren't in the mental state to do so.

Hyunjin entered the living room, fresh from a dance practice, his face flushed and his clothes slightly damp with sweat.

His dark hair was a little bit stringy with perspiration, a testament to the amount of work he had put in.

"Baby, I'm home."

He greeted you with a warm smile, but his eyes quickly took in the scene of scattered papers and your furrowed brow. “Hey, you look like you’re buried under a lot of work. Everything okay?”

You forced a smile and tried to sound upbeat. “Yeah, just a bit of a tight deadline. I’ll get through it.”

The tall(ish) boy cocked his head at you and set down his duffel bag, opting to walk barefoot rather than put on the matching house slippers you guys had.

Yours were kicked off somewhere in the kitchen.

Hyunjin sat down next to you, glancing at the mess around you. “You know, you don’t have to take on everything at once. Maybe you should take a break or get some help.”

You shook your head, trying to push the frustration down. “I’ll be fine. I just need to power through it.”

Hyunjin’s gaze softened with concern. “I know you’re strong, but it’s okay to admit when you’re struggling. You don’t have to handle everything by yourself.”

"Hyunjin, I said I'm fine."

He huffed. "You're not fine Y/N. I see your obviously struggling."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes you are."

"Hyunjin stop-"

"No. Take a break."

"I need to get this done."

"Your mental health comes first." He stated firmly, collecting your papers.

"Hyunjin stop-"

"Not until you eat." He said collecting your papers. "You need to step away from this for a second-" He grabbed multiple piles of papers that were obviously separated and you let out a noise as Hyunjin put the piles together, then adding it into another pile of other papers.

"Hyunjin what the fuck?!" You exclaimed as you rushed up from the couch and started sorting through the papers. "Shit..." You groaned, feeling tears brim your eyes in anger and frustration and exhaustion. "Are you kidding me right now Hyunjin?" You grit out looking at him.

Hyunjin stood resolute. "No, I'm serious Y/N! You're mental health is declining! You're focused on work so much that you don't even have time to focus on anything else! Even taking care of yourself, are you seriously okay with that?!"

His voice was loud, and you logically knew he wasn't yelling at you; he didn't mean to yell, he wasn't angry he was concerned but you didn't want to process the reality of the situation.

So instead you burst out into tears.

Hyunjin's eyes immediately widened, thinking you were crying because of him.

"Baby- no, no, no, baby don't cry please...please..." He said making his way to you. "No, I didn't mean to make you cry...I'm sorry...baby...I'm sorry..."

You fell limp into his arms and he held you, his chin resting on top of his head as you cried into his chest.

His sweet nothings became silent when he realized you just needed him to hold you.

You felt secure in his embrace, his scent adding a level to that security.

It seemed that you two stood there forever, until Hyunjin looked down to see you had fallen asleep.

Hyunjin knew something was up as he moved you over to the couch, running his hands through your hair.

He let you sleep there, as he looked at your laptop, screen filled with things that he didn;t understand, but knew were of importance to your job.

He sighed and wished he could do something to help, looking at the pile of papers and realizing that he had probably messed up something based on your reaction.

You woke up, and the lights in your living room were still on, but the clock in it showed that it was 4 in the morning.

"Jagiya?" Hyunjin said quietly, rubbing his eyes as you sat up from his lap.

You noticed he was still in his practice clothes.

"I'm sorry I didn't mean to-"

Hyunjin shook his head, looking at you with tired eyes. "Are you okay?"

You blinked.

"Are you truly okay?" He asked quietly.

You swallowed and shook your head.

"Can you help me at least understand? Help me understand why work is so important that you set aside your needs?"

You opened your mouth, it felt dry but you spoke.

"I just have to." You said, not wanting to discuss things further at the moment.

Hyunjin was tempted to ask you to continue, but he knew you would come to him when you needed.

The next day went buy in a flash, as you spent most of it sorting out what Hyunjin had mixed together.

That evening, as you both settled down for bed, the tension from the previous day seemed to linger in the quiet space of your room. Hyunjin lay on his side, scrolling through his phone, while you lay on your back, staring at the ceiling.

“Hyunjin,” you said quietly, breaking the silence. “Do you ever get overwhelmed with things, but keep going to make other people happy?”

He looked over at you, his brow slightly furrowed. He set his phone down and turned his body to you. “Do you?”

You hesitated before responding, your voice tinged with vulnerability. “I'm tired but...I don't want to be called lazy. I've spent my entire life being labeled that and I came here to start over. Yet...I feel like...I'm not measuring up. Maybe those people were right to call me lazy. I'm stuck in a cycle of wanting to quit, because I'm tired to the point of tears Hyunjin, I'm tired.” You licked some of the tears off your top lip and gulped for air. "But I don't want people to think I'm quitting because I'm lazy I just don't know if I can handle it anymore."

Hyunjin’s expression shifted from curiosity to concern. He sat up, turning to face you fully. “Did my comment hurt you?”

The vulnerability in your voice had clearly affected him. He reached out and took your hand gently. “I don’t want you to think that it was meant to hurt you. Rather, love, I'm sort of disproving your insecurity...not invalidating but disproving. Because I think you work too much, love. I see you day after day work yourself until you can barely move. It hurts me to see you disregard yourself for something like work.”

You felt one tear escape as you looked at him, trying to keep your emotions in check. “It’s just hard when that's how I've programmed my brain."

Hyunjin’s expression softened further, and he scooted closer to you, pulling you into a comforting embrace. “I want you to know that it’s okay to lean on me when you’re feeling overwhelmed. You don’t have to go through everything alone. Your struggles are valid, and I’m here to support you.”

You nestled into his embrace, finding solace in the warmth of his presence. Letting yourself completely go. “I'm tired, Jinnie. I can't take it anymore.”

Hyunjin stroked your hair gently, his voice soothing. “Do you love me?”

You sniffed and nodded.

"Then, can you stop hurting the person I love most and let me take care of them?" He murmured while brushing your hair back from your face so it wouldn't stick to the tears.

You couldn't even reply, but by the way your fingers tightened their grip around his shirt he took it as enough of an answer.

The room was filled with a sense of calm as you both lay there together, the weight of the day slowly lifting. Hyunjin’s reassuring words and the comfort of his embrace helped to ease the anxiety you had been carrying and quickly lulled you to sleep.

In the months that followed, Hyunjin worked silently to make sure that you didn't have to feel stressed. He made you use up your vacation time- weeks upon weeks that had piled up due to your refusal to use them.

And the week before your vacation ended, Hyunjin came to you, squatting down in front of you as you sat on the floor of his art studio, covered in paint and splattering it everywhere in abstract expression. You had a real smile on your face as you looked up at him, a bit of red paint streaked across you making it look like you had a unibrow.

"Hi, Jinnie!" You exclaimed rubbing the paint onto your pants. Hyunjin smiled and spoke.

"You're happy." He stated.

"I am, it's...been really nice. Not having to work..." You bit your lip. "I go back next week."

Hyunjin licked his bottom lip. "How about you don't?"

You stared at him wide eyed.

"Come work with me. I talked to the company and explained everything. They're okay with you coming to work for us. You've always liked taking pictures, so they're willing to offer you a position as a photographer. It'll only be about 30 hours a week because of our other photographers; and you might not have to anything other than really be at the photoshoots to help out the others, but they're kind and you can still stay around us when you're not working. Or, you can help script some of our videos. Or my personal favorite is you just travel and hang out with me and let me invest all my money in you." His head was tilted slightly as he looked at you.

"Do...Can I really do that? Work for you guys? You won't think I'm lazy?"

Your hopeful and amazed tone broke Hyunjin's heart slightly, that the opportunity to work a less cumbersome job was something so foreign to you that you were that excited.

"Of course, baby." He said so quietly it was almost inaudible.

You nodded enthusiastically, looking for your phone. "I need to write my two weeks and-"

"No, baby. Just quit. Don't worry about the repercussions or anything. Let me take care of you. No one is going to call you lazy. I won't allow it. Because taking care of yourself is a job within itself. A never ending one at that."

He placed a kiss on your cheek.

"So, don't let that be an insecurity anymore. Let me take on your workload. Take all your effort."

He smiled.

"And put it into you, because you're the priority now."

@abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha

@iyeeeverydee @parisanmorovati @seungmincenteric

@panbish-1209 @fxiry-vtt @sseawavee

@shuporanporang @amarecerasus @softkisshyunjin

@whoa-jo @meanergreener @rikibun

@ayyonoona @shinywombatcrusade @y4yayael

@skzstan12345 @mariteez @allys-reads

@jazziwritesthings @skzstannie @yongbokkiesworld

@kkkeopi @neverendingstay @moony-9

@minsungsthirdwheel @everlastingspring143 @joyofbebbanburg

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU pt 67

part 1 | part 66 | ao3

cw: recreational drug use

Waiting around to die or get arrested or whatever fucking sucks. Partly because there’s no running water (Steve’s never wanted to take a stress shower so badly in his life) and partly because Eddie won’t let him stay sober. Has it in his head that altering Steve’s mental state will keep Vecna away, like hanging a mosquito net over the opening of a tent.

It’s not not working, he guesses.

He hasn’t fallen in to any more hallucinated open graves, at least.

He comes down the stairs a little before noon, towel-drying his hair after a bottled water sink bath, and finds Eddie in the kitchen: Reeboks on, hair a cotton candy mess, head-to-toe teddy bear tie-dye under his leather jacket — a matching shirt and sweats that he fished out of Rick’s dresser. He’s stirring Spaghettios in a small pot at the stove, and when he sees Steve come in he turns to offer some, the wooden spoon held out with a sort of desperate perkiness. “Morning! I found food that isn’t expired. You want some?”

Steve shakes his head.

Eddie shovels the whole spoonful into his mouth; wipes sauce off his chin, speaks before he’s finished chewing. “I also found blotters in the freezer and shrooms in the bedroom closet, so uh. Pick your poison.”

Steve picks the shrooms. They wait a few hours to take them because Eddie swears the sunset while you’re tripping is unparalleled, man, although Steve kind of suspects that he’s just giving him time to work up the nerve to eat them. He still gets nervous about chemicals — probably always will, after the shit the Russians did.

In the meantime, Eddie rummages through Rick’s cassette collection, and Steve talks to Robin on the walkie; gets all the new details in staticky half-sentences — something about mind flayers and mental hospitals, what else is new? He tells her to be safe; tells her that he loves her; keeps his eyes trained on the clock.

—

Shrooms smell and taste like ass. Steve can’t stomach them; spits into the grass while Eddie laughs sympathetically and hands him a little square of paper to put on his tongue instead, and they spread out side by side on a few old beach towels by the water and wait for it to kick in.

Nothing, at first, not that Steve expected different. Twenty minutes; forty-five.

“Still nothing?”

“Nothing.”

And then.

Eddie holds up a glossy aquamarine pebble, squinting at its glow in the late afternoon sun. “I should give this rock to Skye. Bet she’d love it.”

“That’s a shard of glass.”

Eddie blinks at it. “Oh, shit.”

Steve snorts, and when he looks at Eddie sideways there’s a glimmer of that same cerulean shade outlining his whole body, a low-frequency feather of energy rolling off of him in waves. Eddie moves his arm and the color chases it, a long-exposure photo of high beams on rain-slick roads.

“Oh,” Steve says, mouth slack. His voices echo in his head; all six of them. “I think I’m…”

“Yeah?” Eddie asks, eyes alight, pupils blown.

“Yeah.”

All at once something slots into place, attunes itself inside of Steve, and it’s like… he can see Eddie’s mind; touch it, cradle it, reach out to it with its own. It feels crazy. Psychedelics are fucking crazy. He reaches out a hand, slicing through ribbons of shimmering light, tasting the colors as they fade, and Eddie’s emotions spread out in high-definition before him — like the image has always been there but now it’s crystal clear; someone’s shifted his focal point, filled a kiddie pool with Epsom salt and left him there to float.

“I see you,” he says nonsensically.

Eddie frowns. “I’m sorry.”

“…That I can see you?”

“I usually am.”

That’s not right. Eddie’s thoughts shouldn’t sour on his account, shouldn’t sag in the middle like a moldy tangerine. “I can close my eyes?”

“Fuck,” Eddie laughs, thin and strained. “Don’t say shit like that when I’m not allowed to kiss you.”

“You’re not?”

He hesitates. “Am I?” Antsy fingers drum the grass, overgrown with vibrant clover and dandelion stalks. “Just feel like we should talk first, if uh, if it’s safe.”

Steve probes his own mind, tests it for outside threats, but there’s nothing. The acid forms a fractal fortress. Penrose steps, paradoxical and strange. “It’s safe.”

He moves to lie on his side, invites Eddie to do the same. “Talk into the kiss,” he suggests when Eddie joins him — face to face, chest to chest, Steve can see the thrum of Eddie’s heartbeat in the hollow of his throat; wants to press his thumb to it, so he does, the sense memory of ripe cherries bursting on his tongue.

Eddie’s lips against his own; hovering. Static electricity like the scent of summer rain. “I think my pride makes me a coward.”

Steve rubs his dry lips across Eddie’s, chapped skin and shared heat.

“It’s like… I kept trying to tell myself that I was being… I don’t know, valiant, or some shit? Like, ‘oh, he’s so much better without me. I’m the town pariah; I’m keeping him safe by running away.’” He thumps his fist against his heart as if beating a shield to shining armor, and Steve can’t see his eyebrows with their foreheads pressed together, but he can feel Eddie scrunching them into a picture-perfect hero frown. Almost has to laugh — so fucking theatrical even when he’s serious.

“But if I’m honest,” Eddie murmurs, “it wasn’t like that at all. Nothing fucking brave about vanishing on you. Like, what?” His voice shifts again, lilting but critical, a comedian doing crowd work. “I get a liiiittle fucked up by townies two too many times, and I sabotage my whole life over it? Ruin the best thing I’ve ever had over it? As if this goddamn horseshit hasn’t been happening to me since— forever! Shit.” He blows his bangs out of his face; calms himself. Goes a little cross-eyed trying to look Steve in the eye. “I got scared, Steve. There it is. That’s the ugly truth of it.”

He swallows harshly in the dense silence that follows.

Robins chirp; cars pass.

The lake laps at the shore and casts prisms like fishing line, spiderwebs of rainbow light flashing behind Steve’s eyelids. He brings his hands up to Eddie’s face.

“Christ.” Eddie shudders; lets himself become dead weight, rubbing his cheek into the touch, warm stubble scratching over the pads of Steve’s fingers. “Am I making any sense? I feel like I’m not making any sense.”

Yes. No. “You’re making sense. I mean. As much as anything is right now.” The sandy brown freckles on the bridge of Eddie’s nose are swirling like snow flurries. Steve traces them with curious hands. His knuckles blur and swivel, too. “You left because… you wanted to protect me from… yourself?” He sums up, not sure if he’s getting the math right.

“I left because I’m a scared little shit who couldn’t handle getting bullied in a parking lot, but uh. Yeah. I guess I, like, didn’t want to…” His eyes go big and startled, cheeks flooding bright pink. “Oh, shit, I was about to say I didn’t want to curse you, Jesus Christ.”

Steve honks with laughter. Loud and deep and punched out without warning, because the irony of that — that there’s a literal big bad running around cursing people, and the person who was actually doing some real good in his life decided that he was the problem — it’s fucking— hilarious! Hysterical! Steve giggles himself sick, lungs burning as it tapers to a silent wheeze, and Eddie joins him, confusion giving way to compulsion; contagion in the manic giddiness spewing out of Steve.

“You thought—” Steve struggles through hiccups, tears beading in his lash line, “you thought you were the bad luck charm in this relationship?”

“Don’t mock me!” Eddie whines, still laughing. “I already said it was dumb.”

“It’s so dumb.” Eddie may be the cutest, dumbest thing he’s ever seen. He rubs his thumbs over his cheekbones, smile fading. “If anyone’s a curse, it’s me.” Four for four here on getting dragged into supernatural shit. Does Eddie really think homophobes are more dangerous than hell dimensions?

Eddie’s already shaking his head. “You’re a fucking blessing.”

Warmth radiates through Steve, drips from the crown of his head like a downpour of holy water. He feels anointed. Ascended. He feels— “Please tell me we’re allowed to kiss now.”

Their mouths crush together, impossible to tell who moves first, whose tongue is in whose mouth, whose desperate breath Steve swallows as Eddie rolls him onto his back. Hands roam and pull and clutch, molding the shape of him into the earth. Maybe someday, Steve thinks, if aliens invade, they’ll study these imprints like crop circles, trampled declarations of how much Steve loves this boy. “God,” he gasps into the kiss. “Missed you so much.”

“So much.”

“Don’t do that to me again. Don’t go.”

“Never,” Eddie swears. His grip tightens on Steve’s waist. “Never again, baby, I fucking promise. I think I—”

On the far side of the house, leaves crunch and branches snap as a car pulls up the drive. Boots on pavement, rowdy voices; unfamiliar; red alert.

“Spread out, boys!” the voice of Jason Carver bellows. “If that Freak’s in here, we’ll find him.”

—

part 68

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

[helen-with-an-a]

Any amor and alexia hcs on your mind lately??

Fear not Anon I have many ideas - they will be coming out as a separate post/s but here are some more

Beautiful Girl Masterlist

Amor gets UTIs on the reg (about 2-3 a year) - she’s not too sure what the cause is but she’s fairly sure it’s cos she doesn’t drink enough water/she doesn’t clear it up fully the first time

Ale likes to leave little notes around the house for Amor to find (they’re usually in drawers/cupboards that only she will open - Pina found one once and would not shut up about it for a good few weeks)

I mentioned that Ale and Amor have self care nights once a month - this involves showering together, doing hair masks, face masks, waxing eyebrows and legs, painting nails etc - the full works it’s very sacred to them and nothing will get in the way of it (they have been known to cancel team bonding that they were hosting because it fell on their self-care night)

Ale wanted Amor to move in about 6 months into dating - Amor held off until the 8 month mark then decided they should get a new place together rather than one moving in with the other (partly logistical - their places just weren’t big enough - but also she wanted something that was theirs not used-to-be-one-now-it’s-both)

Ale still gets so nervous and shy around Amor it’s untrue - this woman has seen Amor in every state, has said the dirty/sexual things to her, has been there for Amor in every way yet will still get blushy over Amor’s compliments (and there are so many compliments)

Amor tried to mainly complement Ale on anything other than football - Alexia knows she’s good at football (amor still makes her know how good she is etc) but it’s usually how proud Amor is of Alexia rather than the skills themselves - equally Amor loves to compliment things that the general public tends not to see (ie Ale’s cooking or Ale’s proper smile or the way Ale acts when no one else is around)

Amor and Alba go for brunches whenever they can (Ale is convinced they talk about her but they’ve intentionally made Brunch as Ale-free space - Ale is La Reina and is the face of Barça, it can be a lot sometimes so they dedicate their time to anything other than Alexia)

Ale had some serious self doubt issues, especially with her injury flare up - it was so bad she went into sub space for almost 2 days (Amor recognised it immediately and ended up calling them out of training for the rest of the week - she said they had both picked up a bug [she told Mapí and Ingrid an almost-truth - that Ale wasn’t doing well mentally and really wouldn’t be able to cope with training or a match])

Ale is terrified of spiders

[jflemings]

— nightmares

pairing: jessie fleming x reader, jessie fleming x child {piper’s world}

synopsis: piper has a nightmare and calls out for jessie

warnings: mentions of nightmares, crying

a/n: combined 2 anons for this! i’m also trying new things w my fics to match my current theme hehe

୧ ‧₊˚ ☁️ ⋅ ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

jessie wakes up in the middle of the night shivering. she rolls over and realises you’ve managed to steal her side of the blanket, rolling her eyes as she pulls the cocoon you’ve made for yourself apart. she doesn’t know what time it is and can’t be bothered to check once she buries herself back underneath the warm covers that smell like you.

she pulls them up over her nose and then blindly searches for you in the dark, putting her arm around your waist and burying her face in the dip where your neck curves into your back. the sound of your heartbeat and breathing is enough to almost lull her to sleep until she hears a small voice calling out her name.

“jessie” it’s kind of quiet and a little distant so she thinks she’s dreaming and ignores it until she hears it again, louder and more distressed this time.

the canadian lifts her head off the pillow to make sure she’s not just hearing things, her whole body going rigid next to you.

“jessie” the little voice calls out again, just as loud as before but more drawn out and desperate.

jessie recognises piper’s voice and tosses the covers off herself, making sure not to wake you as she slides out of bed and tip toes down the hall.

warm, muted light slightly flickers and dims from inside piper’s room as she approaches. she pushes open the cracked door to see a very distressed looking little girl sitting up in bed and clinging to her ninja turtle donatello plush toy.

“pip? what are you doing up” she whispers, quietly stepping into the room and pushing the door slightly closed behind her

piper sniffles and reaches her arms up to signal she wants to be held. jessie obliges and cradles her protectively as piper folds into herself on the footballer’s chest. she continues to sniffle as jessie begins to rock her ever so slightly in hopes of putting her back to sleep. she’s a little stunned in her half-awake state, not knowing exactly what do to. it’s the first time piper has actively sought jessie out for comfort without a single mention of you.

usually when piper awakes though the night she comes into your bedroom and wiggles her way in between you and jessie. other times she’s stood at your side of the bed and stared at you until you woke up in fright before climbing over you and tucking herself in. a few times she’s had to tug on jessie’s arm to be put in the big bed because you sleep like a rock, but there’s never been anything like this.

“had a bad dream” piper whispers into the dark, the only light coming from a string of star lights that are quickly dying. jessie makes a mental note to put new batteries in them tomorrow. “was really scary. you were playing foo’ball then a big monster with red eyes started chasing you but you didn’t see him and he swallowed you up!” she continues on, shifting slightly in jessie’s hold before sniffling again. “no one else see him! i tried to get mummy but couldn’ find her. no one to help”

jessie hums and sits down on piper’s bed as she begins to rub circles with her thumb on her back “it wasn’t real pip, i’m right here” she assures “why didn’t you come get me or mummy?”

“saw the monster’s eyes an’ thought he was going to get me”

“what do you mean?” jessie asks puzzled.

piper pulls herself off jessie’s chest, keeping one of her hands bunched in her hoodie as she turns and points out her door “there” she says before turning back to face jessie “he’s out there”

piper’s bottom lip quivers and tears begin to run down her chubby cheeks. jess wipes her tears with one hand whilst the other holds the girl tighter “sweetheart there’s no monster i promise”

“b-but his eyes!”

jessie’s brows furrow. she wants nothing more than to go out into the living room and show piper that there’s no monster that’s going to gobble her up, but she knows that she needs to get piper back to sleep. instead, she lays down on the single bed and keeps piper cradled to her chest before pulling the covers up over the two of them. realistically she shouldn’t be sleeping in a child’s bed the night before a game at the risk of waking up sore, but jessie has a feeling that if she attempts to take piper out of her room it’s only going to stress her out more.

she lays the two of them under the canopy hung a over piper’s bed “the monster…” piper trails off

“we’re safe i promise” jessie whispers.

the little girls hand lets go of jessie’s jumper and lays flat over her heart, her little fingers spread out and tapping aimlessly “he won’t eat you?”

“he’s not gonna eat me”

seemingly satisfied with the answer she gets, piper goes boneless on top of the midfielder. her arms are tucked underneath her and her legs slightly fall around jessie’s waist, her donatello still held tightly in one hand. she nestles her head in the crook of jessie’s neck and soaks in her still sleep warm skin, the slight smell on you that somehow permanently lingers on jessie only providing more comfort to the three year old.

the feel of jessie’s chest rising and falling slowly puts her to sleep, the feel of the footballer’s body under her bringing her peace.

——

when you awake the next morning it’s to cold sheets and a blaring alarm. you expect jessie to be curled up against your back like she is most mornings but all you’re left with is an empty bed. you roll over to turn off your first alarm and realise the apartment is silent. no shower running, no tv going, no coffee machine being used. just you.

what’s even more puzzling is the fact that you also can’t hear piper. if jessie wakes up first piper isn’t far behind, the pair of them usually up talking or giggling loud enough for you to hear it through your closed bedroom door. you swing your legs over the side of the bed and put your slippers on before making your way out to the kitchen and living room.

jessie’s spare pair of running shoes are still on the shoe rack by the door so you know she’s not gone for a run and her keys are still sitting on the counter along with her wallet.

furrowing your brows, you turn back and go towards piper’s room. pushing the door open slightly you’re met with piper laying on jessie’s chest, the two of them tucked under the covers snugly as they continue to sleep peacefully.

you lean on the door frame and take in the scene in front of you. jessie’s got an arm raised above her head whilst the other is wrapped around piper over the covers, and your little girl is tucked into the crook of her neck. donatello has been discarded through the night and now finds himself next to jessie’s head on his shell with one leg poking your girlfriend in the cheek.

you smile and push yourself off the door frame before cracking piper’s door again and turning to head to the kitchen, preparing a coffee you know jessie’s gonna need from sleeping in that bed.

[its-time-to-write]

I’ve always had this idea that reader is like, one of the fittest people that work at AFC Richmond, like she can hold herself in a fight. Maybe she does boxing and the team shows up to support as a surprise and they’re all like DAMN. And a certain Manchester man goes googoo over her and ALSJDISPDODJKLL I feel like in my mind it’s an idea with lots of potential behind for any character matchup and scenarios but yeah that’s it (ps I love your writing it brings me so much joy!!)

got it! thanks @coloursofyen for a) the ideas and b) keeping me on track with these last few fics.

I rage-wrote this fic bc I accidentally saw the Man City score before I had a chance to watch it. I’m very upset rn😂 Also, I know nothing about boxing.

move fast and keep quiet

Ted’s been on this thing recently, where one day of training out of every five is a “physical and mental enrichment day,” which is a fancy way of saying the team does yoga or some shit together. Recently he’s been bringing in this boxing coach for “the team’s aggressive tendencies,” in wake of the whole West Ham debacle, and no one’s quite sure if that was really the best response to the situation. Teaching AFC Richmond how to fight better? Maybe not the best idea. 

You’ve been coming once a week for a month now, teaching them how to spar on the pitch. Isaac, Jamie, and Bumbercatch are definitely the most enthusiastic about it, with the way Isaac studies each punch, Bumbercatch practices the footwork, and Jamie asks a million fucking questions every single time. 

According to Sam, he’s been an absolute menace, practicing his moves through the halls of Nelson Road.

“What is your problem?” Jan asks one day. “Can you not just walk to the gym like a regular person?”

Jamie shrugs. “Where’s the fun in that?”

It isn’t long before word goes around the dogtrack that Jamie has a crush on the boxing instructor.

“You like her,” Dani singsongs. Jamie doesn’t deny it. 

“She’s mad fit. Even her smile,” Jamie defends.

He’s not exactly wrong. The team starts an unofficial countdown until their next training session, and are disappointed to walk into the regular setup when the day rolls around. There’s a whiteboard with a new play from Roy and Beard, and the whole team barely tries to hide their disappointment.

“Oi, where’s Jamie’s girlfriend?” Isaac asks the moment Ted walks in.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Jamie interjects.

Ted points to Jamie. “We’ll unpack that later. For now, I need you fellas to get ready to run this new play Coach Beard and Roy have cooked up. I want everyone ready to show a lotta teamwork.”

Richard raises his hand. “Coach, where is Jamie’s girlfriend?”

Jamie puts his head in his hands and says, “She ain’t my girlfriend, lad,” but it doesn’t matter. The name is going to stick.

Ted says, “She’s busy training for a match tomorrow, but she’ll be back next week. She told me to tell you all that she hopes you can come watch.”

Sam loudly whispers, “You mean she hopes Jamie will come watch,” and the rest of the team says oooh.

“Fuck off,” Jamie replies, but he’s blushing.

—

They end up commandeering the team bus. 

The fight is… well, let’s just say it’s convinced Jamie that he needs to make the “girlfriend” jokes a reality. He will never admit how smitten you make him, what with the way you’re dodging and weaving, wiping sweat from your brow as your braids fly. But when it’s all over and you’re announced the winner, he’s almost positive you can hear him cheering over the rest of the crown because he’s just so damn happy.

The team waits around while the rest of the arena clears out, but Jamie can’t wait. He slips away from the group and asks a security guard where he can find you. The guard looks at him and states, “You’re Jamie Tartt.”

“Yeah,” Jamie responds, unsure of what else to say because it wasn’t exactly a question.

“She said you could come back. Follow me,” grunts the guard. Jamie turns around to make eye contact with Sam before hurrying after the security guard.

“In here.” The guard points to a door then leaves Jamie alone, staring at your name printed on a metal plaque. Shit, how good must you be to have your name here?

He knocks once and hears you call, “Come in,” so he pushes the door open. You’re sitting on the floor downing a bottle of water, still sweaty. There’s a bit of blood dried to your forehead and Jamie is a little worried that he finds it sexy.

You smile at him and pat the floor next to you.

“I’d get up, but I’m really fucking tired,” you say. “She got me good.”

Jamie slides onto the floor next to you. “You were fuckin’ amazing,” he says. “Made me rethink my whole career.”

You wheeze out a laugh. “With the way you run your mouth? You’d get brained in a week. I make sure none of my partners hate me. Me ’n the girl you saw tonight are going out to lunch tomorrow.”

Oh. That’s new information for Jamie. He’s trying to figure out if you mean lunch as a friend thing, or if you’re going on a date. Shit. Maybe this was a bad idea.

You nudge him with your shoulder. “Oi, what’s your deal? Upset you’re stuck as a sad little footballer when you could be getting punched out on the daily like me?”

Jamie shakes his head. “Nah. Just thinking how cool it were tonight.”

You grin and take another swig of water. “Hey, you wanna take me out on a date?”

Jamie chokes on air. After a moment he manages to cough, “Sorry, what?” and you shrug.

“Told myself if you came back here after the match I’d ask you out. I let security know you could come back if you wanted, and I figured you might be kinda fucking interested if you tried to get back here without me inviting you.”

“Uh huh,” Jamie says, still trying to get his breath back.

You look at him sideways. “Is that a yes? It’s all good if not.”

“No, yes!” Jamie says. “It’s yes. Where do you want to go? When’re you available? We could do something tonight if you want.”

You make a face. “I’m absolutely knackered. I was planning on going home to take a nice long shower and then passing out.”

Jamie nods. Right. Sounds logical.

“You could join me,” you suggest, and Jamie chokes for the second time.

“Jesus, Tartt, you’re excitable,” you tease. “It’s just a shower and some sleep. Although I might be convinced that I didn’t get enough cardio in tonight. Depends on if you’re willing to drive me home so I can nap.”

“Done,” Jamie says immediately. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.” 

You grin as he pulls you up off the floor. “Oh,” you say, studying his perfect lips, “one more thing before we go…”

[thedarkmistress16]

Stalker!Yandere!Tony Stark x Fem!Reader- To Steal and Dote On (Internet stalking, Collecting personal information without consent, Using personal information without consent, This billionaire has resources and he's going to use them, Breaking and entering, Theoretical threats of kidnapping and violence, Invading Reader's privacy without consent, Tony has Reader brainrot already)

Chapter 1 |

Chapter 2: Forget You (Not)

——————————————————————————————————

Only, Tony wasn’t able to shake off the thought of you at all. If anything, you took up his primary focus throughout his day.

A part of him did genuinely forget the party last night as he sat in mind-numbing meetings back-to-back, only attending them now due to his irate assistant chewing him out over it. She practically pushed the billionaire out of the kitchen before coffee even greeted his body, yapping his ear off over technicalities and investors he couldn't care less about. Even though Tony was itching to poke at her in this state, to mention his admiration for how her red hair looked like glowing fire spouting from a dragon when she got like this, he got the strong sense that she would quit if he missed another business meeting.

But he was incredibly bored and disinterested, and you kept plaguing his thoughts with more questions that got his brain desperately intrigued. He couldn’t even distract himself with anything else because none of it was as gear-turning as to the mystery of you.

Your confusion, your… disinterest? Never had he encountered someone who wasn’t there for him specifically, or seemed to have no interest in who he was.

And the fact you just… sat there. It was so out of place, like a nagging flaw in a blueprint he couldn't put his finger on.

Why were you there, if you didn’t care about Tony Stark?

Who were you?

That train of thought led to the male instructing his A.I. to scanning your facial profile from the security cameras of his tower right after he was finally free from the drudgery of business— contently settled into his lab with a fresh batch of coffee. Luckily, the feed from last night got a good look at you. It was a better view than the tipsy haze of his memory, he noted. The mostly-clear footage of your face allowed the system to swiftly correlate your likeness to other documented matches— a pool of candidates was completed in the time it took for him to take a long swig that burned his tongue and throat.

What came up was a compiled list of look-alikes that Tony had to manually rifle through in the hopes that one of them would be you and mentally grumbled to himself that you looked like too many people.

Tony grew more irked by the second up until the last result, which was your red carpet picture in front of his building. Tracking the source, he was led to a tabloids website and found that even the photographers had no idea who you were. Your picture was simply sourced as “guests attending a Stark party,” not counting the other woman with you in the image.

He realized that the whole thing was a waste of time. This is why he didn’t do the menial work himself: it was tedious and boring and he had nothing to show for it. Not even a name. You literally didn’t exist on any social media or content platform besides a useless picture just floating there on the internet.

Tony shot up from his chair to pace. He ran his hands through his hair, furiously muttering to himself.

“No social presence? No footprint— no… nothing?”

That’s…really smart, actually.

He hates it. And he hates to admit it, but…

But a small part of him respects you for it, too.

His head whipped back to the monitor glowing before him, patiently idling for a new order. Narrowing his eyes, the man marched back over to the console, furiously typing in a similar command. The process would take longer than he would like, but he was sure he would get his match.

“Who are you, sweetheart?” Tony mused distractedly to the image of your face on one of his monitors, hoping to find a sliver of treasure amidst a sea of coal.

——————————————————————————————————

Entering the lobby of your workplace was as it always is: white tile textured with marbling stains, wood paneling hugging the walls, a white and gray reception desk overlooking the room. Folks came and went from your line of vision, entering and disappearing into elevators and corridors, the leftover sounds of their jabbering following close behind them in the air. Many workers held various brews of caffeine or small breakfast items as they passed by, which had your stomach growling despite already filling it before you left your apartment.

It takes you a more than the typical few minutes to get to your work floor, the elevator being unusually popular for a Monday. You ponder over it to pass the time as you stand there, entertaining the thought of someone important stopping by. When the elevator dings for your stop, you step out and shuffling over to your desk, providing a couple “hellos” and “good mornings” to the associates that greet you along the way. Settling down into your office chair, you boot up your computer as you place and arrange the belongings you fish out from your purse.

You look around the drab space as you wait for the desktop to appear so you can clock in. Your friend and coworker doesn’t seem to be here yet. You contemplate what (Friend Name) got up into last night, if that is her reason for running late. Or rather, who she got with. You laugh to yourself as you drag your mouse over to bring up the company time clock, setting a mental reminder to ask her later when she shows up.

You click open the app used for business emails and you sigh softly at the unreads, sucking in a breath and sitting straighter.

Back to work as usual.

——————————————————————————————————

It was quite some time later before (Friend Name) bounded into the office with a pep in her step. And despite prodding her with your curiosity, she was determined to only reveal anything at lunchtime, which was a couple hours away. She also wanted to discuss it inside the building today instead of the cafe, which caused you to raise a brow. She waved you off and you had shrugged. You tried to focus back on your work, but the suspense of her answer kept eating at you until then, where you realized you didn’t get much done at all.

Now, you were both seated in one corner of the break room, had your meals and drinks pulled out, and were ready to dig in. Your brain, however, couldn’t help but bring up the topic the moment you uncapped your takeaway salad and raised your plastic fork.

“How’d your night go? Did you have fun?” You question good-naturedly before shoveling some greens into your mouth.

“Yeah,” She sighs, unwrapping a granola bar. “But I didn’t stay the night.”

You pause, utensil and speared salad pieces hovering in mid-air, as you turn your head to look at her properly. She munches on the bar of oats sprinkled with fruit and nuts for a moment, catching stray crumbs at the corners of her lips and licking them off before elaborating. “Something came up and he had to take care of it, so we called it a night.” She pauses, looking at her snack thoughtfully and clearly reminiscing. “He was sorry enough to drop me off, though.”

“Oh,” you breathe, resuming the bite of your food and chewing it on one side of your mouth. “That was nice of him.”

“Yeah, it was.” (Friend Name) trails off, releasing a dejected sigh. “So,” her mood shifts as she throws her hair over her shoulders and leans in toward you with vibrant green eyes sparkling of curiosity. “What did you get up to last night? Meet anyone interesting~?” You nervously smile at the sudden attention and shift in the topic, an awkward blush painting your face. You take a sip of your drink and clear your throat to gather your thoughts.

“No one special,” you shrug casually, collecting more lunch on your fork, “just some guy who was full of himself and calling me sweetheart.” There wasn't much to tell concerning the details, anyway.

Her nose wrinkles in distaste, responding with an “ew, gross.” You heartily laugh at her reaction as she shudders. She was never one for pet names like that— it reminds you of one person she dated, who never called her by her name and insisted on nicknames like that. Her features relax back into an easy smile, turning her attention back eating. “Well, I’m glad he didn’t get your number, then.”

As you look down at your lunch, a soft chuckle escapes you as you shake your head in agreement.

“Yeah, definitely not.”

——————————————————————————————————

Finally— finally— he struck gold.

Documented records of the institutions you attended in your life: really just schools and appointments, but it was something. Your yearbook photos helped, too. Only the newest information mattered, however, so he only took note of your most recent forms of contact to date.

It took a lot of outside the box thinking to get there, but that was what Tony Stark did best. He hopes you'll appreciate all the effort he took to go after you when you find yourself in his presence once more, enjoying his company and what his bed has to offer.

But first things first.

He rings up your number, already mouthing what he will say when he hears your voice. He’s more excited than he should be, but can’t find it in himself to care.

It keeps ringing.

He closes his eyes, imagining your expression when you find out it’s him— your lips curving into a smile as you start to say his name—

He gets the voicemail lady instead.

Confused, he sits there for a moment in silence before he tries again.

He’s greeted with a single ring before the same script plays. Did your phone die? Was it powered off? What was happening?

Furrowing his brows, Tony instructs his A.I. to deliver a message.

He compiles something short and flirty, just aiming to get your attention and to reel you in a bit. He sends it off, and almost immediately, the sophisticated, deadpan male voice of J.A.R.V.I.S. informs him that the message wasn't sent.

Okay.

You either blocked his number or your phone is off. Or it just sucks at texting for some reason.

The male purses his lips in thought. He needs to try a different approach, he supposed.

Going back to square one, Tony finds a piece of information that causes a playful smirk to slowly grow upon his face.

Well, he always did like a challenge.

——————————————————————————————————

“Something special just for you, (Name). —Your knight in rose-gold armor❤️💛”

That’s all the italicized note said.

The fancy slip of cardstock that was attached to the package on the floor wrapped in cellophane.

The gift sitting innocently in front of your apartment door when you arrived home from work.

Inspecting it as you bring it inside, the more confused and skeptical you get.

This…

You flipped the box over multiple times in the vain hope of finding a different answer or something new to go off of. It yielded nothing substantial, other than the fact that this was likely delivered to you from some kind of store that gift-wraps their products. Exactly who ordered this in the first place, however, is something you can’t determine. A sender’s address is nonexistent.

If this really was for you, then…

It was completely wrong.

Whoever sent this to you had no idea who you were because the assortment of chocolates had multiple flavors you didn’t care for, and would render the whole box a waste under your possession. There was only one specialty kind that you were willing to try, and even then it was filled with extra tastes that you didn’t really care for in your sweets.

You squinted at the packaging, trying to file through your memories, but you had never heard of this brand in your life.

Thankfully, the box did contain the reliable milk chocolate flavor, as well as darker coco and lighter milk and sugar versions as standalones. So, you figured, it would be a safe bet to sample that one first to see if their base for chocolate recipes were passable.

You hesitantly brought the confection to your lips and let it hover there, now wondering what kind of razor blades or poisonous concoctions were stuffed into this thing. But if someone wanted you dead, why would they make it this elaborate? Wouldn’t there have been some tell of any tampering before you opened it? Feeling ridiculous over your own thoughts, you bite the bullet. Pinching your eyes shut, you threw the piece of chocolate into your mouth.

You bit down, felt a more gooey substance ooze its way onto your tongue, and widened your eyes when the flavor hit you.

You immediately spat the thing out in the garbage can and raced over to your fridge for a palette cleanser. Snatching the first jug you saw, you drank directly from the container and realized too late that it was an acidic juice you picked out.

It paired worse than wine would, surely.

After most of the vile concoction was washed away from your taste buds, you smacked your lips and tried to process the lingering aftertaste.

Glaring at the offending box of chocolates, you took no time in propelling it towards the same bin where it belonged.

Forget figuring out where that came from.

You wouldn’t even give that to your worst enemy.

——————————————————————————————————

“You’ll thank me for this later, hun.” Tony mused to himself as he balanced the handle of a screwdriver in his mouth, putting the finishing touches on the camera in your studio-sized living room. As much as Tony wanted to cover the whole area of the unit itself, he knew not to overdo any more than he really needed to.

The man had no idea if the luxury chocolates he ordered went over well, and was itching to find out sooner rather than later. The very next day on a sunny mid-afternoon with a toolbox in tow, Tony visited your side of the city in his iron suit. He landed on the roof of your apartment, leaving the armor there as he climbed down the fire escape until he reached your level. He found an almost-closed window and had his A.I. scan for any lifeforms inside before he pushed the creaky wooden frame up and crawled through. And then Tony— after making sure you weren’t in another room and about to catch him— happened to glance down into your kitchen trash can. That hurt his feelings of course, but it fueled him to win your favor just the same. He only needed to get a sense of how you lived and what you liked, so he could woo you better when he revealed himself.

He hoped a woman like you enjoyed a mystery, because his work as Iron Man simply didn’t allow him to date you properly as he would’ve preferred— and he was too interested to simply forget about you. Even if he did manage to talk to you, a public relationship would be a no-go; the paparazzi alone would have you running for the hills. So, if you wouldn’t entertain digital communication with him, then virtually keeping tabs on you as your secret genius, billionaire, philanthropist, superhero admirer would have to do.

That was all.

Not because you were so elusive that it was driving him up the wall and he needed some reassurance grounding him that— yes, you did exist— and weren’t evading him on purpose or forgot him entirely.

No— he assured himself as he adjusted the device above him, not at all.

Besides, he got into your apartment too easily. The area you lived in was unruly, at best. And you needed protection. You could be snatched up out of thin air with no one the wiser as to your dissappearance. This way, even if he isn’t physically there for you or watching it happen back in his tower, he can at least use the footage from the cameras to gather the clues necessary to track you. Flying in as Iron Man, he’ll make the perpetrator sorry he even existed— break every bone of his that so much as touched you, and be your hero. And your relationship will blossom from there. Tony was doing you both a service by installing his tech in your apartment, if anything.

But what you didn’t know won’t hurt you.

While he was a genius, and was confident that his level of intelligence surpassed yours, he had no clue how perceptive you actually were. Installing too many surveillance cameras in your home would pose a risk to the subtlety of the operation he was trying to maintain, despite his desire to map every corner of your unit. Besides, more evidence of his work meant a higher probability of being discovered. Which meant a bigger chance for the devices to be knocked out of place and exposed to you later down the line. Even accidentally, Tony couldn’t have that.

Wiping his calloused hands on his jeans, the male assessed his additions to your apartment, triple-checking their installations and positioning. After making small adjustments here and there and test driving the feeds with his Stark phone, he was all set.

Tony’s troubleshooting finished with the last camera in your bedroom— and as he looked up, his eyes flitted over towards the ajar door leading out of the area he was standing in. Leaning forward with a squint to his eyes to peek through the crack yielded a wider expanse of the drab and cracked white tile, a mirror protruding from the wall, and various products cluttering the countertop of a sink directly under the hanging glass.

He sucked in a breath before spinning on his heel and marching right the fuck out of your bedroom.

No— he thought to himself. He would not be doing that.

It was one line he refused to cross.

——————————————————————————————————

[formulakatya]

SLOW DOWN | MICK SCHUMACHER

“slow down, you crazy child, you’re so ambitious for a juvenile but then if you’re so smart tell me why are you still so afraid?”

not my gif :)

summary: falling victim to your high ambition and expectations, you’re lucky that mick is there to help you work through the burn out

pairing: mick schumacher x reader

notes: idk i just love ‘vienna’ by billy joel, unedited (sorry) because my best ideas come quickly and im writing on tumblr for whatever reason when i should’ve done this on google docs

warnings: mentions of burnout and mental health

—

“this is so stupid!”

your statement catching his attention, mick looked up from his phone as angie quickly ran over to you as you lightly threw your pen on the table. staring at the physics question again, you quickly picked your pen back up before furiously scribbling your answer to the question.

you were close to ripping your hair out at this point, trying to figure out where you had gone wrong as you repeated the question under your breath, justifying each step of your answer.

and though your oblivion to the state you were slowly spiralling into, mick had recognised it all too well as your current position only confirmed the suspicion he had for the past 2 days or so.

“you should take a break, liebling,” mick spoke, petting angie as the dog came back to him as he sat on the edge of your shared bed. “come on!”

“mick, i can’t,” you sighed, not looking up from your notebook as you furiously scribbled on your notebook, putting your pen down so you could turn to look at him. “i’ve got so much to do and there’s so little time! there’s just too much going on…”

“what do you have to do? i can try to help…”

“past papers, some revision and more studying, i’ve finished my homework but i have loads of studying to do for finals that are in like two weeks,” you let out a sigh as you flipped through the papers scattered on your desk. “then i have to go to the gym and i’ve got training, my tennis match is coming up.”

“slow down,” mick chuckled, “you’ve done enough studying, more than enough throughout the past month or so. you’ll be fine, you don’t have to keep pushing this much.”

“but my grade mick! my grade!” you stressed, desperation evident as you spoke, “it has to be good! it’s either great or nothing. and i still have more to do, i still haven’t brought angie out on a walk and i have to run errands and get some stuff.”

you were spiralling, it was obvious. and with so much on your plate, mick couldn’t blame you for it. though he understood your worries and ambition, he still couldn’t help but want you to slow down and take a break. maybe it was out a selfishness, having wanting to spend a day with you ever since he came back to switzerland but it was also out of concern.

he needed you to cool down before you completely burnt out.

you were highly ambitious and a high achiever for as long as he had known you— only ever wanting to be the best in nearly everything you did from sports to academics. and though the results showed it’s benefits, the mindset also came with its downsides.

“it’s okay to take a break for a day or two, and most importantly, it’s okay to rest. you’re only ever human, and so you can’t do everything at once. there’s no reason to feel guilty,” he let out a laugh as he replied to the response he could foresee coming. “you can finish this last bit of work but promise me you’ll take a break.”

“yeah but-“

“no arguments,” mick cut you off before you could continue. “we’ll bring angie out and get some ice cream or we can do something else. i don’t want you burning out. doing things at a slow pace with breaks will always be better than overdoing things and burning out because reigniting a flame isn’t always easy”

[colourstreakgryffin]

Yandere! Romantic! KNY Tokito Muichiro Headcanons

(🥳 It’s a celebration~ 🥳 Final post of the Yandere Hashira seriesss~ Leaving one of the best for last!)

(Yaaay! A top favourite! Muiii 🥰! He’s aged up to adulthood for this post since I’m not comfortable with writing romantic stuff for a 14yr old! Anyway, this one is greaaat!)

Muichiro as a romantic Yandere has the Yandere traits of; Overprotective, Possessive, Delusional, Violent, Psychotic, Hateful, Clingy/Loving and Emotionally Attached

Muichiro doesn’t really notice nor care about you being the new Hashira, gaining new support is fairly normal. A new Hashira, okay then. He does get a bit alarmed when you approach him and start stirring up a conversation despite him not answering

Though, resistance is futile as Muichiro slowly begins responding to you and your want to be friends with him. He guesses, talking to somebody so nice is a treat

You remind Muichiro of Tanjiro and that makes him all the more interested in you. You have that matching positivity, that matching view of the world and he feeds of that type of person. Muichiro feels his heart suddenly beat faster each time he sees you, the longer he gets to know you

He went from; “I don’t care about her” to “I always want to be around her” in almost no time. Even in his pre-Yandere state, Muichiro was already semi-Yandere as his obsession with being around you and learning about you in such mediocrity conversations shaped very fast. He grew unhealthily attached to you and threw mental fits if he couldn’t be by your side

Muichiro’s head was finally cleared of the mist only six years ago and is now filled with thick fog after realising his love for you. The fog zeroes in on you and blocks out everything but the most important thing to him, you.

Combining a Yandere obsession with Muichiro, he ends up becoming one of the most dangerous Yandere Hashira out there as he quickly averted back to his past self with a willingness to raise his sword but doubled. Cold, heartless, careless, aggressive. He forgot all about the important lessons of sympathy Tanjiro taught him as you drown out his rationality

Muichiro is very overprotective in both casual and battle sense. He gets fuming jealous of other people staring at you and shanks into them hard after intimidating the everliving sh*t out of them till they run away crying or terrified for their lives. You’re not gonna be able to go outside anymore without Muichiro weaselling his way into your schedule and then mercilessly berating somebody all because they needed to talk to you for whatever reason

“Unlike all of you, who have no value in the slightest, Dokusha’s value is insanely high and her time is vastly important as a Hashira and that should be obvious. Think before you act, Dokusha will not waste her beautiful breath on you feeble-minded nuisances—“

Muichiro is quite violent. Like Shinobu and Sanemi, he doesn’t mind spilling blood if needed to keep you safe and from those nuisances that plague your homeland. He’ll openly attack the people who approach you like a bloodthirsty bear and chase away them with his sword swinging. If he manages to land his hands on somebody, he’ll beat them to a inch of their life, Yandere Muichiro is merciless

Goddamn it, Muichiro is the most delusional Yandere out there(alongside dangerous). His thick clouded mind can only process what he badly wants, so nothing but your forced praise and/or your forced remarks of love for him will go through his ears. Everything else is washed away and replaced with bulls**t excuses from those tiny voices in his head. He is so delusional, he believes you’ll love him too, no matter if he had hurt your fellow Hashira, your friends or your family

Muichiro is swallowed whole by his obsession and the need to keep ownership of you. You’re his and his only, not your stupid little family’s, not your closest friend’s, not the random fleet market woman’s. NOBODY and he won’t let people brainwash you into thinking you don’t belong to him so he’ll take away that possibility altogether

Muichiro is extremely hateful towards everything and everybody except you. He glared down all the threats he must face and berates the living breathing beings around him, including his fellow Hashira. His hate is infernal and won’t ever disappear anytime soon, it fuses with his Yandere traits and amps up his danger level, he will gladly kill to vent out his anger hatred over all creatures except you

The Mist Hashira has his disastrous ways to keep you as his when he knows you are. Kidnapping, he isn’t above kidnapping and he’ll strip away your freedom until he is convinced he can trust you. He, however, is kind after kidnapping and will give you a comfortable environment so you’ll express your mutual love to him sooner

So stuck up in his ridiculous fantasies that he’ll never know that you hate him forever for what he has done. To innocents, to your sick mother, to you. How could you stand a complete lunatic like him! You don’t but you don’t have a choice in the matter

Muichiro is psychotic, if not, extremely psychotic. He doesn’t redirect his deranged mannerisms to you but to his worst enemies, the demons he fights and the people who dare to speak with you. They all will be cut down to size and he’ll smile hysterically whilst doing it. He does let his mania slip out at times though, it won’t hurt you at all

-Muichiro is very clingy and loving towards you, his beautiful spouse. He expresses his intense affections through random physical gestures, carrying you around bridal style, letting you sleep in his lap. Muichiro thrives off all of it! He does force you to let him give you affection pretty much every single time but he won’t lay his hands on you, he loves you too much

Muichiro’s Yandere means and obsession is centred around his emotional attachment to you. He is very emotionally attached and requires your presence to function, otherwise, he’ll mindlessly attack everybody around him like a true mentally-ill man. He has very bad mood drop when you aren’t around to sustain him and providing him affection powers him in a style of a candle

Muichiro does steal some of your belongings for his twisted pleasure but he returns it once he’s done as he respects your needs and he won’t push past your boundaries and hurt you. Like pretty much all the Yandere Hashira, he doesn’t realise that you’re hurt and blankly believes you’re so happy that you’re living with him now

You’ll end up spending so much time in the Mist Estate, that you’ll eventually forget what the outside looks like as Muichiro keeps you hidden away from the world out of his extreme need to have you as his soon-to-be-wife. After he took you away from the world and the Corp and brought you to a single room chained to the wall, he proposed to you and forced you to take his hand

“Aren’t the clouds so pretty, Dokusha, love? A-ah? No… I’m not gonna let you go to that place, me and this Estate is your true home. No, no, please don’t cry, I promised and still will look after you, my dear. Come on, let me cheer you up”

[lanitalay]

One Day : Chapter 4

Azriel x reader : based on the netflix series by the same name

warnings: lil ansgty

Word Count: 1.1k

Masterlist

This day used to be your favorite. For years you looked forward to having fun on the longest day of the year with the people you loved. But it's been twenty five years since Amarantha locked all of the High Lords Under the Mountain. Twenty five years since Rhys made Velaris impenetrable. Twenty five years since you’ve seen any of your friends, your family, from the Night Court. Twenty five years of fae becoming sicker, life becoming duller. All of the holidays made you feel miserable, but this one in particular. At least with Winter Solstice the weather matched your gloom, but on this day the sun is shining like nothing is wrong. A mockery, really. 

So you do as you usually do. Go to the office where fae seek help getting better. Do whatever you can with the little magic you have left. Hope that the tonics, lotions and powders make up for what you have lacked for so long now. Then return to the cottage. Bolting the door, shutting the blinds and collapsing on your bed. Mentally preparing to do it all again the next day.  Today you avoid everything except your bed, because last time you celebrated the Summer Solstice it had been with Azriel. 

Azriel who you had loved for three decades. Azriel who was so excited when you told him Thesan found a replacement for you and you were to return to Velaris. Azriel who was upset when he came to help you move because Thesan asked you to train your replacement while he went to the party Amarantha was throwing. Azriel who told you to stop being so spineless. Azriel, who’s eyes darkened when you said that your world doesn’t revolve around him or his whims. Azriel who left with a slam of the door. 

The blankets felt like a prison cell around you but there was no way you’d take your face out of them. The frames on the wall of people you can’t be sure are still alive glare extra harshly in the Solstice sun. Bec’s babe, now a woman grown. You’d missed the chance to see her grow up. Maybe she’s had more children. Maybe she’d forgotten about you. You hope they are safe. Pray that if you can’t get in neither can anything else.

You feel the bed dip beside you as Lenus lays down. “I made soup.” Of course he had, because he knew that today you would be in a state and he thinks that soup will soothe your soul. He stays there for a while, just keeping you company and you know he means well but he’s the last person you want to speak to today. Because he was Lenus who got in the way. He was the reason Azriel had become more distant in the few months before Amarantha’s reign began. “You haven’t visited in months, Az.” You remember telling him. “I don’t want to interrupt you and Lenus.”

“That’s ridiculous, you’re always welcome in my house. Plus Lenus doesn’t get most of the references I make so I have to constantly explain my-” 

“Y/n, please.” 

“What?” 

“I’m happy for you, I really am but I can’t.”

“I’m- what are you talking about?” You remember that breath he took like it was your own. 

“I can’t watch you be with him. It’s unfair of me, I know, but it kills me.”

And what could you say? “Oh, I- I didn’t know.” 

The guilt was the worst. Because Thesan asked you to stay, but you only said yes to get an extra week with Lenus. By now he knows you resent him for it. He won’t hold it against you, at least not openly. Yet, you’ve caught him looking at sunsets as his eyes sparkle for possibility, hope and maybe someone else. Until he looks at you, and the sparkle fades to his usual shade of brown. 

Azriel spent this day training. Letting Cassian command him to his most extreme exercises and doing them without complaint. Because this used to be your day but for a quarter of a century it has been a wound that wouldn’t heal. After training he will fly across the city until exhaustion lets him fall asleep.

He unfortunately wakes up just as the sun is setting. Mor banging on his door. “You have to eat!” 

They don’t celebrate anything anymore. Not with Rhysand gone. Not when you're gone as well. “It wouldn’t count without them.” Cassian had said the first time a holiday came around. So they treat it like any other day. Trying to keep Velaris running without its High Lord. Azriel trying to stay afloat without half of his heart.

He’ll join Mor and Cassian for dinner. They’ll eat in silence until Cassian breaks it “you remember when y/n first met Rhys?” Mor smiles a little “she was so nervous” she adds with a little laugh. 

“She was all like High Lords are not meant to get sick, this is not taught to us in training-” Cassian properly laughs recalling. 

Even Azriel can’t help but add “and then her face when she realized he was just constipated.” 

Mor cackles “he never ate vegetables until then.”

They quiet down. Azriel half hoped that you would punch his arm and say something like “it wasn’t funny, Az!” but your chair is empty and so is Rhysand's. 

“It’s not the same without them here.” Cassian was always the first to say it. Azriel knew they all missed them. He suspected Amren skipped out on these dinners because she felt some sadness for the current situation. Even if she would not admit it. 

“Do you think y/n got married? Maybe even had a baby?” Mor asked absentmindedly and Cassian kicked her under the table. 

“I’m sure she would never get married or have a kid with how things are now.” The general said pointedly. Azriel thought it was sweet of Cassian to watch out for his feelings like that.  But they were questions he had asked himself a million times before.

If you had a child he would no doubt adore it, but if you’d gotten married… He hates the way his heart twists when he thinks of that possibility. Last time he saw you, you were in love and in a healthy relationship.

But he doesn’t like thinking of the last time he saw you. How he walked out, slammed the door. Your jaw tight and brows furrowed. He regrets so much of that day.  What he said, how he acted. More importantly, he regrets that he didn’t crawl back immediately and beg for your forgiveness.

[kyushiblast]

Hiii !

May i ask for some jealousy with (separate) team star x reader ? Like their s/o is being close with someone else, or just general thoughts about it. I lack originality but there’s sooo little stuff with them

Only take the guys if all five are too much

Most importantly, have a good day ‼️

⤷ 〝 hit up. 〞

➞ pairing : giacomo , ortega , atticus , mela , & eri x gn! reader

➞ summary : team star reactions to someone hitting on you.

➞ genre : fluff

➞ cw / other : slight cursing

➞ a/n : i cannot DESCRIBE how hard i mentally screamed when i saw mela for the second time playing through pokemon violet. like please , she’s not the fire crew boss for nothing

❝ giacomo ❞

— ★ really pissed off.

— ★ of course, he’d probably try to hide it from the other person—scoffing and glaring at the other whilst behind you.

— ★ i kind of imagine him, if it were in a private place, to be blasting music anytime the other would talk just to annoy them more.

— ★ if the other tries dissing his music, he’ll probably break a fuse—especially if it was dedicated to you. but then he’ll calm down, because if he’s ever learned something from bullies, it’s that all they want is a reaction to their taunting.

— ★ doesn’t care how loud he yells in public unless it makes you uncomfortable.

— ★ giacomo would roast the person in return, hook his arm around your shoulder, and amble off with the middle finger up at the person just to spite them.

— ★ and despite looking all tough and whatnot, he’d still pleasantly kiss you on the lips afterward.

❝ ortega ❞

— ★ will roast the heck out of the other. when i tell you he is the most mischievous, best representing with a shit eating grin i mean it.

— ★ the other person’s flirting with you? get FLAMED by ortega. and he’s not even the fire type crew leader, but he is going to be ROASTING the other like there’s no tomorrow.

— ★ “sorryyy, i would battle you, but my pokémon tend to get bored in the middle of battles with low-life losers like you,” he’d say.

— ★ will cling to your arm subconsciously, pissing off the other more. and if you’re able enough, he’ll want a back ride right in front of the person.

— ★ and then after, when the person leaves as a wreck from ortega’s sharp remarks and lines, ortega would probably wave bye to them saying something like: “byee, cya never!”

— ★ finally, he’d pepper your face with kisses no matter how dorky it looks.

❝ atticus ❞

— ★ the calmest of the bunch.

— ★ will be polite with a slight twinge of annoyance in his voice.

— ★ if the person doesn’t leave, he’ll start becoming more annoyed. but since he’s not the type to stir a scene, he’ll just tenderly take your hand and walk off with you.

— ★ if the person follows, they’re just asking for trouble. POKÉMON BATTLE TIIIIIME

— ★ after drenching them with a poisonous defeat, he would say in his own atticus way that the person needs to move on.

— ★ then he’d start thanking you for not going with that other person and he’ll vent about how he hates when people are like this.

— ★ expect more scheduled dates after!!

❝ mela ❞

— ★ hot tempered. would accuse the other of trying to steal you away before stating that they have no chance.

— ★ no mercy whatsoever, except maybe for a little pity glare that screams “go away!” to the other if they seem apologetic enough.

— ★ will walk in front of you and hold out her arm protectively—maybe out of habit in her earlier years—even if you’re perfectly capable of defending yourself.

— ★ she’s dominant in the conversation. will barely let the other talk. the only thing she’ll gladly hear is their apologizing for hitting on you and/or admittance that they’re no match for her.

— ★ after, she’s miss mean-but-with-good-intentions again! she’ll tsk and deny everything if you tease her.

— ★ expect random acts of kindness after.

❝ eri ❞

— ★ the nicest. she’ll politely explain that you’re spoken for and ask for them to stop.

— ★ and if they don’t? then she’ll step it up and insist more. will point towards a pokémon battle.

— ★ she’s extra set on doing her best, especially since if she loses she’ll lose her pride of being strong for you. her pokemon seem to sense that too.

— ★ after, if she notices that the pokemon of the other seem to have a close bond to their trainer, signaling that the person’s not as bad as they show but just desperate, she’ll hype ‘em up saying something like: “i’m sure there’s someone out there fit for you!” but if it’s the opposite, she’s going to be naturally cold to them.

— ★ and as the other slumps away, she’ll hug you and ask if she did well.

— ★ she’ll take you to eat somewhere afterwards.

work of kyushiblast , please do not translate , copy , or repost here or on any other platform !!

[veras1ne]

“Malevolent.”

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Hi My Stars! Sorry I took a short break, as I stated in my previous posts I just haven’t been doing well mentally and started to focus my energy on different things but I believe I have reached a balance and feel ready to take on writing again.

˗ˏˋWith that being said this post is dedicated to THIS ask! I hope I did. your request justice Nonnie because this was truly a fun experience to write!!´ˎ˗

: ̗̀➛ WARNINGS🪷: This is your warning for the following NSFW content: PIV Sex, not explicitly stated consent, ❗️CONSENTUAL, I do not write non-con, it’s just not what I’m comfortable with. ❗️Slapping, Cum Stuffing, Squirting, Choking, Degrading, Rough Sex.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳🫧Pairing: Luke Skywalker x AFAB!Reader

*ೃ༄ I am NOT responsible for the content you consume or view! Read responsibly!! 🫶🏻

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ Summary🕊️: Just pure smut, quite literally nothing else, no plot, nothing, just.. disgusting sex with Luke Skywalker.

"Look at me when I speak to you. His hot breath fanned against your cheek; his voice was callous and angry. "You hear me? Look at me.” Your eyes met with his towering over your frail body; the once gentle touches he provided your body with were replaced with harsh grabs that formed bruises on your cold skin.Hot tears began to form and fall against your cheeks.

Your sobs echoed in the room as he grabbed a handful of your hair. You bit back a scream, but it was only a whisper instead of a yell. He pulled you closer until your faces were barely inches apart from his own.

Your nose grazed his lips as you looked up at him with watery eyes; your lips were pink and swollen from his violent kisses, and the purple hues on your neck matched the angry scratch you had left on his back due to his hours of torture as he tore apart your pussy, licking and nipping at your clit.

It was the first time he had done such things to you; however, after this, you were sure that it wouldn’t be the last. His rough hands grabbed your wrists as Luke took your nipple into his mouth, sucking on it and scraping his teeth across your sensitive nerves.

You writhed on the bed, screaming incoherently as your mind became consumed by images of his dick entering your pussy while he rutted against the sheets, seeking pleasure while providing you with pain mixed with indulgence and elation. The image burned like fire, making you feel as if you would die. It made your stomach churn, and his hand clasped against your throat, constricting the airflow and making you gasp for air. Your newly released hands grasped Luke’s face, pulling his lips to meet yours, swallowing each other's pleasure and the sounds of nirvana.

The feeling of his lips caressing your mouth caused you to whimper as your hips bucked beneath him, begging him to give you what you so desperately wanted. His cock was the one thing you could no longer go without; you needed it, and you needed it terribly. But the feeling didn’t last long.

His tongue swiped against yours, forcing your parted lips open as his fat cock began to stretch your walls, his length providing a simply stinging sensation that you only craved more and more as he thrust up, rutting into your pussy. The smell of sex filled the room, causing your head to spin and your eyes to roll back.His scent intoxicated your senses, and you felt your inner walls tighten around his dick as his thick cock throbbed in an almost desperate need to come out of your cunt.

You moaned, grabbing a handful of his sandy hair and pulling his strands harshly.

His hands dropped from your hips to the headboard, his right coming down and opening your sore mouth with his fingers. "You’re such a disgusting slut, letting me torture your pussy and choke you out? This is all you’ve ever wanted, huh?" His voice sounded gruff and low; it sent shivers down your spine. "You're such a fucking whore; I bet you've never even been touched like this before. Nobody could ever fuck a disgusting whore like you like I could." His hand slipped from your mouth, cupping your mouth to keep it open and spitting down your throat. "You better swallow that. You should be grateful I would ever give my spit to a slut such as yourself." He squeezed your breast roughly, earning another painful cry from your lips. "That got you to look at me, didn’t it? Good job, you did one thing right."He shoved your face against the mattress, forcing your head downward as he forced himself further inside of you. You felt your body quiver with every movement he made. “Luke, please. Please make me cum, please." Your pleas fell on deaf ears as he continued his actions, using you as a sick dumpster for his cum and a doll for him to play with when he needs relief.

You cried out, your eyes closed, as his hand came across your cheek, slapping you and sending shocks through your bruised body as he fucked you harder and harder, his hard cock pulsating inside of you, filling you with pure ecstasy as you felt the orgasm building. “You want to cum? Fine. Cum, bitch." His words seemed to burn in your head.The pressure increased inside of you; his cock was pounding faster and harder, pressing against your cervix and causing you to tremble violently.

You screamed as you climaxed, your body trembling uncontrollably as you tried to control your breathing. Your squirt sprayed his thighs and chest as you convulsed against his body, writhing under his hands and turning your head to watch him with eyes full of ecstasy as they rolled back, your cream mixing with your squirt to create a disgusting mixture. He removed himself from your throbbing hole, fetching the pants he had stored in his pockets earlier.

He lined himself up with the center of your worn underwear that was wet with your slick, jerking his cock as he came on your undergarments, tainting it with thick ropes of his own release, sweat dripping down his chest, and coating his hair with salt.

"There we go. That wasn’t too bad, was it?“ His words were soft as he ran a hand through your messy hair, his tone now tender as he pulled you up and onto your knees, pulling your body to rest against his. He wiped the remnants of your cum off your body as you looked up at him in exhaustion but with a smile, his hands holding your body as he put on your cum-stained panties back onto your cunt, shoving his fingers through the sheer fabric and stuffing his cum inside the shallow end of your pussy.

"You’re such a dick baby." You rested your hand on his thigh, listening to his fast heartbeat.

"Oh, but who was the one begging for mine?"

[msnihilist]

ahh pleaseee share that essay about bevin and gwevin with us 🥲we won't be bored we love those kind of things we would love to read it !

This is mostly just going to be me vomiting up various thoughts, but here we go.

Ben and Gwen, I think, represent Kevin's past and future, respectively. Through UAF, Ben is consistently the one who calls Kevin out on his bullshit — most notably in "In Charm's Way," when Ben and Kevin talk on the beach at the end of the episode...

KEVIN: Where's Gwen?

BEN: Went home. You hurt her pretty bad.

KEVIN: I hurt her? I'm the one who looks like this, and she hasn't done a thing about it.

BEN: You are a giant, rock-faced jerk!

KEVIN: Yeah, whatever.

BEN: Not "whatever." She's spending every spare moment going through every magic book she can find to try and help you. She's been doing it since the accident.

KEVIN: She... She never told me.

BEN: Should she have had to?

...and again when (past) Ben snaps at Ultimate Kevin in "The Forge of Creation."

ULTIMATE KEVIN: I deserve that power. I'm the one who gets turned into a monster. I'm the one nobody ever trusts or cares about!

GWEN: That's not true!

ULTIMATE KEVIN: Face it, Gwen... Whatever I look like, I'm a freak!

YOUNG BEN: You're a jerk. You've always been a jerk. People try to be nice to you, but you can't ever see it. You're too busy feeling sorry for yourself.

Ben is consistently the only character to hold Kevin accountable like this. (Granted, Kevin doesn't have a wide circle of friends, but still.) Gwen and Kevin don't fight much (when they do, Gwen usually leaves the situation), and she tends to be the softer voice, encouraging Kevin and reassuring him. ("You know I don't care what you look like," etc.)

Ben has been calling Kevin out since they were kids, since the day that they met — quickly clocking Kevin as a bad person and saying as much. He continues to do this through the OG, like in "Grudge Match."

MUTATED KEVIN: It's payback time, for turning me into a freak!

BEN (as Diamondhead): You were always a freak, Kevin. It's just now the ugly's also on the outside.

And, later...

MUTATED KEVIN: This is all your fault!

BEN: How can this be my fault?

MUTATED KEVIN: I don't know... It just is!

In this episode, Kevin blames Ben for them getting stuck in the ship. He blames Ben for his mutation. He attacks Ben for going against him even though Ben literally saved both of their lives not a minute before.

Kevin isn't in his right mind, sure, but he continues to display this trait in UAF: refusing to accept accountability.

Nothing is ever his fault — it's always someone else's. Kevin is emotionally immature and he struggles with self-hatred. He lashes out and blames others because if he didn't, he would have to look inside of himself and recognize that maybe something is wrong with him.

And that's a hard thing to do. It's hard for most adults, let alone a child who's struggling with powers he doesn't understand — powers that alter his mental state.

If Kevin is a boat being tossed around in a wild ocean, then Ben is like an anchor. He forces Kevin to look inward and to reflect on his behavior.

... Which is where Gwen comes in.

(Admittedly, I have less to analyze here, since Gwen and Kevin are rather straightforward, comparatively.)

Without Ben around, Gwen and Kevin's relationship would not work. Gwen is reactionary. She was as a child, and she still is as a teenager. Her first instinct when she and Kevin argue isn't to problem-solve, it's to get defensive. Their relationship wouldn't go anywhere with both of their attitudes like that.

Ben gets Gwen away to destress and take her mind off of Kevin. Ben is honest with Kevin in a way that Gwen can't (or won't) be.

He's not a third wheel. He's their counterweight. Their balance.

What does this have to do with past/future?

Well, Kevin spells it out in "Perplexahedron."

KEVIN: I like the Kevin that Gwen sees when she looks at me. And I like that you gave me another chance, even after I messed up all those other ones. I guess I'm saying I owe you guys for changing my life.

He refers to "the Kevin that Gwen sees" — someone he could be. And he thanks Ben for giving him another chance, referencing his past mistakes.

Ben helps Kevin look back and learn from his mistakes. Gwen gives Kevin something to look forward to, and a goal to strive towards.

Gwen and Kevin wouldn't work without Ben, but Ben and Kevin would be shaky without Gwen, too. Gwen is motivation. She's an incentive. She's the light at the end of the tunnel.

Without her, I think Kevin would have a hard time knowing what, exactly, he's trying to work towards. He would have a harder time opening up to Ben.

Ben is the medicine, and Gwen is the spoonful of sugar.

Kevin needs both of them to be the person he's always wanted to be. And they need him, too.

After all, 'Ben and Gwen' by themselves don't look nearly as cool <3

[hollyhomburg]

Re-reading bily smut because it makes me feel like such a pillow princess, subby baby, like nothing can go wrong, just listen to the alphas... Be a mindless little baby because everything else is too much responsibility. It makes me crave the trust you have to put into your partner to be in that state... It's so rare, men be like - I want you to cook, clean, work, take care of finances, put the effort in our relationship, plan our dates and not even take half the effort in anything. And ALSO take charge in the bedroom (?)

Like I get it some men like women in charge but relationships are 50/50 you need to put efforts too. And what do you mean I DO NOT GET TO BE PILLOW PRINCESS. Like what do you mean the only plus in this relationship is company. I'd rather be single if we can't even match our bedroom preferences. Sigh~ I can only live and experience being a baby bun vicariously through mc.

Ugh- I crave the perfect blend of praise and degradation....😭😭💀💀

Brb, I'll be crying and reading mc's hole check😭😭😭

the way that this ask actually made the next chapter turn out differently- but it's also asks like this that make me realize how while men claim to be dominant- they're actually more submissive in nature when it comes to the things that they actually want in relationships. like if you want to be dominant and provide- be dominant and provide, don't sit on your coattails and match every exchange. the ultimate nature of true love is giving- and i feel like het men only ever want to receive.

and on another note- one profound thing that i realized yesterday is that people should not be in relationships until they can meet the vast majority of their own sexual needs on their own. like i'm a big advocate for masturbation.

i don't think sex is an appropriate thing to lord over relationships in terms of 'it's been 3 weeks since we did xyz' like that is my literal nightmare. like what are you saying your body had a need and you didn't meet it? and you want my help with meeting that need just because you are too lazy and prefer it that way when i do the work? should i shit and breathe for you too?

especially if you've said no and your partner continues to ask like- that is psychotic and it has happened in every single het relationship i've ever been in. the older i get the more thankful i am that i never gave into that manipulation. that kind of mentality is so damaging. i only want to be with someone if sex is something we get to do together and not just like, a bodily function.

[ryuzakemo128]

Demons in my head, Angels in my eyes

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Cello Player/ Visual Artist! You, Female Reader x Chrissy Cunningham

Content Warning: Mental Illness mentioned and embedded into it. Like Depression, Synaesthesia, and PTSD. Suicide Ideation also heavily referenced.

Words: 2525

Note: This is going to be pretty depressing. I even cried a few times in writing this. So be careful when you read it. You might need a box of tissues with you. Part 2 Coming soon.

Masterlist

Credit for Dividers: @cafekitsune + @strangergraphics

You were more likely to die young according to Chrissy and Eddie through a conversation you accidentally overheard once. It felt like they wanted you to die before you reached the age of twenty-one. You wore a crimson red turtleneck with a cardigan draped over your shoulders. The one which you bought from a thrift store last weekend.

The scarf you put on matched your cardigan, both in colour and in style. You embroidered ‘Life’s a bitch, and then you die.’  Into the back of your cardigan in cursive. You bought it with the intent on adding small embellishments to it. You added three things to it, you haven’t found any buttons you liked to replace the old ones. Which you’re still mentally kicking yourself over.

You walked to your recital, which would happen during the lunch break. You were not looking forward to it either. The quicker this was done, the sooner you wanted to go home early for the day. Eddie and Chrissy spotted you getting ready for it, the bandages on your arms indicating a path of self-destructive tendencies.

Chrissy leaned in closer to Eddie, whispering something into his ear that made him chuckle darkly. You felt your heart sink, knowing that your secret was out. They had seen your battle with mental illness, a silent war you had been fighting since you were six. The whispers grew louder as you took the stage, the cello between your legs.

Your knees trembled as you placed the bow to the strings, the whispers transforming into a cacophony of doubt in your mind. You closed your eyes, took a deep breath, and let the music take over. The cello sang out a melody that spoke of your soul's deepest turmoil, the notes resonating with the pain you held inside.

The song piece you decided to play was called 'Melancholy Nocturne'. It was one of your favourite pieces. You closed your eyes while you played it, hoping to block them out from your sight and your mind's eye. The music was your only solace, when you were finished, you felt drained but oddly at peace. The sound of applause washed over you, bringing you back to reality. You walked backstage to pack and leave when someone stopped you.

It was Eddie. His face was a mix of concern and curiosity. He looked at your arms, the bandages peeking out from under your sleeves. "Hey, are you okay?" His voice was softer than you had ever heard it. It almost made you believe he genuinely cared. You shrugged it off, "Just a little accident."

He didn't press further, which was surprising. Instead, he leaned against the wall, watching you pack up your cello. "That was intense," he said, referring to your performance. "Where does that come from?" You looked up at him, unsure of how to answer. The music was your escape, a place where your thoughts and feelings could run free without judgement.

"My parents forced me to learn it. I just refuse to unlearn it." You state simply picking up your cello case to leave.

Eddie nods slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. "Look, I know we haven't exactly been... friendly. But I've noticed you've been pretty down lately. More than usual." His voice is gentle, a stark contrast to the sarcastic tone he usually has.

"I'm depressed. I will never be happy." You bluntly stated. "I have experienced brief moments of bliss and nothing else."

Eddie's expression grew more serious. "You know, talking about it can help. I've seen it with my uncle."

"Munson, your uncle helps because he gives a shit about you. He cares about you, he wants you to do better, that is what he should be doing, family they are supposed to care about you." You corrected him. "My family has a long tract record of addiction, suicide and cancer. My family sucks. My family are all over the place because they're as selfish as they come."

Eddie nodded solemnly, understanding the gravity of your words. "But that doesn't mean you can't find happiness elsewhere. Or that you shouldn't try to get better." He offered a small smile, one that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I know it's tough, but sometimes you gotta fight through the bad stuff to get to the good."

"I'm broke, my truck is about to die, and I have a shit job I do on the weekend." You countered. "Classmates aren't friends, they're just people you have the same class with. I'm just here because I'm too much of a coward to kill myself." You walked to your truck to put your things into it. You tried starting your truck, which failed three times before it finally roared to life. Your parents left you home alone for the rest of the week. As your father took your mother on 'business trip' or something.

Eddie found out you were alone for the rest of the week by overhearing a conversation between teachers. He heard, "Her parents left for the week, she's all by herself again. Poor girl."

Eddie saw you push your truck to the mechanic to sell it for scap if they said it wasn't worth fixing. Eddie overheard the mechanics tell you that it would cost more than the car was worth to fix. He felt bad for you, so he offered to give you a ride home. You declined. Saying you weren't worth the effort.

The walk home was long and lonely. The grey clouds above mirrored your mood. You felt like a burden to everyone around you, a black hole that sucked the happiness out of any room you entered. You trudged along the sidewalk, your mind racing with dark thoughts.

As you approached your house, you saw Eddie's car parked outside. Your heart sank. He had insisted on giving you a ride, and you had foolishly hoped he'd forgotten about it. You quickened your pace, trying to slip inside before he noticed you. But as you reached the door, he stepped out of the car, blocking your path.

You attempted to go inside your house through the basement which is your bedroom and main living space. It was cluttered with art supplies and band posters. You had painted the walls a deep shade of purple to match the mood of your music. The only source of light was a single bulb hanging from the ceiling, casting a dim glow over everything.

You walked to your fridge to have your pot brownie and have a nap afterwards. You didn't expect Eddie to follow you inside. You turned around to face him, a mix of annoyance and confusion in your eyes. "What do you want?" You snapped.

Eddie took a step back, holding his hands up in a non-threatening gesture. "I just wanted to make sure you got home okay." His eyes swept over the cluttered room, taking in the sight of your personal sanctuary. "This is… intense."

"Just like my internal need to off myself." you muttered mostly to yourself than him as you ate your pot brownie.

Eddie noticed the pot brownie that was almost gone. He frowned, his concern growing. "You know, that's not a healthy way to cope," he said, his voice gentle.

"Who say I was coping?" You snorted as you stored the rest in your fridge and went to brush your teeth before a nap.

Eddie followed you into the bathroom, his eyes widening at the sight of your arms. The bandages were off, revealing a tapestry of scars, some fresh and others faded with time. "You need help," he said firmly. "This isn't just sadness. This is a cry for help."

"This is me coping." You corrected.

Eddie looked at you with a mix of sadness and anger. "No, this is you punishing yourself." He reached out to grab your arm gently, turning it so he could see the full extent of the damage. Which was far more than he assumed. Your wrists sliced up to hell and back, they looked raw and painful. "This isn't living." Some of the more fresher ones were still red and swollen, it looked like you had done it the night before.

You cleaned your arms, when you attempted to bandage them yourself when Eddie decided to take over. He was surprisingly gentle. "You can't keep doing this to yourself." He murmured, his eyes focused on his task. "You're worth so much more than what you give yourself credit for."

You didn't answer, you didn't say anything in response to it, you were tired of hearing it over and over again. You felt like screaming, but you knew it was futile. You knew that Eddie meant well, but his words felt hollow. They always did. You sat down on your bed, the springs creaking under your weight. The mattress had seen better days, much like everything else in the house.

After he was done, you attempted to nap, thought Eddie had other plans. He didn't let you nap. He sat on the edge of your bed, his eyes never leaving your face. "Why don't you come to the party tonight?" He asked, his voice hopeful. "It'll be a good distraction."

"I don't go to parties. I suck the fun out of everything." you told him.

"Well, maybe it's time to change that," Eddie said, his voice firm but not unkind. "You can't just sit here and wallow in your own misery forever."

"I've been getting paid well for it so far." You pointed out that your father gives you an allowance of a hundred dollars every week in addition to your job's wage. You attempted to get ready to eat at the diner for dinner alone as 'treat' for yourself. You got changed into a long sleeved dress to go eat at the diner. She thought it would have looked weird enough for him to leave without her.

You walked out of the bathroom, your arms now bandaged again. Eddie's eyes searched yours for any sign of hope or agreement, but all he found was a deep sadness. You shrugged, "I don't know how to do anything else."

He stood up, his hands resting on his hips. "Look, I'm not saying it's going to be easy, but you've gotta try. For yourself." He paused, then added, "And maybe for the people who care about you."

"The zero out of zero people." You got your wallet to walk to the diner alone.

Eddie sighed, understanding the weight of your words. "Okay, dinner at the diner it is." He followed you out of the house, his boots echoing on the pavement as you walked side by side. The air was cool, a hint of rain in the air. The diner's neon sign flickered in the growing twilight, casting an eerie glow on the empty street.

You paid for his food as well. You didn't take no for an answer. But to Eddie it was more than just food. It was a silent cry for help, a gesture of friendship in a sea of apathy. You sat across from each other in a booth, the smell of greasy food and burnt coffee filling the air. The jukebox played a sad tune that seemed to resonate with the mood.

"Why do you care?" You finally asked, breaking the silence. "You've never talked to me before, except for that one time when you guys talked about how likely it was for me to die young."

Eddie looked down at his plate, pushing his fries around with his fork. "I don't know. Maybe I saw a bit of myself in you." He admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I've had my own battles, you know."

"Take your girlfriend Chrissy to that party. I'll walk home." You quickly finished your food to go home.

Eddie reached out and placed his hand over yours, stopping you from moving. "Hey, don't rush off. I'm not taking you home just yet." His grip was firm but not overpowering.

"I'm certain you don't have to 'take me' anywhere." You replied.

Eddie looked up, his eyes meeting yours with a surprising intensity. "I know it's not my place, but I do care. And I want to help. Maybe the party isn't your scene, but just give it a shot. What do you have to lose?"

"Dignity, sense of self and the fact that people might stab me." You were blunt. "The stabbing part has happened before though."

Eddie looked surprised, "What do you mean?"

"Yeah. I got embarressed at an attempt to go to a party. A chick got upset and stabbed me with a butterknife." you explained.

Eddie's eyes widened in shock. "Jesus, that's messed up."

"It was then. Not so much now. I can safely say that I got stabbed by a butterknife." you snorted eating your pumpkin pie.

You attempted to shoo him off to go with Chrissy to the party while you went to practice your cello.

Eddie nodded thoughtfully. "Okay, no party. But promise me you won't be alone all night. If you need anything, I'll be there." He slid a piece of paper with his number across the table. "Call me, no matter what." Eddie then remembered she would be alone in the house.

You took the paper without looking at it, stuffing it into your pocket. "Fine." You stood up, ready to leave. Heading home alone to an empty house on the hill.

Eddie watched you go, a look of concern etched on his face. He knew you weren't okay, but he also knew pushing too hard wouldn't help. He followed you from a distance, making sure you got home safe. Once he saw you go inside, he drove away, feeling a little helpless.

The house was eerily quiet when you entered. You felt the weight of the silence pressing down on you as you made your way to the basement. You pulled out your cello and began to play, letting the music fill the empty space. As the notes danced in the air, you couldn't help but feel a little less alone.

You were woken up at 4am by your door being thrown open. Your father stumbling into your room with your mother in tow. "Get dressed, we're leaving." He slurred. You looked at the clock, it was 4 AM, you had work at 6 AM. "Where are we going?"

"Back to your mother's hometown. We need to sort some shit out with her inheritance. It's going to be a week or two. Make sure to tell your boss."

"I got things to do here still. Like school." You reminded him.

"You can miss a week of school. You're already a failure anyway." Your mother spat, her voice slurred from too much alcohol.

"Then you can do it yourself. I'll stay here and take care of the house." you stated.

Your father's eyes narrowed. "You can't stay here alone. What if something happens?"

"I've been home alone before." You reminded him.

He sighed heavily, the smell of alcohol filling the room. "Fine. But don't you dare do anything stupid while we're gone."

[fluffs-n-stuffs]

a smol snippet of a fic in progress based on this incredible commission by @feathergil​ because these two make me feel so insane y’all have no idea -

wip. ---

“Now, I call this next one… ‘The Ghoulish Grin.’” 

Morty quirked an eyebrow at the vaguely ghost-related name. “That one’s new.”

“Indeed!” He chimed. Under regular circumstances, the clairvoyant very well may have picked up on his ulterior motives from the spring in his voice alone. But Morty was in a vulnerable state now; too burdened by the weight of unspoken thoughts and worries to look past the charismatic façade that was the other’s smile. So when Eusine took him by the arm, he simply followed, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet. A wordless bond of trust that came with consequent naivety—

And an opportunity Eusine had to take advantage of while he still could. 

Morty was standing now, planted comfortably amidst dried up piles of auburn and amber, barely managing a glimpse of a fluttering white cape as Eusine moved behind him. He all but tilts his head at the motion—a fleeting second of doubt a mere moment too late as the other resumes speaking.

“Feast your eyes, for I shall now make the fabled ghost tamer’s troubles disappear!”

“Mm? What do you mean by tha-ahaA?!”

Electricity shot through his spine then—not by the element itself nor a Pokémon of its typing, but by a sudden squeeze around his stomach. Morty gasped, eyes widening and breath getting caught between fits of giggles that all too suddenly bubbled in his throat from the feeling of Eusine latching his fingers onto his sides. The performer chided from behind him.

“Ooh, still so sensitive! How cute…~” 

Morty’s reflexes screamed to fight for composure, firmly biting down his lips as his own hands raced to catch Eusine’s wrists before they could worsen his quickly diminishing state. But it seemed as his efforts were futile; the other all too spastically alternated between gloved fingers in a barrage of ginger presses and prods, playing around his torso as if a treasured instrument of old. Morty mentally cursed at how his sweater did little to nothing to protect himself from his attacker, and he held a desperate clamp on his jaw, fearing what would come if he dared to make another sound.

But Eusine was awfully persistent—as he should’ve realized sooner. Going against the renowned Suicune chaser was fighting a losing battle right from the get-go, and it wasn’t long until all semblance of self-control cracked away at the rub across a particularly sensitive patch of skin. Morty crumbled. 

“E-Eusinehehe! Whahaa—at are you doi-hihi—ing?!” 

“Performing my greatest disappearing act yet!” Eusine’s amusement resounded in prideful chuckles. “And bringing a smile back to my dear friend’s face, what else?” 

“I’m smiling! I aahaham smiling! L-Lehehet go of mehe-hehee!” 

“Ah ah, not quite.”

The mystic tutted, matching the click of his tongue with a few pokes by the other’s ribs, getting him to squeak.

“Not until I’ve made sure that all that gloom has disappeared. It wouldn’t be honorable of me to have a routine gone unfinished, no?” 

“Euseeheheehine!”

wip. ---