#have a relationship with him of some sort eventually? it’s not impossible

[mentalbreakdownsarenormal]

"The carefree shamelessness of a kid." That... entirely recontextualizes her relationship with Lancer in chapter 1, doesn't it.

(Long rant about the two under the cut)

I mean, consider what chapter 1 must have been like for her. The human freak she hates has just caught her eating school property, and if they report it it'd be the last straw that gets her expelled. Considering what she said to them in The_Newist_Girl post, they will probably do so immediately and remorselessly. It is only because of their mother and her kindness towards her that she doesn't cause a major incident on the spot. She begrudgingly agrees to just get some more chalk and head back to class.

(She also drops the line "If you haven't gotten it by now... Your choices don't matter" which uh. Speaking of internalization.)

Of course, it isn't that simple. The closet is both impossibly dark and impossibly big. And when the two of them go to leave, the door is slammed in her face and locked. The floor collapses under her and she falls through. The drop is impossibly far.

She wakes up in a new world that does not make sense. The first person (barring the freak) she sees starts shooting at the two of them. She finds an entire abandoned town, complete with a castle. And, perhaps the strangest thing of all, she meets a hooded figure who tells her about a prophecy. One she is a part of.

One that calls her a hero.

She doesn't believe it. When asked to accept her destiny as one of the Delta Warriors, she refuses. The hooded guy is knocked away by a kid on a bike. And he's the first person to finally give her a clear answer when she asks a question.

"Who the hell are you?"

"I'm... The Bad Guy!"

This is the first and only thing she has understood in the last few hours. He's a bad guy. He's getting in her way. Someone's getting beat up. After the fight, two facts make themselves clear. One, she needs to go east. Two, people are gonna try and stop her.

So she goes, alone, and makes herself a menace of the enemies. Beats them up, steals their stuff, and other sorts of things you would do in a normal RPG. That's what the enemies are for, after all. Why would she be nice to someone trying to kill her. Eventually, she's blocked by a door she can't open alone until the other nerds show up. She needs to follow them, but like hell she's actually gonna help them or change her behavior at all. There's no point. Kris and Ralsei are good and she's bad. They fell right into their roles, being all nice and stuff, but she's not like them. She can't think of anything good to say about someone trying to kill them like they can. She isn't delicate. She isn't skilled at anything. But she can smash things. And so smash things she shall. Just like she always has, and just like she always will. Don't know why anyone's expecting anything else.

She won't, she can't grow as a person like they can, not now not ever.

Susie's arc where she grows as a person begins after two rooms. It's the scene where Lancer mistakes Susie trying to intimidate him as advice on how to be scary and thanks her for it. His praise surprises her and having someone who appreciates her motivates her to become better. That's the basic reading anyway. But in hindsight...

Lancer is a child. A young child. Why? Lancer's age, for the most part, is irrelevant to his character. If you wanted him to parallel Susie, why not write him to be the same age as everyone else? How does the relationship between the two of them benefit from Susie needing to babysit the kid half the time they hang out?

She's his mentor. The one she never had herself. Lancer is bad at being scary. His evil laugh sounds like a baby Santa Claus. He has no idea what he's doing, he's just trying to be "scary and badass" like his dad. And it just so happens being scary is one of the few things Susie knows how to be "good" at. And with that in mind, Susie's words suddenly take on a whole new meaning.

Susie interrupts with a single word. "Stop." What Susie says next, about wannabe tough guys and bitten faces isn't her trying to scare him. It's her trying to crush him. The same way she was when she tried to play. You need to stop because you're bad, now here's someone who can do it better. But unlike back then, the person who told the kid to stop was the better person. The kid got the chance to see it be done properly and was told what exactly needed improvement.

And the next time they meet, Lancer acts far more intimidating. He's still not good, to be sure, but he did improve. He then immediately asks for feedback to try to improve more. He doesn't even have guys, he just wanted to practice.

And this shatters Susie's world view. This kid, this young, carefree kid who's just playing around improves. The kid who's the only person around she could understand or relate to, the kid who introduced himself as "the bad guy" *improved*. Whatever was wrong with this kid that made him a bad guy, that made him an outcast, didn't end up mattering. The support around him did.

In the very same scene Lancer shows improvement, he realizes your team doesn't have a name. To fix this, he asks everyone to drop a name in his bucket to be randomly selected. Kris doesn't and they "look like they don't care." But Susie does add a name. She might not put a lot of effort into it, but she plays along. Susie, who walked through puzzles, who disobeyed commands, who left the party behind, who repeatedly complains about you being slow, who refused help stop the very world from ending, put a name in the bucket.

And in every following scene the two are together, she encourages everything he does.

She expected to be able to play it because she was. She wasn't trying to be good: she liked the piano and she wanted to play it, so she did. Playing for the sake of playing with the carefree shamelessness of a kid.

But because someone thought she was "bad", they told her to stop. It's a role she's been assigned all her life. Without explanation, without justification, without fault, something as inherent to her as her voice, her claws, her skin.

So she internalized it. "Good" must be a role too, right? No one's ever cared enough to teach her about practice or training or perseverance. "Good" is something Susie would simply never get to be.

[edwinisms]

you ever think about how edwin got like. no warning, no time time to process, nothing, when he reappeared on earth faced with the fact that virtually everyone he knew in life is dead. his parents? probably died in the 1950s or so (at best) almost forty years prior to edwin’s return. if any of his classmates were still around, they’d have been elderly, possibly senile, and in a few years they’d all be gone– except, of course, edwin. nothing looks the same, cars look like spaceships, there actually are spaceships, he can no longer see the stars, and everyone he knew is dead.

[niceutossu]

Entertainer | Oikawa x Reader

You regret telling Oikawa he could host. Honestly, you're starting to regret being in his life at all.

No, that’s wrong. You love him, you love your Tooru. So handsome, so witty, so-

“Oh, you have to meet my fiancé!”

So annoying.

You feel yourself take a deep breath and hold back a frown that only adds to the tension in your shoulders. It had been a long night of socializing, and truthfully, if this wasn't your engagement party, you would have Irish goodbyed hours ago.

Still, you can do this. You’ve done this before.

You force yourself to turn with a strained grin, doing your best to keep up the facade that you had been the entire night. You could keep up a conversation, but not like this, not like he could.

“It’s nice to meet you.” You say, too tired to feel embarrassed at your unconvincing tone.

Whoever you’re meeting seems unfazed by this, taking your hand in their own. Their presence is warm and solid, like they belong there. Like they’ve always belonged there.

Unlike you.

“Hey congrats! You must be really patient.”

The words are wrapped in what you pray is good-natured surprise, light teasing at most. Nonetheless, you feel their heaviness settle in your chest. You’re not sure why you expect something different after hearing the same sentiment again and again.

Still, you don’t let your face betray the ugliness you feel, ignoring the way your fingers twitched at your side. You should be used to this, used to being gawked at like some sort of impossibility. Of getting treated like some kind of inside joke.

It seemed like everyone half-expected you to be long gone by now, another forgotten name in Oikawa’s long list of admirers.

Tooru laughs, though, effortlessly as always. ��Of course, that’s why you’re the best!” He says while looking towards you, squeezing your waist as he leans into you. He acts like this isn’t the hundredth time someone has said something similar. Like it doesn’t matter.

A part of you wishes you could brush it off the same way.

But you can’t. So instead, you feel stuck as you offer a smile that’s anything but relaxed. And before another word can be spoken, you excuse yourself, making your way towards a quiet corner you could safely crumble in.

You had felt insecure sometimes, sure. His erratic schedule and lack of communication were valid causes for concern. Still, the weight you felt on you was nothing like those things. You felt even smaller right now, nearly invisible.

Before Oikawa, you weren’t always so hung up on impressions. Your life was your own, regardless of what anyone thought. It’s what made him so smitten in the first place: your commitment to yourself above anyone else. Still, somewhere along the line, you started to lose sight of that.

He was a force to be reckoned with, unknowingly taking up the room with just a single smile. And sometimes it made you feel overwhelmed, swept off your feet in all the wrong ways.

You hadn’t even known who he truly was when you first started dating.

Not really at least.

You had gotten to know his name, Oikawa Tooru. Gotten to know that he smiled like he knew he was being annoying, and that he walked around like the world belonged to him. You just hadn’t realized that some of the world actually did.

When you eventually did catch on, you were already half a year into your relationship, an occasion you were celebrating a bit early, given his irregular and mysterious schedule.

You were sitting on the floor of his apartment, cross-legged in front of a takeout container while putting on a show to watch.

As his smart TV flickered to life, a volleyball match began playing in the background on one of those random sports rerun channels he probably left on for background noise. You were about to switch to a streaming service before you paused upon hearing his name get called through the speakers.

“Wait,” you said, pointing your chopsticks dumbly at the screen showcasing the bold white lettering. “That’s your name.”

Tooru froze, mid-bite, eyes glancing toward the TV.

“Oh. Yeah.”

“I knew you played volleyball,” you start slowly, still chewing. “But do you play like…professionally?”

He scratched at the back of his neck, and for the first time since you met him, he looked anxious.

“Yeah,” he muttered, suddenly very interested in the leftover rice at the bottom of his container.

You blinked. “Like… stadiums and crowds and… the whole jersey number thing?”

“Yep, the whole thing,” he said, trying to go for lighthearted, but you could hear it; something a little wary hiding beneath the surface.

You stared at him, then the TV, then him again.

“So… you’re like famous?”

Tooru winced like the word physically hurt, throwing his chopsticks into the container dramatically as he brought his hands to cover his face, “God, don’t say it like that.”

“But you are,” you insisted as you laughed, not to mock him but just out of disbelief. “That’s so crazy. So if you have fans, do you have like… fan edits too?”

“I might have fan edits,” he said under his breath, dragging his hands down his face.

“You got any groupies?”

“Can we not?” he groaned, looking absolutely mortified, which only made you laugh harder.

But then you stopped. Not all at once, but gradually.

Because suddenly it clicked: why he always had his phone on silent, why people sometimes stared when you went out together. And why he was so adamant about having zero social media presence despite seeming like the type of person who would thrive online, all things he never made you feel stupid for not knowing.

Things he also never once brought it up himself.

“You should’ve told me,” you said quietly, pouting as the realization and slight sting of betrayal settled over your shoulders like a heavy blanket. Nothing was different per se, but you still felt a little played, a little naive. How could you not have noticed?

“I liked that you didn’t know,” he said, just as softly. “You weren’t trying to impress me. You were just so… you.”

You turn to take a look at him, really take a look at him, with his glasses and messy hair, mouth stained with soy sauce, and legs stretched long across the floor like he had nowhere better to be.

You then go back to stare at the picture-perfect version of him about to serve, hair laid out in a perfect messy crown, and with a glistening sweat that gives him an otherworldly glow. The only reason you could even tell it was the same person was the matching pair of intense, chocolate brown eyes.

“Are we sure this is even the same Oikawa?” You teased after a moment, feeling relieved by how comfortable he seemed around you despite his celebrity status. Yes, he had fans, but none of them would ever get to see such a domestic version of him.

“Heyyy,” he groaned out, but you can tell he’s also relieved you didn’t react poorly.

You lean over to steal a piece of food from his container, shrugging before you speak, “Well,” you said, “I guess if you’re also still you, then I don’t mind.”

He grinned, a goofy and childish one that made your stomach flutter, “Thank you very much.”

The exchange had been simple, truthful, but plain enough to make you stay. The mundane parts of his life were the parts he wanted to spend with you; it was all intentional. You were his choice, and he was yours.

Afterwards, your eyes were open to a new world; one that adored Tooru as much as you did. It rarely made you feel jealous, more so unsure of your place in his life, despite how sure he seemed himself. Oikawa knew so many people, loved so many people. Why you?

After over half a decade together, you weren’t expecting any more surprises. You knew who Oikawa was, a global volleyball star and your silly boyfriend. For a long time, this was fine with you. He was fun. Your relationship was fun. There was no expectation of a lifetime commitment from either of you, only genuine loyalty.

Still, Oikawa was also famous for his long list of lovers; a discovery you made after the fourth ex-girlfriend you were introduced to. You tried not to let it bother you, did all you could to hide the irritation on your face as he was smothered by gorgeous women, and sometimes even men.

You were still human, though, bound to crack under the weight of so many beautiful exes. You had struggled with insecurity before, sure, but not like this. Being faced with so many past lovers had whittled away the confidence you had worked so hard to build over the years.

All these people had been you, or in your position at least. What did you have that they didn’t? Every person you met seemed to be charming in their own way, enough to have you picturing a time where they complemented your Tooru well, in beauty and wit.

And despite the whirlwind of happiness that had come with getting engaged, you also felt so uneasy, like the rug could be pulled from under you at any moment.

‘I don’t actually love you.’ He would say, any future plans for a wedding would be discarded, and you forgotten.

Except, Oikawa wasn’t like that. He was a lot of things, but not cruel, not when it came to you.

Still, being in a room full of people who adore him—treat him like some legend, someone larger than life—you can’t help but feel the weight of everything you’ve tried so hard to swallow force its way back to you.

Things like the fact he was never your Tooru, not really. He was just Tooru. And maybe calling him yours was childish to begin with. But he was your boyfriend. Your charming, extroverted, and stupidly attractive boyfriend.

And the worst part is, he’s not doing anything wrong; he’s just being himself. But still, that’s the problem, isn’t it? You used to love how effortlessly he shined, but now, lingering on the outskirts, you’re not so sure. Watching him laugh, watching him easily command a room, you can’t help but feel like you were never meant to stand beside him.

“Hey,” a familiar gruff voice interrupts the beginning of your silent meltdown.

“Iwaizumi,” you say softly, not turning to look at him directly but making space for him to stand next to you in the crowd.

“Isn’t it too late for a cold shoulder?” You can’t help yourself from exhaling at his words, recognizing his dry humor right away.

You turn to face him, doing little to hide the anxiety written all over your features. At the sight, he falters, unsure how to approach but choosing to reach out nonetheless.

“Did…did he ruin this for you?” He asks, hesitant but seemingly ready to smack his best friend over the head at any moment.

You pause at his words, unsure how to answer. Oikawa had ruined a lot of things for you. Your expectations of a lover. Planned surprises. A chance at love after him…

“I’m ruining it for myself,” you admit, finding his presence comforting despite his status as your fiancé’s best friend and man.

“Well, I was gonna say it looks like you need some fresh air but let’s start with a drink.” He says bluntly.

“Just get me whatever you get.” You mumble out, feeling caught off guard but finding solace in his sudden appearance.

Iwaizumi was Iwaizumi. Just like how Tooru was Tooru, you knew what to expect.

“That’s not like you, he must’ve really ruined this for you.” He grumbled, clearly disturbed by your uncharacteristic nonchalance but still desperately trying to keep a conversation.

“It’s still me, it’s definitely me.” You admit, feeling anything but yourself.

“Hm,” he responds, making his way to the bar but not before giving you a look that says: ‘stay put’.

You oblige with his silent request, despite the ever-growing need to run away from peering eyes. When he comes back with two drinks, you don’t bother asking him what’s in it before taking a long swig.

“Woah, no cheers?” He says, still joking but now visibly concerned. You are an adult. Free to drink as you please. But this, none of this, felt like you.

“I’m not supposed to be here,” You admit, letting the ‘liquid courage’ soar through you, or at the very least, the placebo effect of it.

“I’m me and Tooru is Tooru...you know what I mean.” You croak out, unable to say the words you felt pathetic just thinking about.

Why is he with me?

“What.” Iwaizumi blurts out, his tone more pissed off than questioning.

“Dude, he sucks.” Iwaizumi continues bluntly, face forming into a scowl at the mere thought of his oldest friend.

You laugh just a little, tired around the edges, before sighing out a response, “I’m being serious.”

“So am I.” He says, meeting your gaze head-on. His eyes are steady, voice firm. And the confidence in them, in you, is so fierce it makes your skin prickle with goosebumps.

“You know he’s had a lot of girlfriends,” he starts, and you can’t stop your eyes from rolling.

“God, you too Hajime?” You groan, going to chug the rest of your drink before his hand gently catches your wrist.

“Let me finish,” he grunts out, clearly annoyed at your impatience.

“He’s had a lot of girlfriends, but this is the first time he’s had a fiancée.” He says, clearly still trying to console you.

There's a beat of silence. And then two. You can’t rationalize why his words anger you more than comfort. So what? First doesn’t mean you’d be the last. And if you knew anything about Oikawa is that he never settled for the first option. Only the best. And you were starting to feel like anything but.

“Yeah, that’s exactly the problem,” you whimper out and he lets go immediately, as if he had felt your skin catch fire.

You feel your lip tremble as you tighten your grip on the glass before speaking your next words.

“Why me?” You manage to strangle out, voice barely audible, but you can tell he heard you from the way his eyebrows furrow together.

“Hey,” he starts, hand going to your shoulder to steady you, but his touch feels cold. You feel cold. It was like you weren’t even wearing skin anymore, as if it had all burnt off from the shame of admitting you didn't really feel chosen.

“Sorry, please forget I said anything.” You mumble out, taking a deep breath before finishing the rest of your drink. You hold up the empty glass for him to see, “Do you mind? I could really use a refill.” You say, sweet and strained, but he seems to understand what you really need: space.

He takes the glass from your fingertips and, without another word, leaves you just as you had started. Lost in a sea of people, you either didn’t know or only knew through mutual friends.

Deciding you had had enough mingling for now, you waded through the crowd silently, blending in effortlessly as you made your way to the balcony. You’ve never been so grateful for Oikawa’s extravagance, which was now your only chance at escape.

You open and close the door quickly, feeling your skin prickle at the cool night air. You inhale and exhale deeply, letting relief wash over you as you finally stop hearing the murmuring of festive attendees.

Sure, you feel a little guilty leaving a party meant to celebrate you and your love. Nonetheless, you just needed a moment to yourself, away from the clinking of glasses and the feeling of being an outsider looking in. The whole night had just been exhausting.

You were just so exhausted.

Exhausted from smiling until your cheeks hurt. Exhausted of pretending like you loved being the center of attention, and the subtle digs that came with it. Exhausted from convincing yourself that loving someone so bright wouldn’t eventually burn you out.

You lean against the balcony railing at that last thought, pressing your hands to the cold metal as you peer over to the bottom. Its chillness steadies you for a moment, while your eyes absentmindedly trace the skyline. Little by little, you start to feel yourself come back down from the edge you had pushed yourself to.

The muffled laughter behind thick walls brings you back to the reality, though, just for a moment. The sound should be comforting, but instead, it almost feels hollow. Like a symphony of torment drawing out your deepest fears.

Normally, Tooru would be the one to ground you without a word. Still, how could you explain everything without sounding like you were blaming him or like you were bringing up the past? You feel your eyes burn as your frustration with yourself reaches a crescendo. Hopefully, you could get your act together before he noticed you were gone.

As if on cue, a soft knock on the glass door behind you pulls you out of your fog.

You tense up, not turning just yet. You already knew who it was; no one else knocks like he does. Gentle, hesitant, but unwilling to let his presence go unknown.

“Can I please come out?” His voice is low, stifled by the glass. When you do turn, you can’t help a small smile from tugging at your lips at the sight you’re met with.

Tooru, with his forehead pressed against the glass, eyes glossed over like a puppy’s. He perks up when your eyes meet, hand going to turn the doorknob as you nod in confirmation.

Even during your lowest moments, you couldn’t deny him, not when he was being this cute.

You watch as he slips through the doorway, shutting it quietly behind him like he’s afraid any sudden movement might scare you off. His eyes search your face immediately, trying to read what you’re feeling without making you say it out loud.

“You disappeared,” he says, voice softer now, careful in a way that makes your chest ache.

You don’t answer right away, or even look at him. “Just for a little.”

Despite your unwillingness to meet his gaze again, you still feel his eyes on you. Searching for something you were desperate to hide.

“I should’ve come after you sooner, I’m sorry.” He adds, taking responsibility for something he didn’t explicitly name.

You shrug, finally looking into his eyes but the way your stomach squeezes when you do has them darting away just as fast. “You were busy.” You mumble out, slightly wincing at how unconvincing the words sound.

“That’s not an excuse.” His voice sharpens, not with annoyance, but rather guilt. “Not when you looked like you were drowning out there.”

You close your eyes at his words. Why did he have to say it like that? You sometimes hated how he seemed to have a finger in every fold of your brain, ready to speak the words you were only just thinking.

You don’t respond for a moment, feeling a little too raw despite how comforting his presence normally is.

“I didn’t even get to show you my dancing skills,” he says after a beat, trying to be light, but it lands somewhere between awkward and earnest. “I was gonna challenge you to a dance off. It was gonna be real romantic.”

You huff out something that could almost pass for a laugh. “That would’ve made me disappear for real.”

“Hey, don't joke about that,” he says, and the sudden seriousness in his tone surprises you.

You glance back at him, eyebrows pinching. He looks…nervous. Nothing like the entertainer you had seen dazzling guests moments earlier. He had that same look he wore when he proposed with shaking hands and the most un-Oikawa-like stumble of words.

“I thought I lost you tonight,” he admits, voice cracking on the last word.

You blink. “What?”

He steps closer, slowly like you’d run away any moment. He can’t see the way the cogs in your head stopped turning, unable to process his words entirely. “Everyone kept making comments, and I thought—I thought you were finally seeing it. That I waited too long, that I’m too much that, that...I’m not good enough for someone like you.”

“Someone like me?” you ask, brows drawing together, “Everyone was saying they were surprised you were still with me—”

He interrupts you with a small chuckle, one that turns into a deep belly laugh. The way he's smiling has your ears burning with embarrassment and clicking your tongue. When finally he notices your pouty expression his own softens.

“No. No, they weren’t saying that. They were saying they didn’t know how you were still here. With me. Everyone here is genuinely surprised I hadn’t scared you off yet with how crazy I can get.”

The words hit you like a wave, warm and sudden. Unlike the tsunami that almost crushed you earlier in the evening. You turn fully toward him, noticing the way the city lights paint his face in soft golds and moving shadows.

“You,” you start, but your voice dies in your throat. “You’re not too much.” You finish meekly, but it’s laced with sincerity.

He steps closer until he’s right in front of you, gently tugging your hand away from the railing to hold it between both of his. His fingers smooth over the band on your ring finger, lips twitching upwards at the feeling of the massive diamond perched on top. A small part of you wonders how he can still be so cocky even during such intimate moments.

“I think about you constantly. I talk about you even more. Every person I’ve ever known has told me I’m annoying. Hajime told me if I didn’t tone it down a bit, I’d freak you out and then, then you’d leave me.” He blurts out, voice shaky and so unlike the man who had just been smirking at your ring.

You blink again, stunned. “You’re scared of me leaving?”

His lips twitch upward, but there’s no humor in it. “I’ve never cared about someone like this. If I’m being honest, I’m actually pretty terrified.”

You pause for a moment. And then another. You try and take it all in; his vulnerable expression, your complete misunderstanding. How he felt like too much, and you, like not enough. Both desperate to keep the other around.

For the first time that night, you smile, a genuine one that makes Tooru’s eyebrows raise in a hopeful way. You then go rub at your eyes, desperate to soothe the burning behind them because, despite your initial relief, you had failed to see him the way he had seen you.

“Please don’t cry.” He whispers, hands going to curl around both your wrists gently.

You move your hands away from your face, looking up at him through watery eyes. You feel like an idiot having him comfort you when you hadn’t even noticed he’d been drowning too.

“I’m sorry for being selfish.” You say and now it’s his turn to smile, a confused but amused one.

“Isn’t that supposed to be my line?” He says cheekily, pulling you closer by the wrists as you happily oblige to his warm touch.

“But seriously, don’t apologize. Thanks for putting up with me for so long.” He mumbles into your hair before giving your head a gentle kiss, as if making a silent vow to himself.

You hum in response, making a move to wrap your arms around his torso as he greedily accepts more of you into his arms.

“I promise I won’t disappear again.” You say, glancing toward the balcony door and the party still pulsing behind it. The night was still young, and you felt strangely refreshed. Renewed even. ‘I tend to have that effect on people,’ Oikawa had teased once. It used to annoy you, and it still did, mostly because it was true.

For a second, neither of you speaks, simply relishing in each other's presence. The wind suddenly picks up a little, tugging some loose hair strands around your face, and he reaches to tuck them behind your ear as if on instinct.

“I promise you won’t regret being mine.” He says, hand going from your ear to cup your cheek, his eyes steeled with a newfound resolve, similar to the one you had seen on tv all those years ago. You were his newfound obsession, someone he willingly devoted all his time and passion to with a cheeky glee. Your Tooru.

[jarofstyles]

The Favor 13

I know it's taken a million years. I'm so sorry my ducklings. but the good news is that it's here! I hope you love it.

The Favor Masterlist

Check out our Patreon for early access to the next part up now and over 260 exclusive writings! (Sign up on your web browser to save $$)

WC- around 3.5k (next part is way longer)

Warnings- dom/sub dynamic, spanking, gagging, knife used in kinky way (briefly), edging, ,pain kink, he's a cutie pie, etc etc etc

----

Having Harry as her official boyfriend was weird. In a good way, of course! But it was something she was getting used to. 

She had spent plenty of days longing for this sort of relationship. Longing for him, honestly, considering he had shown her the sort of attention she had been craving since she could conceptualize it, only to have obstacles make it seem impossible. Self inflicted obstacles, but still challenges nonetheless. 

The terror of the unknown, the realization of the fact she wasn’t in love with her now ex boyfriend and only there out of routine and a self made obligation, the nerves over thinking Harry wasn’t actually into her and instead just teaching her out of pity- all of it had been things that were a bit self explanatory but she had gotten there eventually. 

Breaking up with Danny and leaning into the man who had shown her how she should been treated had been the best thing she ever did, because now she had Harry. 

It was still a bit to get used to, though. It wasn’t a bad thing at all, but having someone so attentive had been a bit of a culture shock. He was so kind, so sweet, checking in on her multiple times a day to make sure she was happy, doting on her when they were together, and doing things that Danny had never even thought of doing. That included taking her car to the car wash for her while she slept in, then coming back to make her breakfast all in the same weekend of them becoming officially exclusive.

One thing that got her in particular, though, was when she was at work and got a text from him saying he was outside. Danny had never visited her at work even when she had asked him to, and Harry was doing it unprompted. 

Talk about a full 180. 

H: Hi, sweetheart. I hope I’m not too late but I’m outside. I thought I could get you some lunch x 

Y/N: Really?? 🥺

H: There is nothing I’d like more. I’m in the lot, but I can come up if you’d like. 

Y/N: I’ll come down to see you!!! Be right there. 

The vision of him leaning against his car in a blazer and trousers nearly got her weak in the knees, but the giddiness in her body nearly had her bouncing over there with a smile so wide it nearly hurt. It only got bigger as she saw him perk up at the sight of her. 

With no hesitation, she walked into his arms that quickly wound around her body, inhaling the scent of him as she hugged him tight. Monday’s were particularly difficult days for her and he knew that now. It shouldn’t surprise her how thoughtful he was after spending so long getting to know him, but it still did. “Hi.” The muffled greeting in his shirt made him chuckle, slowly peeling her back so he could hold her cheek. 

“Hello, gorgeous.” He spoke lightly, tapping his thumb over her lips. “You alright?” 

“Mhm. Now.” She puckered her lips to kiss his thumb, making his eyes narrow playfully at her. It was thrilling just having him here, but getting to be given affection so openly was something she had been looking forward to with him. The majority of the time with their prior arrangement, she’d been fighting off the urge to cling- and now he was more than encouraging it. It made him happy; even! 

“Want that answer t’be always good, my sweet. But we’ll work on it.” Removing his thumb, he replaced it with a soft press of his lips. And another, and another as Y/N leaned into him. “Mm.. my sweet girl.” He sighed against her lips, something dreamy in his tone. “Could do this all day, but I can hear your belly rumbling from here. S’time to get you some good food. Know you barely ate this morning.”

That had partially been his fault, though. They’d gotten distracted in their riveting conversation last night and she had forgotten to set her alarm, which made a mad dash for the door with an apple in her mouth like an afterschool sitcom where the family has elaborate breakfast set up and the character chooses the opposite. She’d always thought breakfast had been more important than school- but not her job, it seemed. 

“I know. I’m sorry.” The apology was sincere. Harry had told her how much it meant to him that they looked after her health. It meant him providing the resources and her using them. It had been one of his rules. “M’sorry, sir.” 

His demeanor shifted slightly as he gave a squeeze to her jaw, nodding down at her. “Know you are, m’good girl. Didn’t mean to. But we’ve got to work on that, yeah?” Y/N’s mind was scrambled and she genuinely forgot to eat sometimes. It wasn’t a problem or a conscious decision, rather an oversight until her tummy hurt and she realized she hadn’t properly eaten. 

He was adamant that her vanilla iced coffee was not ‘breakfast.’ Only slightly less irritated when she used her protein drink as a creamer. 

The use of the praised nickname had her relaxing slightly, nodding in agreement. “We’ll work on it. Promise.” She waited a moment before requesting her want. “‘Nother kiss, please.” 

His demeanor softened, smile tilting on her lips as he leaned forward to give her what she wanted. 

That whole thing was something else she was getting used to. How easily the dynamic flowed in and out. It wasn’t 24/7 in the way she expected, no, but it was better. He took a stronger hand when he felt it necessary, and she realized afterwards that it had been exactly what she needed. His dominant side was definitely present a lot but not in the glaringly obvious way, like when they were doing a scene. It was an undercurrent, the energy rising up if she disturbed the surface or needed some guidance. 

Even more than that, it was more check in with her emotion than she had ever experienced in her life. Every day, multiple times a day, he made sure she was okay. Happy. If she wasn’t, doing what he could to talk through it and see why. 

They’d only been an official couple for less than a month, and Harry had shown her more patience and emotional understanding than she’d experienced in her years long relationship. It was why she believed more and more that there was such a thing as right person, right time. 

Harry did as he usually did, opening her car door and making sure she was settled before running back to his side. It was the little things like that that had her wondering why she had settled for so long. Harry was her ideal. As much as she tried not to romanticize him in her head, it was really fucking hard when he was as good as he was. 

“What did you want t’have?” The large expanse of his hand settled on her thigh, curling around it like he owned it. He did. She knew it, he knew it, and that seemed to make her melt just a little bit more as she tried to think of an answer to his question. 

“Do you want to try that taco place I saw on-“

“If you say tiktok, M’gonna spank you here and now.” Harry groaned, partially kidding- and partially not. He was what Y/N jokingly referred to as a ‘metaphorical boomer’ when it came to that specific app. While she was sure he didn’t exactly hate it all, she did know he hated misinformation and it seemed he couldn’t get past the few times he’d heard of the instances of that. Hard headedness was one of his traits Y/N was more aware of now. 

“Is that a threat or a promise?” Her grin was coy, but she did love a spanking. Truth be told, she probably didn’t get enough of them. Harry had gone a little soft on her lately but she was having her fun. Part of her wondered if it was because of how they were learning to navigate an actual relationship but she knew he still was very eager to be a Dom when the situation called for it. 

“Don’t be a brat.” He grunted, pinching the soft skin of her thigh and making her yelp. The fabric covering it did nothing to help the little sting. He’d be well aware that the action itself would make her a little wet as it was. Pain was a motivator, she was also finding out. 

The last month had been an very interesting time of discovery. 

“Or what?”

——

Y/N was squirming. 

Harry was well aware, but he chose to ignore it as he put some tapatio onto his lunch, humming under his breath. As it turned out, Y/N did enjoy showing a little bit of brat- and he had taken matters into his own hands. 

Her ass still stinging a bit was one of the most beautiful and infuriating displays of the power she had ever experienced. 

“Hands on the wall.” It was probably nasty, but she did it immediately. The bathroom at the restaurant was absolutely not the time or place to be flexing this dynamic- but she had asked for it. She’d been calling his bluff just a little bit and he had decided she’d had enough coddling. One too many smart comments he’d let go of in the last few days, trying to give her some room to be a bit disobedient… but it was obvious to him that she longed to be the good little sub she had always been meant to be. 

It how quick she had obeyed, it was even more obvious that this was the exact thing she needed. “Stand still. Do not move, I don’t want to accidentally get you.”

“With what-“ Y/N froze as she heard the flip she knew all too well. The pocket knife he always kept on him. More like a multi tool, with a bottle opener and a screwdriver that folded into it- but that didn’t matter to her. Feeling the brush of cool metal against the hot skin of her inner thighs, she couldn’t help but shudder. 

Of course the man laughed. “Yeah. Y’know what.” He chuckled, letting it turn into a warm hum as she caught herself before pushing back into him. “Don’t get too excited, pet.” His voice was syrupy and deep and she just wanted to melt into a puddle- filthy bathroom be damned. “M’not going to fuck you. Honestly, you don’t deserve it today. Not with how much of a brat you’ve been.” 

Damn it. It felt like she had gotten her favorite treat taken away, a sad sigh replacing the way she wanted to protest. “I’m Sorry, sir.”  Was what came out instead of the ‘you haven’t fucked me in three days and I want you to ruin me, please don’t take your cock away.’ She had wanted to say.

“Are you?” He tapped the flat side of the blade against her hip bone, yanking the bottom of the shirt up. “Because you’re been a brat. So rude t’me. Mumbling when I ask you something. Huffing when you don’t get your way… even spent half the day not answering my message when I asked you want y’wanted for dinner.” His tongue clicked as his free hand brushed her hair out of her face, knowing it was falling from the way her head was tilted forward. 

“I know.” She sighed, heart feeling a little fuller from how he’d taken care of her comfort. Even if she was being punished, he made sure she was alright. 

“Yeah. You’ve been doing it on purpose. Thought something may be up, but I don’t think you were lying t’me about feeling fine. So I figured it must be something you aren’t sure of talking to me about yet.” He paused. “Is it because I have t’go away to grab that book next month?” His tone softened, gathering her hair in his hand. “I don’t think that’s what it is, but give me a yes or no.”

“No.” 

“Mm. So…. Do you think I’ve been going a bit too easy on you?” His lips brushed her ear, breath washing over the more sensitive skin underneath it. “Because I was trying t’be nice, you know. Give us time to develop our relationship outside of all of this…. But it’s a part of our relationship, isn’t it?” 

“Yes.” She swallowed thickly, eyes fluttering shut as the hum of agreement sent vibrations through her. “I… I don’t even know how to say what it is.”

“Then we figure it out together. Even if you don’t have the words, I may know the feeling. Y’can’t bottle shit up like that.” With an ease that took her by surprise, she felt the metal slip up and under the waistband of her panties and straight through it. The quick sound of the cut had her gasping. “Shh. You’ve been wanting to keep your mouth shut about this, so you need to practice that skill while I give you a reminder of why you shouldn’t.” Another slice, the cool air hitting her cunt as he gripped the fabric in his hand. 

“We will need to have a conversation on what you want the mix to truly be with this as a staple of our relationship. I love it. Want you in any way you want me t’have you. But we’re not going to do it now.” His voice turned firm. Dark. The voice that had her understanding he was in charge, he was her dominant right now. Not just her boyfriend. “Open your mouth.” 

Y/N hadn’t been sure what the purpose had been- but she had her mouth full of the panties he had just cut off before she could think twice. 

“Need t’keep you quiet. You’re loud and fussy.” His hand smoothed over her ass, giving it a rough squeeze as he let out a sigh of admiration. “Such a shame you chose to be a brat instead of talkin’ to me. You want me to hold your leash a little tighter, pet?” He let his fingertips dig into the soft flesh, surely to cause bruises as she let out a whimpered moan muffled by the panties. The nod was hesitant, but truthful. She did was a tighter leash. It was so much easier that way.

“Fine. Since you’re fuckin’ with our communication rule, M’gonna punish you.” He gave her thigh a little swat, making her jerk. “Try and keep quiet. Don’t move those hands off the wall. And don’t be fuckin’ greedy. To you understand, pet?” Harry repeated it after she nodded in agreement. “Need to color out? Stomp your foot or hit the wall three times. Don’t care if it’s a punishment, don’t want you to hurt that bad.” 

Y/N was dripping at the mere thought of it- but when she felt his hand stripe across her ass? She nearly came. Pathetic, yes, but she had missed it. Craved it. It was a shame his rings had been tucked into his pocket because god, would she loved that bird of pain. But it wasn’t up to her- this was his punishment to dish out. 

Her job was to take it. 

It was humiliating in a sense, acting out and needing a spanking- taking a spanking- in a bathroom in public. Panties in her mouth getting soaked in her spit and muffling the little squeak that tried to get out of her. 

“That’s one. You’re getting 20.” 

Each one melted her a bit more. The slap of his hot palm against her increasingly hot skin… the prickles, the cool breeze stinging her skin? It had her fall farther into it. Yes. She needed to talk to him. Make him understand she needed this more often. She didn’t want to have to be a complete brat just to get him to do this- though the trill was quite nice. 

Her cunt was pulsing. Dripping. She could feel it against her thighs as her body moved from the impact of his hand. The gurgled moan was hidden away, but he didn’t mind giving her a reminder. “Said to shut the fuck up, Puppy. Keep quiet.”  The message was sealed with a spanking.

It nearly made her cum. 

She needed him now. At number twenty, she felt his hand slip between her legs and get slick with her, a sigh of disappointment. Giving her cunt a quick little set of taps, he pulled his hand away- and from what she could hear- lick it clean. “Such a shame to waste this.” He hummed, reaching for her spit soaked panties and pulling them out of her mouth. “But I need you to eat.” 

“What?” Her pulse was thundering from pure need, but he was pulling her arms from the wall and leading her towards the sink to wash her hands. “But I… I took it. And you felt….” She looked at him in confusion. “Aren’t we gonna…” his cock was hard. She could see it here. He could tell, a shake of his head making him smile. 

“Oh, no. The spanking isn’t the only part of the punishment, pet.” He laughed. “I know how much you love them. Knew you get wet and achy. The punishment is, you’re going to sit out there and be aching and horny. I’ll drop you back at work and when you come home, I’ll take care of it.” He said it so matter of fact, like it didn’t nearly take her to her knees. 

So badly, she wanted to beg. Plead. But after being punished… she didn’t want to push it. Silently washing her hands, she watched him gather up some napkins to clean her stickiness up before righting her skirt back to where it belonged. “I’m sorry, Daddy.” She repeated. 

“Know you are, my sweet girl.” He was back to half and half. Half boyfriend, half dom behavior. “You’re amazing. Take everything so well. I’ve got some salve in my car that we’ll put on before y’go back into work.” 

——

He was acting unaffected, as if he wasn’t hard and tucked away. She wanted to glare at him, but he had a weird sense of attitude that a mother had when their kids said a cuss word under their breath. 

“Had t’ask you something.” Harry asked, breaking the silence. It perked her up, feeling embarrassingly needy for some more attention. “The club is having an event night next week. Wanted t’know if you’d want to go.” 

They hadn’t brought up the club since they’d gotten together. At first, she was curious if maybe he felt like he didn’t want to share her to anyone else’s eyes for a bit- but she didn’t know much about how often people went. She’d been wanting to go back really badly, but hadn’t had the balls to ask. “Yeah, that would be fun.” Her smile got a little bigger. “What the event?”

“S’a serious of events. It’s…” he looked around the place. “Probably a better car discussion for what it’s. A little out there.” He gave her a little wink, making her fluster. It had to be filthy considering he usually didn’t shy away from things in public… and that excited her. 

“Oh, wow.” She cleared her throat, squeezing her thighs together again. Fucker. He did it on purpose. “Okay. We can talk about it in the car, but I’d love to go. I had fun last time.” Being able to fall into that space in her mind had been a good time. 

“Alright, sweetheart.” He pushed her foot with his own. “Finish your food, please. Need to keep your energy up for tonight, mm?”

[agentlizardofowca]

Short fic: Winifred Fletcher beats up Mrs Doofenshmirtz

That's it, that's the fic. Established relationship, takes place after the show. Enjoy.

----

It was his birthday. Heinz was turning 50, and because he was turning 50, this birthday was a big deal. 

His 49th birthday had been simple, easy. A piece of cake and an afternoon spent with Perry. Vanessa had visited and handed him a present: One of those phone case handheld thingies that he could play with. A few people had rung their doorbell to shake his hand and congratulate him. By the time dinner rolled around, everything was back to normal.

But not this year. Fifty was a big number! But anyone who said that just made him feel impossibly old. 

Heinz never would’ve guessed he would hold out this long; even as a teen, he assumed he'd die tragically. A few times his life had flashed before his eyes, like when he was trapped under that boulder, the night Charlene took Vanessa and left for real, and the first time he sat on a self-destruct button. But here he was: losing his hair, with a sore back, but breathing and happier than he'd been in years. The big five-oh.

The Flynn-Fletchers had insisted on a real party, but Heinz was very reluctant. Eventually, there was some sort of compromise, and now their house was stuffed with more people than they had seats. Their visitors didn't mind; Groups of neighbours stood around eating cake and the kids all agreed they’d rather be outside than in. 

Someone had invited Roger, who made polite conversation with his reluctant brother for five minutes before he'd disappeared into the crowd to go kiss some stranger's baby or something.

"Heinz, ol' boy! Who would’ve thought you'd be an old geezer in such a jiffy!"

He turned towards the strange noise and came face to face with Reginald Fletcher, Perry's adoptive father, and a man with such a strange and unusual English accent that he wondered how people even understood the man. Beside him was his wife Winifred, smiling pleasantly.

"Reg, Winnie", Heinz smiled and offered them his hand. "Thank you so much for coming. You only have a few days here in the states, I'm sure there are many things you'd rather do." 

"Nonsense! Winnie loves a good party, don't you, dear? Besides, our Perry's man only turns fifty once, right? I remember when I was a spry young lad like you!" 

"To celebrate, he walked a tightrope across the Thames," Winifred agreed.

"Well, my balance has never been that good," Heinz chuckled, suddenly afraid that people expected him to do something, since this was his party. He didn’t know if there were rules for something like that.

"A slice of cake seems like a great alternative." Winifred agreed. "Our Perry wouldn't like you if you did silly things like that. He needs someone a bit more laid back." 

"If there's one thing I'm good at, it's lying back." Heinz chuckled, only realising that sounded vaguely sexual when it was too late to change the course of that sentence.

Winifred didn't seem to mind though, she cackled loudly. "Oh, I'm sure you do!" 

Heinz would've been embarrassed if his new mother-in-law hadn't seemed absolutely delighted by his little mistake. Reg was smiling too, but more so at his wife's delight than anything else. It made Heinz hopeful that he and Perry could also be content together when they grew old. Perhaps there was a way to save his dignity once Winifred stopped laughing, but it was probably easiest to just let it go and enjoy the joke for what it was. "Did Perry get you a drink?" 

"Not yet," Reginald explained. "We just got here, and we wanted to congratulate you first." 

"Well, I can get Perry to get you something," Heinz hated hosting. Honestly, he would just as happily shove everybody in this house out the door right now, but Perry's parents were kind to him from the start, and also old, so they probably needed caffeine or something, right? He turned to scan the crowd for Perry's bright teal hair, but instead, he turned and startled, and almost shouted. "AH!" 

His mother was in his house. And she was right in front of him. Her face was as stoic as always, and she didn’t seem very enthused to be here.

"Ah. Heinz," She said. "There you are." 

"Mother!" Heinz almost stuttered, but he knew she disapproved of that. "You came to visit? On my birthday?" She had never done that before.

"Heinz," His mother replied coolly. "Have you seen Roger?"

He sighed and looked around the room. Perhaps if he could include his brother in the conversation, that would help him somehow. "I think he's outside."

His mother was about to reply to that when Winifred took this as the opportune moment to introduce herself. "You must be Heinz's mother?" She interrupted. "I am Winifred, I am Perry's mother." 

Mother Doofenshmirtz allowed her hand to be shaken. Unimpressed, she looked the other woman up and down. "Pleasure," She lied.

"I don't believe we've met before, but it was only a matter of time after my Perry snatched up your son, right?" 

"Perry?" Heinz's mother replied distantly. "Oh yes, his little friend." 

"Little, that sure is an apt description of our Perry," Reginald chuckled, unaware of the general mood of the conversation, which had plummeted to awkward almost instantly.

"Friend?" Winifred parrotted. "That seems like an old-fashioned type of description."

"Well, I suppose I am old-fashioned, then." The other woman replied curtly. "If Heinz-" 

"Oh look, Mother!" said son interrupted, his voice higher-pitched than usual and quite loud. "Roger is right over there! Let me just-" And he moved as if he was about to guide his mother away from the conversation.

"Heinz dear, hold this for me, will you?" Winifred said instead, and she handed Heinz her handbag, which was so much heavier than he expected that he almost toppled over.

“Careful there, Lad. Winnie brought her prize-winning fruit cake. You don’t want to smush that.” Reginald helped steady him, but didn’t even attempt to take the bag from his hands. “The price is that it’s the heaviest fruitcake in the world.”

“I can tell,” Heinz gasped as he clutched the bag to his chest like a bag of rocks. “It’s really quite impressive.” 

“There are over twenty apples in that thing.” Reginald was very obviously proud of his wife, who was long-nose, to long-nose with Heinz’s mother at the moment. His mother, whom Heinz had failed to remove from the conversation. To make things worse, Roger hadn’t even been in the corner he pointed out, he just wanted to avoid whatever this conversation was going to be. No matter what his mother was going to say next, it wouldn’t paint him in a good light, and Heinz truly wanted Perry’s parents to like him.

“Now, you’ll have to excuse me. My hearing aids need tuning.” Winifred said in the overly polite tone British women used when they wanted nothing more than to call someone a bad word. “But I believe you were saying something about your son.” 

“I was saying,” The other woman replied in a tone like hellfire. “That if Heinz wants to pretend to have found love in your sodomist son, then he can do that. But he won’t be convincing me that this is about anything but perverse gratification!” 

“My son, the what?” Winifred asked, mostly angered by the other woman, but also finding the situation just a little bit funny.

Instead of answering the other woman, Mother Doofenshmirtz turned to her son and announced, “You know I don’t approve of whatever this vulgar choice of yours is. You can dress it up with a cute little house, and invite everybody for a little birthday party, but you know you’re disgusting and-”

“Disgusting?!” Winifred shouted, loud enough that the party around them fell silent as they noticed the commotion. “That is your son, right there! And you believe you can talk to him like that!” 

“If you like him so much, you can have him! He’s been nothing but a thorn in my side for fifty years!” Mrs Doofenshmirtz replied with eye contact as if she was trying to prove something.

Heinz watched his mother say this without even glancing his way. She said it as if he weren’t even there, because she didn’t care. She never had. “Mother, the party-” He interjected, but his voice came out too sad and pathetic to be heard over the jaunty music that still played over the stereo.

“Reginald, hold my glasses!” Winifred took them off, folded them and handed her delicate frames to her husband, who was ready to accept them as if he was waiting for this.

“I’ve got your glasses dear, kick her ass.” 

“Oh, believe me, I will!” 

And then Heinz was too confused, amazed, and flabbergasted to be sad, because Winifred Fletcher, 74 years of age, and usually nothing but polite and friendly, shoved his mother to the floor with a swing of her arm and then continued to pummel her with great pleasure.

Unsure of what to do, Heinz just stood there, clutching the dear woman’s purse to his chest, and watching as she single-handedly managed to ruin his mother’s eternally tight hair bun.

Beside him, Reginald was shadow boxing along, hooting and hollering to his wife what she should do next.

“Oh dear,” Someone said on the other side of him. “Dad, why is my mummy punching Heinz’s elderly mother?” Lawrence had caught wind of the situation and came to investigate, but just like everybody else, he did not seem ready to intervene. 

“Mother? Mother! Heinz’s, do something!” Roger also appeared from somewhere in the crowd, and unlike all the other people, who had gathered around to watch two old women roll over the floor as they attempted to snatch each other’s earrings, he immediately jumped in to try and separate them. All he managed to do was that he got scratched in the face, and three red lines appeared along his cheek. “Oh, my god! Mother!”

“heh.” A raspy chuckle, barely loud enough to be heard over the noise of the fight.

Heinz turned, finding that his boyfriend, the sodomist, had also noticed the disturbance. “Perry the platypus, your mother just bit my mother!” 

Perry seemed reluctant to look away from the fight, but he managed to; his expression was a lot less severe than the situation warranted. In fact, if he could, Perry probably would’ve been hooting and hollering along with his dad.

“Perry, lad, I think it’s time we intervene before someone loses an earring, or an eye!” Lawrence announced. “I’ll clear the way, but you grab her. My back, you know.” 

Heinz did not know for sure, but he recognised a poor excuse when he heard one; Lawrence wasn’t confident he could come out the other side of this fight unscathed.

Speaking of scathed, Roger was still trying to extract their mother, but like Winifred, his mother didn’t seem too keen on stopping this violence, even though it was becoming quite clear that she was not winning.

With more bravery than any other man in this room, Perry inserted himself between the two bickering grannies and managed to push his mother to the one side, and Mrs Doofenshmirtz to the other. Quickly, Roger heaved his mother upright; her hair was a wild mess, her lip had split, and a bruise was already blooming across her chin, but she wasn’t giving up. As Roger pulled her, against her will, towards the front of the house, she struggled and huffed. “I’ll get you, Fotze! You’re dead! Fick dich!”

“Here’s a tip! Mother to Mother!” Winifred replied, also dishevelled and bleeding from her nose, but proud and clearly victorious. “If your son likes bumming, that’s fine! You should try it sometime, maybe it’ll help you be less of a stuck up bitch!”

“Fick dich ins Knie!” Heinz heard his mother reply before Roger finally managed to work her out of the house.

As the door slammed shut behind them, the room fell completely silent. The entire party watched the door for a moment, as if Mrs Doofenshmirtz was about to burst back in and continue the fight.

“Well,” Winnie announced, and she adjusted her dress back into place. “Your mother surely is an interesting woman, but if you’re ever in need of some real motherly love, feel free to call me Heinz. I may not be perfect, but I’ll surely do a better job than that manky munter.” 

“...What?” Heinz replied, still trying to progress the situation.

“Congratulations, boy,” Reginald agreed. “You’re our son now. Look, honey. He has your nose!” 

“Perry, I’ve been here for a solid fifteen minutes, and I haven’t had a spot of tea yet. Are you trying to kill your poor old mother?” Winifred then laughed happily, as if there wasn’t fresh blood under her fingernails.

“Perry, you never told me you took after your mother,” Heinz joked, because he honestly wasn’t sure what else to say. He wasn’t even sure if he was mad about what had just happened; he had a feeling he was smiling, but he wasn’t really sure why, or how to stop. 

「Happy Birthday,」 Perry replied instead. He was also smiling.

[i-2hoon]

enhypen & their kinks

pairings ᱖ enhypen x gn!reader (implied male)

warnings ᱖ explicit content, implied male reader but mostly gn, some slightly concerning dynamics (power dynamics etc), descriptions of certain kinks, breeding, mentions of fwb/non-committal relationships, anything i forgot..

important notes ᱖ hello everyone naku here. sorry for not responding to a lot of requests, unfortunately i do not have the energy to write full fics. i will get to them eventually but not too soon, so heres this while you wait! in the meantime, please please PLEASE suggest prompts for drabbles, reactions, or headcanons!

heeseung 이희승 : possession

this is rather niche, however i imagine heeseung is a possessive man. regardless of whether you two are in a committed relationship or a weird non-committal friends with benefits type relationship, it doesnt matter. the quickest way to get him riled up is to moan his name while making out, or to tell him that you only think of him. the confirmation that only he makes you feel this good is just an ego boost—and a libido one too. one mention of how you belong to him, and his dick is hard all over again. this causes him to enjoy smaller things: marking you, scratches down his back, moans and whispers of his name, pda, etc etc.

jay 박정성 : dollification

another perhaps niche one. whether youre a guy or a girl, jay simply has a thing for dressing you up and fucking you dumb. wear pretty lingerie for him (particularly in pastel colors) and youve got him fucked up. he enjoys doing small acts of service such as helping you tie your shoes, or brushing your hair for you. it only makes it better when he can do these things knowing hes going to ruin them at the end of the night. of course, he acknowledges that youre an independent person and he loves that as well. however, when it cones to your sex lives, he loves the control he has when he teases or fucks you brainless to the point youd do everything he asks.. or, even better, you cant do anything for yourself.

jake 심재윤 : breeding

now this one is a bit more classic, and a pretty common idea. however i think that jakes biggest kink is breeding. especially when he doms, he adores seeing the mess hes made of you flushed, covered in his cum, and barely able to breathe. you mention fucking raw? his pants are already somewhere across the room before you could finish that sentence. one of his favorite things to do is finish inside you, whispering how pretty you look as he pushes any that escapes back into you with two fingers. solely to tease you, hed lick his fingers afterwards; the taste of you mixed with himself makes him melt within your grasp. its not even the idea of you being pregnant or anything of the sort, assuming that that in itself is most likely impossible. he just loves seeing you marked in his own special way: his cum leaking out of you with a blissed out expression on your face.

sunghoon 박성훈 : choking

i think that power dynamics in general are sunghoons biggest turn ons, but impact and choking are the quickest ways to get him to completely lose himself in front of you. whenever sunghoon subs or bottoms, he tends to be a bit more of a brat. theres one way to shut him up: wrap your fingers around his neck. the lack of oxygen and the sudden demand for control would have his head spinning. sunghoon is in general a huge fan of such dynamics, whether he subs or doms doesnt even matter at that point. just know that if you two are fighting for dominance in any way, his hand is quick to be around your throat. and knowing him? he tends to lack self-control like this, and would leave a hand-shaped bruise that lasts for days. if you did the same to him, hed show it off for weeks.

sunoo 김선우 : exhibitionism

on the topic of showing off, we all know that sunoo enjoys bragging and showing off as he pleases. dont think that this wouldnt transfer into the bedroom too. he finds that one of the most enjoyable things is showing you off; this includes teasing you in public and driving you to a point of snapping. of course, he still has a bit of dignity to protect, but theres nothing like the thrill and ego boost of letting you drag him off to a bathroom in a restaurant. at the table, hed ghost fingers up your thigh and whisper only slightly suggestive things into you ear all night. he likes to drag it on as long as he possibly can, only saying subtle things to get your mind racing and leaving it a lot to your imagination. his head starts spinning when he notices the eyebrow raises and suspicious looks from others, and the thought of getting caught with his pretty boy wrapped so easily around his finger is truly one of his favorite fantasies.

jungwon 양정원 : spit

now im aware that ive mentioned him liking intimacy and slowness in other writings, but whats more intimate than spitting into one anothers mouths? its messy and dirty, but something about the intimacy and trust in it leaves jungwon more needy than anything. lick a stripe up his jaw and hes completely and entirely yours, even moreso if you spit in his mouth while the two of you make out. sometimes he wouldnt mind doing the same, especially if he finds himself more on the dominant end. he would leave wet open mouthed kisses all over your naked body and admire you with heart eyes as he sees your skin glisten in the dim lighting. a string of spit between the two of you after kissing? well fuck, now he needs to kiss you again with double the heat.

[croworro]

Making out with Charlie in the kitchen of a friends house at a costume party with music in the background….

Charlie Slimecicle x Reader drabble: Costume Party

OH MY GOODDDD. No because the way I was just thinking about this because I saw the photo of Charlie as beast boy again!!!

I only briefly proofread this before posting so oops

Warning: making out at parties, alcohol, suggestive content

Ted had been asking you to go to this party for weeks

“You need to get out more!” He said dramatically during one of your FaceTimes

You guffawed at him, but eventually gave in once he virtually pinky promised to keep you company all night and drive you to the party

He had the biggest shit eating grin when you finally agreed

“Don’t make me regret this!” You scolded him and he held his hands up in surrender

You honestly didn’t put much thought into your costume, you had a raven costume from a Halloween in previous years that had been a hit hanging in your closet

It was the perfect mix of hot, recognizable and low effort

You paired it with dark makeup and some knee high black books, and damn diva you ate

True to his word, Ted picked you up and drove you both to the party

When you finally made it to the party it was overwhelming

The house was huge

Every inch of it was covered in Halloween decorations that honestly all together probably costed more than your rent

The house just screamed YouTuber money

As soon as you entered the house Ted disappeared, “I’ll find you later!! Byeeee!! Have fun!! Mingle!” He yelled over his shoulder as he disappeared into the crowd of people

You spent about half an hour dodging over enthusiastic partygoers, sipping on some sort of alcoholic seltzer, and attempting to make small talk over the music

You managed to make a bit of small talk with others but it was impossible to hear with the bass of the music that shook the entire house

You were starting to wonder why you let Ted drag you to this

Sure you recognized most of the people here but you weren’t particularly close to any of them

You found refuge in the empty kitchen, the only spot in the house that the bass didn’t seem to reach

You sipped on your drink and leaned against the counter

The idea of just calling an uber was becoming more and more appealing by the minute

As soon as you pulled out your phone, the kitchen door swung open

In walked Charlie, calling over his shoulder to someone in the other room as he entered the kitchen

His eyes immediately landed on you and his expression shifted to pure delight

He was dressed as beast boy, his green face paint was slightly smudged and his hair was extra messy from the green hairspray

He strode across the kitchen and stood right in front of you

“Oh my god hey! What are you doing here?” He said with a large grin, his voice a familiar mix of teasing and surprise

He didnt even notice your costume at first and was just solely zoned in on you

Because damn you looked hot

Then he realized

“OH MY GOD! You’re raven!”

He took a step back to really take in your costume

“You had to know I was gonna be beast boy!” He exclaimed and accusingly pointed a finger your way

“ totally, I hacked into your brain and planned this months ago” you replied dryly

He just laughed, the sound just so warm and effortless

“I mean I don’t blame you, I would wanna match with me too” he teased while leaning against the counter next to you

The two of you easily slip back into your familiar banter

Ted had introduced you two a while back and you had hit it off right away

Charlie was handsome, funny, and charming but at the time you had been introduced he had been in a relationship

Now that he was single, you dynamic changed

And it was especially different tonight

Might have been the costumes, maybe it was the energy of the party, or maybe it was just him

So many accidental subtle touches

Brief moments where your hands touch that makes your stomach flip

“You really pull off the whole raven vibe” he complimented during a lull of silence in the conversation

his tone was playful but his gaze lingered a moment too long causing your face to flush

A couple of people wander into the kitchen and compliment you on how great you guys look together

before you can protest Charlie pulls you closer to him by your waist and thanks them

Someone snaps a cute photo of the two of you in your pose

Once the others in the kitchen leave the atmosphere in the kitchen shifts

Charlie’s hand is still rested on your waist

He leans in a little closer to you, his voice soft

“You know, I wasn’t expecting to see you here tonight. But I’m glad you came.”

Instead of responding, you leaned in

It was a short hesitant kiss, you pulled away quickly

But before you can say anything, Charlie responds quickly

He pulls you closer with both hands on your waist kisses you, this time deepening the kiss

You pressed yourself closer to him

His hand on your waist tightened slightly and the other ghosted up to your cheek, his thumb resting gently on your skin

The kiss is a bit clumsy but overwhelming earnest, like he can’t believe this is happening

And honestly neither of you can believe that this is actually happening

Charlie turns you so your back is to the counter

The counter digs into your back as Charlie moves forward, leaving no space between your bodies

His fingers slide from your cheek to your hair, tangling in it lightly as he tilts his head for a better angle

His breath hitches slightly when your hands find their way to the back of his neck, pulling him even closer

The kiss becomes more feverish

This is the moment you both have been waiting for

His lips move against yours as if he can’t decide whether to speed up or slow down

Eventually you both break apart for air, your foreheads resting against each other as you try to catch your breath

Your hands stay firmly placed on one another

“Wow” his voice dazed and low “that was -uh- wow”

You both laugh softly

Charlie’s eyes never leave yours, he’s staring at you like you’re the only person in the world

Just as Charlie leaned in for another kiss, the sound of the kitchen door creaking open startled both of you.

You pulled back slightly "I knew it!" Ted's voice cut through the moment

"Charlie, you look like you were just attacked at a goth makeup counter”

Ted then turns and looks at you “ and you look like you’re auditioning for shrek 5”

You instinctively reach up to touch your face, realizing your fingers came away faintly green.

Your face burns with embarrassment

Charlie just shrugs and replies “what can I say Ted we just got really into character”

Ted just cringes and says something along the lines of “gross” underneath his breath before retreating from the kitchen

As soon as Ted leaves you both melt into laughter

“Well that was mortifying” you comment as you use a napkin to try and wipe the green face paint off your cheek

“Could have been worse.” Charlie said while chuckling, gently taking the napkin from your hand and wiping your cheek himself

He finishes wiping your face (not that it helped much)

“So where did we leave off?” He says lowly as he leans in closely to your ear

You shiver as you feel his breath against your ear

“How about we go somewhere where we won’t have to worry about getting caught again?” You suggest

Safe to say charlies never bought and uber quicker

I’m actually obsessed with Charlie as beast boy was so fucking cute, I wanna makeout with his stupid green face 😭

[pancake404]

The False God's Limbo: BBI Catnap and Dogday

A little bit more of character information regarding the False God's Limbo.

Catnap/Theodore: After ten years of hunting down heretics, worshiping his only friend and God, roaming Playcare, slowly starving, and the cherry on top, the reminder of his past death with the Prototype executing him, Theo is a shadow of his original self. He doesn't feel remorseful nor pleased with his past actions as at the end of the day, they were just heretics that he had to deal with.

Catnap is cold, drained, reserved, and often described as emotionless. He has no issue speaking as it doesn't affect his throat whatsoever unlike before but he normally only talks when he feels he needs to. He doesn't care about most of the other experiments, and he especially stopped caring about the BBI Smiling Critters. To him, they're not the Smiling Critters, they are just other lab rats like him that just look like the Smiling Critters. Despite not caring though, Catnap is more than willing to threaten those that push his buttons.

However, when interacting with BBI Dogday, the heretic, Catnap decided that since he can't kill him or himself(or get out of the place), he might as well stick with one of the only familiar experiments. Though, he doesn't understand why Dogday is willingly dragging him with, it's not like he has anywhere else to go. Not only that, but he also does find that there are other toys that still have some devotion to the Prototype side and he figured that as the main devotee and priest, he feels like he has some responsibility in protecting them.

Essentially:

It's not that he is happy with what he did, he just doesn't have a reason to care. He behaves like a lost monster who has no purpose anymore.

Dogday/Samuel Lee(Sticking with this identity of BBI Dogday): After being pretty much either locked up(in this version, he had only his legs ripped off at a later time than the whole ten years) or witnessing the horror of what became the other BBI Smiling Critters, he feels a sense of failure that was placed upon him as his role as the leader but also, he doesn't want to experience any of that ever again.

Dogday when encountering Catnap imminently in the limbo, neither attacked each other but more of just stared, being unsure what to do. But after Catnap tried getting out...unsuccessfully, Dogday decided to snag Catnap and drag him along to check out the limbo further where the other toys are found. His feelings of Catnap/Theo are very mixed, he feels unsure, hurt, frustrated, sympathetic, but overall, he just wished it didn't turn out like this. He sees Catnap sort of like a loyal dog(ironic, I know) being thrown away like garbage after everything they sacrificed and were willing to do, which Catnap disagrees with. But either way, he views this Limbo as maybe a second chance for all the toys to try to move on without the threat of every toy for themselves in the factory. Though the question is if everyone else sees it that same way(spoiler, they don't).

Dogday is on edge though optimistic. He won't take crap but also has some personal nightmares(such as...you know, Chapter Three). He also doesn't want to fail at being a leader again which is difficult as there are...certain things that the other Smiling Critters(very much including Catnap) know about and therefore, they don't fully trust him.

Essentially:

It's not like Dogday isn't upset, it's just...the others(Catnap included) have reasons to not like him either. He also prefers forgiveness for a better way forward than constant battle of survival which is both made possible and impossible in this Limbo.

When thinking of their relationship, I've seen a lot of ideas such as never-ending fights and hatred over the other, a long time for forgiveness but eventually a happier ending, etc. But for this version, I'd say it's less of finally forgiving the other(mostly Catnap redemption and Dogday forgiving) but more of "Can we be friends this time?" sort of thing if that makes sense. Lastly, in this version, there are dirt that can be made for all the Smiling Critters.

Also, both are drained from the decade being in the factory and they're sort of more glad it's finally over.

[blackenedsnow]

michael myers x reader? like they’re together and they just live together lol. id love to know what your take on just living with michael is

through the mask

WARNING: None

PAIRING: Michael Myers x Reader

NOTE: Hi!! This idea immediately got my brain going, so thank you! Hope you enjoy, and sending you all the love in the world! Take care of yourself <333

SUMMARY: In a quiet moment at home, you and Michael Myers share an evening together that’s both unsettling and strangely tender.

There was something oddly calming about having Michael Myers in your living room.

Sure, most people would have screamed or fainted or bolted out of the nearest window if they saw him standing in their house. The Shape. The Boogeyman. The man who sent babysitters running for their lives and whose mask still haunted countless urban legends.

But for you? This was just… Thursday.

Michael sat on the couch in his usual blue coveralls, mask in place, and his massive frame somehow managing to look both relaxed and entirely alert. He had his nasty, dirty boots on the carpet—something you’d scolded him for a hundred times but had long since given up on.

“Y’know,” you said, standing in the doorway with a mug of tea in hand, “it wouldn’t kill you to try a hobby that doesn’t involve blades. Maybe knitting? Painting?”

Michael didn’t respond. Not that you expected him to. He just turned his head slightly in your direction, the empty black eyes of his mask fixing on you.

“Right,” you muttered, taking a sip of your tea. “Why paint when you can just… silently judge me? Very on-brand.”

You could’ve sworn his shoulders twitched.

Living with Michael was… an experience.

It was quiet. Uneasy, yes, but oddly mundane at times. The tension always lingered in the air, but you’d learned to live with it, much like someone might live with a perpetually creaky floorboard or a neighbor who mowed their lawn at 6 a.m.

Except, instead of a floorboard or an annoying neighbor, it was Michael.

Your relationship wasn’t normal by any stretch of the imagination. You weren’t even sure how it had started, exactly. One day, he just… didn’t kill you. And then he came back. Again and again, until eventually, you just sort of… accepted his presence.

And somewhere along the way, things shifted. He started staying longer. Watching TV. Sitting at your kitchen table while you cooked dinner.

The fact that you weren’t dead yet still baffled you sometimes. But here you were, alive and kicking, sharing your house with the literal embodiment of fear.

You plopped down on the other end of the couch, careful to leave some space between you and Michael. Not that you thought he’d mind if you sat closer, but you’d learned early on that he valued his personal space.

“What are you watching?” you asked, glancing at the TV.

The screen was paused on some old horror movie, one of those cheesy slasher flicks where the killer was about as subtle as a neon sign.

“Really?” you said, raising an eyebrow. “You’re watching that? Isn’t that, like, a little too meta?”

Michael didn’t answer. He just leaned forward and unpaused the movie.

You sighed, settling back into the cushions. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

The movie played on, the room quiet except for the occasional scream from the TV. Michael stayed still for most of it, but every now and then, you’d catch him tilting his head slightly, like he was analyzing the killer’s methods.

“You’re judging them, aren’t you?” you said, smirking.

He didn’t move.

“You think you could do better.”

Still no response.

“You know you could do better,” you added with a laugh.

At that, he turned his head toward you, the blank eyes of his mask locking onto yours. The silence stretched, thick and heavy, until finally, he reached over and tapped his knife against the arm of the couch. Once. Twice.

“Point taken,” you said, holding up your hands in mock surrender. “You’re the expert.”

As the credits rolled, you stretched and got up, heading toward the kitchen. “Want anything?” you called over your shoulder.

Silence.

Right. Dumb question.

You grabbed a bag of chips and wandered back into the living room to find Michael still sitting there, his knife resting on the coffee table now. He looked… calmer, somehow. Less like a predator waiting to pounce and more like someone who’d just finished a long day at work.

“Hey,” you said softly, sitting back down beside him. “You okay?”

He didn’t move for a moment, but then he turned his head ever so slightly, just enough to let you know he’d heard you.

“You don’t have to say anything,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I just… I hope you’re… happy.. here. With me.”

You weren’t sure if he understood—Michael was an enigma, a puzzle you’d long since stopped trying to solve. But for a moment, you thought you saw his shoulders relax, just the tiniest bit.

And then, in a move that shocked you more than anything else he��d ever done, he reached out and placed a hand on your knee.

It was brief—barely a second before he pulled back—but it was enough to send your heart racing.

You smiled, warmth blooming in your chest despite the ever-present fear that came with loving someone like him.

“Yeah,” you said softly, leaning back against the couch. “Me too.”

[deeversuswords]

‧˚₊ Truth Exposer 1: Uncovered — Ch.4

PAIRING — Pro Hero Bakugou Katsuki/Vigilante F!Reader RATING — Explicit CONTAINS — heavy angst, enemies to lovers (sort of), mutual pining, slow burn, eventual smut, moral ambiguity, cheating (not between katsuki/reader), unhealthy relationships, unhealthy coping mechanisms, grief/mourning, dark themes (past abuse, stalking, kidnapping, torture, quirk trafficking), violence, swearing, open but hopeful ending, dual pov (mostly reader), no use of y/n ◆ married bakugou katsuki—not to reader—and has a daughter too ◆ characters are in their late 20s SUMMARY — Running away would be the sensible thing to do. Getting as far away as possible from him, the one person who’s your ticket to losing your freedom. Not searching for him out of stupid curiosity and showing up at the last place you should: his house. They say curiosity killed the cat, but yours seems to always end up as the key unlocking doors that should probably stay locked. Because when you open the door to Bakugou Katsuki’s life, it’s not a loving marriage, not a happy family of three you find, but falsity, forced duty, and a dark secret that threatens his very own life. Bakugou Katsuki, the pro hero tasked with catching you and your downfall. And you, the vigilante exposing ugly truths for a living—his salvation.

➥AO3 LINK // ➥AO3 CHAPTER LINK // ➥TUMBLR CHAPTERS LIST

CHAPTER WARNINGS — face slapping x2, mentions of blood

WORD COUNT — ~3.7k

a/n: and sooo it begins...👀

Three rings in quick succession on Bakugou’s doorbell, and you went stiff like a statue, hands smoothing over your pants to wipe away the nervous energy. Your heart doubled in speed as you waited, then tripled when you heard his stomping footsteps growing louder and louder.

The door swung open, and you swallowed the anxious knot stuck in your throat, lifting your eyes to meet his. They were anything but welcoming. Typical.

“You’re one minute late,” was the first thing out of his mouth, spoken in a scolding tone that made your irrational agitation cascade off you. Only for a twinge of irritation to shoot through your nerves.

“Technically, it’s you who’s late. I was at your door on time,” you replied, pushing past him. “You opened it a minute later.”

“Should’ve been here a minute earlier. Then my damn door would've opened on time.”

“You said, ‘Nine p.m. Your ass better be at my front door.’” You attempted to imitate him, lowering your voice to match his, and failed. “You didn’t say nine p.m. in front of your open door. Get your facts straight before you spit orders like you’re royalty. Now give me my stuff.”

He closed the door with more force than necessary and narrowed his eyes at you. “You into talkin’ back, or some shit?”

“Do you get off on having the last word, or some shit?” You thrust a hand forward, the other tapping a finger against your palm. “My stuff. Don’t make me ask again.”

One minute of absolute silence followed your demand. Ten seconds for the air to charge up with everything unspoken between you. Fifty more for Bakugou to do nothing but trap you in his unimpressed stare, though the invasive glint behind it caused his pupils to contract and dilate. A pulse of scrutinizing curiosity.

It was impossible to ignore how it seemed to bypass physical barriers and dive straight for the unseen, right into your soul.

You crossed your arms and tipped your chin up, masking the truth rattling your bones. His transfixed stripped you layer by layer until you were left as a naked form, cowering in the darkest corner to protect your many secrets. And you wanted, more than anything, to hate it.

His focus dropped to your neck, and the intensity dimmed. The spell broke.

He marched past you with a sharp tsk, bare arm brushing your own.

Warm.

Shaking the thought off, you turned on your heel, expecting him to be holding your bike key and phone. Instead, a pair of rubber gloves came flying at you, your hands catching them on instinct before they could smack you in the face. Bakugou jerked his chin toward something on the floor.

The intention became clear as day when your eyes landed on the vacuum cleaner, leaning against the couch like some smug character in a detective movie. You squinted at it until your vision blurred, praying this was some kind of prank.

You sent him an incredulous look. “Are you, by any chance, trying to blackmail me into being your cleaning maid?”

One side of his mouth twitched. “Punishment. For breakin’ into my house.” A matter-of-fact statement, delivered before he strode to the kitchen and put on his own pair of gloves.

Anger bit into your skin. “What about your punishment for almost choking me to death, huh?”

“Livin’ it. Gotta deal with you.”

“How’s that fair?” you muttered, but somehow, he still heard it.

“Then up it, Truthie. Get creative. Ain’t that what you’ve been doin’ with me for a year and four months?”

Your mouth sealed shut like a tomb, trapping the retort ready to whip through the air, and leaving you to deal with your heart toppling over at the nickname. Truthie? You were sure it was meant as an insult, a mockery of sorts. So why did it sound…cute?

With an irritated exhale, you put the gloves on and picked up the vacuum, glancing at the staircase. No noise, no presence—his daughter wasn’t here, which made sense. He wouldn’t risk her safety, but had no problem risking your sanity. That little fact made you all the more aware of everything, stomach flipping at the realization that it was just you and him.

Alone.

Engaged in domestic activities.

Some innate impulse had you seeking him out with your eyes. Bakugou’s back was to you, the plane of muscle shifting under the sleeveless T-shirt as he sorted through the overhead cupboards. His hands moved fast and precise, taking things out and putting them back where they belonged.

Your gaze zeroed in on his ring finger; the proof of his marriage was absent. As usual, that part of you that made him matter more than he should’ve lit up like a signal flare.

And it stayed that way for the next hour, leaving you spaced out while your body went through the motions with the vacuum. Back and forth. Back and forth. Into the corners. Around and under the furniture.

On one hand, it felt like a sick joke. On the other hand, like a setup. Maybe it was both. Who could tell when the situation was this level of ridiculous? Helping the enemy of your freedom clean his house? This might as well be the plot of a comedy. Or at the very least, a circus play.

“Come on, you stupid bear,” you snapped, arm stretched to its limit as you tried to fish the small teddy out from under the couch. Its beady eyes seemed to plead for help, when it was really you who needed it.

Not that you’d ever ask. The sky would’ve had to split open and crumble before you pleaded for help from the man of the hour, currently lounging on the other couch, chugging water like a camel. You bet he was devouring the sight of you flopped on your belly and struggling, eating it up with sadistic triumph.

“Say the word, Truthie.”

Of all things, hearing Bakugou Katsuki sing-song a taunt wasn’t on your bingo card. And sounding infuriatingly good too. You flipped him off, and as a reward, your ears had to endure the deep, smug notes of his snickering.

“Aw, too prideful to ask?”

“Look who’s talking.” You aborted your mission to face him. “Aren’t you in this mess because of pride?”

He crushed the empty water bottle in his fist and rose to full height, looming over you like saturated storm clouds about to go off in a fury of thunder and lightning. Lips parting, he licked over his canine again and again as he glared something fierce at you.

“That fuckin’ mouth of yours,” he sneered, shoving his hands in his pockets.

The action inadvertently drew your attention to the tight fabric of his shorts, stretched thin over his crotch. The threads holding it together begged for mercy. Was he—

“Eyes up,” he commanded low, lethal. You wanted to disobey just to see what happened. “Now. Or you want me thinkin’ you wanna clean up more than my living room?”

Don’t go there. Don’t go there. Don’t go there. You chanted in your head, forcing your throat to swallow the saliva pooling on your tongue like you’d been promised the coolest, freshest water. You would…most definitely clean him, your brain decided, before you peered up at him innocently, pretending the faint outline of his dick didn’t exist.

Only to be confronted with another reality—his pupils consumed the red. What was it about him for you? And what was it about you for him? Absurd. Inappropriate. Forbidden.

Criminal desire trickled down your spine, corrupting your thoughts for a fleeting moment with the idea of a world where you both were like the majority of people, not pitted against each other. But the truth was too wicked in its ways to let you feel the illusion, and too cruel to spare you from recognizing what warred in the depths of his eyes.

“How about you put your arms to good use?” You patted the couch. “Lift it. There’s a toy stuck underneath.”

Screw acknowledging his interest. It was probably a natural consequence of the mutual game, though irrelevant. You’d disappear after today, never to see him up close and personal, never to interact with him in any way, shape, or form. Freedom kept you alive, which was more than you could say about being locked up. Confined to four walls might just kill you this time around.

“Anything else, princess?” he bit out, slipping a hand under the couch and inclining it like it was nothing. The couch groaned under its own weight; he didn’t. Only the swelling of his biceps signaled effort. Damn him, and his unfair strength. It was making you feel a tad jealous.

“Don’t drop it on my head, still got things to do in this life.” You reached for the helpless teddy bear, rolling your eyes when he quipped.

“Like what? Breakin’ the law?” He nudged your foot with his. “Got your next target yet?”

And because the lucky stars avoided you like the plague, your knuckles grazed something at the bottom of the couch.

Clink.

You went over the spot again.

Clink.

Glass against glass.

“Lift it higher,” you said, and rolled on your back, tracing your gloved fingers over the spot.

“The hell you doin’?”

“There’s something in here.”

“Hah?” The couch inclined more as he readjusted, dropping to one knee. “Where?”

Your free hand reached for his to guide it when a delicate herbal scent wafted into your nose. Faint, imperceptible to the average person, but not to you. You pushed his hand away with a quick “Wait,” inhaling deeply. Sweet herbs and blooming flowers, laced with a distinct medicinal bite your brain recognized instantly.

No. Why the hell was this hidden in Bakugou’s couch?

You needed to get it out without his interference, without raising suspicion.

"Can you tilt the couch more?" you asked, keeping your voice neutral, even as betrayal took root in your chest.

Tension seized your body as he planted his other hand and pushed the couch higher. The tear in the fabric gaped open, and you slipped your fingers through, grasping something smooth, crinkly. A plastic bag.

Time crawled as you pulled out two small glass bottles, filled with clear, colorless liquid. One was already half-empty. The scent hit stronger now, leaking through the zip lock, and dread set off in your veins. You rolled out from under the couch and shot to your feet, bolting for the stairs. Away from him.

“Huh?” His indignation chased you, followed by the heavy thud of the couch striking the floor. Then came the sharp smack of his hand against your arm, fingers clamping down hard.

You didn’t pause to think. Didn’t reconsider. Didn’t hesitate.  

Your palm connected harshly with his face, the slap ripping through the air. Bakugou’s grip faltered, and you yanked your arm free, stumbling backward up the stairs.

“Stay the fuck away,” you gritted out. “If these are your methods, that’s really messed up, Dynamight.”

His thumb swiped over the bottom corner of his mouth, red staining it, more beading on the split surface.

“Is this why you kept my stuff? Leverage to get your hands on me in a different way?”

You stood at the top of the stairs, bracing against the wall, him near the bottom, frozen, staring at you like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“What was your plan? Lock me away and torture your precious proof out of me? Is this what you’ve been doing to every person you tracked, caught, and turned in?” Your breaths came out faster, chest cracked open from betrayal. You couldn’t hold one rational thought. “Say something!”

Again, he wiped at his mouth. “The hell you accusin’ me of?”

A dry laugh tore out of you. “Really?” You yanked down your scarf, and he winced at the bruise glaring back at him. “Is it mere accusation when I got this—” You lifted the plastic bag. “—and this?”

“What even is in that damn bag?”

You scoffed bitterly. “You don’t know?”

“For fuck’s sake, woman. If you’re gonna accuse me, say it straight. Quit yappin’ in circles.”

“It’s chloroform, you supposedly clueless bastard!” Your shout, strangulated by distress, echoed throughout the house like the alarm bells in your head. “Why do you have it hidden in your fucking couch if it’s not for illicit activities?”

Perhaps you were jumping to conclusions, or maybe not. But the apparent deceit shredded your heart and scrambled your thoughts. The pieces fell into place, forming a sinister puzzle: Bakugou as its master, and you, his naive victim. Was all of it staged?

Somehow, he knew your real identity. Somehow, he knew you'd be at that ice cream parlor — otherwise, why else would he be there? He chased you, cornered you, maybe even planned that phone call. Played on your curiosity, betting you'd come running if he gave you the right reason. Obviously, he wanted to catch you. Fulfill his commission. Collect the price pinned on you.

And you took the bait. Like a fucking idiot, you fell right into his trap.

Trap and catch—his specialty.

Who was he? Who was this man turning you dumb against your will? Was there malice under the facade? Were his methods…this?

You raised a trembling hand to your mouth and bit down on the bitter rubber, slipping the glove off, quirk humming in your fingertips. Maybe this was a long time coming, but you wouldn’t make it easy for him.

“That ain’t mine,” he snapped, eyes tracking your every move like a predator. “You’re jumpin’ to conclusions.”

“Then whose?” Your voice shook. “Your daughter? Wife? Friend? Parent? Who?”

His jaw clenched. “I ain’t—fuck—I ain’t sure, alright? I mean it.”

Despite this nightmare coming true, despite the agony corroding your heart, that soft spot you had for him still glowed, bright as the day he saved you. Buried deep as it was, its warmth seeped out, only fueling your anger. It had no right attempting to dissolve your resolve.

He raked a hand through his hair, gripping the roots. “What’s it gonna take for you to believe me?”

“Why does it matter what I believe—”

Sudden ringing shut you up. Whoever it was began to pound insistently on the front door.

“Katsuki, I know you’re home. Open the door. We need to talk!”

In the split second your attention jumped to the voice, Bakugou lunged up the stairs, covering your mouth with his palm and slamming you into the wall. You gasped against his hand, pain shooting up your spine. You swung at him, but he caught your wrist, pinning it above your head. Words spilled from him in a frantic blur, so fast you could barely keep up.

“The bottles...they might belong to that bitch. Shit’s been off since her cheatin’. Too much’s on the line, so I kept my mouth shut until I figured it out.” His eyes darted over your face. “I told no one. You’re the first to know.”

You narrowed your eyes.

“You know why I’m tellin’ you this.” His hands dropped to his sides, one slipping into his pocket to pull out the stuff you came for. The chaos at the front door intensified, his wife’s voice borderline hysterical. “Stay and listen in, or don’t. I don’t care. It’s your call. Just don’t let her see you.”

“Bringing her into your ploy?” you hissed, snatching the two items from him. “Two versus one. How nice. The power couple teaming up.”

The weariest sigh dragged from his lungs. “You know what? Stay. Listen to the damn truth.”

“And risk my safety?”

Bakugou shrugged, stepping backwards toward the stairs. “Ain’t that what you’ve been doin’ this whole time?”

“Idiot,” you murmured, shoulders sagging as you watched him square his on the way to deal with his wife.

You moved out of sight, pressing your back to the wall as your heart thumped anxiously.

“What took you so long?” his wife snapped the moment she got in, her shrill tone scraping at your eardrums. Her name…what was it? Miyako? Mayuki? “Were you cleaning? At this hour? Alone?”

The barrage of grating questions brought her name to the surface.

Miyuki. Fukuda Miyuki, before she married Bakugou and took his family name she was oh, so proud of.

“Didn’t I say piss off ‘til I feel like dealin’ with you?”

“Is that any way to speak to—Your lip.” She gasped loudly, and you rolled your eyes. More than ten seconds for her to notice. “Why is it like that? What happened? Who did this to you? Looks fresh.” Something told you she was reaching for his face.

“Don’t fuckin’ touch me.” Bakugou’s snarled response had the hair on the back of your neck bristle. There was threat, and there was hate. An abundance of unrestrained hate.

“I’m your wife,” she replied, as if that legal status gave her the right to put her hands on him.

“You ain’t my wife, and soon you ain’t gonna be on paper either.”

She laughed, a wicked kind of sound that made your teeth clench. “Please, we both know you won’t divorce me,” she said. “You can’t win, Katsuki. The court won’t rule in your favor. Yua would be mine.”

“You—”  He stopped, and you could sense his whole body locking up in anger. Hearing her say that was pissing you off, but him. “Despicable bitch. Over my dead body you get your hands on my kid.”

You jolted when the sound of a slap sliced through the charged air, eyes widening. Disbelief twisted your insides as you crouched and peeked around the corner. Bakugou’s head was turned to the side, blood trickling from his already busted lip, gathering in a drop on his chin. It dripped onto his T-shirt. Seeped into it.

In your mind, the red expanded. And expanded. And expanded, like your dislike for her, morphing into something much darker. Your nails bit into your palm, the pain the anchor keeping you rational. You were so close to revealing yourself, so close to showing her how it feels to be unable to fight back.

Clearly, words were his only weapon.

“I understand your pride is hurt, and I’m sorry that happened. It was a mistake, but that doesn’t mean I’ll let you disrespect me,” she continued with a hint of a smile. “Guess you need more space to work through it. I love you, so I’ll give you that. I can wait. After all, it’s us. It’ll always be us.”

Ayumu was right. Bakugou Katsuki was your downfall, the thief of your freedom, the end of your story. He was. And yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to put that fact above what you were witnessing. 

His truth. Yours. Both ugly. Messy. Complicated.

“Get out.” Bakugou’s voice came out flat, empty, dead, as if she snuffed out every ember of fire he had in him.

Her manipulative smile sweetened as she laid her clawed hand on his neck, and he didn’t react. “Sort yourself out faster. People are starting to talk.” Her thumb dragged tenderly along his jaw. Her eyes, the color of a clear sky, gazed at him with reverent adoration. “We can’t have that. So, take me out on a date one of these days, dear husband.”

She patted his cheek and turned, flipping her mint-hued hair, the wavy strands smacking him in the face. Her triumphant strides carried her out, leaving him looking like he'd already lost before he even tried, and you realizing how lonely, how trapped he seemed to be.

You sat on the last step of the stairs and waited in silence. Appearances were deceiving, but not even in your worst nightmares did you imagine it could be this horrible. The image his wife showed the world was the complete opposite of what you’d just seen, heard, felt. You had to wonder: when had her mask slipped? Because it was hard to believe Bakugou would willingly tie himself to someone like that.

Unless it was for Yua.

Several minutes drifted by before he swore and turned, stumbling back a step when he saw you still there. The surprise faded fast, replaced by the sour twist of his mouth.

"Got a good laugh outta that?" he asked.

“Sure,” you answered flatly, spotting the pale red splotch on his cheek. Your hands clasped your knees. Hard. “Did she hit you before?”

“Does it matter?”

"Yeah. I didn't laugh hard enough the first time. Go on. Entertain me more."

The tension around his mouth smoothed out. “Once. When I kicked her out.” His tongue peeked out to lick over the cut. “No blood. That bitch’s too weak, unlike someone else I know.”

Something was wrong with him as much as it was with you. Strange admiration shimmered in his eyes, making pleasant warmth spread outward from your chest to your limbs and face. You sighed, and to him, it was probably just exhaustion from the whole ordeal. Perhaps, a sign of you being fed up with him, or indifference to his situation. 

But in reality, it was the moment you resigned to your fate. The time to start digging your own grave arrived at your doorstep. The shovel was in your hand.

“You do know this is messed up, right?”

He shrugged. “I got a kid. Simple as that.”

Like you thought. He'd choose his daughter over everything and anything, no matter the cost to him. But maybe, if he had the option—if there were a way to keep Yua without the risk of losing her—maybe he'd consider himself, too.

You pushed to your feet, brushing off invisible dust from your pants, and skipped down the stairs. “Clean that up and put some ice on it,” you tossed over your shoulder as you headed for the door.

Bakugou blocked your path with his body. “What you doin’?”

“Going home for much-needed beauty sleep. Why?”

“You forgot somethin’.” He motioned to the plastic bag clutched in your fingers. “That’s mine.”

Two pulsating vibrations went off in the back of your sports bra. You reached under your shirt, unzipping the bottom of your bra, and retrieved your burner phone. The wonders of custom-made clothes.

A: Street cams miss footage. Time frame: 3h before your arrival and after you left.

You deleted the message and put the phone away, meeting the scarlet watching you with interest. “No, it’s not. Finders keepers.”

The last thing you gave him was a smile promising havoc before dashing out the door.

[kikyoupdates]

For Tomorrow's Sake ⭑˚💫⭑ 𝑓𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑝 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒

various!jjk x f!reader

reverse harem, isekai, jujutsu kaisen x fem!reader, slowburn

You never believed reincarnation was possible, least of all in the fictional world of Jujutsu Kaisen. However, from the moment you meet Gojo Satoru, it’s impossible to deny. Whether it’s a miracle or some kind of curse, you find yourself growing up alongside the strongest jujutsu sorcerer. Unfortunately, you know what the future holds in store. You know exactly what kind of tragedies await. Perhaps that’s why you were brought into this world. If it means saving people from a gruesome fate, you’ll gladly suffer in their place. You’ll do whatever it takes. All for the sake of a better tomorrow.

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You don’t know exactly how Toji was supposed to have met his wife in canon, but what you do know is that he genuinely cared about her. He loved her enough to stop working as an assassin, and he even stopped gambling, too. It’s said that true love changes people for the better. And while you’ve certainly already changed him quite a lot, something tells you he’ll feel every bit as strongly for Fushiguro as was intended. 

That’s why you can’t help but cast cunning little glances his way, every time Fushiguro comes back with more drinks, food, or just to check in on how your table is doing. Much like you, she’s always smiling, which is probably what someone as cynical as Toji is instinctively drawn to. He craves the sort of kindness he’s been deprived of practically all his life. He’s really not as scary as he appears at first glance. And clearly, with the right people in his life, he’s more than capable of good. 

It’s just really cute. You’re honestly having a great time. Satoru doesn’t really share your enthusiasm, but he thinks it’s amusing to see Toji flustered for a change. It gives him something to make fun of. 

As much as you’d like to stay forever, there’s only so long you can drag out a meal for. Eventually, it’s time to leave, and Fushiguro bids you all goodbye with a bright smile. 

“Thank you so much for coming,” she says happily. “I hope the food was to your liking.” 

“It was delicious!” you grin. “And I’m somewhat of a culinary expert myself, so I definitely know what I’m talking about!” 

“She’s also a pathological liar,” Satoru muses. 

“Shut up, Satoru! The only liar here is you!” 

Toji flashes both of you a glare that seems to say, stop embarrassing me, goddammit! Although you’re not really sure what there is to be embarrassed about. You’re a cute, endearing kid. Really, all you’re doing is making him seem that much more desirable. 

“Well, I’ll be sure to pass your compliments on to the chef,” Fushiguro giggles. “He’ll be pleased to know that someone with such a refined palate appreciates his food.” 

“Please don’t encourage her,” Toji sighs. 

You leave the restaurant, making sure to wave to Fushiguro all the way up until the door closes. Man, you feel great. You have a full belly, you just had a fun outing with two of your favorite people in the whole world, and you got to witness the beginnings of a beautiful relationship? Truly, life is good. Sometimes you almost don’t believe this is the world of Jujutsu Kaisen. That’s how much you’ve changed things. 

“So?” you ask, excitedly pulling on Toji’s hand. “Did you like it there? It’s a nice restaurant, isn’t it? And don’t you think the lady that served us food is super pretty?”

“Why should I talk to you about my preference in women?” Toji grimaces. 

Wow. Like father, like son, I guess. 

“You can tell me anything,” you beam. “I’m good at keeping secrets. Trust me.” 

“Just be quiet. You’re somehow even chattier than usual today. Which I didn’t think was possible.” 

Fine. Perhaps it’s best not to come on too strong. Still, it’s incredibly difficult to hide the smirk playing on your lips. Toji might think he’s good at acting stoic, but you see right through him. You know he’s much more interested in Fushiguro than he’s willing to let on. He doesn’t even realize that he just met his future wife. What a silly guy.

You say goodbye to Toji, then return to the Gojo Estate along with Satoru. Now that you know where Fushiguro works, you’ll have plenty of opportunities to see her again. Toji might need a bit of nudging at the start, since their meeting didn’t occur organically in this world, but you’re convinced it won’t be long until they both fall for each other. 

“So, what was that all about?” Satoru asks. “And don’t try to make something up, because I’ll know if you’re lying.” 

“What are you talking about?” 

“Don’t play dumb, either. That’s basically the same thing as lying.” 

You frown. “Was I being obvious?” 

“Super obvious. You couldn’t have been more obvious if you tried. It was kind of funny, because the old man was acting pretty stiff around that waitress lady, but still.” Satoru grabs onto your hand and pulls you towards him, with a frown that almost looks desperate. “Are you ever going to tell me what’s on your mind these days?” 

He must have been a lot more worried about you than you realized. You’ve been really scared that you might end up preventing Megumi’s birth. You should’ve known that you wouldn’t be able to hide your apprehension from Satoru. He’s incredibly perceptive. Not simply because of his intellect and training as a sorcerer, but because out of everyone in the world, there’s no one he pays more attention to than you.

“I’ve been worried about Toji,” you admit—which, to be fair, isn’t a lie. “I’m glad he left the Zen’in Clan, but I really want him to be happy. I don’t want him to feel lonely and miserable. I want him to feel like he has purpose and be surrounded by people who love him. Lately, I’ve been wondering if he’ll ever meet someone he likes, and I just got a good feeling about that nice lady at the restaurant. I feel like they could be happy together.”

Satoru lets out a heavy, prolonged sigh. “Seriously? Here I was, wondering what could have happened for you to look so depressed, and it’s because you’re worried about the old man’s love life?” 

“I don’t know why you keep calling him that, because he’s really not that old.” 

“Well, it annoys him, so I’m going to keep doing it anyway.” 

“I want Toji to be happy,” you reiterate. “Just like how I want lots of other people to be happy, too. Like Naoya, the twins, and… you, Satoru. I want all of you to be happy. It might seem like a silly thing to worry about, but to me, it’s important.”

Right. That’s what you’ve always been like, after all. From the moment he met you, he could just tell that you had the sort of kindness he’d never experienced before. And while he couldn’t care any less about who Toji ends up dating, he understands why you would.

“As long as that’s really all it is, then fine. I thought something more serious was going on,” Satoru frowns. “If something bad ever happens, or if there’s anything that scares you, you have to promise to tell me about it right away, alright?” 

“I promise, Satoru.” 

You offer a reassuring smile. Regretfully, you’re lying to him, because there are plenty of things that scare you. Horrible, gruesome events that are set to occur in the future. You’ll probably never be able to tell anyone the truth, but that’s fine. This is supposed to be your burden to bear. It’s precisely why you were reborn in this world. 

Satoru nods, visibly relieved, but he pauses for a moment, wincing a bit, as he rubs his eyes. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask. 

“Oh… it’s nothing. Just my eyes. They kind of hurt. Well, they always do, but it’s whatever. Don’t worry about it.” 

You blink. Ah, you’d almost forgotten. As an adult, he would wear a blindfold because the heightened sight he gains through his Six Eyes rapidly depletes his energy and tires him out. It must feel similar to wearing those drunk goggles. Uncomfortable, strenuous, and disorienting. 

“Close your eyes,” you encourage. “You’re still fully aware of your surroundings, even with your eyes closed, right? Because of your Six Eyes. I think you should keep them mostly closed from now on. So that you don’t strain yourself too hard.” 

“I don’t want to close my eyes.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because then I can’t see you anymore.” 

“What?” you frown. “You should still be able to see me with your eyes closed. You can still see pretty much everything. Right?” 

“But I can’t see you perfectly. When my eyes are covered, some of the details are lost, because it reduces the information going to my brain. It’s like I see a watered-down version of everything around me.” He stares at you, a slight redness forming across his cheeks. “I want to see you exactly as you are, every time I look at you.” 

Satoru hopes you can’t hear how fast his heart is beating right now, because even he’s aware of the fact that he just said something incredibly embarrassing. He’s still too childish and naive to understand exactly why, but he means it.

No matter how much it drains him, he would gladly spend every moment of every day, just looking at you. 

You tilt your head. “Are you saying that because I’m super pretty?” 

“I-It’s because you’re my friend! Obviously I shouldn’t cover up my eyes around my friends! That would just be… wrong. I think.” 

“Not really,” you shrug. “As your friend, I want you to always feel your best. Besides, you always say you’ll protect me if anything bad happens, but it’d be bad if your Six Eyes depleted all your energy and you didn’t have the strength to fight anymore, right?” 

…dammit. You’ve got him there. Although, realistically, he can almost never run out of cursed energy, but he sees your point. He vowed to protect you, and that means he needs to be in top shape, all the time.

“I already close my eyes around everyone else,” Satoru grumbles. “Is it really that big of a deal if I keep them open only when I’m with you?” 

“You’re almost always with me, though.” 

“Because we’re friends! Are you saying you don’t want to be my friend anymore? Wow, [Name]. Now you’re just hurting my feelings.” 

You roll your eyes at him. Not that you didn’t already know he’s stubborn, but still. You’re not sure why he’s making such a big fuss over looking at you. Maybe it’s because he’s not used to making any friends, and you’re the first one he’s ever had. Who knows, really. Sometimes, you can’t help but think (jokingly) that he might have a crush on you. 

But surely that’s your arrogance talking. 

Satoru leaves to go on a mission, escorted by some of the Gojo Clan members, which gives you the freedom to do what you usually do—scratch up your skin with various sharp objects so that you can heal yourself with reverse cursed technique. As always, the clan members watch in abject horror. You made them promise not to tell Satoru, otherwise he’d definitely lose his mind.

“Should I try chopping off one of my fingers today?” you frown. “I’ve never practiced regenerating a limb or body part before. I need to make sure I’m able to do it.” 

The Gojo Clan member standing next to you frantically shakes his head. “No. Please do not do that.” 

“Why not?” 

“Just… please.” 

He knows that if Satoru ever gets wind of this, he’ll probably decimate the entire clan for letting it happen. Also, he doesn’t want to see you hurt yourself that badly. Jujutsu sorcerers are far from squeamish, but… he’d still prefer not to. Admittedly, you’ve started growing on some of the people around here. Some of them care for you much more than they ever thought they would. 

“Your training is going well. While Master Satoru is gone, you can afford to take some time for yourself. Here,” he says, handing you a generous stack of bills. “Go out and buy yourself something nice. Just promise me you won’t chop any of your fingers off while I’m not around.” 

You gratefully accept the money. Perhaps he’s right. Ever since you made your Binding Vow, you’ve been training diligently, day after day. The suppression of your cursed energy has only gotten better over time, and you’ve already saved someone from death, so clearly, you’ve got a pretty good handle on your healing abilities. 

Today, it’s time to treat yourself, like the princess that you are. 

You make a trip to one of the city’s shopping districts, equipped with way more money than you ever had in your old world. After all, you were a high school student before you died. A normal, unremarkable high school student with two middle-class parents—who died in the earthquake along with you. 

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss your real parents, but you know you’re stuck here for good. Rather than dwelling on deaths that have already occurred, you want to focus on deaths that can be prevented. If your parents were in your place, they would probably do the same. 

Anyway, back to the matter at hand. You’re about to be the most stylish twelve-year-old this city has ever seen. 

You go from one store to the next, giggling uncontrollably. It’s such a simple, mundane thing, and yet, you’re happy. You’re happy because you’re able to do these sorts of things. You’re happy that this world has yet to be plunged into total darkness. Perhaps, if you play your cards right, it never will. 

The clan member gave you money, and you’re sure as hell going to spend all of it. Soon enough, you’re carrying several shopping bags, each of them filled to the brim with clothes, accessories, books, and various other things. You’ve got a little bit of money left over, and while you’re debating what you should buy next, a certain display calls to you.

Immediately, a smile spreads across your lips. 

Later that day, you return to the Gojo Clan estate with your shopping haul. You must’ve been gone longer than you thought, because Satoru has already returned from his mission, and he stomps over to you—angrily. 

“Where did you go?!” he exclaims. “You went off all on your own? That’s dangerous! You didn’t even have Toji with you!” 

“I went shopping,” you say simply. 

“What if you’d gotten attacked by a cursed spirit? If I’m not there to protect you, then—” 

“Satoru,” you chuckle, patting him on the head. “I’m fine. I know you worry about me, but I’ve gotten a lot stronger. You’ve seen me fight curses a bunch of times. They were all pretty weak, but still. I’m not helpless. Not anymore. And I even bought you a gift while I was out. Look!” 

“A gift?” 

Satoru can’t help but be intrigued. He watches as you dig through several bags, trying to remember which one it’s in, but eventually, you pull out a fairly small box and snap it open. 

“For you,” you grin. “Hopefully this should help. Go ahead! Try them on!” 

It’s a pair of sunglasses. Satoru frowns, but takes the sunglasses into his hands. Is this… because of what he said before? When he mentioned it was tiring for him to constantly have his eyes uncovered?

“This way, you won’t have to keep your eyes closed,” you explain. “They’ll help dim your surroundings and hopefully make the discomfort more bearable. I know you said you don’t want to obscure your vision at all, but this is important. Don’t be stubborn, please. I even picked out cool-looking ones, just for you.” 

Satoru carefully puts the sunglasses on. You’re right. It does help. It feels a lot better this way. He may not be able to see you in the highest resolution, but it’s arguably better than closing his eyes altogether. And above all else, this is a gift. You gave him this gift. 

These sunglasses are already his most prized possession. 

“I didn’t think it was possible for me to look even cooler than I already did,” Satoru grins, admiring himself with a compact mirror. 

“It’s true,” you beam. “You’re the coolest guy ever, Satoru.” 

“You know I’m just going to keep getting cooler, right?” 

“Well, obviously.” 

He laughs and pulls you into his arms, holding you tight. He has the sudden urge to kiss you on the cheek, like you did to him before, but he backs out at the last second, heart threatening to explode. Maybe another time. Even though it’s meant to be a playful kiss between friends, for some reason, it makes him nervous. Clearly, he’s still got a lot of growing up to do. 

Well, that’s not all that important right now. He’s overjoyed. He loves his new sunglasses.

And he really loves the person who gave them to him. 

“...you know Arnold Schwarzenegger, right? The Terminator? Don’t you think Toji kind of looks like him?” 

Fushiguro blinks, not quite understanding, and across the table, Toji is glaring at you with the intensity of a thousand blades. He must not want you to embarrass him in front of his crush. But the fact that he’s getting this annoyed is just proof of the fact that he likes her. 

Teehee.

“Are you referring to that action movie franchise?” Fushiguro asks, pouring you a new cup of tea. “I’ve never actually watched it myself, but I’ve seen posters, commercials, and advertisements for it. I have to admit, I don’t really see the resemblance between them.” 

“Thank you,” Toji grits out. “She just likes to say whatever pops into her head without thinking twice.” 

“Nuh-uh,” you deny. “I have a reason for it! Both Toji and Arnold are super-duper muscular and strong! And cool! And intimidating—but in a good way!” 

Fushiguro covers her mouth with her hand as she breaks out into a fit of giggles, and you didn’t think it was possible, but Toji is actually blushing right now. It’s so subtle you can barely see it, but without a doubt, it’s there. And not just because you’re acting unhinged. You always act unhinged; it’s really nothing out of the ordinary. He’s embarrassed because all of this is happening right in front of Fushiguro.

So, again—teehee. 

“I think we’re just about done here,” Toji mutters, rubbing his temples in annoyance. 

“Oh, perfect timing! My shift is about to be over, so I won’t have to pass your table off to another server. Just give me a moment. I’ll clean this up and be back with your bill.” 

She walks off with a spring in her step, and you and Satoru both turn towards Toji, urgently. 

“Did you hear that, old man?” Satoru frowns. 

“Did I hear what?” 

“She’s about to be done with her shift,” you say, excitedly bouncing in your seat.

“Yes, I heard. So?” 

You and Satoru both stare at him in disbelief. Toji just frowns, not at all understanding what you two are getting at. God. You never took him for the ignorant type. Or maybe he’s just in denial about his feelings. 

“She’s going to be done with work for the day,” you sigh, having to spell it out for him. “Once she’s done, that means you can take her out someplace. For a date.” 

“...huh?” 

Toji looks as if he just got smacked across the face. You’re not sure what’s so goddamn confusing. He clearly likes her, and she likes him. It’s not rocket science. 

You cross your arms. “Toji, if you don’t take her out on a date, I’m going to denounce you as my older brother figure.” 

“How heartbreaking,” he snorts. 

“I’m not kidding! The stakes are high, so you’d better do something about it! Satoru is right—maybe you are just a stupid old man!” 

“[Name], let’s leave first,” Satoru insists. “Then he’ll be all alone with her while he pays the bill. He’s too much of a coward to ask her out while we’re around. Poor guy. I almost feel sorry for him.” 

Toji scowls. “Is that a challenge?” 

“Maybe, who knows? Anyway, let’s make a break for it, [Name]! We can point and laugh at him later if he fails!” 

Satoru grabs you by the hand and whisks you out of the building. Both of you are laughing uncontrollably as you crouch down and hide (rather poorly) behind one of the benches facing the restaurant. You bide your time and wait. If Toji leaves the restaurant alone, it means he has negative rizz and is in dire need of help. But hopefully, it won’t come to that. Hopefully he’ll bring his A game. 

“He’s coming out,” Satoru whispers. “Look!” 

Toji emerges from the restaurant, alone, and your head is already drooping disappointedly, but then you realize that he’s holding the door open so that Fushiguro can walk out in front of him. She bows her head slightly and thanks him, and even from this distance, you notice a smile pulling at his lips. 

They’re walking together now, side by side. You’re not sure exactly where they’re going. He might just be walking her part of the way home, but even that’s a start. Their romance has already been set in motion, and you can barely contain your excitement. 

“It’s beautiful,” you sniffle, wiping away an invisible tear. “They grow up so fast.” 

“You’re ridiculous,” Satoru chuckles. 

“No, I’m amazing. They’re going to fall deeply in love and get married. I’m willing to bet on it.” 

“That sounds like a stretch,” he muses, offering you a hand to stand up. “But if it makes you happy to imagine it, then sure. Anyway, should we follow them? I’m kind of curious how their date will go. Also, if the old man embarrasses himself, I definitely don’t want to miss it.” 

“We have to respect their privacy, Satoru. It wouldn’t be polite to spy on them.” You pause for a moment, an impish smile spreading across your lips. “Plus, we’ll have plenty of opportunities to crash their dates later on. Let’s give them the illusion of peace and quiet for at least a little while.” 

Satoru adjusts his sunglasses and grins. “Okay, then. Well, while the old people are on their date, I want to go to the arcade. I bet I can beat you at all the games there, easily.” 

“Ha,” you snort. “You don’t even know who you’re talking to.” 

“Since when have you ever played video games?” 

“In a different life, Satoru. In a different life.” 

More chapters are available on Quotev and Ao3!

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[calisources]

𝐑𝐎𝐘𝐀𝐋 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆, 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐀𝐋, 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐒.

All sentences on this meme have been taking from different media and sources. They all touch on the topics of romance, difficult and forbidden love, mostly setting in the political schemes of war and peace and royal court. Change names, locations and nouns and you see fit. Some lines might have foul language.

Sometimes we hurt the ones we love, but hurting ourselves to avoid it doesn’t make it better.

Could someone treat you badly and still love you? 

Even so, in the midst of this complicated love, there is a holy union.

Love is complicated. It’s sticky. It’s bliss and it’s a mix of emotions. It’s not easy.

I hated him now because I has loved him then.

 I'm not like you. I can't afford to be reckless.

When have I ever, since the first instant I touched you, pretended to be anything less than in love with you?

Are you so fucking self-absorbed as to think this is about you and whether or not I love you, rather than the fact I'm an heir to the fucking throne? 

You at least have the option to not choose a public life eventually, but I will live and die in these palaces and in this family.

She wears a crown that never should’ve been hers.

Your wish is my command, my queen.

You can always leave my service.

Don’t you see, Diana? If I did that, I’d break not one but two hearts. For I know you love me, though you haven’t said it yet.

You do know me. I love you so much, it sometimes terrifies me.

You are going to regret that, Your Magical Regalness.

Just because I am  a prince doesn’t make my life a fairy tale.

So kiss the others for all I care, but don’t hold back with me.

You are enough to drive a saint to madness or a king to his knees.

He didn't marry you to become king. He became king because he wanted to marry you.

I know I have but the body of a weak and feeble woman, but I have the heart and stomach of a king.

 I believe we are what we make ourselves, and as such, you, Crown Princess, are nothing.

You, what are you? The brat of lucky parents who were related to a childless king.

Rule with the heart of a servant. Serve with the heart of a king.

There’s a fine line between gossip and history, when one is talking about kings.

You can't treat royalty like people with normal perverted desires.

We kings do develop a certain ability to recognize objects under our noses.

...alone is such a nebulous state when one is queen.

I respect you as my king, and I respect you as my father, but I do not respect you as a man.

You're the most important person I've ever met.  And I should have never met you at all.

Desires are what can most easily ruin us, lovely.

I find that happiness can always be recollected in tranquillity, Ma’am.

It's almost impossible for those who have had an intimate relationship to return to a formal one.

I question if within you is any magic.

You’re my princess, right? You were always going to be my princess, no matter what you were born.

The king is a saint and cannot rule, and his son is a devil and should not.

For kings, the world is extremely simplified: All men are subjects.

A king deserves reverence when being addressed.

Yes, she had abused her title and station before, but for minor stuff, not to steal a warship.

You are a king worthy of their allegiance . . . with a queen full of fire and promise.

When God calls you into His Kingdom, your way of life will reflect royalty if you serve Him with loyalty.

My royal status is both a shield that protects me and a sword that impales my heart.

You know, for a pampered princess, you have a certain gift for violence.

I have to be seen to be believed.

Kings needn’t raise their voices to be heard.

That is your very own myth. The idea that how you are born or the name you are given dictate the sort of person you really are.

I know that names have power. That is why I cannot let her forget hers. 

You’ll have to face it, Princess. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but soon enough. And you can’t be this scared when the time comes.

A bad king revels in his importance. A good one hates his office. 

Crowns belong to those that serve.

She was their witch queen, and they adored her.

Beatrice is going to be queen someday.

Kings are only kings because one ancestor was quicker than another to place a crown on his own head.

Queen, do not allow a commoner to dethrone you. Own that throne. You are royalty.

A throne won in blood will soon be drenched in it.

My mother once told me that everything is fuelled by either money or sex, because both lead to power.

Even when she's dethroned by hardship, she still wears the sun as a crown.

She holds a nation’s fate within her shaking hands. She wears a crown that never should’ve been hers.

My reign has been anything but traditional. Let’s not start now, shall we?

Oh honey, someday a real man is going to make you see stars and you won't even be looking at the sky.

Every girl thinks about growing up in a palace. Few ever ponder living in a cage.

Climb up the family tree of any of them high enough and you’ll find a commoner who dared to take a chance.

Am I forbidden to do what all may do?

My arrival saved the kingdom, while his only reiterated that his blood would fill the throne one day.

Slow down there, princess. How do you know what kind of first impression you gave me?

So none of the young men we encountered during our season gave you hot pants for them?

If stubborness were all that was needed to be a good queen, I'd rule the world.

I’d decided that I was going to stop dressing like a princess and start dressing like a queen.

Don’t touch me. Don’t tell me how beautiful my eyes are, how soft my hair is, how you love to hear my voice. Don’t. Don’t pretend you are falling in love with me. 

I know you are lying, and every word you say hurts even more. 

Before the wedding, and the bedding, when I will have to take you as my lord and husband?

I may not be a king or a queen, but I'll be damned if I'm not treated like royalty.

He is fragile, like a prince of ice, of glass.

It is natural that men are going to gather round me, hoping for a smile.

Men only treat women like princesses when they want to use them like prostitutes.

You can smile when your heart is breaking because you're a woman.

I can't sleep, I can't eat, I can't do anything but think about him.

Anyone can attract a man. The trick is to keep him.

To save my son, I would plot with the devil himself.

Only fools wait when their enemies are coming, to see if they may prove to be friends.

When a man wants a mystery, it is generally better to leave him mystified. Nobody loves a clever woman.

I wanted the heat and the sweat and the passion of a man that I could love and trust.

I am a fool to own it, but I am in a fever for your touch.

And you are the sort of mistress a man doesn't bother to marry. Sons or no sons.

[leon-stupid-kennedy]

Leon truly did not care about Krauser at all originally.

I've talked about some of the differences between original and remake Operation Javier before, since then I've thought more about the ending and it's dawned on me just how little Leon cared about Krauser. (This doesn't conflict with anything in my first post, it's just an addition that didn't occur to me until more recently.) Comparing his "relationship" with Krauser to everyone else that meant something to him in DSC, it's clear that Krauser was not someone he was at all emotionally attached to. Krauser was obsessed with Leon from the start, every thought he had during that mission connected to Leon, he thought that they had some sort of weird bond and Leon was attached to him too, when that's very clearly not the case.

Looking at Memories of a Lost City… Leon quickly becomes attached to everyone. Claire's instantly his ride or die partner, he wants to help her find her brother and get out of the city. They encounter Sherry, she runs away from them. Leon is hell bent on finding and rescuing this little girl he doesn't know and saw for like 2 seconds, to the extent he kicks a damn door down when Sherry crawls through an opening too big for him to go through. (Of course Claire was also hell bent on helping Sherry too, this post is just focused on Leon.) Ada is incredibly sketchy and doesn't want Leon's help, but Leon's instantly attached and wants to follow and help her, although he does prioritize Sherry over Ada and chooses to look for Sherry instead of Ada when forced to make a decision.

And of course after making it out of Raccoon City, Leon is willing to stay behind with Sherry so that Claire is free to keep looking for her missing brother… Then ends up agreeing to be a government slave in order to keep Sherry safe. He's willing to sacrifice so much for someone he barely knows.

Moving on to Game of Oblivion, which is the strongest part of my argument and has the most direct comparisons to make to how Operation Javier ends. We learn that Leon's selflessness didn't stop at him becoming a government agent for Sherry, he also used that position to help Claire and Chris. He had never met Chris before, and yet one of his first thoughts was apparently "I now have access to resources that can help me find Chris Redfield, the missing brother of the girl I knew for a day." He is able to find Chris, only to learn he can't tell Claire because now she's missing. Naturally, he just starts trying to locate Claire next. Citing the relevant Game of Oblivion Leon narration (emphasis mine):

Once Chris disappeared from the Mansion incident he was near impossible to track down. But using my newfound position in the government, I eventually discovered his location. I would have contacted his sister, but she was a ghost herself. So I turned my search over to Claire then, and eventually learned of her confinement on Rockfort Island. I shared this information with Chris. And he asked me to arrange a rescue mission before he set off on his own to find her.

The big takeaway here is that when someone Leon cares about, either directly like Claire or even indirectly with Chris, goes missing, he does not rest. He does everything in his power to find them. (Honestly, I think he also would have put extensive effort into finding Ada again if she hadn't faked her death.)

And he did nothing when Krauser disappeared! From the cutscene The Return, the normal good ending OJ cutscene (emphasis mine):

Manuela was later taken into custody by the U.S. government. She was put under strict surveillance... But so far there have been no reports of any changes to her body. Krauser's arm never fully healed and he was forced to leave the army. Where he went, no one knows.

Why did Manuela never lose her conscience? Was it something genetic? Or was she sustained by this land that's so rich with life? The virus continues to grow. Altering its form, strengthening perpetually. until the day it can be destroyed... In our bodies... in our souls.

Krauser went missing after the mission. Just like Chris was missing, and Claire was missing. But unlike with Claire and Chris, Leon just doesn't care. At all. Doesn't care enough to try to find Krauser, despite the fact he'll chase after and track down people he barely knows. Doesn't care enough to even speculate what may have happened to Krauser. He does not care. He's far more concerned about the mysteries of Manuela's infection than he is about Krauser's fate. He knows that Manuela is alive and well, and he's still more concerned and curious about her than he is Krauser, who for all he knows could very well be dead in a ditch somewhere.

If Leon had remotely cared about Krauser, I would have expected his ending narration to have something more like "Krauser's arm never fully healed, and he was forced to leave the army. After that, he mysteriously disappeared without a trace. I used every resource at my disposal to try to find him, but came up empty handed. To this day, no one knows where he went or what happened to him." The fact he didn't say anything like that, just briefly mentioned the fact Krauser disappeared before continuing to talk about Manuela, is very telling. Operation Javier and being partnered with Leon was a pivotal moment in Krauser's life, that mission was life changing for him, he was forever changed by it. But for Leon? Operation Javier was just another mission. It wasn't special. It didn't change the trajectory of his life. Krauser wasn't special, Krauser was just another random stranger he was forced to work with for a day.

I guess I'll close this with a thought I've had regarding original vs remake OJ recently… Despite genuinely preferring the DSC RE2 retelling to RE2R and having fun with OJ, I used to think that the remake Krauser/Leon mentor/rookie-actually a strong bond that wasn't one sided thing was better than the original dynamic. Krauser was creepy and obsessed with Leon, but Leon also admired Krauser and looked up to him as his mentor. But the deeper I get into the original dynamic and analyze it, the more it grows on me… Leon actually being in a position of power over Krauser but mostly treating him like an equal, Krauser clearly thinking he's more experienced than Leon and should be in charge, the fact Krauser rearranged his entire life because of Leon and was obsessed while Leon pretty much just moved on after the mission and forgot about him, there's plenty of compelling stuff there. It's not the long-term, more two-sided mentor and student relationship the remake presents, there's not really room to insert any type of shipping, logistically speaking (at least not anything mutual– Krauser was weirdly obsessed and definitely would have been down for some sex, but 1. Leon would not be interested and 2. The fact they were only around each other for a single mission, and weren't just alone together, they had Manuela with them, they wouldn't have had an opportunity even if Leon was interested.) compared to the longer term relationship the remake presents, but that doesn't mean there's nothing there worth exploring!

[heretoreadfanfic1]

New in Town

Pairing: Kol Mikaelson x Reader 

Warnings: mentions of absent parents 

Word Count: 1,362 

Summary: You are the cousin of Elena and Jeremy Gilbert. You were recently dropped off in Mystic Falls to live with them by your less than present parents. But something is not right with this town and you can feel it through the secrets being kept from you by Elena and her mysterious new boyfriend Damon. You sneak out one night to get away from Elena's hovering and meet a handsome stranger who relates to you more than you might think.

It had only been 3 months since you moved to Mystic Falls to live with your older cousins Elena and Jeremy Gilbert. Your parents, who had always been distant and withdrawn, decided they needed some time to themselves without needing to worry about being real parents, not that they ever were.   

It didn’t take long for you to realize that things in this town were not as they had seemed. There were new disappearances almost weekly with no real explanation. Not to mention Elena had some sort of mother complex towards you since moving in with them. She even brought her new boyfriend Damon into arguments you two got into letting him play a fatherly role in your life. This odd new relationship has been causing you to feel suffocated.   

Everything in this town was exhausting and Elena practically hired her friends to keep an eye on you no matter where you went, so you spent most of your time locked up in your room. Ever since you were young you took to reading and writing as a means of escapism but after being holed up in your bedroom for months it seemed to drive you crazy. You needed to get out, at least for a little while, without a chaperone to accompany you.  

This night, in particular, Elena was out with Damon doing whatever secretive things they did. Jeremy was locked in his room and hadn’t been out for hours. Now was your chance. You carefully got dressed and threw on a light jacket to keep warm from the chilly air of the night. Slipping on your shoes you quietly trod down the stairs and slipped out the front door making sure to keep the handle turned so as not to make a loud click as the door went back into place.  

Being out by yourself in the dark felt wrong and there was a pit in your stomach as you walked farther away from the house that felt more like a prison as each day passed. You were never one to take risks but as you began walking around the small town a weight lifted off your shoulders. Nobody policing who you spoke to or where you went was something new. Not being constantly watched felt freeing. You mindlessly followed the wet black concrete road looking up at the stars and thinking about what your life might have looked like if you were dealt a better hand of cards.  

Eventually, you found yourself at the old Wickery Bridge just looking out over the water. A sudden breeze against your back snapped you out of thought causing you to turn around quickly. Nobody was there and your mind chalked it up to being used to always having someone lurking over your shoulder. Either way it certainly freaked you out, especially with all the disappearances in the news and you decided it might be time to head back.  

“I’ve never seen you around here before and trust me I tend to remember seeing pretty little things such as yourself.” a man spoke from behind you. Whipping around with wide eyes you wondered where this stranger had come from. Taking him in, he was impossibly handsome with fluffy brown hair and mesmerizing chocolate brown eyes but that did not make him any less intimidating.   

“Cat got your tongue, darling?” He remarked walking towards you slowly looking you up and down while licking his lips.  

“Who are you?” you started trying to sound confident, but panic was thick in your tone.  

“Oh, how rude of me. The name is Kol, Kol Mikaelson. You do know girls like you shouldn’t be roaming around on their own at night. I hear killers are on the loose.” He said it with playfulness in his voice. “Now do I get your name?”  

“It’s (Y/n)” You replied. “The news said those were animal attacks, not murders. And might I say it’s not very innocent to sneak up on a woman this late at night.”  

“You’re right, but who said I was innocent y/n?” Kol chuckled. “You know consider yourself to be lucky you only ran into me. Let me walk you home.” He said as more of a statement than a question.  

“I try not to make it a habit of bringing total strangers home with me.” This was true, but something told you it was ok to trust Kol, at least at this moment. For the first time since being in Mystic Falls, it felt like a conversation wasn’t forced or like you needed to hide what you were feeling.  

“By the time we get there, we won't be strangers anymore, darling.” Kol said winking at you and extending his arm for you to take.  

You laughed taking it and saying “What are you from the 50’s or something, darling” in a mocking tone.  

“Ahhh, I never did get to see much of the 50’s unfortunately.” Kol said with darkness behind his eyes and a deep thickness to his voice. 

The both of you walked back towards the Gilberts house while chatting and getting to know one another but you couldn’t help but feel Kol was hiding something. Along the way, you were able to open up to him about your family and how you got dropped off in this town without even a second look from your parents. Kol mentioned knowing all about bad parents and complicated family dynamics but didn’t go into much detail.  

“It wouldn’t be so bad if only Elena left me alone or at least told her dumb boyfriend Damon to. I get enough orders from her I hate when he tries to step into a dad role when I don’t even know him!” You sighed.  

Kol narrowed his eyes, “Don’t get too close to Damon. He and his brother are... not to be trusted.” he exclaimed, choosing his words carefully. “He doesn’t hurt you does he?”   

“Of course not. He’s just a pest, but sometimes when he tells me to do something... I can’t explain it... it’s almost like no matter how much I don’t want to listen I have to. Like my mind has a fog over it and my body is no longer my own. I probably sound nuts.” You ramble  

“I know exactly what you mean, love.” Kol says with a hint of anger. “Trust me, I will take care of that, and you won’t have to worry about Damon and his tricks ever again.”   

You wonder what he means by Damon’s “tricks” but the look on his face tells you not to poke any further. For some reason, you trust him even after only knowing him for maybe an hour. You’re not sure how exactly he plans to help but you know he will. His passion and protectiveness seem to light a fire in you, and you never want him to leave your side. It’s a feeling you’ve never felt before, but you like it, no, you need it.   

Soon you were in front of Elena’s house again and the dread of going back in crept up on you. Noticing the change of demeanor Kol raised an eyebrow “You know I'd be happy to come save you from the Gilbert's house anytime, and not just because it would piss off them and the Salvator brothers. I quite like your company Ms. (y/l/n).” He said picking up your hand and giving your knuckles a soft kiss.   

“I think I'd like that Mr. Mikaelson. You’re not too bad yourself. How do I get in touch with you?”  

“I’ll be around. I give you my word.”   

Kol lets go of your hand and as you turn your head to look at the house, you feel another breeze like the one you felt by the bridge earlier. Turning back towards Kol you realize he was already gone. Almost as if he had disappeared into thin air. You make your way into the house careful not to make too much noise and creep back to your bedroom. Your mind begins to race with thoughts of the charming man you met tonight and the thrill of seeing him again is coursing through your veins.   

[creedslove]

Omg bestie imagine calling older hubby Joel to pick you up from the club because you’re too drunk to drive home yourself.

No outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

A/N: I love this idea, I just changed it slightly because I thought it would be better, honey ❤️

• you and Joel had broken up in the beginning of the year; you didn't see it coming, you were so happy with your man and you'd assumed he was happy with you too

• in fact, he was happy with you, he loved you dearly, but in his mind, he assumed it wasn't enough to continue the relationship, not when he worked impossible hours, was barely home to you, always too tired and with no energy, not to mention the age gap: Joel loved you, but deep down he knew you could do so much better

• he was convinced you deserved a man your age, someone who was fitter, who could spend time with you and build a life together, after all, Joel Miller had been through all of it and he just wanted to spend time relaxing and making ends meet, in order to have a comfortable life

• so he thought it was best for the two of you part ways, which you didn't take very well, in fact, it was so heartbreaking you ended up screaming at the top of your lungs how much you hated him in his front yard

• and once you calmed yourself down, you were mortified at what you'd done, as you felt so embarrassed and ashamed and you apologized to him hundreds of times and he just told you it was fine

• eventually you had broken up on some sort of good terms, he had told you you could always reach out to him whenever you needed to, but after that, you both had minded your own business

• until the night you went out with your friends and got hammered with drinks

• you didn't know exactly how, you just ordered one drink after the other and when you least expected, you were drunk

• and when you saw your friends, they were as drunk as you were and worse: insisting on driving, and since you refused to get a ride from them, and they refused to get a cab or whatever, they drove off completely wasted and you stayed behind

• but being that drunk at that hour of the night and alone, you didn't trust getting into anyone's car

• anyone except one person... Joel Miller

• so you called your ex-boyfriend and giggled when you heard his voice on the phone, it was clear he'd been either sleeping or he was about to, but the moment he caught you on the other side of the phone, he widened his eyes, worried something had happened

• but when you blabbered about how drunk you were and a little scared of getting home with someone else, Joel had already dressed up again and got his truck keys, asking for your location and trying to find you

• he would never let anything happen to you, at all

• so when you saw him parking, you walked to his truck, hopping inside and giggling, feeling happy to see him there, although the drunken buzz inside of you was constant

"you okay?"

"yeah"

"I'm glad you called, didn't want you risking yourself around with anyone, darlin'"

• his voice was soft and he placed his hand on your knee briefly, caressing it gently before turning his attention back on the road

• Joel didn't like the idea of leaving you alone at home, not with how drunk you were, he just had a gut feeling it would be better if he drove you to his own home, after all, you'd spent so many nights next to him, just another one should be fine

• you looked at him puzzled when you noticed he'd taken you to his house but he smiled comforting at you

"you'll spend the night, you take my bed and I'll sleep on the couch"

• he explained and you nodded, even if you didn't need explanations, you trusted Joel with your life

• once inside, he took you to the bathroom, handing you one of his shirts so you could shower and change into it

• he'd also made his bed so you could sleep on it, which you did for only a few minutes, being unable to rest away from Joel; you missed him, he was still so nice and sweet to you even if you weren't together anymore

• so you got off bed and walked downstairs, finding him asleep on his couch; you grinned at the view and decided to lie right next to him, snuggling him in the process and finally falling into a deep sleep

• Joel buried his nose into your hair and took a deep breath, even if it was unconscious, it was how much he'd missed it, and he also dreamed of you that night, having you both in his mind and safely tucked into his arms

____

[toolonely1]

Goodbye

Professor! Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: Angst, one mention of the reader as a girl, teacher/student relationship, if there's anything else, let me know

Word count: 1.4k

(please be nice I never write)

The beginning of the semester is usually stressful; the combination of finding your classes, meeting professors, and getting used to the workload can be a lot. But nothing could have prepared you to see your boyfriend of three months at the front of the class, greeting students as they walked in.

When your eyes meet, you freeze, realizing Professor Reid and Spencer Reid are, in fact, the same person. He starts walking towards you in an awkward manner, the same shyness he had when you first met. But before he can reach you, you dart towards a seat in the back of the class, unable to handle that conversation just yet. His eyes follow you, and you can only hope he understands why you can’t speak to him. It isn’t every day you find out you’ve unknowingly been sleeping with your professor.

See, you met months ago, right at the beginning of the summer. You had been reading at a table in your favorite library; it had a cafe in it, and the employees were always great. The rest of the tables were full, and you happened to look up as he was looking around for an empty seat, with a coffee in one hand and a book in the other. It was almost out of the movies, the way your heart stopped as your eyes met. He had to have been the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen, then he gave you this shy smile, and immediately you were done for. You offered him the empty chair at your table, and by some miracle, he accepted the invite.

As he was sitting down, you took the opportunity to introduce yourself, to which he smiled and replied with his own name.

“Well, Spencer Reid, I don’t know why it’s so busy today. Usually, the place is pretty empty.” He didn’t seem like the type to enjoy crowds.

Proving my guess, he replied, “The last time I came in, most of the tables were empty. I figured it would be the same now." His eyes flickered from your eyes to the rest of you. “Though I’m starting to think it may not be such a bad thing.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “And why’s that?”

Almost like a switch was flipped, his demeanor changed. No longer was he shy and awkward, now he was exuding confidence. “I have an excuse to talk to a pretty girl.”

You didn’t do any reading after that. Instead, you and Spencer spent the rest of the day chatting (flirting) about your favorite books, hobbies, and everything in between.

In the next couple of weeks, you kept meeting at the library, both acting as if it were an accident. Eventually, though, you started meeting outside of the library, starting with walks around a local park, where he told you about his job as a profiler in the Behavioral Analysis Unit, explaining he would be gone for days to find the “unsub,” as he called it. Walks turned to trips to the movies; he had a thing for films in foreign languages, and you didn’t mind him translating everything in your ear (though you were not paying much attention to anything other than the feel of his breath on your neck).

One night, after dinner, you asked him to kiss you, wanting to be more than the sort of not stranger you became. He took the hint, and for the rest of the summer, as long as he was in the city, you were inseparable.

Until now.

The lecture went fast, as the first day usually does. Professor Reid only went over the syllabus, not that you were paying attention to a thing he said; you were too busy thinking about the impossible situation you had ended up in. When he finished going over the syllabus, he dismissed everyone early. You wanted to leave the class quickly, but as if he knew what you were going to do, he met you at your seat. You didn’t stand a chance.

“We should talk.” Though he was not physically holding you, you could not move. You knew you would either talk about it now or would never talk again.

The class finally cleared, and you were alone. This is something you would usually relish, but this time, being alone with him feels dirty, like you’re doing something wrong.

Avoiding eye contact, you fidget with the strap of your bag. “So when you said you worked as a profiler, were you lying?” It's certainly not the most pressing issue, but you had to find something to say.

The sound of his chuckle was both music to your ears and nails on a chalkboard. “No, I teach as a side job when I'm not on a case. I'm sorry, I must have forgotten to mention that.” It’s confusing how he can find humor in a situation like this.

“Yeah, it would have been nice to know. especially when you heard me complain about my college classes.” You don’t blame him, never could, but you have to be upset about something. When you finally get the courage to look at him, the look he gives you tells you he knows this.

Having spent the last thirty minutes thinking, you already know what you have to do. Tears began filling your eyes as you really, truly took him in.

“We have to break up.”

“What?” He looks devastated.

“It's the most logical option, you have to agree.” you can’t look at him anymore, too scared to see his reaction. You start pacing. “I mean, this is putting your job in danger, and there’s no way I’m letting this jeopardize my education. Not to mention how cliche it is for a student and her teacher to be together." You take a glance at him while you take a breath and continue, "Do you know what people would say about me if they found out?" you then wait for a response, but instead, his mouth is ajar as he takes in everything you just said.

Unable to handle the silence, you continue, trying to convince both of you that this is the right choice. “So we break up. It doesn’t matter how either of us feels, it’s what has to be done. No matter how much fun I had. No matter how much I care about you. It doesn’t matter.” The tears are starting to flow now, but the word vomit will not stop. “Nothing matters because I can’t be the girl who sleeps with her professor for a good grade. Even if it will kill me to see you three times a week and not be able to hug you, kiss you,... or even talk to you.” That’s what breaks you, the reality of the situation finally getting to you.

Your sob is what finally breaks him out of his trance; he rushes to you as if his only job is to calm you down. His hands cup your face faster than you can process. “You’re right... we should break up. For my career and your education.” His eyes are tracing your face like he’s trying to memorize every detail of it, as if his eidetic memory could ever fail him. “But this summer has been the best thing to happen to me, and I will always remember it as that. You taught me how to live again, not just survive.”

Your breathing starts to calm again; he seems to always know how to do that. Just another thing you will miss about him.

As you take in one another, you realize how much you don’t want to lose him. Not if you don’t have to.

“I can drop the class, and we’ll avoid each other on campus. We can do that, right?” But he’s got that look in his eyes, the one that says he’s made up his mind. It may have started as your idea, but it’s ending as his final decision.

“You need the class to graduate, and I’m the only professor who teaches it.” His sad smile mocks you. “And we both know I can’t stay away from you when you’re mine.”

The tears start up again as he reminds you that you won’t be his anymore. That he won’t be yours.

“I’m going to miss you.”

“Goodbye,” the final whisper of your name before he walks away feels like a knife to the heart.