#i appreciated that they did something like that

[tteokdoroki]

˗ˏˋ 💎  JJK MEN AS OVERPROTECTIVE GIRL DADS gojo, sukuna & geto .ᐟ

⋆˙ ᯓ★  about ! “a little girl’s first love will always be her father." three scenarios in which the daughters of three jjk men introduce their boyfriends to their fathers. ( 5.7K )

warnings ! minors blank and ageless blogs do not interact. video banner. not beta read. sfw, fluff, angst if you squint, no-curses!au, mentions of pregnancy, children and babies, the children have no names, some family issues, married life, domestic bliss, husband + father!jjk men, mother + fem!reader.

sonic says ! hello everyone !! i wanted to try my hand at some head canons and scenarios, i couldn’t get this idea out of my head so put a pause on working on kinktober to write it lol!! hope you enjoy <3 - m.list ⋆ read on ao3 ! ִ ࣪𖤐₊ 

ᯓ★ SATORU GOJO:

before meeting you, satoru gojo had never been fond of a family dinner. 

in his childhood home — they were cold and quiet, pockets of clattering cutlery would cut through painstaking silence and distract from the loud emptiness of the seat at the head of the table where his own father was supposed to be. his mother, often solemn and sunken in the shoulders, never spoke. never cooked and slipped small bites to her son in between preparation or steps.

they had staff for that, they had staff for everything.

to keep the household clean and together. to keep him fed and breathing. to keep him alive. all requirements felt almost clinical, the environment in which he was raised almost like the white walls of a hospital — without a trace of love needed for a child like satoru gojo needed to thrive. 

even if he had all the money in the world, he hadn’t a drop of love. he wasn’t ever sure if he was capable of the warm and fuzzy emotion, didn’t know if it was something his heart could ever open up to — sealed in by layers of cool, cold concrete and cement. kept in a safe without a key. at least until you miraculously found it and melted the thick layers of ice blocking satoru’s veins. you brought back colour to his cheeks and light to his eyes, taking up the space in his heart where his family had left a swirling, black void. 

to satoru, you were a saving grace. his everything… and he swore he’d never be like his father; who left his wife unhappy and empty, like a abandoned shell. he promised; he’d do much better than his parents ever did. especially when you found out you were pregnant, even more so when your little girl came into the world with plentiful white curls and lashes, screaming at the top of her teeny tiny lungs. 

at the time, you were sure you’d never seen satoru gojo so in love ( and so teary eyed too ) — but you knew what becoming a parent meant to him. what it meant for the new life you now shared.

but now, having met you and married you and created life with you — satoru had found a new appreciation for family dinners. they were a sacred event, a special time for him to keep up with the lives of his children and let them know he was there. present. 

it wasn’t a time to be imposed on and certainly not by meddlesome boyfriends brought home by sixteen year old daughters.

“so kid, what’s your 401K look like?” 

satoru carries a look of disdain, his nostrils flared, blue eyes narrowed and perfect pink lips curled in an unhappy frown. 

the young boy opposite him, a little scrawny and awkward, shrinks underneath the white haired man’s intense gaze — if you squinted, you could probably see him shaking like a little leaf in the intense wind from across the table “um… i don’t know?”

“hear that little guy? no 401K… how’s he meant to take care of your sister. yeah, yeah.

you’re right, i’ll give him a chance,” he mutters to the baby boy snoozing happily in his arms under his breath, engaging in a one sided conversation before switching his focus back to his daughter’s…sorry excuse for a partner. “okay then… finances, clearly not. academics and common sense —“ pausing,  the white haired father of two clicks his tongue, pushing it into the soft flesh on the inside of his cheek as if to feel his next words out in his mouth. “do you even know what a bouquet of flowers is, kid? a corsage? gojo women don’t play about their flowers, yanno.” 

“sir—“

without giving the boy a chance to speak, gojo drops his intrusive gaze under the table and back up again — pointing an accusatory finger at his little girl’s partner. “your top button’s undone and your shoe laces are untied. you might wanna fix that! if you care about my daughter’s safety!” he turns his nose up all petulant like a picky toddler being forced to eat his veggies, he even sticks his tongue out for good measure. gojo’s eccentric movements nearly jostle his sleepy son in place. the baby whines and gurgles a little bit, only soothed by a pat to his back from dad — who repositions him to snooze over his shoulder.

in a silent, quieter gesture, satoru uses two fingers to point between his eyes and the boy’s. almost as if to say ‘i’m watching you.’

catching him in the act, the eldest gojo daughter bounces into the room carrying plates of steaming hot food, exhaling with worm down patience evident in her body language. “daddy please, you don’t act like this normally. stop messing around.” rolling her eyes, she sets the dishes down, freeing up her hand to smack the back of her dad’s clearly empty skull. just like her mother.

“well sooooorrry for being a good dad and caring about your wellbeing! who you’re dating! who you’re bringing into our bloodline!” gojo rebuttals with petish grunts, unable to cradle the back of his injured head like he does with his son.  

and as if by magic, you, his beautiful and loving and gorgeous wife appear with dinner plates in hand to double down on a scolding the white haired man. amused, you also swat at your husband’s head and tut down at him. “satoru? what are you doing?” there’s something about the way you tease and tell gojo off that always makes his heart race, even after all these years of marriage and raising his kids. he loves you, his family so much. he almost keens into your touch like a pathetic dog, until your daughter starts gagging at the sight — slipping into her set. you were supposed to be watching the baby. not interrogating the poor kid.” 

“we’re having a heart to heart, babe,” gojo swoons, clearing his throat as his head bobs in the direction of his daughter’s boyfriend. “jimbob here was just telling me about his 3.4% grade point average.”

“it’s hiro sir! and uh… 3.5% sir.” the boyfriend in question chirps shyly.

you know that your husband feels… almost threatened by another man entering your daughter’s life — they’ve been practically inseparable since the moment she first opened her eyes. to give up the duty of loving and protecting her and pass it onto someone else is probably what scares him the most. “that’s pretty good hun!” you comment absentmindedly, hoping to pull satoru away from the conversation.

“no it’s not! our daughter has a 4.0%.”

“s-she was failing in math, i was tutoring her.” the boyfriend hopefully interjects again, whispering next when the baby stirs at the dining table. “i hope that makes up for my 401K sir. i-i also work part time to save for college and—!” 

“haha — no i wasn’t!” the younger gojo girl tenses in place, elbowing her date in the ribs not so discretely from under the table. it’s this interaction that makes her father smile, only briefly, before you scowl his way.

“i thought you told them we met at a tutoring session.” 

“you were failing?” you raise a brow, taking your own seat beside her father. 

“see! this boy failure is a bad influence on our daughter!” a glare settles on the slopes of satoru’s angelic features, mirrored by your child’s unimpressed expression across the table. in his arms, your youngest fusses about as if he senses the mounting tension at the table — earning a bounce or two from daddy, who turns your way all matter-of-factly like. “see, this why he doesn’t have a 401K”

“why would a teenager have a 401k, satoru!” comes your 

“i had one when i was his age.” satoru shoots back and the kid sinks nervously in his seat. the poor boy looks as though he wants to disappear, squirming in place like he’s no better than a worm on a bait hook — it’s torture being interrogated and inspected by someone so close to the person you love most, but even he knows how important satoru’s approval is to your daughter.

she wouldn’t say it now, not when she was all grown up and finding her way out in the world — but she idolised gojo, all of her fondest memories are painted in his colours. shades of sapphire and azure like his vivid eyes, snowy white from his hair that almost rivals the clouds in the sky — the backdrop to days spent riding her father’s shoulders through the big wide world, racing down grassy green hills and wasting the hours away. she wouldn’t admit it here, today, but she never wanted to leave those memories. leave her father behind in her youth — it was written on each dip and curve and highlight on her youthful face, she wanted her father to move into this next phase of life with her too.

“daddy, you were a trust fund baby with shit grades and no prospects until you met mum,” she huffs but her words hold no malice, even if the sass brims over the edge of her tone like an emotionally charged, overflowing glass of water. you’d chide her for cursing — but you know she means well, stubbornly expressing her desire for approval to her man child of a father. “a loser, if you will.” 

gojo slumps, the rosey petals of his plump lips pushing into an age old pout. “how could you say that about dear old dad?” he whines, as though he’s a wounded animal. 

“well she’s not wrong, baby. you were a loser satoru, you still are.” the words are fond and light hearted on your tongue, a similar state to the wisps of a smile that trace over your own lips. leaning in close, you tickle the nose of the gurgling baby boy in his arms, heart heavy with affection — grateful that the one interaction you had with your husband all those years ago ( when he was a scrapier and misunderstood ) led you both to the beautiful chaotic family you have together now. “a hot one at least.” 

“gross.” your daughter groans and buries her embarrassed gaze in the spread of food on the neatly laid table — grabbing a plate and piling it high to cope.

her boyfriend chuckles nervously, wanting nothing more but to eat and do the same. desperate to hide from gojo’s intimidating aura, but too afraid to cross another one of his ridiculous invisible lines. “i think that’s very sweet mrs gojo!”

the brief moment of peace in the war of dad v boyfriend is then interrupted by the white haired man’s temper tantrum, realising that his only daughter is still in the room. “don’t push it kid.” the father of your children all but wails and finds something else about the young couple to pick apart. “you’re sitting too close together! move apart!” 

“daddy—!”

“w-what?”

“i said move it or lose it kid, before i keel over and die of heartbreak.” “betrayal. my own daughter, leaving me for someone else.” 

the two separate, shifting their chairs away from one another despite never actually being too close. you share an empathetic look with your eldest, empathetic to your husband’s actions. you both knew he wouldn’t handle the meeting well, but this was beyond your whilst dreams. the young couple’s hands remain intertwined under the table cloth as the meal begins properly, and when satoru notices, he doesn’t comment — biting down hard on his unhappy tongue. he knows all too well what it’s like to love against the odds, his father in law hardly wanted him around you. it’s not like he wasn’t aware how bad he was for you, how your standards might have even dropped for the man to be with him. but you loved satoru with your entire being, wholly and against all of your own parent’s wishes. 

in a way, the dinner tonight reminds him of himself meeting your father for the first time — how he had to work for his approval too. prove that he was more than just a spoilt brat. too caught up in the memories, the odd sense of loss threaded between his every breath and the love he holds for his daughter settled in his lungs — gojo almost kissed the way you whisper to him adoringly, head drooping to rest on his shoulder mostly to look at your baby but partly to comfort him. “you’re being dramatic satoru. look at them, don’t you just love young love.” 

and he does, he looks, really looks — softly staring across the table and through the haze of his own judgement, noticing how happy his little girl looks all wrapped up with her boyfriend. all he’s ever wanted is to keep her smiling, give her a life that his parents couldn’t give him, he feels all of his resentment and fear or losing his daughter melt away like a plain sheet of paper dissolving in water. he loves her too much to not let her be happy, his baby. his little girl. 

“no, not at all,” satoru finally relents with a wobbling voice and silvery tears that dot his vision — shaking his head back and forth to stop them from dropping onto his sleeping son gathered in his arms. “w-why would you say that? god, is it allergy season? my eyes are killing me. they’re not cute at all, why would you say that i’m crying?” 

your teenage daughter glances over, relief evident in all of her identical gojo features. “no one mentioned you crying, daddy.” she coos softly in an attempt to console satoru.

it doesn’t work, he starts dry heaving and sobbing. which is new for her, he hasn’t cried this hard since her baby brother was born.

the kid scrambles into his pocket and damn near stumbles over the table in order to hand your white haired lover a tissue. “i don’t think you’re crying sir!” 

“shut up!” gojo sniffles dramatically, putting on his best theatre kid act and drapes himself ( and the baby ) all over you. “shit, is this cushioned tissue? three ply?” pale, deft fingers swipe at the blue pools of eyes which well with tears while the kid nods over enthusiastically — desperate to please his girlfriend’s guardian. “good stuff this is… but this doesn’t mean i approve of you for my daughter!”

“gojo!” 

“whaaaaat!? he doesn’t have a 401K!”

ᯓ★ RYOMEN SUKUNA:

if you’d told sukuna, almost a decade and a half ago, that he would end up with a life shrouded in domestic bliss — he would have laughed in your face. maybe even called you a cunt whilst telling you to fuck off. back then, when he was younger and the spirit of ambitious fire burned brightly in his veins as though he had petroleum for blood, the pink haired man never dreamed of settling down. buying a house. getting married. or having kids.

he was as untameable as a wild horse, with only one goal in mind. to open up his restaurant and get his family out of that shithole town by all and any means. he’d cross whatever rivers he had to, climb whatever mountains he needed to — push past societal hurdles that judged him for the pink in his hair and the thick ink on his body. ryomen sukuna did not care. not about anyone else, only about his goals.

at least, until he met you. 

in many ways, you were a blessing to the world where sukuna was a curse. his complete opposite, the day to his night. though the worlds and lives you came from were completely different — 

nowadays, the man is a little softer around the edges and weaker in the heart — they say that’s what true love does to you.

a set of keys jingle at the front door, followed by the dull thud of trainers on the shoe rack and footsteps on the mahogany wood floor. sukuna hardly looks up from the article he’s reading — something about the best recipes for autumnal vegetables. who would have thought, ryomen sukuna, reading up on gardening. he would tell anyone who asked it was for his restaurant, not because he actually enjoyed it. would make him look soft. 

“hey, i’m home!” the voice that calls to him is sweet and youthful, a dulcet symphony that tugs paternally at the pink haired man’s heart strings. “is ma here?” 

sukuna smiles to himself behind the newspaper, inhaling its fresh ink scent. “in the kitchen, workin’,” he replies absentmindedly, listening to his daughter skid down the hall after dropping her backpack. “oi squirt, you ain’t slick. you know what day it is, report card. now.” 

there’s a dramatic sigh that follows footsteps trailing back into the living room. sukuna’s daughter, his pride and joy clings onto the doorframe with a scowl that could very well rival his own, ruby red eyes twinkling with annoyance — she’s in a rush to chat with her mother after school, he knows, but he can’t help but to tease her just a bit. “s’in my bag, can i go now?” she whines impatiently but takes off at the first gentle nod from her father in reply. 

but the pink haired parent’s peaceful evening is quickly turned upside down at the discovery he makes in the bottom of his pride and joy’s bag. no matter how much time has passed, how many decades have gone by in which he’s been a father — nothing could prepare him for this new challenge, the new wave of emotions that come with having a tween daughter and swirl hotly in his chest.

“what the fuck is this?” he announces with a foul snarl, slipping into the kitchen where his girls chitchat idly over a test batch of cookies sukuna had made earlier in the day. for his restaurant of course. not because he’s a doting husband or loving father. he’s got an image to uphold and it’s not one of domestic bliss. 

his daughter chirps, not looking up from the sweet treat she picks apart and pops into her mouth — seated on the kitchen island while you work away on your laptop. “what’s what, daddy?” her innocent nonchalance about the older sukuna’s discovery almost makes him pop a vein. “also, ma told you to stop saying the f-word. so, swear jar.”

the hulking man with the contrastingly soft pink pokes his tongue into the soft epithelium of his cheek, his jaw ticks and a playful frustration tingles throughout all four of his limbs. the swear jar was something you’d brought into play as soon as [daughter name] had learned how to talk, afraid that your rough and rugged husband’s potty mouth would rub off on her young impressionable mind. every time a cursed word falls from between ryomen sukuna’s lips, a couple hundred yen is popped into the jar as punishment. the thing was practically full by your baby’s third birthday, so you’ve been putting it down as her college fund ever since.

paper rustles between deft and tattooed fingers as sukuna reveals not a report card, but a crinkled note like the kind passed back and forth between distracted kids in the middle of that one class before lunch. “don’t play dumb with me, squirt.” ryomen holds the note up to the light so that both of his girls can see, blood diamond eyes squinting so he can inspect it better. somebody get this guy his glasses. “‘do you want to go out with me? tick for yes, cross for no.’” he reads out loud, each word leaving a bitter taste on his tongue, his frown so deep that lines of disapproval form on his well-aged face.

thoughts of the once all-important report card vanish into thin air, the relaxed aura in the room replaced with a palatable tension that not even your husband’s finest knives could cut. your precious baby girl shoots up from the counter to scramble with her dad over the note in hand. he holds her back with a large palm to the forehead.

“oh my god! you weren’t supposed to see that! daddy, give it here. please!”

“fat chance, squirt,” the tattooed man retorts. “you passin’ notes in class? that why you’re hidin’ your report card?” 

“you can have my report card, when you give that back!”

with the two standing side by side, the resemblance strikes you as clear as day. they share the same hair, same scowl and same rugged intonation to their voices. they’re both yours, your entire world under one roof. before they can blow said root off, you stand between the elder and younger sukuna — turning to your husband with hooded eyes and a gentle hand on the centre of his broad chest. “oh ryo,” you coo in flirtation, slowing his train of thought as you sneakily swipe the crushed paper from his grip. “shut up ‘n let me see that.”

your daughter gags behind you at the display of affection, contrasting with the amused smirk you share with your long time lover. after all this time, marriage and the perfect kid, you’re still able to make a fool out of him — make sukuna’s heart skip a beat and a heat he refuses to acknowledge crawl up the back of his neck. he’s gone soft, for you and his family. for now, for you, he relents on taunting his precious little girl. 

casting your gaze over the note, you grin at the pink-ink chicken scratch scribbled across the page. it’s sweet and endearing, reminding you of young love. “did atsushi finally ask you out?” you ask tenderly, handing the paper back to your daughter who cuddles it to her chest like the  physical version of a precious memory. 

a bashful expression lines the contours of her face, seeping into features you’d recognise from your husband on her. sukuna would argue that she has the shape of your eyes and your beauty too — but all you see is a culmination of love. “ma you were so totally right, playing hard to get really works!” 

she gushes dreamily over her crush like it’s puppy love, biting her lip and bouncing on the spot. 

“like a charm, every time.” comes your entertained response, much to your husband’s dismay.

“you weren’t playin’ hard to get with me…” sukuna questions rather than states, trying to piece together parts of the gossip that he’s missed. an anxiety corners the beat of his heart at the thought of his daughter dating, something in which the burly man never thought he would be afraid of. the world had been hard on sukuna; he only worries that it’s not as safe for his pride and joy as it were for him.   “never mind that; the brat asked you out with a piece of paper?  y’better not have said yes. we have standards here.” 

his words make you roll your eyes with the hint of a smile. ryomen almost reminding you of your own father around the time you’d met him.

your daughter scrunches her nose petulantly, gearing herself up for a witty reply. “well ma married you, so her standards can’t be that high.” she snaps, earning a stifled laugh from you and an unimpressed grunt from her hardheaded dad. “and no, i didn’t. told him he needed to ask me out  properly. face to face. with words. he said to meet him on the running track tomorrow at lunch for a surprise!”

pulling her into a hug, you kiss her round youthful cheek. “oh baby, i'm so happy for you!”

“well i ain’t! show me the damn kid, need to see what kind of pitiful brat wants to ask out my little girl,”  sukuna crosses his arms and grumbles to himself, black ink tattoos flexing menacingly as he does so. almost as if he’s preparing to threaten the kid before even meeting him. “whatever happened to askin’ for permission to court or whatever. he should have been on my doorstep asking for your hand.” 

“firstly you would have said no, and secondly this isn’t the olden days, dad. nobody does that anymore.” your cheeky daughter chides him loudly, her words slipping over her snarky little tongue. like father like daughter, the way they snip and snap at one another has an uncanny resemblance.

tilting your head upwards towards your fuming husband, you laugh breathlessly in a way that washes away his anger.“she’s right ryo; though my dad hardly approved of you either.” you say softly. even now, you make him feel weak in the knees and dizzy in the mind, like he’s so anything for you. whoever dates his daughter should feel the same about her.

“i freakin’ earned it, didn’t i? 

“just barely.”

sukuna huffs but settles a hand on your waist from behind and his head atop yours. he needs to soothe himself somehow, his daughter is growing too fast. “stop ganging up on me and lemme see the damn kid.” 

“here, isn’t he cute.” 

lips downturned, sukuna craned his neck to look at your daughter’s phone from over your shoulder — scrutinising the instagram page that she’s opened now offering the kid his only child has taken an interest in like a lamb at the slaughterhouse. “brat looks like a noodle.” haughty laughter fills the kitchen, reverberating against the bones and organs in ryomen’s chest and buzzing right though your back. “you’re right i woulda said no as soon as he fuckin’ turned up!” 

two sets of scolding eyes similar in shape, belonging to the two girls he loves the most swivel around to face the pink haired man disapprovingly.

“ryomen sukuna!” 

“daddy!”

“yeah yeah, i know. swear jar.”

ᯓ★ SUGURU GETO:

“my love, were you aware that our little munchkin has a boyfriend?”

suguru looks up from the bubbling pot of child friendly pasta sauce on the stove. if it were just the two of you having dinner tonight, like it was merely three (nearly four) years ago — he would have planned for a more adventurous meal. perhaps sought out a bottle of fine aged wine for you both to enjoy on the balcony and even gotten a dessert to sweeten the date in. but now, you both had more than two hungry tummies to worry about, and bottles of wine could only be purchased when the little one was off with her uncle satoru.

“no, i wasnt. i don't believe that’s come up in discussion before,” your dark haired lover turns his narrow gaze to the giggly little girl swaddled in your arms — her chubby cheeks and dark, curious eyes just peeking out of the fluffy duck-themed towel you’ve wrapped her in. bath time is usually after bed, but someone got into the paint pots at nursery school and managed to get blotches of blue streaked through her hair and under her fingernails. “care to elaborate sweetheart?”

suguru taps the wooden sauce spoon against the side of the pot and swipes his hands on a nearby tea towel before allowing them to rest on his hips, look of faux irritation settling on the contours of his face and slopes of his features. thin brows draw together like closed gates in the middle of his forehead — the expression earning airy light and squealed laughter from your baby girl.

“nuh uhhh! not my boy-fend!” she babbles her way through the big girl word, missing a few syllables here and there, but geto still grins with pride — happily leaning forward to press enthusiastic kisses to his little angel’s damp forehead. “no boy-fend papa!

bouncing your daughter slightly, you cock your hip out to hold her weight and cheekily roll your eyes. “such a daddy’s girl, lying to him already? he’ll let you get away with anything if you keep that up,”  though you muster up a pout to rival the toddler’s, the uncanny resemblance warming the cockles or your husband’s heart, your tone is playful and adoring — it’s lilt full of love for the baby girl you made together. you pinch her chubby cheek, waggling it from side to side as more of her childlike laughter tangles with the scent of pasta in the air.  “we bumped into the fujioka boy and his mother at the gates this morning, he held her hand all the way up to the classroom. it was quite cute. you had to be there, love.” 

“i’m sure,” he responds, gentle mirth and protectiveness swirling in dark framed eyes.

you relay the information to your husband as though it’s hot gossip fresh from the press, whispering over your dark-haired daughter’s head not so secretly. even with the hair and eyes to match suguru’s, she’s still just as much your carbon copy as she is his — he tends to say all of her spirit comes from you, not to mention the way she laughs and smiles.

shaking her head between you, both — your baby chimes in brightly. “noooo mama!! boys are gross, i don’ hold hands with boys.”

this time suguru manoeuvres to pinch her other chubby cheek, clicking his tongue as he does so. “not even papa?” he pretends to pout, crouching down with his hands on his knees to coo into her sweet little face. 

“nuhhh, papa isn’t gross!! papa is my favourite boy!” she quickly tacks on with a dribbly smile.

“that’s right. i’ll be the only boy in your life always, just you and i princess,” your husband reaffirms with a firm shake of his head and presses a promise in the form of a kiss to your daughter’s nose. her chubby little hands, still wet from bath time, smack either side of suguru’s face and keep him close — close enough for her to plant a soggy smooch onto his forehead affectionately. a wet kiss only a father could love. “that settles it, i’m no longer sharing my kisses. papa says no boyfriends until you’re ninety.”

once your two loves are done sharing their candied affections, you seat your daughter on the edge of the kitchen table to allow geto the room to finish up with dinner. the comforting symphony of baby babbles and kitchen utensils clanking and food boiling fills the steamy air, it makes you smile. it feels like home. “oh come on suguru, they’re only three. don’t you think it’s the tiniest bit adorable?” you say with a sing-songy voice, entertaining both your little one and her father.“they even share their animal crackers during break time and crayons when it’s time to colour, one of the supervisors told me.”

with his back now to you as he stirs through the pasta sauce one final time, you hardly miss the way suguru’s shoulders tense at the mention of the little boy your girl has taken a liking to. he wouldn’t dare frown about it in front of her, what upsets daddy upsets baby too. that’s why he’s always smiling for her, and you find the man’s subtle jealousy endearing. it’s always supposed to be suguru and his princess, with no room for anyone else ( aside from you, of course ) 

“nope, no boyfriends. no amount of cuteness can convince me otherwise.” voice falling tight and flat, suguru reaches into the cupboards for plates and bowls to dish up his lovingly prepared home cooked meal, slamming them into place at the table with a little less patience than before. 

the idea of some… little boy chasing after his daughter’s heart? over his dead body.

“boy-fends are gross!” but your daughter is forever a daddy’s girl, furrowing her brow and crossing her tiny arms in an act of defiance — supporting her papa’s cause. boyfriends are bad! 

fuelling her excitement and even more support for papa — food is served shortly by your husband, who plates up as best as he can with toddler safe dinnerware. you adjust your little girl into her high chair at the table, giggling to yourself softly when she cranes her neck to keep an eye on suguru. “does that mean papa’s gross? he’s technically mama’s boyfriend.”

“husband, love, there’s a difference.” 

three plates of hot, aromatic spaghetti are organised in a table — each a domestic reminder of the family suguru geto has been blessed with. in that moment, he thinks he would be happy if he spent the rest of his life as just the three of you. briefly his mind wonders to setting a fourth place at the table in a decade or so’s time, once his daughter truly is old enough to date. the very thought makes him feel ill. 

round, doe eyes dart between you and suguru as you take your seats either side of your darling daughter at the table — she mimics you both with fumbling little fingers that reach for her baby fork and concentrates as she attempts to repeat your husband’s words. “can i have a husbsband-love?”

you laugh and kiss her cheek, helping her to gather a bite of pasta on the full end of her fork. “husband. just husband, my love. make sure you blow on your food please!” she follows your instructions with a comical air, cheeks puffing and breath huffing while you explain why her father is a second away from blowing his top. “good girl. husband’s aren’t for babies, baby. and i think papa might not like it if you got one now.”

“if you got one ever!” suguru interjects, eyes narrowing while he fights with his lips to avoid a scowl. “the answer is still no, princess. no husbands and no boyfriends until papa is old, cold and in the ground.” 

now that your hands are free, you grab the nearest tea towel and wind it up in your grip — launching its tail end at geto as though to swat at  him. he jumps in surprise and your daughter shrieks in amusement as she begins babbling again. “don worry, papa!. fujioka is  no my boy-fend!!” she says over food in her mouth and happy tummy. geto wipes over her face again. she’ll definitely need another bath later. “hasegawa is!!”

the pair of you share a look and this time, you really think suguru might just throw in the towel. 

how could he compete with pre-school love and paint pots shared over playtime gossip? 

“two boyfriends? oh god, love… i think need some air.”

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate, feed into ai & recommend elsewhere.

[sacredsorceress]

Scars / Logan Howlett

pairing: dofp!logan howlett x mutant!reader summary: every person has a soulmate. after settling in the future that he saved, logan starts to consider his next mission when a suspicious mark appears on him. word count: 3.2k a/n: good ol'fashioned soulmate AU. this is the first actual fic i've written in a long time so please have some grace. reblogs and replies are super appreciated! warnings: general mentions of logan's past, scars, self-doubt, alcoholism, reader smokes a cigar, mentions of razors, scars, wounds, two uses of y/n

logan masterlist | inbox | full masterlist

It had been a week since Logan woke up in his healed timeline.

For most people, the change would have been dramatic. But Logan was far unlike most people. The initial dreamlike state he was in when he first walked through the mansion- seeing the ghosts he had once known returned to the flesh, unscathed- quickly subsided. Logan had always been a man thrown onto a new path- how he lived life constantly changing to best fit his interests. Now, with his newfound peace he found the most complicated mission of all: what to do with the life he was now free to live?

Even before the sentinels, the battles, the wars- he had always been a man on the run. He was solo, strategic, concise. For a man who was gifted with infinite regeneration, he had solely concerned himself with staying alive. He ate for sustenance, sought shelter for safety, and nursed a bottle to find enough peace of mind to sleep at night.

The professor had once told him that for a person to reach self-actualization they first had to have all of their needs met. Logan had scoffed at the time, assuring the professor that he knew himself just fine. But now, with his problems so solved that they had ceased to ever exist, he wondered if maybe the professor was right.

Who was he? Where did he go from here?

The answer was found in the form of a scar on his hand.

"Well, everything seems to be just fine."

Logan scoffed at the blue man in front of him

"Well it's not." Logan said. "Check again."

Two days after he had come back, a large, circular scar had appeared on the palms of each of his hands. When they hadn't disappeared after two minutes, he rushed to the bathroom and nicked himself with his razor, watching as the wound healed with only blood dripping down his scruff as a remanent of it. Thirty minutes after that he found himself in the lab with Hank, Jean, and the Professor hypothesizing his miraculous marks.

"Logan, the tests came back clear." Jean assured him, leaning against the wall. "Maybe it's time to consider that it's something else."

Logan quirked his head towards her.

"I haven't had a scar in over two hundred years," he reminded her, his voice laced with irony. "I get not one, but two and you... what? Think it's a coincidence?"

Before Jean had a chance at rebuttal, the professor moved to face Logan.

"That's not what Jean's inferring, Logan." Charles reminded him. "We're simply asking that you consider other options. Less... dire options. It could, after all, be a good thing."

"Yeah?" Logan scoffed. "Like what?"

A silence hung in the air.

When Logan had first come to them with news of his scar, the thought had been on all three of their minds. Still, there were a plethora of things that could have caused that. Though, when the tests came back clear and his skin continued to heal from all sorts of abrasions, it felt as if there was only one answer for his seemingly magical scars.

However, none of them were keen on sharing this diagnosis with Logan. One wondered whether he'd handle the idea of his body failing him over fated love.

Hank was the first to speak up.

"Like a soulmate."

Oh that was rich, Logan thought.

Logan wasn't unfamiliar with the idea of soulmates.

Around the time that two fated lovers were destined to meet, there would be a sign for each of them. In some cases they were eyes changing colors, feeling the other's pain, finding their names everywhere they looked. In other cases they were new birthmarks, tattoos, scars.

In some way, the two were inextricably connected.

In his long life he had seen others experience it dozens if not hundreds of times. When the first thirty years of his life rolled around with no one, Logan accepted that he was one of the outliers. He considered it for the best and by now, with everything that he had gone through, the concept of soulmates almost seemed like an old wives' tale.

Logan glanced at their faces. When he realized they were serious, a deep laugh escaped from his gut. There was a lack of light in his eyes that admitted his insincerity.

"So I disappear for a few decades and you all start believing in fairytales?" Logan pulled the needles from his arm, the heart rate monitor going flat as he did. "What a bunch of bullshit."

Jean laid her hand against his chest, urging him back into the seat.

"Logan." She soothed him. "This is a good thing. Scott and I-"

Oh this was real rich.

"Scott and you are... what, huh?" Logan urged. "Soulmates?"

Logan scoffed, swiping Jean's hand from his chest.

"Bet you're so happy with your 'soulmate' and that's why you lead me on, huh? That it? You're happy?" He taunted, a dark laugh escaping him once more. "Spare me-"

"Logan, that's enough!"

The professor's voice echoed against the linoleum walls of the lab, reverberating off of the medical equipment throughout.

"If you want to wallow in your own self-deprivation, be my guest, but spare the rest of us your grief." Charles continued. "I think it would be best if you go back to your quarters and consider the future the universe has offered you."

The energy in the air was thick.

Jean and Hank avoided Logan’s eye contact while the professor’s nearly burned a whole through him.

Accepting defeat, Logan threw his hands up in the air and pushed himself out of his metal chair.

“Fine.”

Soulmates. Logan thought. Who would believe in a thing like that?

-

"It's a pleasure to see you again."

The atmosphere in the mansion was a stark contrast to the lab Charles had been in days before.

Now the school day had commenced: children skipping from class to class, students chatting with their friends in the hallway, teachers grabbing coffee between lessons. Amidst the organized chaos, Charles had arranged to meet you in the foyer: the replacement history teacher for Logan's class.

"You too, professor." You smiled, reaching out your hand. "I was so glad to hear from you."

Your hand hung in the air briefly, awaiting his return. Charles examined it for a moment- a twinkle in his eye- before taking it. His thumbs brushed against the newfound scars between your knuckles as he did.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but you didn't always have these scars, did you, Y/n?" Charles asked.

You had not.

You had woken with them a few days before. Despite your powers rooted in chaos magic, it wasn't uncommon for blemishes or wounds to etch themselves into your skin. However, you often knew why. These marks, scars, were not faint, but instead quite profound. Three thick, healed over wounds patched together like a stitch on the back of each of your hands.

"No professor."

He closed his eyes, a soft smile gracing his lips. Though you knew he wished to ask more questions, the moment was broken by Logan.

"Ah, the man himself." Charles beamed. "Logan, I'd like you to meet Y/n. She'll be covering your class."

You had seen your fair share of news stories about the Wolverine. Who hadn't? Though the television had never prepared you for just how tall, or broad he was.

"It's nice to meet you, Logan."

"You too." He nodded, taking your hand.

His hand lingered in yours for a moment. Charles cleared his throat.

"We were just discussing the most peculiar scar on Y/n's hand." Charles said. "Appeared just a few days ago out of nowhere."

Charles nodded his head in the direction of your hand, leading Logan to squint. As if a light bulb had gone off over his head, Logan glanced between Charles and yourself and with your hand still in his, he turned it examine the back.

Three scars between your knuckles. Right where his own claws would be.

Though he liked to imagine himself as the patron of remaining suave, Logan's eyebrows shot up at the recognition. He traced his view from your hands, up your torso, to your face where you eyed him questioningly.

He thought back to the way that he woke up in the seventies, wrapped in the arms of another woman. If times had been different and Logan hadn't undergone all the so-called character development in the last forty years, he was sure that a face like yours would have gotten him in a lot of trouble. You were beautiful, and your demeanor highlighted your strength.

Your face radiated kindness, warmth and most of all, sincerity- a trait that was difficult to come by in a trade such as his.

But then Logan recalled that this wasn't the seventies and you weren't at some bar leading him on the entire night: your hand was in his and, according to everyone else, he was yours.

The idea almost couldn't register in Logan's brain.

"Interesting, isn't it, Logan?" Charles asked, breaking the silence. "Almost identical to where your claws are, hmm?"

Oh the professor thought he was quite funny.

Logan pulled his hand back from your grasp and shook his head.

"Not that easy, Charles." Logan commented before turning to you, a spiteful tone in his voice. "See you around, bub."

Before you had the chance to open your mouth, you watched as Logan stomped down the nearest hallway, his boots squeaking against the floorboards as he did. His fists clenched and released at his sides as he disappeared from view.

His reaction had come so far from left field that if it hadn't given you whiplash, it would have hurt your ego. Instead you turned back to the professor.

"Was it something I said?" You asked.

The professor shook his head, patting your hand gently.

"Logan's quite a complicated man." He assured you. "I'm sure you'll come to know that more than the rest of us. Now, to your classroom..."

Glancing over your shoulder to the void-like hallway that Logan went down, you considered the professor's words.

-

A storm had taken over the mansion by nightfall.

As you padded down the wood panelled hallways, the lightbulbs shook in their glass with each thunder clap- wind swatting at the window panes every few seconds. The pitter patter of the raindrops, although harsh, was comforting. It was almost as if the mansion had been engulfed by the storm, trapping everyone inside, while consequently making the outside world feel a thousand miles away.

When you found Logan's door, tucked in at the end of the hallway, you knocked.

"Yep."

The weight of the door fell against the palm of your hands as you pushed it open.

Logan's room was dark. The only light in the space had been from the embers of the cigar that hung in his mouth, cradled between his thumb and forefinger. Despite the darkness, you could make out his figure sitting at his desk chair by the window, feet kicked up on the sill.

Logan only gave you a quick glance over his shoulder before turning back to the view.

"What d'you want?"

His voice was thick and rough around the edges.

"I came for your textbooks." You replied, tiptoeing against his floorboards. "The professor said you'd have them."

The hand of his that held the cigar waved around. Minuscule ashes fell to the floor as your eyes remained trained on the light and the faint glow of the moon that illuminated the side of his face.

"Be my guest," he said. "Don’t have a clue where they are."

The professor had given you the lowdown when he saw your scars.

Charles told you that despite everything that you had learned- the history that you had known- the Wolverine you'd meet was not the same person. He was a man from a different time with far different, darker memories and enough baggage to weigh down dozens.

Amidst the silence, you cleared your throat.

"Must be hard to wake up in someone else's life."

By now you had reached his desk, your fingertips tracing the lines in the dark, lacquered wood.

You could smell him and the cigar from this distance- aftershave mixed with smoke.

"The professor tell you that?"

"Mhm."

The chair creaked as Logan flicked his hand towards the window, ushering you to come closer.

Watching your step in the dark, you maneuvered around the furniture and sat beside Logan on his desk- pushing loose papers to the side.

"He give you his whole spiel on soulmates too?" He asked, eyes trained on the rain outside.

Soulmates.

Now that was the last thing you expected to come from the Wolverine's mouth.

You'd heard of them more times than you could count. You once wondered whether every repetitive coincidence was a sign that your person was coming. But, when that never happened, you lost hope.

Who got to tell you who you belonged to anyway?

Leaning over, you gingerly took the cigar from his grasp and replaced it with your own fingers. Sitting back into the desk as lightening struck a tree in the distance, you took a puff.

"So that's what the scars on my hands were all about," You thought aloud.

The window fogged as you let the smoke leave from your mouth in a breathy sigh.

Logan tapped his fingers on his thighs, counting the seconds between a lightening strike and its consecutive rumble of thunder.

"Listen, I'm no prince charming if that's what you came here looking for."

Logan's chair creaked again as he leaned back in his seat. His arm draped against the desk as he met your gaze.

You chuckled and held out his cigar, offering it back to him.

"I came here looking for textbooks." You laughed. "You're the one who keeps talking about soulmates. I think you're more of a romantic than you let on.”

His fingers brushed against yours as he took the cigar back into his own hand. Another lightning strike met the ground in the distance, a clap of thunder following moments afterwards.

"You don't buy it?" Logan quirked his eyebrow. It was a teasing question, one he was curious to hear your answer to.

You shrugged.

"I don't think the universe gets to tell me who to love," you said. "If I fall in love with you it's because I love you, Logan. Not because some mark told me to. I just think of it as... a little shove in the right direction.”

The corner of his mouth quirked into a smile for the first time.

"A shove?"

"Like a... blind date." You finished. "Ever been on one of those?"

A congested laugh escaped him.

"Sweetheart, do I look like the type of guy to go on a blind date?"

You bit the inside of your cheek at the name.

Rolling your eyes, you swatted at his arm. You wouldn't admit how much it hurt your knuckles to do so. You'd have to make a mental note to remember his adamantium skeleton.

"Gosh, you're cocky!"

Logan shrugged, "You're the one who likes it apparently."

You felt yourself grow hot at his accusation.

Even though he had a mark signalling his future affection for you, you couldn't help but feel embarrassed by Logan's knowledge of yours. You felt like a child who's crush had just been exposed to the whole class. Was he noting ever glance that you gave him? The way you didn't move when his arm brushed against yours?

A brief pause hung in the air until another thunder clap reverberated against the walls.

"So what's your mark?" You asked.

Logan shoved the cigar into the corner of his mouth. The biting motion forced him to flex his jaw in a way that you would refuse to admit made you start to realize that maybe the universe was right.

And that maybe his cockiness was justified.

He laid out his hands for you. The room was still dark, making the ability to discern the details of his scar impossible. Taking Logan's hands in yours, you summoned your magic into your hands, watching as they glowed gold.

Logan had two large, circular scars imprinted into his palms. It was a clear indicator of your own magical power that surged from your hands.

It left a feeling you couldn't describe in your chest to know that someone else was marked for you. They were destined for you. To be with you. You had a future written together before the two of you had met. Even if he rejected you, there was a sign etched into his skin that bound the two of you together in some fateful way.

Gently, you traced your fingertips against the mark, feeling the warmth that radiated from his palms.

When your eyes flicked upwards, you noticed how close the two of you were now sitting. You could feel his warm breath against your lips as the lingering smell of the cigar drifted up your nose.

Although he wouldn’t admit it, Logan was enchanted by the energy radiating from you. Whether people hated or loved him, his ability got a lot of talk. In his mind though, he would never be a hero. He was just some guy who got lucky.

You, though? He didn’t need you to tell him that you were an Omega level mutant. Logan had heard about you from the professor: you could cast spells, read minds, reconfigure reality- to name a few. You didn't need a reason to fight for what's right, you just did. Again, and again, and again. Even here, now, you were picking up Logan's history class when he knew very well you could be on the other side of the world sipping pina coladas if you wanted.

What the hell was the universe thinking putting you with him?

Logan admired the reflection of the magic on your cheeks and the way your eyes stayed trained on his palms. Your touch was so gentle he could have sworn he was in a distant dream until your eyes met his.

The two of you stared at each other for a moment, gaze locked.

Then another clap of thunder shook the mansion.

You quickly leaned back, pulling your hands from Logan's touch.

"I should... I should go." You said, pushing yourself off of Logan's desk. "It's getting late and I have my first class in the morning."

Logan leaned back in his seat. He said nothing but eyes remained fixed on your form as you made your way towards the door.

Looking back at him with your hand on the knob you made a mental note to remember the image of him with his feet kicked back on the window as he smoked his cigar.

A soft smile remained.

"Good night, Logan."

When you didn't leave immediately, he nodded.

"Night, sweetheart."

Mustering up the courage to shoot him one last smile, you pulled open the door and stepped outside.

Now, Logan didn't know how much he believed in soulmates, but he could be inclined to consider that it was one good wingman.

Leaning back in his seat, Logan sighed and closed his eyes, letting himself drown out his worries with the sound of the rain.

a/n: my inbox is open for more requests! thank you for the request @welcometochilis585

[ckret2]

I might tweak some details later (jewelry? take the ribbon off the bow?) but I've about got a Scalene design I like. The lipstick is really the centerpiece of the design. Now let's infodump! With more art!

🔺 Notice her lines are a a little curvy. It's not for artistic effect. She's got a Fictional Polygon Physical Disorder that makes her bendier than she should be—meaning, among other things, sides that curve and flex.

🔺 It's also the kind of condition with symptoms that are romanticized by people who don't grok that it's a debilitating medical condition. Sides that curve and flex? How exotic! This went to her head in the wrong ways.

🔺 Bill was born with the same condition. You know how squishy and blobby he was as a baby? Thaaat's genetic! He was a lot squishier than most babies! And, consequently, more adorable.

🔺Scalene dreamed of being a famous super model. Was actually a teen beauty queen at mid-tier beauty pageants. She thinks it's always somebody else's fault she wasn't more successful.

🔺 She took Bill to his first baby beauty pageant the day he was born. He did, in fact, have a Best Baby Ever award presented to him by the mayor, but to be fair he was only competing against like 6 other babies and who's going to withhold a trophy from a newborn on his birthday? Anyway the 6-12 month group and 12-24 month groups also each had a Best Baby Ever award.

🔺 This was an absolutely bonkers thing for Scalene to do.

🔺 What's that small scrunkly thing doing at a pageant, he can't even see color yet.

🔺 Their fictional squishy medical condition doesn't just accidentally make shapes cute. It's the kind of condition that affects just about all parts of the body: sides won't stay straight, poor muscle tone resulting in instability & weakness, poor motor coordination & clumsiness, back aches & pains (well, triangles don't have "backs." side aches?), easily dislocated joints, and increasingly skewed sides with age. Just about everyone in Scalene's family is born equilateral and ends up extremely scalene after young adulthood. The rest of her family have normal relationships with their condition, she's the only one who's weird about it

🔺 She was very rough on her body in pursuit of pageantry success, but her physical symptoms & associated chronic pain got a lot worse due to having a kid; she had to retire from pageantry for good. She doesn't blame Bill for this at all. Out loud, to his face. (If she hadn't been so rough on herself in pageants, having a kid probably wouldn't have impacted her health this much. She doesn't consider this.)

🔺 She's weirdly intent on seeing Bill become the success she wasn't. He's her little golden child, he deserves to be seen as the greatest! He'll show them how great he is for mommy, won't he? He won't let mommy down, will he? When he's very young, she takes him to child pageants—he'll appreciate the lessons they taught him when he's older—and this lasts until he finds out he can get out of it by pyrokinetically setting the stage on fire.

🔺 She jokes ("jokes") that she didn't realize that when she was having a kid, she was firing herself from the pageant circuit so she could hire & train her own replacement. These jokes had no long-term impact on Bill at all!!!

(Compare/contrast: how we're told Stan's "You watch the movie, you scare the girl, the girl snuggles up next to you, next thing you know you gotta raise a kid, your life falls apart" is repeating something he heard his dad say.)

🔺 Did you know that squeaky baby shoes are sometimes medical devices? Squeakers help children with poor muscle tone and delayed motor skills learn how to walk correctly: it makes them want to walk on their heels instead of their toes so they can hear the squeak. Did you know sometimes oversized squeaky baby shoes are worn by young kids who need ankle braces? Did you know that kids with poor motor coordination can take a longer time to learn complicated motor skills like tying shoelaces rather than using shoes with velcro straps? It sure is interesting that baby Bill's most defining visual feature is oversized squeaky sneakers with velcro straps and that he kept wearing velcro shoes until he was 16!

🔺 As a baby, Bill's angles were technically supposed to be equilateral,* but thanks to his inherited condition, his angles were so loose his top corner practically formed a right angle. Not good: the closer a triangle creeps to being obtuse, the more likely he'll have muscle strain and medical issues from his organs being squished out of place by his own exoskeleton.

(*supposed to be equilateral: but after receiving treatment, they discovered his angles were still 60º, 60º, and 60.1º, which is mathematically impossible for a triangle... on a euclidean plane. But on a non-euclidean 3D plane, such as in spherical geometry, a triangle's angles can add up to more than 180º... and it's this slight 3D flex to Bill's body that lets him see up into the third dimension.)

🔺 For his first few years of life he actually had a hypotenuse, until physical therapy and side braces helped him improve his muscle tone. Sometimes he still reflexively refers to his base as his hypotenuse. It's fine, sweetie, it's nothing to be embarrassed about, mommy had a hypotenuse too. Don't tell anyone.

🔺 Scalene took baby Billy to a lot of doctors as a kid, just like how she was taken to a lot of doctors! Doctor for his side braces, doctor for his physical therapy, doctor for his shoes... doctor for his eye when he started talking about seeing white glitter at the edge of his vision. Scalene didn't have that symptom, but the eye doc said their condition does occasionally come with visual problems—blurred vision, lazy eye, visual field defects... It sounds like Bill's main field of vision is unobstructed, but if the visual snow he's getting in his peripheral vision is distracting him and confusing his little toddler mind into thinking it's something real, they can give him a medication that'll narrow his field of view. From the sound of it, he's not seeing anything important at the edge of his vision, anyway.

And she only wants what's best for her golden child.

🔺 Scalene's "bow" is actually a medical device: sort of like a medical corset, it helps tug and press her anatomy into place to reduce pain. Bill started wearing one preventatively—if he can keep everything in place when he's young, it'll take longer for his angles to skew when he's older. Like wearing a retainer when you get your braces out.

🔺 He has a cane for the same reason—he doesn't need it NOW when he's young, but he might as well keep it on hand, by age 35 he'll probably want to stand more often than float and when he's standing he'll probably want the extra support! Even if he doesn't need it by 35, he will eventually!!

🔺 Bill doesn't medically need a bow tie in the third dimension either; but he adapted it to help tie his 3D exoskeleton on.

🔺 A trillion years later, Bill suspects that his mutation to see the third dimension came, at least in part, from his mom's medical condition. Except, she didn't have that vision. Nobody else with the condition on her side of the family had that vision. It's not a known symptom of the condition. His dad had stuff going on with his eye too, did he get it from his dad's side? A mix of both? Just a standalone random mutation? He doesn't know; and with the rest of his species dead, there's no way for him to find out.

But back to Scalene!

🔺 She's not quite red, she's rose gold. However she doesn't like it. She thinks it's a sort of pinkish brown and very dull. She uses makeup to make herself look redder. Note how bright red her sides are: in a species where only your edges are visible, body paint is the most common form of makeup+fashion. She's pleased her baby came out gold-gold, it's much cuter. Bill knows she's rose gold, but he only saw her with her makeup off when she was tired or sick; he remembers her painted red.

🔺 She adores her Billy; but she somewhat sees him as an extension of her will. She thinks he's just perfect and will tell anyone who asks; but she also demands he be perfect and is furious when he isn't. She'll protect him from ANY perceived external threat; but she'll tough love him into being the kind of success she thinks he should be. He learns early that when he screws up, he can often redirect his mother's anger by pointing his finger and saying it's someone else's fault, and she'll bring the wrath of heaven down on them. Woe to the teacher who gives Bill an F on a test.

🔺 I'm on a quest to write Bill as a foil to the entire cast of Gravity Falls, and that extends to writing his family as a foil to the entire cast's families. Scalene's a blend of Pacifica's mom and Caryn: beautiful, proud of her beauty, afraid of losing her youth, self-aggrandizing, quick to lie about her & her family's (false/exaggerated) accomplishments—and very aware of the fact that you can say anything about woo-woo mystical matters and nobody can prove you wrong.

🔺 So she takes it great when they figure out Bill is, like, legit psychic. And by "takes it great" I mean "starts a cult."

There's what I've got on Scalene. Fortunately, I got to keep all my pre-TBOB headcanons about Bill's mom, I only had to change her shape & color. I already had medical trauma baked right into the family!

(Preemptive disclaimer before I get any "but she doesn't look 2D" comments: we all understand that the baby Bill picture we see in the book is a psychically-generated 3D approximation of Bill's 2D Euclidean form, right? And that drawing a 3D baby Bill design alongside rigidly 2D parent designs would make it look like even in the second dimension Bill already had a 3D body, right? So, if we're drawing a 3D baby Bill and want to convey that they looked similar to him, we have to draw his parents in a similar art style, right? Okay, great.)

[giannaln4]

I'm Sorry

lando norris x fem reader

summary: A moment of frustration made Lando react the way you never thought he would, and boy, would he regret it.  (1.6k words)

warnings: angst, swearing, argument, mean lando,  fluffy ending

a/n: ok so for this, i decided to go back to Baku and put the quali result in a totally different perspective than my last fic. i guess i kinda like it but i'm not very good at describing arguments 😭 anyway pls let me know what you think!!

ALSO i have an announcement to make and i'm really excited for it :)

check out the original request here!

↺ back to navigation — send me a request!

The qualifying this weekend was an absolute mess, to say the least. Lando was hard on himself no matter the result he got. Even if it was good, he would always find something to criticise himself, but P17? Everyone was in for a treat, you thought.

The worst part is that it wasn’t even his fault; it was a stupid mistake by the marshals, and he was not to blame for it. A yellow flag interrupted his lap, and he was immediately kicked out in Q1. 

Seeing the first qualifying session being over with his name in red was not something anyone wanted to see, especially not him, and now that every point was essential, you knew it crushed him.

He came back to the garage to see the rest of the qualifying with his team, and as soon as he got out of the car, you saw how frustrated he was. You understood him, of course, it sucked that this is how the weekend was going, but you would be there for him no matter what.

Once Lando took off his helmet, he headed straight to his driver’s room, and he didn’t even look at you when he walked past. That meant he wanted to be alone, but oh silly you, you decided to follow him.

He let out a loud sight when he heard the door open and close behind him, not really in the mood to hear what you had to say. He knew for a fact you were going to tell him he did well and it wasn’t his fault, which he greatly appreciated, but right now, he just wanted to suffer in peace.

“Baby?” You called him out, just testing the waters, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he hummed in annoyance. “I know you don’t want to hear this right now, but-”

“You are right, I don’t want to hear it,” he interrupted you, not even turning around to face you. He placed his hands on the desk and leaned into it, taking a deep breath. 

That should have been your cue to leave the small room and leave him alone, but for some reason you didn’t. “Lando, don't beat yourself up over this. It wasn’t your fault, and I’m sure things will be better tomorrow. We all know what you can do and you still have the race-“

“This is MY job, Y/N. I probably know better than you do,” he snapped, raising his voice and finally turning around. “This is what I’m fighting for, we all are. Do you know what’s at stake here? I finally have the chance to compete for a championship, and I just blew it.”

To say you were astonished was an understatement; this was the first time he ever snapped at you that way and you didn’t know how to react. “I’m sorry, I just-”

“Every point counts, and not even starting in the top 10 tomorrow- fuck, not even top 15, there is not much I can do.” Now, he looked more mad at you than frustrated at himself, and that crushed you. “I came here to be alone for a bit, I was hoping you would at least respect that." You stayed silent, knowing a single sound would make you cry, and you didn’t want to piss him off more than he already was. “I know you are trying to help, but you are not, you can’t.”

You just stared at him, tears threatening to leave your eyes; he had never raised his voice at you in a heated moment, and it hurt like hell. You definitely should have stayed outside. 

He walked towards the door and stepped out of the room without uttering another word, leaving you alone to deal with your own feelings. 

As soon as the door was closed, you started crying. It was your own fault, really; you could always read him like a book, even today, and you knew better than to disturb him when you weren’t supposed to, but today for some reason you just couldn't keep your mouth shut. Idiot.

You tried to calm yourself down; the last thing Lando needed was to see you cry on top of his result, but it was harder than you expected. This being the first time an argument got so out of hand made you feel absolutely terrible, especially because it was your fault. Deep down, you knew he didn’t mean it, you knew it was his feelings talking, but that didn’t make it any less painful.

A few minutes went by and you could still hear the cars out on track, the mumbling of the team, and people constantly working out there, so you tried to use that as a distraction. Anything to take your mind off what just happened. 

Unfortunately, it didn’t help, but at least you ran out of tears, and now you were just staring at a blank wall, thinking how you could begin to apologise for earlier, if he would even give you the chance to. 

Truth is, you weren’t sure if bringing it up again would be a good idea; you wanted to apologise for disrupting his cooldown moment, but what if hearing that made him mad again? Or worse, what if you didn’t apologise and made the situation even bigger? Your spiralling made you lose track of time, and a knock on the door pulled you out of your thoughts. 

“The car is about to leave, Y/N, they are waiting for you,” you heard someone say on the other side of the door. You were at least hoping Lando would come and get you once it was time to go back to the hotel, but he didn’t.

“Thanks, I will be there in a minute,” you replied, grabbing your things and Lando’s before sprinting outside. 

The car ride was hell. Lando didn’t look at you the entire time; he was just staring at his phone, texting who knows who, his face as neutral as ever. It felt longer than it actually was, and when you finally got there, he just stepped out of the car and didn’t look back. You let out a sigh and followed him, leaving a prudent distance between the two of you. 

Once you were in the hotel room, you both started to get ready for bed, like you usually did, except this time, you didn’t acknowledge each other. 

That was until you were already on your side of the bed and he came out of the bathroom, taking the spot next to you and burying his face on his phone again. The entire time you were building up the courage to say something, anything, now that you decided that apologising was the right thing to do.

“Lando?” You called for him, but again, he just hummed in response. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. You were right, I shouldn’t have said anything, and I should have respected that you just wanted to be alone.”

That’s when it hit him. How could he get so mad at you for trying to make him feel better? 

He dropped his phone and turned to face you, and noticing your sad expression and teary eyes broke him. His eyes softened as guilt washed over him. Why were you apologising when he was the one who reacted like that? But as soon as you looked down at your hands to avoid eye contact and tears started falling down your face again, he felt even worse. 

“Y/N… Baby, I’m so sorry.” He got closer to you, softly taking your cheeks in his hands to get you to look at him. “Please don’t cry, I’m sorry I acted like a dick and raised my voice at you,” he stared, wiping your tears away, carefully thinking about what else he could say. 

You, on the other hand, didn’t know how to react. Your plan was to apologise and hopefully move on, but now that he was apologising, you didn’t know what to say; you didn’t want him to feel guilty, even though it was his fault you were in that position right now. If only he took a different approach. 

“It wasn’t your fault, okay? You were just trying to help, and I should have appreciated that, you know that I do, I just... I don’t know, there is no excuse for what I did.” But you were still silent and trying to avoid eye contact. “Baby, say something.” 

“Lando, you yelled at me.” You finally replied, your voice a bit muffled by your tears.

“I know, I shouldn’t have done that, and I promise I’ll never do it again.”

After a minute of silence, you just nodded, which made him let out a sigh of relief. “Okay.”

“Okay? I’m sorry, my love.” He pulled you into a hug, your head on his chest as he placed a soft kiss on your head. “I know I was a dick, and I really wish I was nicer about it.”

“It’s okay, I get it; you were frustrated with your result, and I should’ve known better than to interfere with what you were feeling.”

“No, it’s not okay. I was frustrated, but I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.” Lando was rubbing your back softly, trying to bring you the comfort you tried to give him earlier. “I love you, and I can’t describe how much I appreciate everything you do for me; I know having to deal with my shit is not easy, so thank you.”

“It’s fine, I mean it.” You looked up at him, locking eyes finally in the entire day. “Just... don’t push me away, okay? And if you do need to be alone, just say it, and I promise I will listen next time.”

“Okay, sounds good.”

He gently placed a hand on your check, rubbing small circles before leaning in for a kiss, one both of you much needed. And with one final ‘I love you’, you feel asleep in his arms.

[userchai]

𝐼 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝓂𝓎 𝓉𝑜𝓊𝒸𝒽 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓁𝒾𝒻𝑒 - 18+

𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘹 𝘣𝘰𝘺𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘶𝘱 𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘥𝘰𝘰𝘳 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘴. 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘳𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯’𝘵 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵…. 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘭𝘵, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘧𝘶𝘳𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨.

word-count 2.2K

thank you so much for reading feedback is appreciated I love you all dearly! sorry if there are any mistakes! 🖤

“If you love me right then who knows?”

You knew this was a terrible idea, letting him back in, but when he had shown up at your door, shivering and crying you just couldn’t say no. The soft morning glow of the sun illuminates his face beautifully as you stand at your bedroom door.

His eyelashes flutter as he turns a little in his sleep, the long black curls you’ve always loved are wild and messy. “What are you doing to me Eddie?” You whisper, shaking your head and fighting back tears.

He came to you because he didn’t know where else to go, having moved away from Hawkins years ago. It was hours away and you were only fifteen minutes down the road, so Eddie did what he knew best, he came back to you.

This isn’t the first time he’s shown back up since the two of you split years ago, but for some reason in this moment the air feels different. He looks so peaceful in your bed, he looks like he fits, like this is his home too.

You glance at the calendar above your bed, it’s Sunday. You have nowhere to be but right here with the man that you’re still so in love with, it’s painful.

You slowly make your way over to your bed, gently setting yourself down on it, not wanting to wake him yet. The fight the two of you had gotten into last night when he just showed up was still fresh in your mind.

“You can’t just come right back Eddie! You always do this!” You had screamed, tears streaming down your face as you leaned back against your front door.

The night ended differently than you would’ve expected, Eddie had kissed you, and he didn’t stop kissing. You both knew this would only lead to more hurt down the road but neither of you cared.

You’re so wrapped up in your thoughts that you don’t hear Eddie wake up until his hand gently brushes your arm. “Hey.. you okay baby?” He whispers. ‘Baby’ you wanted to tell him that’s not who you were to him anymore, but you couldn’t.

“I’m alright. Did you sleep okay?” You ask, brushing a piece of his hair away from his face. He nods slowly, sitting up. You both stare at each other for a minute, Eddie’s eyes are puffy with sleep and it only makes him look even more attractive.

You smile timidly, damn him for making you feel every single feeling you’ve been working so hard on pushing down for years. “Good, I was gonna make something to eat if you’re hungry?” You ask, going to stand up before Eddie’s grabbing your hand, pulling you back down.

His dark eyes may as well be looking right through you as he keeps you in place. He’s very obvious, you’ve seen that look a million times before, the only thing Eddie is hungry for at the moment is you.

“Ed, I don’t think that’s such a good idea-” you start off, chewing your lip nervously as he pulls you closer to where he’s leaning back against your headboard. “If anything, let me have you for just one more night, I understand if you want me to leave forever after that. I just need to feel you one more time.”

Your heart is pounding beneath your chest, you knew this wouldn’t be the last time, you knew you wanted him. You needed him. Your body reacts before your mind can make up words to say back to him, you straddle yourself over his lap and gently reach down to hold his face. “I’ve never stopped loving you Eddie Munson.” You whisper.

The prettiest smile breaks out over those pouty lips that you could kiss for hours, “Show me then.” He says back, it’s a challenge. You bite back a laugh at how desperately Eddie’s clinging to you right now. His big hands are gripping onto your hips, you hope they bruise you want to remember this forever.

Eddie can be soft sometimes, even if he doesn’t look like it, and this is definitely one of those times. You could break him, and he would let you. You wanted to wreck him and rebuild him after. He groans lowly beneath you as you slowly circle your hips, grinding down against his lap for just a few seconds before stopping.

“Please don’t stop, I need to feel you.” He almost whimpers out, so pathetic, how much he needs you. You lean down slowly and kiss up the side of his neck, biting down against his jaw hard enough that it draws out a little blood. You wanted pain, you wanted him to feel everything that you’ve felt, you wanted him to know that if he fucks up this time he will never see you again.

“Fuck. You little vixen.” He bites out as you run your hands down his shoulders, you keep them going as you shuffle back off of his lap. “Gonna ruin you, is that what you came here for?” You ask as he bites his lip. He nods quickly, watching you pull your sheets back away from his body. “Oh, how cute baby, look how hard you’ve gotten and all I did was sit in your lap for a minute, admit it, you need me.”

You pull the covers all the way off of him, shuffling down to lay on your stomach in front of him as you run your hand teasingly against his length that’s straining behind his tight boxers. “I-fuck, I need you, I love you, I’m sorry for being such an idiot and leaving before please, even if you don’t want me anymore just use me today, that’s all I want.”

You smile up at him, that’s exactly the answer you wanted. If he thinks he can just come back and instantly win you over he is sorely mistaken, he’s going to work for it. You dig your nails into his skin a little as a hiss breaks its way out of his mouth, before you’re pulling his boxers down. You must be going far too slow for his liking because you swear you hear him start begging as his cock finally slaps back against his stomach.

You’ve missed him so bad, and you’ve missed feeling him inside of you almost more than the relationship you once had shared. Your mouth waters at the sight of his thick length, the head is leaking pre-cum against his stomach as you tap your fingers lazily against his thighs. “Why should I suck you off baby? I don’t know if you deserve my mouth anymore.” He moans loudly, pushing his hands against his eyes before he’s grabbing the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him.

You laugh quietly, he’s so hard it must be hurting by now. “Fuck…. Please I know I don’t deserve it okay? I don’t, but just, please I’ll be so good I’ll do anything to have you again baby.” You lick your lips slowly, before you’re spitting down onto the head. “Fine, but it’s at my pace, don’t you fucking move.” You can hear the air leave his lungs as you slowly wrap one of your hands tightly against him, stroking him slowly and spreading your saliva all over him.

You know just how he likes it, sloppy and loud, you are determined to make sure he remembers this, if today really is the last time. Focusing back on him you lean down and kiss up the side of his cock before you’re at the very top, you flutter your eyelashes up at him as his stomach tenses. He’s so beautiful, you sink your mouth down around him and the most beautiful sound comes out of his throat. Sure, Eddie is a good singer, but the sounds he makes for you have always been better than music.

It only takes a few more minutes of absolutely setting out to ruin Eddie, before his hips are threatening to lift off the bed. You know he wants to fuck your mouth, but you specifically told him not to move, so you pull off of him and slap his thigh. “I thought I said no moving, don’t you wanna be my good boy?” He looks like he’s on the verge of tears as he frantically apologizes, reaching to grip onto you. You can feel him shaking as you sit back up onto your knees.

“Don’t deserve my mouth anymore, you can’t even listen to instructions baby, but I’ll let you have my pussy. The only thing is, you’re not cumming.” Your stomach is already wound tight at the thought of having him inside you again, you waste no time in pulling your panties off and throwing them down onto the floor. Eddie looks like an absolute wreck already, his hair stuck to his face, eyes blown full of lust and love as he looks up at you. “Please just fuck me.” He whispers.

Reaching behind yourself to grab his cock again you rub the tip against yourself over and over, you can feel it pulsing against your hand. You knew how bad he needed to cum but for now things were going to be about you. You tense up as you slowly slide yourself down onto him, he’s so thick it almost hurts. “You’re so fucking beautiful.” He gasps out, his hands gripping the sheets below you as you finally bottom out around him.

You wait a few minutes to adjust before you are lifting yourself back up, the drag of his cock inside of you is addicting and you don’t know if you’ll even last very long. You drop back down again, moaning loudly as every nerve in your body feels like it’s on fire. “Fuck, I’ve missed you baby, please, want you to fill me up when I say you can, need to feel you leaking back out of me for days Eddie.” His hands are all over your body, pulling, gripping, never wanting to let go. The both of you are breathing into each other’s mouths, crying out in pleasure and love.

It’s like nothing had ever happened, you wanted this for life, and you know at this moment he wants it too. He’s barely holding himself together as you bounce on his lap like some sort of angelic nymph. He can’t decide whether he wants to sing filthy praises or spill his heart out about how much he loves you as his cock rubs against that spot in you that sends both of you into a frenzy. “That’s it, fuck Eddie please, oh my god, cum now baby, fill me up, give me all of your love and let me feel it.”

‘Bad idea!’ Your mind was screaming, but your heart and body didn’t care, all the nasty thoughts of how much you hated what he did to you were slowly being stripped away from you. Eddie doesn’t know a lot, but right now he knows he is never letting go of you again. He stops holding back as you tense down around him again, leaning your forehead against his as he runs his hands down your back, gripping onto your ass. The neighbors must be getting a good show with how loud you both are.

You can feel him break beneath you, his body trembling as ‘I love you’ spills out of his lips over and over, your own orgasm washes over you quickly when Eddie bites down on your collar bone, sucking a bruise right into your soft skin. The both of you cling to each other as your highs slowly come down, you feel like you could nap forever with how spent your body is.

Another quiet moan slips past your lips as Eddie lifts you off of him slowly, you can feel his cum leaking out of you and down onto your thighs. “What a beautiful mess you are.” He whispers, leaning over to kiss you on your forehead as tears well up in your eyes. “Eddie?” You ask quietly, your throat hurts from how loud you’d been only moments ago. He doesn’t reply right away, instead he reaches for his Metallica shirt that’s on the floor, slowly pulling it down over your head and helping you put your arms through.

It smells like heaven, it smells like everything you’ve missed. “Yes baby?” He asks. “Please, don’t hurt me again. Don’t let me go.” You feel a tear slip down your cheek before it’s quickly being wiped away by his calloused fingers. “You’re never leaving my sight again, I was such an idiot when we were younger, but I want you, I want us forever.” He leans his forehead against yours as you both sit there in silence, maybe you could work again. Who knows?

The rest of the morning is softer, after you both had a moment to catch your breath Eddie had helped you into a bath, getting in behind you to rub your sore muscles as you laughed quietly while sharing things you’d missed out on since you’d last seen each other. This was easy, it was familiar, it was love. You couldn’t fight back smiling as you watched him standing at your oven, flipping a pancake over in a frying pan and almost dropping it onto the floor.

You knew opening the door for him was potentially opening your heart up to be broken again, but for Eddie you would risk everything, even your heart.

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[aurumalatus]

𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐌𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐘

pairing. kinich x fem!reader

word count. 1.6k

genre/warnings. pixelprincess!au (princess!reader x knight!kinich), graphic depictions of violence/terrorism

summary.

when the abyssal army attacks the kingdom, you and kinich end up trapped in the chaos. battered and broken and pushed to his limits, kinich gives everything he has to protect you.

author's note. a more serious drabble between the two, a huge contrast to the first one LOL. this one touches a bit on kinich's lore on this universe (i.e. having dragon powers), and a lot of semi-romantic commitment to each other <3 i hope you enjoy, reblogs/interaction highly appreciated!

𝐩𝐢𝐱𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬!𝐚𝐮 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Your ears are ringing.

It had been sunset moments ago, you think. Your father had been delivering a speech to the people in the Capital square to celebrate your latest victory over the Abyssal army. Something had flashed in the distance, and suddenly, Kinich was saying something you couldn’t hear, running and leaping at you and tackling you to the ground, and—

What’s going on?

There’s a puff of breath hot against your neck. Your eyes open, and you flinch hard when Kinich is staring directly at you, multicolored irises boring into your own. He’s so close that your noses are brushing, that you’re sharing air.

What’s going on?

He groans, pushing the ruins of the building off his back—off of you. Your eyes sting from the smoke pooling in the sky. The distinct scent of ash and burning flesh permeates the air, and you nearly vomit from the stench.

“Kinich?” you breathe out.

What’s going on?

He hisses in a breath, hoisting the greatsword from his back—it flashes gold in the dying light. Taking a cursory glance around, he pushes himself to his knees.

“Listen. You’re going to stand up,” he commands, somehow calm, “and we’re going to run. Wait for my count.”

What’s going on?

You give him a once-over. He’s already injured, covered in fresh bruises and wounds. Your fingers twitch toward the growing patch of crimson over his stomach. “You’re bleeding—”

“Princess,” Kinich interrupts. There’s not a whisper of mirth in his tone, not like usual—this is the Captain of the Guard that you hear of so rarely. “Did you hear me? You’re going to stand up—”

Another blast rocks the ground, and you wince as dirt and gravel spray across your face. Kinich takes the brunt of it, shielding you with his body, and he coughs when a particularly large piece of debris slices across his back. The smoke grows thicker, you realize; you can see it coalescing above his head, snuffing out the sun.

What’s going on?

Your breathing comes in quick, but it doesn’t come out—in fact, you realize you can’t breathe at all. Your heartbeat quickens, pounding against your chest. You’re panicking.

Kinich glances over his shoulder at the carnage, then quietly curses; it’s probably much worse than you can see. You wonder if the citizens have already safely evacuated. You wonder about the king and queen—you hadn’t seen where they’d gone when Kinich first tackled you down.

What’s going on?

“My parents…where are they?” you choke out in a gasp. He attempts to pull you up, but you resist in your panic. “Kinich, wait—we have to find them. My parents, we have to—”

“Listen to me!”

A roar bursts from Kinich’s chest—it’s nothing compared to the cacophony that pierces the air, but it’s unfamiliar coming from someone like him. It shocks you into wide-eyed silence, and he takes you by the shoulders, touch contrastingly gentle. His gaze is hard, bypassing all your confusion and piercing right into your soul.

“You are my only priority right now.” Something explodes in the distance—he winces at the sound, tucking one hand under your neck and pulling you closer to his chest, protected. His voice echoes again, right at your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “I can fight, and I can kill, and I can die, but you are going to make it out of here alive. That is what matters to me. I will do anything to keep you safe. So please stand up.”

No matter how much Kinich annoys you on a daily basis, deep down you know you need someone like him—someone who doesn’t care much to sugarcoat things for you, someone who rarely bothers with formalities, someone who overlooks your title in favor of you. His words are the gravity bringing you back to earth, and you only nod in reply.

He nods back, relieved. “Good. Don’t be afraid. I’m with you.”

Carefully, he loops your arms around his shoulders, and on his count, you heave yourself upwards. It hurts—you scream as it happens, every single one of your muscles and bones aching in protest. Kinich’s jaw sets tightly, teeth grinding together so hard you can practically hear it.

“I know it hurts, Princess,” he murmurs. Your combined weight is too much; he stabs his sword into the ground, using it as a cane to pull you forward. “Stay with me here.”

Every step is laborious. Battle still rages on around you, and it’s difficult to navigate the ruins in your state. The smoke grows thicker—Kinich tears a piece off his tattered cape, commanding you to hold it over your mouth and nose. For himself, he pulls down his headband, letting it mask the bottom half of his face. His hair is longer than you remember, bangs falling messily over his forehead. It’s a useless detail, but it’s all you can focus on in the havoc.

“You still with me?”

Kinich’s hand falls over yours, squeezing it once—a comfort. You squeeze back, trying to hold back the tears pricking at your eyes.

“I’m still here.”

Your voice cracks.

The sound of Abyssal beasts echoes, and your heartbeat quickens—you’ll be defenseless if they catch you. Normally, it wouldn’t be a problem with Kinich by your side, but he’s more injured than he lets on. He grunts in pain with each step, a sheen of sweat coating his forehead from the exertion.

The more you move, the less everything makes sense. You can’t tell up from down or left from right. All you can hear is screams and moans of pain and the roars of monsters. One of them sounds from your immediate right—Kinich curses, and you sense something coming closer.

“We’ll have to fight,” he says hurriedly, scrambling to find somewhere to put you down.

Kinich always carries a dagger at his thigh, ever prepared in case he loses his sword, and he unsheathes it as he sets you on the ground. He presses the handle of it into your hand—your ribbon is still tied around the grip, a token of good luck, proof of your wish for his safety. 

“If I fall, or the Abyss corrupts me, use this. Don’t forget what I taught you.”

“Kinich—”

“Promise me.”

His eyes say it all—he’s desperate, curling your fingers under his own so that you properly hold the blade, willing his remaining strength into you. Your grip tightens on the dagger, and you nod weakly. Kinich’s body sags in relief.

“May the Abyss take my soul if I ever abandon you,” he whispers, quoting his oath. It almost makes you nostalgic. You remember the ceremony well—he’d exuded a quiet strength even back then. “May my skin tear from bone if you ever suffer.”

It feels like a goodbye.

For the first time in the mess, you take a good look at his face, at the state of him. His left eye is swelling shut quickly. You thumb over the purpling skin, a single tear sliding down your cheek at the sheer damage. He’s already lost so much blood, a crimson flower blooming across his stomach. His armor is dirty and dinged with scratches, even burned away in certain places. You’re not sure how he’s still even moving.

You’ve always held a deep faith in Kinich’s abilities. He’s been the calm in the storms of your life until now, every assassination attempt, every obstacle, every misstep. You know it’s due to your own hesitation that he’d gotten this hurt, and it scares you—after all, he’s still mortal just like you. In his current state, he stands no chance against the army of Abyss monsters around you.

Your hand drags down to his cheek. “Kinich, leave me.”

He pulls away from your touch, gaze flashing with anger. “No.”

Your jaw tightens. “Kinich, that’s an order.”

He rises to his feet, unsteady, his greatsword lifted weakly at his side. The monsters are coming, drawing out of the darkness. “And I refuse it.”

His steps are unnaturally heavy as he staggers forward, cutting down one of the beasts. He fights with grace, even now, not a single movement wasted in his battle. You wish you’d asked him to teach you more—you can’t even move, but your mind screams at you to help him.

One of the monsters catches him in the back, and he roars out in pain before turning and stabbing it through the neck. He’s still fighting, but the fire within him is burning out quickly, and you can sense it. A patch of pixel-like scales flashes over his neck, a power bubbling just beneath the surface, but he can’t seem to draw it out fully—he’s too weak, too tired.

You push yourself up on your arms, trying to crawl toward him. Your throat is raw from the smoke and ash, but still you find the strength to scream.

“I am the princess of Natlan! You are bound by your duty to carry out my orders—”

He turns to you, pulling his headband off his face, and you gasp in a breath—his skin is painted in hues of green and gold, lines of tattoos criss-crossing his arms and legs, cutting across his features. He’s glowing so brightly that it burns the smoke away, until all you can see is your knight standing before you, defiant. His eyes meet yours, and despite the power that pours out of him, his expression is pleading.

“Fire me then, Princess. Exile me. Have me executed for disobeying you. Do whatever you want to me when this is all over, but for now, they’ll have to cut me down before they take another step toward you.”

Three more Abyssal monsters approach, claws flashing, and you scream as Kinich turns back to face them. They lunge before he can react, millimeters from cutting into his skin, and then—

A pulse vibrates under your feet just as a white-hot light explodes in front of you, burning into your eyes. You can’t tell who’s yelling—maybe it’s you, or maybe it’s Kinich, but it makes your eardrums ring and sting. You reach out desperately but find nothing.

Everything goes dark.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hi, I just wanted to ask: If you end up writing something for the monsterfalls au do you think you could do something where reader helps to groom Ford or Stan's newly acquired wings and them just loving the attention and care they give them? Also, love your stories and thanks if you decide to do this.

Stan, while thinking his new appearance was great for scaring kids on Summerween, hated his stone wings that weighed like a pair of cinder blocks.

They made sleeping difficult! How do you make sleeping difficult?! Apparently becoming a stone gargoyle.

That wasn’t even the worst thing either. Ford told him once after he complained about how his wings felt itched and irritated, almost like an itch he couldn’t scratch, that his wings needed constant preening whenever necessary as to avoid such situations from happening.

However Stan couldn’t exactly reach everywhere that needed preening and grew annoyed but his saviour arrived in the form of you.

‘Doll face! Just the person I’m looking for, would you mind helping me with my wings? They’ve been a pain in my ass this entire morning and I could really use some help in getting to the spots I can’t reach.’ He says as you examined his wings, strong and durable just like him, but oddly enough were soft like clay underneath; also just like him

‘I’d be happy to help Stanley but why me? You could’ve asked the kids or even Ford to help preen.’ You asked and Stan stiffened as he remembered the fact that Ford told him about preening; it was a mating thing to display the bond between mates amongst other reasons, which was mainly why he wanted you to preen his wings for him.

Stan scratched the back of his head. ‘Eh, none of them are in the house, doing their own thing or whether and even if they were they’d probably pull out the wrong feather.’ He quickly explains himself, hoping you’d buy it.

‘Okay, why don’t you lay down on your stomach and I’ll get to work.’ You replied after a brief moment of silence and Stanley sighed in relief as he was quick to flop on his bed, displaying his beautiful wings for you to gawk at.

Ford maybe a sphinx with pretty wings but you found Stanley’s wings even prettier, they looked as though they have priceless minerals within them, glistening beneath the light. They were a beauty to behold for those who actually cared to look at them and it never failed to take your breath away. ‘Beautiful.’ You murmured to yourself as you began to gently pull out the loose stone feathers that weighted like a pebble within your hand.

Stan felt like he could’ve fallen asleep then and there with how therapeutic he felt, he could feel his wings getting lighter with each loose feather you pulled, growling lowly in content as he closed his eyes and focused his mind on the way your hands carefully navigated his sturdy wings. He could’ve told you to be a bit rougher as they were like ordinary wings, but he throughly liked the way you treated them like they were glass and the way you run your fingertips in appreciation of them while counting the minerals within them, thinking he wouldn’t notice but he did and he couldn’t help but smile softly to himself.

He could happily stay like this forever if he could but he knew he couldn’t, so Stanley will take whatever time with you he could and keep it close to his heart to remind himself that someone does care about him and his stupid stone wings.

Ford took immense care of his wings but he often forgets that he has them when he’s deep in thought, which leads to him knocking stuff over, smacking Stanley, you or the kids accidentally with them and so on.

His wings were beautiful, majestic and fluffy, unlike Stanley’s which were the colour of gunmetal or cold stone or even gravel.

So whenever he forgets that his wings needed preening, he won’t know until you point it out to him, which is what you did.

‘Ford, did you forget to preen your wings?’ You asked as Ford looks over his shoulder and at his wings, where he could obviously see there was a few feathers that needed to be removed.

‘Ah so that’s why I’ve been in such discomfort as of recently, thank you my beloved for pointing it out. I shall preen them as soon as I’m done here.’ Ford replied but you pressed your hand onto his shoulder.

‘Why don’t you let me preen your wings for you?’

Ford blushed, he has read somewhere that pressing one’s wings was a thing only done between mates, or even that of a courting ritual amongst some bird species, but not only that but preening one’s wings was also seen as a means of survival and self care of one’s being. So the thought of the of you doing his wings for him had a whole lot more meaning to him as he would very much like you to preen his wings, but feared that he might make some…noises of enjoyment from your actions.

You saw his hesitance and said. ‘I’ll be gentle but then again it is all up to you as they are your wings, that and I don’t want to see you in discomfort or pain.’

Ford’s features softened as the blush died down. ‘Okay my dear I trust you with my wings.’

You smile as you sat yourself behind him and began to get to work in easing the loose feathers as carefully as you could, making sure you weren’t using more forced them necessary while praising Ford and his beautiful wings. ‘Your wings are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen, but then again they only reflect the person blessed with such wings.’ You then sweetly kissed where his wings connect to his back, a sensitive spot for Ford, causing the man to take a sharp breath as you do so before relaxing once more.

He was a little tense to start off with but gradually Ford felt himself melt under your carful touch and caresses as he purrs low in the back of his throat, tail slowly swishing in a display of his happiness and content regarding the current situation. He knew from that moment as you placed the loose feathers into a neat pile by your feet that he didn’t want anyone else to preen his wings but you.

Then again he was never in dispute with this idea of you preening his wings, he was just a bit awkward and unsure how to ask such a task of you without it coming across too strong, or that you didn’t have a choice but to agree to preening his wings. He just wanted to spend time with you and it just so happened that his wings were also in a state of disarray when you came in, all of which was completely unplanned and purely coincidental, but Ford couldn’t help but thank fate for this moment for he would treasure it forever and always.

‘You okay Ford? I think you’re…purring.’ You spoke with a smile upon your face when you felt his tail hit against your foot, finding it adorable as the purring coming from him.

‘Yes I’m perfectly fine my dear, perfectly fine.’ Ford reassured with a smile upon his face. ‘Perfectly fine indeed.’

[k6tzie]

COD P☆RN LINKS | PT. 3

ghost: always so quiet and reserved, seeing you like this is refreshing. so humane having ur guts rearranged after doubting your lieutenants skills! dove, you're so needy. but luckily for you, you have a patient, big bf came back from prices' baby shower now u and si want a baby of ur own, but u can't wait:( doughy ass bouncing on his long cock that no one's sucked in over a year, thankfully now ur here! sharing the captains daughter with soap<3 trusting is hard for him, so once he has you, he doesn't wanna let go warm winter fuck with ur gentle boy price: once you taught olderbf!price how to make hotter videos, he thinks he's so much cooler but that old man lives within him💔i mean look how he's holding the phone! you feel a big, throbbing thing in your tummy, hopefully he doesn't press down on it D: when u took him to meet ur parents, you just looked too good not to fuck afterwards :( as much as he loves his quiet girls, he can't say no to a bubbly one night stand now can he he didn't wanna have to do this but this IS what bad girls get... dadsfriend!price taking you upstairs during the bbq. there's so many people so no one will hopefully notice ur gone... soap: totally something soap would do, fucking you levitating 😭 first time having a crush this intense, taking sneaky photos of you, drawing you in his sketchbook, leaving you little gifts anonymously - now that you gave him a chance, he's too shocked to even do anything! honestly his dream is hot gf x loser guy he's a messy boy who likes his sex quick! so so much cum dripping out, it's like your boys' in heaven filthy gym partner can't keep his hands to himself only one person can eat you this well when you're sick, soap! gaz: your drunk sex was so good, you won't forget it even when you're sober <3 appreciating that pussy with the love and tongue it deserves so wet and tight like ur ex boyfriend did nothing at all smh, must've been tiny deeeeep in ur gfs womb! pretty boy barely ever gets angry, but when price has been on his back the whole week, and now you're giving him attitude - he can't take it anymore! hot belly bulge - who would've thought from the serene, goofy guy? graves: ah, so THAT'S how you passed recruitment i see, interesting... what a baby, never been with a real woman. actually a very soft, sensual man. don't mistake him as rough cuz of how he acts at work lucky shadow of the week gets to record the barracks bunny and graves kept trying to draw milk out of you but he didn't realise not everyone just...lactates :(he can't stop rewatching this video y'all took, how your greedy pussy just swallows his dick whole :o purposely just teasing you so he can see u angry konig: an efficient way to wake up his beautiful baby✨ his cold tongue and your warm socks make an interesting contrast🤔 he caught you masturbating all by yourself and you didn't seem to reach ur full potential :( loser!konig coded, once he finally gets his rough hands on you, it's hard letting a beauty like you go ruined ur cute little panties smh, greedy big boy mean colonel punishing his secret fuck buddy after he found out you've started talking to another person💢 bonus!!: surprise ;)

@xtrrdnrypotato @livingdead-g1rl

[moonstruckme]

omg mae bae happy bday and congrats on 7k wowie! would you do apple pie, ¹⁰⁾ a six pack of beer and an apology, with steve harrington? <3

Thank you lovely <3

cw: alcohol, spin the bottle

Steve Harrington x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

Steve finds you in the kitchen. You’ve procured a pair of scissors from somewhere, and you’re snipping apart those plastic rings that hold together six-packs. You glance up as he comes in but look away quickly, picking another up off the counter. 

“Turtles strangle themselves on these things,” you say. You snip a corner, the sound short and crisp. “I don’t know why we still use them.” 

Steve honestly doesn’t think much about sea animals when he’s drinking a beer, but he wants to agree with you. “Me neither.” 

“It’s like, we’re supposed to be this advanced society. Can’t we come up with something that doesn’t kill turtles?” 

“Mhm. Probably.” 

“I just think it’s dumb.” You push out a breath. It sounds frustrated, but Steve knows you well. You’re more stressed than angry. He’s not patient enough to wait for you to get around to telling him that yourself. 

“What’re you doing in here?” he asks. 

You look up at him again. Shrug. “I was sick of being out there.”

“You wanna go home?” 

“Do you?” 

It’s a fair thing to ask. Steve’s your ride, so leaving these things is usually a joint decision. But he feels like the question is pointed. “Do you think I wanna go home?” 

“I don’t know.” Some of the stress is seeping into your voice now, your terseness taking on a new hue. “You seemed mad.” 

He was mad (is mad?). He just hasn’t figured out if it’s fair for him to be, yet, so he wasn’t planning on making it your business. He thought that would be the nice thing to do, but you don’t seem to appreciate being left out of the loop. 

“Do I seem mad now?” he asks. 

You cut through the last plastic ring with a harsh snap. “Christ, Steve, I don’t know. Why are you asking me all this?” 

“I’m sorry,” he says, and though it’s automatic he does mean it. “I’m not trying to be mad at you.” 

Your eyes meet his, crushed before you can hide it. “But you are.” 

“Not—” He sighs, jamming his thumb against his brow bone. It’s an anxious habit, a preventative measure against potential headaches. “Not really. Not in a way that’s important.” 

“I think it’s important anytime you’re mad at me,” you say. Your voice has softened and smalled. Steve feels like his guts are in knots. He wants to make an excuse, to explain—It’s not that I’m actually mad at you. I haven’t decided if I should be. So we’re all good, right? For now, I mean. At least until I decide.—but before he get the chance to further fuck things up you ask, “Can you tell me what you’re mad about?” 

Steve drops his hand to look at you. “You really don’t know?”

You wince, and he thinks you do know. “I didn’t mean for that to happen. I’m sorry.” 

He feels his brows furrow. “For what to happen?” 

“For it to land on you.” 

“That’s not…it’s spin the bottle. You can’t control who it lands on. That’s the point.” 

You shake your head, almost to yourself. Your fingers are fiddling with the ends of your sleeves. “I shouldn’t have even played. I’m sorry, I wouldn’t have if I’d known that was gonna happen.” 

“What do you keep apologizing for?” Some accidental anger makes its way into Steve’s tone. “Who did you want to kiss?”

You blink. “No one.” 

“Nobody plays spin the bottle unless they want to kiss someone.” 

“Well, I guess I changed my mind.” 

“Why?” 

“Because!” Your voice rises, and you lower it just as quickly. You both glance to the kitchen entryway like the calvary is going to come force you back to that stupid party just because you almost yelled. “Because,” you say, quieter, “it was weird.”

Steve forgets to even try to keep his face in check. He feels it twist with hurt. “It was?” 

“Yes! Everyone was looking at us, and it was like a game—it was a game.” You pull your sleeves over your hands, shoulders winding up tight. “I guess I just feel like that sort of thing should be private.”

Awareness dawns upon him like a slow sunrise. Steve has never been known for his book smarts, but he’s not stupid. He knows what it feels like to be liked. He’s just never known what it felt like to be liked by you. 

A little laugh of disbelief stumbles out of him. “You said ‘ew.’” 

You’d been tipsier and fizzy with excitement when the game had started. Smiling and laughing at everything, your giddiness palpable. When your turn had come, Steve had watched you carefully to see if your eyes did that hopeful flit to someone in the circle, but all your concentration had been on the bottle, your smile slipping just a little as it spun. And landed on him. 

Ew, you laughed. No, c’mon, you can’t make us.

That’s the game, Marcy had reminded you gleefully. As a resister, you now had the attention of most of the circle. It wasn’t Steve’s first time playing. He knew how it went. 

Relax. He’d forced a smile, getting onto his hands and knees to meet you in the middle. It’ll be quick. Not too disgusting.

You’d made a face of humorous unwillingness, your eyes darting around the group as if seeking rescue. Fine, you relented. If it’s not a big deal to you, it’s not to me. 

Steve had done this more than once, but it felt especially awkward with you. Crawling into the middle of a circle of spectators, your hand knocking the bottle so that it clinked and rolled. True to his promise, he kept it brief, a short, painless press of his lips. Hardly enough to feel the impression of yours before you were both pulling away, Steve silent and you spewing a string of nervous giggles. 

You’d left before it was Steve’s turn to spin. 

Now you seem near to ripping the sleeves of your shirt, the material stretched over your curled fingers as you worry your lip. You’re back to not looking at him. “I didn’t mean ‘ew’ at you.” 

It had sure sounded like it. “Then what did you mean?”

“I meant it, like, I didn’t like how things were going.” You laugh at yourself, the sound stymied. “Like ew, we have to kiss in front of everyone, or ew, Chris is watching us way too intently.”

Steve makes a face. “He was?” 

“Is that what you’re mad about?” Something seems to dawn upon you now, too, your expression clearing. “That I said that?” 

He looks at you for a second. “Well, it sounds stupid when you say it out loud.” 

“No it doesn’t,” you say, but you look to be fighting a grin. “I’m sorry, it’s not stupid. I didn’t mean to be mean.” 

“It’s okay,” he says genuinely. 

You shake your head. “I wasn’t thinking. But that’s not what I meant.” 

Steve knows this now, but he teases you anyway. “Are you sure about that?” 

You hesitate only half a second before you catch onto what he’s doing. Your smile starts to win. “I’m sure.” 

“Kissing me doesn’t disgust you?” 

“No.” Your voice is bashful now, but your eyes are steady on his as you take a step toward him. 

The knots in Steve’s guts aren’t getting any looser, though there’s a different kind of commotion going on there now. “I don’t know if I believe you.” 

You reach for each other at the same time, his hands on your ribs and yours on either side of his face, and this time there’s no glass bottles to knock or rules to adhere to or spectators to appease. This kiss isn’t short.

[i-starcreamed]

Hi I heard you make transformers one oneshot umm I hope you won't mind, this actually a D-16 oneshot " what if his s/o get shoted instead of Orion" or " D - 16 meeting s/o for the first time"

D-16 / MEGATRON X READER

I combined both requests :3

cybertronian!reader SPOILERS FOR TF ONE Puree angst, character death, sadness :(

You were also a miner, like Orion and D-16. You met in a similar way they did.

You grunted, your limbs aching from pushing around the minecart around all day. It was filled with raw energon rock at this point, so it was a lot heavier. Last night, you hadn’t recharged well, and now you felt like you were running on your last drop of consciousness... Your optics widened when you unexpectedly bumped into something in front of you, sending your minecart toppling over and spilling its contents.

“Oh, I’m so sorry—“ You hissed, watching all the progress of the day come crashing down onto the floor. You pursed your mouth in frustration; this really sucked.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright. Let me help you out, here.” A calm voice came from in front of you, prompting you to avert your optics toward the bot you had bumped into. You paused--hmmm, he was a handsome bot. You eyed his armor for a moment before realizing you were staring.

“Sorry! Uh, I’d appreciate that. I wasn’t looking where I was going.” You muttered, kneeling down to pick up your rocks, him beside you. He let out a small spurt of a gruff chuckle.

“No worries. Hey, I haven’t seen you around here. I’m D-16.” He introduced himself, you still remember the way he smiled at you. You nervously smiled back

“I’m Y/N. I was actually uh...promoted just recently. I’ve never mined energon before. It’s harder than I thought.”

“Oh, well, it gets easier. You get better at it too.” He said, tossing the last bit of rock back into your cart and helping you turn it upright.

“So where were you headed off to?” He asked, walking beside you now.

You took a deep breath. “To the trains? I was told to report to Elita-1 afterward.”

“Psh, really? That’s a coincidence, so am I.” He said lightly, grinning at you. You couldn’t help but chuckle.

It started as a friendship—you, Orion and D-16. You were a little trio. Despite this, Orion always noticed the particular… attention you paid specifically to D. When the three of you joked around, you would always look toward him to watch his reaction—or rather, his smile. You became bashful when he helped you with something, he, in turn, softened up around you. It didn’t take long for Orion to see right through you—meanwhile, D remained completely oblivious!! History says you were just friends

Eventually, you two started dating! You made a sweet couple, with Orion constantly third-wheeling. You can imagine everything you went through after kind of illegally participating in the race, getting thrown to Level 50 as a punishment, and uncovering the location of the Primes.

You watched as your lover changed, and it pained you. You saw his anger slowly shift and shift, first towards his best friend, then at everyone else. You watched as he became feverishly focused on killing Sentinel.

“D, don’t!”

Your yell went silent as you ran in front of sentinel, the blast from D’s cannon hitting you instead of him. The impact blasted through your chest, ripping through armor, your casing, and your wiring—until it struck your spark. This was the turning point when D-16 became.. Megatron. His optics widened, he stopped seeing red for a split second.

He watch as your body fell, the whole world seemed to come to a halt.

“Y/N!” He yelled and dived after your body, momentarily forgetting about his anger. Before you could fall into the depths of Iacon, he caught your arm. He didn’t waste a second as he desperately tried to pull you up. You had no strength left to help yourself--your body hung limp.

“Why! Why did you do that!?” He yelled at you, his voice shaking. As you slipped between consciousness, you realized you’d never heard your lover so emotional. Not like this.

“You can’t go, you can’t, you can’t you can’t—“

“D…”

Your arm started slipping from his digits. “I’m so sorry…you have to.. stop this. Please,” you whispered out, the light in your optics flickering.

Megatron stared at you, partly in disbelief at you and himself. “I’m sorry. I’m going to fix this, I-I promise,” He hissed, his servo desperately holding on. You knew you didn’t have much time left.

“D, please don’t this. I love you. I always will. No matter what I’ll always remember you as my D-16.” You whispered.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, roaring in anguish as your body slipped from his grip. He watched as you descended into the depths of your planet. You were going to become a part of Cybertron again, just as they all started out as. He’s so sorry.

He’s sorry he’s not the D-16 you knew.

Despite this loss, he still became Megatron. Afterall, he had nothing to lose now.

[yandere-yearnings]

so we’ve got vio saying something hurtful and reader being silent… how about reader saying something hurtful back? maybe they snap back at vio by saying no one’s every going to truly love his egotistical ass, not even them? :DDD

Winter nights fell fast, all the mismatched scenes that needed to be shot were swiftly wrapped up so the cast and staff could return home in time before the impending snowstorm. Dressing room completely empty save for Vio and you, the alone time was much appreciated — since you'd rather not have any witnesses around for when your patience ultimately wore thin.

"You wouldn't believe how stupid you looked, honestly, he wasn't interested in you at all."

That was the umpteenth snide remark you'd been subjected to in the past hour. You weren't sure if it was because Vio was obsessed with all the little details of every interaction you had, or just because he was bored. It didn't matter, actually, it was driving you insane either way.

You hummed — noncommittal — stuffed more things into his bag as quickly as you could; anything for the sweet relief of getting your job done and booking it. Clearly, Vio didn't appreciate your lacklustre response, because you noticed him perk up from the corner of your eye. A three second pause, observing you, before dealing the last blow.

"Hey," he opened his mouth and you closed your eyes, bracing yourself for whatever he was adamant on spewing next, "who could ever love someone like you?"

You span around. "What?"

"Was I not clear enough?" Vio raised a brow. "Who could love someone like you?"

"Vio, you did not just say that to me," you exhaled, voice shaking, "you of all people didn't."

"Huh?"

You'd crossed the room before you could mentally step back and reason with yourself, hands fisted in the fabric of Vio's shirt and pulling him up to meet your glare. "Coming from the most egotistical piece of shit around," you spat, "you know it doesn't mean anything, right?"

His eyes widened, and for the first time, he had nothing to retort with. Radio silence, Vio's brow twitched and you'd dare say he looked hurt. Really, you should've stopped there, considering your career rested in his palms and he could end your contract whenever he saw fit. Yet, you were fed up of sucking it up and just taking it — you couldn't help yourself.

"All you are is your pretty face." You let him go, and he fell back onto the sofa limply. "With your shit attitude, you're the one no one can love," you made your way to the door, dry laughter resounding, "even I'm fucking sick of you."

[atzaurora]

a cute date with mingi involved painting his nails and picking rings to go with the nails

ahhhhhh it would be so cuteeeee i bet he blushing so hard

[˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗] 𝒩𝒂𝒊𝒍 𝒫𝒐𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒉.﹙송민기﹚(0.9k)

𖥔 afab!reader x mingi ; dating ⸼જ Having a date with Mingi, where you get to paint his nails... ➤ imagine (fluff) .ᐟ.ᐟ >none< .ᐟ.ᐟ

꒰🖇꒱ such a cute idea! hope you like it :3 enjoyyy

if you have any ideas or wishes let me know, requests are open

here's my [𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕]! ; [𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕] here! ; [about me] + [guidelines]!

reblogs appreciated

You sat on your soft bedspread, sorting all kinds of nail polish in different colours. You and your boyfriend had agreed to say home tonight, instead of going out for a date.

"So, what's the plan tonight?" Mingi asked, peeking into the room with a gentle smile.

You looked up, meeting his eyes. "Just a little surprise for us," you said, holding a finger to your lips. "But you have to sit down first." ── ࣪˖ MORE BELOW

He obeyed, curiosity piquing as he sat beside you. The room was filled with the faint scent of vanilla candles, casting a warm glow around the space. You'd spent hours preparing for this moment, hoping it would be something special and fun to do together.

Mingi's eyes widened as he saw the nail art supplies laid out. "You're going to paint my nails?" he asked, his cheeks already beginning to blush.

"Only if you want me to," you teased, holding up a bottle of shimmering blue polish. "It's your choice, after all."

He didn't even have to think and immediately nodded. "Of course, I want you to," he said, extending his hand. "But only if I get to pick the design."

You took his hand carefully, inspecting his nails. They were clean and well-kept, perfect for you to get started. "Alright," you said, "what colour would you like?" He chuckled, admiring your excited face for a moment before deciding. "Mhm...maybe black." You sighed, giggling at his obvious choice.

"Of course. But pick another colour for the details and extras, it can't be all black," you said, smiling up at him. You appreciated that he let you do this, even though he liked to keep his nails simple and natural most of the time.

He nodded, looking around at all the colours. "This one looks nice," he responded, pointing at a wine red polish. You gasped dramatically, surprised by his good colour matching. "Ooh, very nice. These two go well together."

He laughed, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. "Okay, hands please." You stuck out your own hands to grab a hold of his.

Mingi's blush deepened, but he didn't protest. He watched as you painted the first nail with careful strokes, the black polish gliding smoothly over the surface. The silence was filled with the comforting sound of the TV playing a random sitcom in the background. You both chuckled at the occasional laugh track, the tension in the air easing slightly.

"I think I'm done with the base. Now we're going to let them dry for a bit," you said, looking at what you have done so far with a satisfied smile. His hands glid out of your grip as he lifted him to get a closer look.

"You did good, baby," he praised, poking out his lips for you to kiss. You laughed softly, gladly accepting the offer by pressing your lips against his.

You two continued to watch the TV for a bit while waiting for the polish to dry. Your head laid on Mingi's shoulder, while he watched out for his nails so they wouldn't get smudged. Your gaze drifted away from the TV and landed on your desk where a box of jewellery was placed.

As Mingi stayed on the bed, you made your way to the desk, suddenly having an idea in mind. You rummaged through the box, looking for rings that matched the nail design.

You found a a few that you thought would look good with the black and red, carrying them over to him. "Look what I found," you squealed, opening your hand to show him the rings.

"They look really good, sweetheart. I'll wear them once my nails are done, okay?" he asked and you nodded, placing the jewellery on the bedside table.

"Alright, then I should get these done." You took his hands into yours again, making him sit up properly again. Mingi felt his face heating up again, simply by having your hands holding his. He was down bad...

He watched closely as your face grimaced with concentration, trying your hardest not to mess up the lines. It only took you a few more minutes, till you giggled excited, finally done with your work.

"Look!" He immediately held out his hands in front of him, looking at your designs carefully.

"I love them baby! You're really good at this." He smiled from ear to ear, seeing how your face lit up once you heard he liked them too.

You got up, collecting the rings from the table. "Now...," you sat back down again, signaling him to stick out his hand again. "...the final accessory."

You slid the silver ring onto his ring finger, before placing the other two on his other hand, on both the index and middle finger. You held his hand up to the light, admiring the final result. "What do you think?" you asked, your voice full of excitement.

He stared at his hand, the rings glinting in the candlelight. "It's perfect," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You couldn't help but smile at his reaction. The evening had turned into something even more fun than you'd planned, but you loved it. You liked seeing Mingi this way, vulnerable and open and not trying to hide his true excitement.

[nosyrobin]

“That idiot is my brother!”

DAMIAN AL GHUL-WAYNE X TWIN!M!READER

Summary: no body calls Damian Wayne’s brother an idiot except for him.

“Idiot, don’t get that. It flares up your skin.” You smile at your twin brother who had taken off something from your tray that caused your allergies. “Thank you brother!” Damian only nodded before he ushered you to move along with him in the lunch line.

A guy from behind Damian snickered before cutting in-front of him to get to you. Making Damian growl under his breath as the guy was very popular with messing with others. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder to get your attention. Which worked as you gently removed his arm around your shoulder with a weary look. “Yes?”

“Hey idiot, I thought you knew it was taco Tuesday since it’s your favorite. Look like you need to drop some weight.” The student laugh as you as you sighed dejectedly. Looking down at the lunch you got, yeah sure despite being the twin of Damian Wayne. You did have a few pounds on you. The laughter around him grew as you sniffled. Meanwhile Damian felt blood rush to his cheeks and his blood boil at seeing your dejected state.

“I don’t think i appreciate you calling my brother an idiot.” Damian says with a growl as he steps in front of you.

“Woah man…it was just a joke..” the guy said backing away as Damian narrowed his eyes. No one dared to mess with Damian himself as there was a lot of rumors about him going around. “A joke that was disguise in a sheep’s clothing.” Damian then grabbed a plastic knife from your lunch tray, your eyes widen along with the guy who was picking on you.

“Perhaps my joke would be your head on a platter!” Damian then rushed at the guy with blind rage and protectiveness. The cafeteria went up in an uproar at how students were fighting. The guy was fighting for his life as Damian was smiling a cruel smile. He certainly knows how to damage someone with anything. Not wanting him to get in trouble, you tried your hardest to pull him off the guy before he could stab the guy’s eye out with a plastic knife. It took two counselors and yourself to pull them off. The guy was pretty scratched up as his eyes were red from Damien trying to claw his eyes out with the plastic knife and his hands. 

Time passed as you sat in the principal’s office with your twin brother. Holding his hand as he held the same scowl he always wore. Except the scowl was more deeper as his hand squeezed yours tightly as if you would disappear from the earth.

“You didn’t have to do that Damian….” You said softly. Damian scoffed at what you said, it rubbed him the wrong way. “But I wanted to..” he said back to you quickly. Turning his head to face you clearly. “If anyone disrespects you, they disrespect me. I shall not have you degraded in any matters from anyone. You are my brother and my half.” He says with a serious expression. You smile with a twinkle in your eyes, immediately hugging the side of your twin brother as he huffs and puff his cheeks out.

“You’re my idiot of a brother.”

[kachowden]

Gonna start calling these late night drabbles or something at this point.

You know those ASMR videos, where it’s two people, and one of them has like different fluffy brushes and oils and stuff that they rub on the person laying down? Like a massage? Visual ASMR?

I’m thinking about a yandere asmrtist who brought you in for one those videos. Maybe you won a giveaway or something, but realistically I think you were originally a fan. So he didn’t know you at all.

But then of course, you showed up at his studio. Stunning. Gorgeous. Irresistible. The whole package really. And he felt something deep in his stomach. Maybe butterflies. Maybe indigestion. Regardless, despite having done this before, he’s nervous. Off the bat it’s awkward.

But he’s a professional. So he powers through. A few moments of idle chat, and various prep work goes by, before you’re lying on the cot, surrounded by herbal candles and oils that already send you into a deep state of relaxation.

He starts the video as he always does, jumping right into it. Brushing your hair back, smoothing down the skin on your shoulders. Tracing your features with a soft fluffy stick thingy. Goes the whole nine yards. And the entire time he is sweating buckets from how aroused he is.

At some point through the session he starts to wonder if his heavy breathing is as visible as he thinks it is. If you can feel the sweat dripping down his arms and forehead. And his composure starts to wane. The way your breathing slows, the way your muscles relax. It’s driving him a little crazy. You’re so…comfortable. Because of him. He made you comfortable.

That means something doesn’t it? I mean you were a fan of his anyway. So obviously you liked him. He liked you too of course. It made him have a new thankfulness for his career. How would he have met you otherwise? His soulmate. No. He wanted to believe no matter what you two would have found each other. This feeling in his chest was so deep and passionate. Surely you guys were past lovers too right? You would’ve found each other.

And since you’ve loved each other before…it should be easy to love again? It’d be natural. Perfect. So when he hands start to squeeze a little more sensually, and his eyes began to lower. He doesn’t feel particularly guilty anymore. Your skin is familiar to his deluded mind. The way his fingers began to dig and mold into your soft skin and flesh, sliding up and down, the fabric of your shirt getting pushed lower…and lower..it’s all familiar. Yes he’s sure of it. You’ve both done this before. Your bodies have collapsed together dozens of times. That’s the only explanation, so there’s no room for guilt.

riiiiiiinnnnngg

And he jumps back, ripped away from his hazey day dream: your eyes fluttering open with a slightly exaggerated yawn that hopefully mutes the sound of his racing heart.

“Wow…” you laugh, and he would’ve taken a moment to appreciate it more if not for his own existing panic. “I totally fell asleep…sorry if that ruined the take.”

He pauses, swallowing thickly as his gaze quickly switches to the green light that beeps atop the camera. Right. He had been recording. He’d have to edit that later.

“No..no it was perfect. I’m sure it’ll make the viewers feel the same ease you were feeling…” his voice is as silky and gentle as always, oozing with the honey that enraptured his audience.

You smiled and hummed with a nod, groggily lifting yourself from the cot you had laid on, and grabbing your things form the chair you had set them on, you lift your hand in a wave. “Well, this was really nice! I totally needed it, and it was super cool meeting you in person! Thanks again-“

“Wait!” He jolted, a blush burning his cheeks at his own over eager behavior. “You did a really good job today, so..I was hoping we could keep in contact if the video does well..”

“Oh..sure thing!”

God you were a total blessing.

[jflemingology]

Finals over Feelings | Jessie Fleming x Reader

In which: Jessie disregards you and your relationship while studying for her finals

Warnings: like very slightly angsty? R feeling disregarded in the relationship but it ends fluffy :)

WC: 4K

A/N: as much as I feel like Jessie would be a very caring partner, I see this could be something that happens irl lol. Little nerd

Divider: @cafekitsune

Canada had failed to qualify for any tournaments over the summer this year. Jessie was gutted, she felt like she let her country down, especially as she had recently been made captain. Sinc's shoes were big ones to fill, and to fall short in the first summer under her leadership weighed on her.

Despite the cons about the football-free summer, there were obviously positives too. Jessie finally had a proper summer break, having two months off in which she could do what she wanted. Of course, Portland sent her training schemes that she had to follow. They included cardio, lots of mobility sessions and some light weight and strength training. Jessie still had to watch her food and just be mindful about anything she did, like she had to on a day-to-day basis throughout the season, but it gave you and her a bit more time and space to work with.

You'd gone back to Canada, accompanying Jessie on her two-week holiday back home. Her parents had welcomed the both of you with open arms and you could tell that your girlfriend really enjoyed a little getaway surrounded by home comforts. You slept in her childhood bedroom, visited all the places she used to hang out at as a kid and spent lots of time with her family. Almost every night was filled with board games and laughter, Jessie finally letting go and decompressing a little after a very stressful and tough season of football.

It was her first in Portland. She'd had a hard time settling in to her new surroundings initially, missing London and missing the familiarity of a club she had been at for a couple years. Everything was new for Jessie, and it overwhelmed her. New club, new country, new teammates, new apartment. You had moved with her – striking a deal with your boss that allowed you to work from America –, and as much as she appreciated having you by her side from the beginning it hadn't entirely settled her. A couple months in, when she also started to find her footing in the football and started playing more regular minutes, is when you finally saw she was growing back to her own self. She presented herself with more confidence on the pitch, and finally found her fun again in the sport rather than having a head hung low every time she came back from a training or match, claiming that she wasn't feeling good about the move and that she wanted nothing more than to go back.

Portland ended the season with a mid-table finish, nothing to bask about but the team and her were quite pleased with the performances they put on throughout the year. Now that Jessie was feeling more comfortable with her surroundings she was excited to get back going, but was also very eager to enjoy her two month break away from the pitch.

The two weeks in Canada flew by and before you knew it the both of you found yourselves back in your apartment in Portland. With 6 weeks left, Jessie decided she wanted to devote some of that time to the two courses of her degree she was yet to complete. She was nearly there, but hadn't found the time yet to study for two finals. It was normally busy all-year long and she would never really have the time to study for a final, but her free summer this year allowed her to pick it back up.

You knew how much finishing this degree meant to Jessie, school had always been a big priority of hers. Even though she loved the fact that she was able to make football her full time job, she often told you she found it unfortunate that she never really got to wrap up her degree like she should've, back in college. She wouldn't have traded her situation for the world, but you were happy for her that she would finally be able to wrap it up this summer. Jessie prided herself on her achievements in school, so you knew it would mean a lot to your Canadian to have an official degree in her bag.

So it begun. Jessie took up your spot in your home office to avoid any possible distractions, you moved your work to the dinner table. The house got very quiet throughout the days. Normally you'd have Jessie chewing your ear off about everything and nothing, talking about anything she'd come across in a book she was reading, on social media, on tv, etc. This time, though, it was eerily silent. Nothing could be heard in your apartment apart from the clicking of your keyboard and the occasional deep sigh that creeped through the door of your office, where Jessie was situated to study for her finals.

It was a new situation for the both of you, and it added a new layer of uncertainty on your relationship. You'd met Jessie when she played football in London, so you never knew what she was like when she studied. You weren't sure if she wanted you to be more or less present for her, whether she wanted you to do extra stuff for her or not, so it was a bit of a tricky situation.

It went by quick though, and before you knew, the final couple days of the three-week period were coming around. To say it had been easy would be a lie. Jessie retreated herself into your office for more than 8 hours a day, not coming out of there unless she had to pee or to go to bed. You knew it was gonna be hard to manage this new situation, but you didn't expect Jessie to be that detached from you and your relationship. As much as you understood that this was important for her, you couldn't help but feel the way you did.

You'd tried a couple things to connect with Jessie during the past weeks.

On most nights, Jessie only came to bed when the clock was nearing 12. You had your back turned to the door but you would hear when she came in, usually not able to sleep anyway when she wasn't in bed next to you. She would tiredly shrug off her clothes and put on some old football stuff and get in bed next to you, not bothering to check if you were still awake. By the time you turned back around and faced her in the hopes of getting a cuddles and kisses in, she'd be fast asleep. The early mornings and late nights were taking a toll on her, so she needed to get all the sleep she could get, rightfully. But to go to sleep without her goodnight kiss, wasn't something she would do.

By the time you woke up and were ready to start your day, Jessie had already gotten up. The first couple times you were taken aback by the way your hand was met with cold sheets when you rolled over, but you got used to it after a couple days. You got up and went about your morning routine trying your hardest not to disrupt Jessie from her studying. The first couple days you made her breakfast, but when you noticed she couldn't even spare a simple thank you or a kiss, you refrained from that too – lunch time was usually similar.

When you finished work around 4, you went for a walk. It's a habit you had picked up in your early days of living on Portland, when Jessie was usually at the club until 5 or 6. Especially now, you could use the time outside. It wasn't particularly because you needed to be alone – you practically were alone for 3 weeks –, but it helped you in clearing your mind. It was in those moments, when you could unwind yourself from the situation, that you could look at it with a more level-headed approach and could put into perspective the way Jessie was acting.

As the days rolled on, you noticed that Jessie was growing more and more tired. She came to bed later, alarms were set earlier and she didn't even eat the breakfasts or lunches you brought her. You knew she was dedicated and you certainly knew that she really wanted to do well on these finals, but Jessie was burning herself out and you wanted to find a way to stop that.

One night, while Jessie was out for a run – despite the studying, she still found time to stick to the training schedules as good as possible – and you were rotting away on the couch, you decided you could do something nice for her. You got up and made your way over to the kitchen, retrieving all the ingredients that you needed to make the soup that Jessie's mum always made for her when she was little. You figured a bit of home comforts would settle her down a little, and maybe you could even try and get through to her about how she was making matters worse for herself by barely sleeping and eating.

You played some soft tunes on the speaker in the kitchen and busied yourself with making the soup, time passing quite quickly while you were working on dinner.

You were just applying some finishing touches to the soup, adding a bit more spices here and there based on how it tasted, as you heard the front door opening. Jessie had made it back from her run and took off her shoes by the door, putting them neatly on the shoe rack. You heard footsteps padding down the hallway and moving towards the living room, deciding not to call her in just yet as she probably wanted to sit down for a couple minutes.

When you deemed the soup as just right, you retrieved two bowls from the cupboards and filled them with fresh soup. You'd made sure it was steaming hot, just the way Jessie liked it. You put the bowls on two trays paired with a couple slices of bread, before making your way over to the living room, where Jessie was still catching her breath from her run. She was scrolling on her phone and didn't hear you coming in until you sat down next to her, placing the trays down on the coffee table by the couch.

She looked at you with a grateful smile and you sat next to her, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear that had fallen out of her ponytail. You pressed a soft kiss against her rosy cheeks, that were slightly cold at the touch. "I made you your favorite, figured you could use some veggies and a bit of home comforts," you said as you placed a hand on her thigh and gave it a gentle squeeze.

Jessie offered you a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes before she frowned. "This is nice, but I'm quickly gonna take a shower first. I'm sweaty and I'm getting cold", Jessie started. You had a hard time concealing the disappointment you felt upon hearing her words, trying your best to keep your shoulders straight when they dared to slouch.

You looked down at your lap, fiddling with the rings on your hand before you replied. "It's warm now, you should eat Jess. You can shower after, it won't take long."

Your reply clearly fell on deaf ears, before you could even finish your sentence she had already gotten up and started making her way over upstairs and to the bathroom. "I won't be long. Thanks for dinner," she said before turning the corner and closing the bathroom door behind her.

You clasped your hands together in front of you and placed your elbows on your thighs, leaning on your hands and letting a couple minutes pass before you finally decided that you shouldn't let your bowl of soup go cold. As much as you were disappointed – and angry, probably – at Jessie, you knew you shouldn't let her demeanor ruin your night. You finished it all rather quickly, enjoying the food that reminded you of Jessie's home. You'd always felt really welcomed in her family and it was nice that you could do things like this that could remind you both of her childhood. On another day Jessie would've loved the fact that you made that soup, catering to her mum's recipe. Tonight though, it seemed like she couldn't care less.

You decided not to dwell on it too much and tried to take it in your stride, thinking she did appreciate it but really wanted a shower after her run. She didn't say she needed space, though, so when you had put your bowl in the dishwasher and put hers in the microwave for her to warm it up later, you went upstairs and made your way over to the bathroom, to see if you could potentially join your girlfriend in the shower.

You knocked on the door and heard a faint "come in," being said over the sound of the running water. You slowly opened the door and made your way inside, being met with the warm air of the shower. "Care if I join you," you tried.

Jessie turned off the water before she spoke. "I was just getting out, actually. I wanted to do a bit more work for school tonight and as it's already late, I should make it quick," Jessie replied. You nodded, but eventually gave her a verbal okay when you realized she couldn't see your face from behind the shower curtains. "Mhm, okay," you started, your voice a little shaky. "Well, I'll be downstairs if you need me."

You didn't await Jessie's reply before you made your way back downstairs and slouched down on the couch. You couldn't hold back the stray tear that made its way over your cheek as you started running through this evening's events in your head. You knew Jessie loved you. She loved you a ton, but she'd made it really hard recently for you to be aware of that. Tonight had been the worst it's been in over the past two weeks. She'd been distant, yes, but she had never turned down lunch or dinner before. Especially not when you'd make her something like you did tonight. As much as she'd spend most of her days away from you, if there was an opportunity to get some affection and be close to you, she'd grab it with both hands – which was the reason you found it weird she denied the opportunity to shower with you.

You heard Jessie emerge from the bathroom and pad her way over to your home office which was just across the hallway. You heard the door close and settled back down, deciding on watching some crappy reality tv to keep your thoughts at bay – not wanting to be an emotional wreck all evening because of how your girlfriend was acting.

A couple hours later, you felt yourself yawn and decided to call it a night. Your eyes widened when you checked your phone and the clock read quarter to 1. You hadn't realized it was already that late, you got caught up in your show and lost track of time. What worried you, though, is that Jessie hadn't left your office yet. This was the latest she'd ever worked and you were sure this wasn't a good move. Knowing her, she'd be up bright and early again tomorrow and if she wanted a couple hours of sleep, she really shouldn't be working this late.

You turned off the tv and made sure all the lights were out downstairs before you made your way upstairs. You tried your luck one final time with her, and while you were making your way over to the bedroom you took a quick stop at your office first. You didn't knock, just slowly opened the door and were met with the sight of your girlfriend's back, cladded in one of your old hoodies. You fully opened the door and leaned your body against the doorframe. "Come to bed, baby. It's late," you tried, in a soft voice. You heard a faint hum coming from your Canadian but she gave you nothing more than that, her eyes trained on the computer screen in front of her. Her final was coming up in a few days, she was cramming as much as she could but you were insistent that this wasn't the way she should be going about things. You approached her and put a hand on your shoulder.

"Jess, baby, it's almost 1," you rubbed her shoulder affectionately. "You really should get some sleep, you and I both know you and your brain will function better after a bit of rest," Jessie let out a deep exhale at your words.

"I appreciate your concern, but I'm quite certain I know myself what's best for me. I just wanna finish this bit, I'll be in bed soon," you didn't miss the hint of annoyance that seeped through her voice. She didn't snap at you, but it certainly didn't feel good. You nodded wordlessly and let go of her shoulder, silently making your way out of the room before heading back to your bedroom.

A little over 30 minutes later, Jessie was finally done for the day. She had wrapped up the chapter she wanted to finish and turned off her computer, leaving the room and going downstairs for a drink.

She noticed the bowl of soup that was still in the microwave and silently cursed herself for having forgotten about it. She knew you'd put your work into it and felt bad about how she had just left it to go cold, leaving you to your own devices for dinner. She heated it up and sat down to eat it, making sure your work didn't go to waste. She made sure to leave her empty bowl in the dishwasher and not in the sink, being mindful of the way she left the kitchen so you wouldn't wake up to any dishes. It doomed on her that she didn't treat you right tonight and felt bad about it.

She quietly made her way upstairs, not wanting to wake you, had you already fallen asleep. The bedroom door creaked when she opened it, Jessie narrowing her eyes while they adjusted to the dark room. She could make out your figure under the covers, back facing the door, a sight she'd grown used to the last two weeks when she entered the bedroom. It was only now that Jessie was slowly realizing how unreasonable she'd been towards you these last couple days. You had gone out of your way and beyond to make sure she could study in the best circumstances possible, and she'd disregarded that completely – not just that, she'd disregarded you.

She wanted to make it right and as much as she knew that 1am wasn't the time, she couldn't let it linger on. Jessie quickly changed into something more comfortable and made her way under the covers as silently as possible. You had indeed fallen asleep, soft snores coming from you as you stirred when Jessie's side of the bed dipped when she joined you.

Jessie pressed a couple soft kisses on your bare back, one of her arms coming to lay across your waist as she pulled your body into you. You stirred, slowly waking up as your girlfriend kept on pressing kisses against your body. You slowly opened your eyes and let them accustom to the dark room. Your gaze fell on the alarm clock that was on the nightstand, the time now reading 1:42am. You figured Jessie had only just joined you. You wanted to give in to her touch and turn around in her arms, wanting nothing more than to revel in the affection she was finally giving you – but decided you should give her a hard time. She had disregarded you lately, and you should let her know that you weren't pleased with how she acted the last two weeks.

"Baby, I know you're awake," she mumbled against her back. You hummed in response, unwrapping her arm from around your waist and scooting a bit further away from your Canadian. The silence that fell hurt you, but you didn't want to give in just yet. "I'm sorry, love. I know I've not been the best girlfriend the past couple weeks," she started. Her words were the only thing that could be heard in the room now, no noise coming from traffic outside or anything inside the house.

She tried her luck again and pulled you back against her, breathing out a soft sigh of relief when you didn't push her arm away this time. "I'm sorry, really. I've been super caught up with my work and didn't notice how hard I've been disregarding you, disregarding us."

You sighed and turned in Jessie's arms, snuggling your face in the crook of her neck and waiting for her to continue. You wanted to be annoyed at her but couldn't turn away from the warmth of her embrace. "I'll do better, I promise," she pressed a soft kiss to your crown. "Thank you for the soup, I really enjoyed it."

You lifted your head from your neck and looked at her, her eyes noticeably watery despite the darkness in the room. "You had some?"

She nodded, sporting a small smile. "Yeah, it was nice. Thank you, really. For everything you do. I don't think I've really noticed how much you do for me until now. You've really kept me standing this past period and I've not thanked you enough for it."

You cast your eyes down, a sad feeling washing over you upon hearing Jessie's words. She gently lifted your chin with her index and middle finger and pushed your head back up, her eyes locking with yours. "I appreciate you, baby. So much. I'm sorry I haven't shown you that lately."

Jessie's eyes flicked from your eyes to your lips and you saw how she tentatively started leaning closer. She left a little space between the both of you and left it for you to close, not wanting to cross any boundaries and kiss you if you weren't feeling like it.

You crossed the final bit of space that was left between the two of you and pressed your lips against hers. Jessie poured every ounce of love and adoration she had for you into the kiss, placing both of her hands on your cheeks and pulling you even closer. "I love you so much", she mumbled against your lips without breaking the kiss. You responded by kissing her harder, getting lost in the feeling of her lips against yours.

You only broke the kiss when you had to get some air, reluctantly letting go of Jessie's lips. "I love you too. I really do. And thank you for speaking to me about this," you started and took Jessie's hands in yours. "I have been feeling quite disregarded. I tried to put it down to just you being busy but tonight was a little too much."

Jessie nodded and acknowledged what you said, pushing a strand of hair behind your ears that had fallen in front of your face. "I know that I've been going about this the wrong way and I acknowledge that. I promise I'll do better."

You couldn't help a small smile creeping onto your face. You were happy with how tonight turned out, eventually. "I love you, Jess. Thank you."

"How about we get some sleep, hmm? I'll stay with you in bed tomorrow morning for as long as you want me to, I promise."

Your eyes lit up at the prospect of morning cuddles with Jessie, eagerly nodding and agreeing with her proposal. Your girlfriend chuckled at how excited you were at the simple idea of cuddling with her.

You pressed a final, tender kiss against Jessie's lips before you turned back around and wrapped her arm around your waist. Your Canadian pulled you tight against her, your back flush against her chest and she pressed a couple soft kisses against the nape of your neck before settling her head down on the pillow next to you.

"Goodnight baby, I love you." "Goodnight Jess, I love you too."

[heavensoutofsight]

i want you to see (how you look to me) - billie eilish

synopsis: you're hopelessly in love with your best friend, billie, and you're unsure if she feels the same, choosing to keep your distance -- until one fateful night in the studio where your feelings finally boil over.

word count: 3506

tags/warnings: angst if you squint, mostly fluffy, love confessions, mutual pining, best friends to lovers

author's note: GIFT FOR YOUUUU. sorry i took so long to write something LMAO. this was very quickly proofread at 3am. any mistakes are mine! hope you enjoy :) comments/tags/reblogs are always appreciated! (credit for the divider goes to @/cafekitsune)

In the dim light of your bedroom, you scrolled through your phone's photo gallery, feeling your heart constrict at all of the pictures you had with Billie. Some were taken directly after shows, some after particular interviews, and some during a random outing the two of you decided to go on. In many of the pictures, Billie left little to no personal space, her face squished against yours and her arms completely wrapped around you. You missed the times when Billie could touch you like that and it didn't set you aflame – when it didn't make your head spin as you took in her perfume and felt her soft body underneath your hands, her ocean eyes bright and full of mirth as she looked at you.

There was no denying that there was some distance between you and Billie now. And you hated it.

You weren't sure when it happened; when you first started feeling those stupid butterflies around her. When even just the sound of her laugh made your heart soar. If somebody asked you to pinpoint the exact moment you started falling in love with your best friend, you wouldn't be able to – it was all so fuzzy and frankly you didn't think it could be attributed to a single moment anyway. It might have been that one night she slept over and you fell asleep with your head on her shoulder as she sung you to sleep. Or the time the two of you were at her place, making some vegan recipe together, playing loud music and using spoons and forks as microphones, performing for no one but yourselves and giggling profusely at Billie giving you the performance of a lifetime in the comfort of her own kitchen. Or perhaps it was the time she comforted you all night after a breakup, holding you closely and never letting go, her ring-clad hands petting you gently, as if you were made of glass.

Your heart had always belonged to Billie, long before you truly understood your feelings. And now that they were more apparent to you than ever, you simply didn't know what to do.

You knew Bille loved you just as much as you loved her. But did she feel the same fire within her whenever your hands brushed together? Did she feel those same butterflies whenever you laughed at a dumb joke or gave her a bright smile? You couldn't bear even just the thought of pouring your heart out to this woman only for the feeling to not be mutual.

You glanced at the time on your phone screen. It was late. You should've been sleeping but you were just riddled with anxiety instead, too busy imagining up a million hypothetical situations in which you would dramatically confess your feelings. You wish you had the same confidence you had in your daydreams in your real life.

You sighed, scrolling to the very last thing you had in your gallery. It was the most recent video of you and Billie, taken only a few weeks ago. The both of you were in Billie's living room. You couldn't stop the smile that tugged the corners of your lips when Billie came into view as you secretly recorded her in all of her casual glory. Her long hair was down, falling in front of her face in a way that made the breath leave your lungs. She was in an oversized t-shirt, wearing a pair of simple black shorts. She was very focused; her lips forming a pout as she stared down at the notebook in her lap, a pencil in hand.

What started as a small grin evolved into a wide, lovesick smile as you watched Billie look at the camera in the video, finally having caught on to you filming her.

“What the hell are you doing?” Past Billie had asked, a smirk slowly appearing on her face as she eyed you suspiciously. You heard yourself giggle, suddenly aiming your phone camera away from her and poorly trying to appear innocent.

“Nothing.”

“You are a fucking liar,” Billie said playfully, barely able to get the words out through her own series of chuckles.

“I'm not!” Past you exclaimed. Billie just shook her head, scrambling over to you to grab your phone, the both of you erupting into whole-hearted laughter. The last blurry frame of the video was of Billie's smiling face looking at you. You admired her perfect teeth and lips, the shape of her nose, and those damn ocean eyes, far more beautiful than any body of water you'd ever seen.

That familiar fluttery feeling returned to your stomach again.

You shut off your phone and quickly placed it on your bedside table. You rolled over in your bed, still thinking of that video. You were beginning to feel something in your chest. Your heart felt like it was constricting again. You tried to ignore, instead attempting to shift the focus of your thoughts on the weight of your blanket encompassing you, or the gentle sound of whatever random sitcom you had playing on your television for background noise; but your mind always wandered back to Billie. Her smile, her laugh, her touch.

You were deeply, madly in love with Billie Eilish, your best friend, and it was starting to drive you insane. This was not a crush, no, it was more than a crush – it was like a craving, a desire so strong it entirely consumed you.

You were so fucked.

You closed your eyes, desperately just wanting to sleep. You weren't even necessarily physically tired. Just tired of your brain going a thousand miles a minute and constantly thinking about her.

After a few long minutes of battling complete and utter restlessness, you had mentally exhausted yourself enough to the point where you were finally starting to drift off – until you heard your phone go off, which abruptly pulled you away from the brink of sleep. Normally, you would ignore it, but you recognized that notification tone. It was a tone that you specifically gave to Billie, and whenever she texted, you had to answer.

You opened your messaging app, squinting a bit at the brightness of your screen in the dark room.

heyyyy u up

i'm in the studio by myself

feeling lonely as hell

You heard the messages in her voice. You found yourself smiling again, imagining her in her little swivel chair, maybe playing a melody on the piano or strumming a tune on the guitar.

Without wasting a second, you replied.

you: of course i'm up

you: god you can't do anything without me huh?

You chuckled to yourself, watching those three little dots disappear and reappear.

billie: you are absolutely correct

billie: you just really inspire me what can i say

billie: i'm not even joking you really do

You ignored the warmth in your cheeks at her words, opting to play around some more.

you: ew

you: cheesy ass

To that, Billie replied almost instantly:

billie: shut your mouth

billie: ARE YOU COMINGGG

bille: seriously tho i know it's late but we haven't hung out in a while and i kinda miss youuuu or whateverrrr

You didn't respond right away, staring up at your plain white ceiling, releasing a sigh. Your smile faltered a bit.

She missed you. And you missed her. And even though being around her made you feel like you were gonna lose your mind, she didn't deserve to be pushed away.

“You are going to get over your feelings, starting now.” you said to yourself encouragingly, getting out of your bed to meet Billie at her place. You finally threw her a reply back.

you: i'm omw :))))))

______

You didn't knock when you finally arrived since you had the key, but you did make your presence known.

“Bil,” you shouted out. You didn't get a response, but you shrugged it off. She was probably deeply concentrated on whatever lyric or melody she was trying to create. You made your way to the studio, feeling your heart race inside of your chest. As you walked down the stairs and down a hallway, getting closer to the studio door, you felt more and more anxious.

You were going to open the door, your hand resting on the doorknob, but you froze when you heard the soft sound of humming. You leaned in closer, honing in on the gentle sound of Billie's voice, muffled and just barely audible.

“I want you to stay… til I'm in the…” She trailed off. You heard her let out a heavy sigh. That’s when you decided to make your presence known.

You slowly opened the door, quietly enough that Billie hadn’t even turned around in her chair, looking up at the large television screen in front of her, messing around with some music production software that you could never understand. You continued to stand in the doorway, watching as Billie made some small edits within the current song she seemed to be working on. She hit play after making some miniscule changes, the unfinished song softly playing out of the large speakers. As soon as the instrumental filled the room, you felt chills on every inch of your body; it sounded beautiful despite the fact that it wasn’t even done. You’d never get over how lucky you were to be able to hear the early versions of Billie’s songs – it was like being let into a secret world, and it made you feel special that you, alongside her family, got to witness every step of the process.

Eventually, the short snippet of the song had stopped, and Billie leaned back in her seat. Just from her posture you could tell that she seemed defeated, like something about the song just wasn’t right to her. She began humming again, mumbling out some lyrics here and there. You found yourself grinning as you admired Billie in her element, but then you remembered that you still hadn’t announced your presence and that you were just creepily ogling at her from the doorway. You audibly chuckled at yourself which, of course, finally grabbed Billie’s attention.

She spun around in her chair, seemingly startled at first before she realized it was you.

“Jesus Christ,” she started, her adorable laugh filling the quiet studio. “Did you just get here?”

You shook your head, heading over to the couch and making yourself comfortable. “I was standing there for a good few minutes.” You replied with a grin.

“Don't ever do that again – my heart fell into my ass.” She exclaimed, and you let out a loud cackle at that. You grabbed one of the throw pillows next to you and held it in your arms, reclining back into the familiar cushions.

“Okay, won't happen again. Maybe. No promises.” You joked, to which Bille just rolled her eyes playfully.

“Anyway, whatcha workin’ on?” You asked curiously, your eyes going back to the music software she had on the screen.

“The album, obviously.” Billie said with a smirk. Now it was your turn to roll your eyes, not being able to fight the grin tugging at the corners of your lips.

“Shut up,” you said with mirth. “Which track?”

“It's called Birds of a Feather, it's track 4. It's… pretty shit, right now.”

Your eyes widened in complete and utter bewilderment, your eyebrows shooting up to your hairline.

“Billie, what? I just heard the little snippet you played and it sounded incredible.”

“You say everything I make sounds incredible.”

“Because it's true.” You replied sincerely. To that, Billie gave you a gentle smile, looking down at her lap as if shy at the sudden praise. You felt the sensation of warmth throughout your body at just how endearing she was.

“All you do is gas me up.” Billie replied through a series of chuckles.

“Of course I'm gonna gas up my amazingly talented super star best friend,” You responded. “But… can I ask why you think it's bad?”

Billie sighed, leaning back in her chair again, twiddling her thumbs. “It's just… the lyrics are giving me a hard time. And the instrumental is missing something but I don't know what it is.”

“Can I read the lyrics?” You asked.

At that, Billie looked at you with an expression you couldn't quite read. She seemed hesitant, which was definitely unusual–she always let you read her lyrics and never felt shy about sharing stuff with you.

“Yeah, go ahead.” Bille said after a few long seconds of pondering, but you could still hear the uncertainty in her voice. Curious, your brows furrowed.

“Bil, I understand if it's something you don't wanna share with me yet–”

“No, please,” she said, quickly handing you her journal, already having opened it to the pages that contained the lyrics in question. “You can read it.”

You glanced at her expression one more time as you took the journal, and noticed that this time – she was holding back a smile, biting her bottom lip.

You were equal parts confused and eager to see what Billie seemed a little hesitant to share. You silently began reading what she had written, taking in her adorable, albeit messy handwriting. There were all kinds of scribbles on the page, certain words were crossed out. It was fascinating to you to see her thought process on the page. You loved just how deeply she thought about every word, every sentence.

Eventually, you stopped admiring her crooked letters and side notes and finally began analyzing the lyrics themselves – and when you did, you honestly wanted to cry at how lovely they were.

I want you to stay

Till I'm in the grave

Till I rot away, dead and buried

Till I'm in the casket you carry

If you go, I'm going too

‘Cause it was always you

And if I'm turning blue

Please don't save me

Nothing left to lose

Without my baby

“Billie, these are…” you paused, searching for the right words. “These are so sweet.” You said with a smile, meeting her warm blue eyes that were still trained on your face.

“Thanks.” She replied, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

As you read some more, a question had crossed your mind. Your eyes trailed off the page as you internally debated with yourself whether or not you should even ask because you were little afraid of what the answer would be.

It was clear to you these lyrics were about someone– they had to be. And the very thought of this song being about someone else in Billie's life made you feel as if there was a heavy weight in your stomach. For a second, you foolishly thought that you'd be able to overcome the feelings you had for Billie. All it took was imagining her with someone else that made those feelings rush back all at once.

You must've been quiet for longer than intended, because Billie spoke up. “Are they actually terrible? Do you hate them and you're trying to figure out how to break it to me?” Billie asked, that playful tone creeping back into her voice.

You chuckled. “They are far from terrible, Bil, it's just…”

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat.

“I was just wondering… who's it about?” You asked, feeling unreasonably nervous about her response. You don't even know why, because you had long accepted that there was a possibility she didn't like you like that. You were prepared to be heartbroken – but that didn't mean it wouldn't hurt any less.

But all Billie did was just… laugh.

“Guess.” She said, crossing her arms.

Oh, God. So there is someone else, you thought.

With a smile that didn't quite reach your eyes, you said, “How the hell am I supposed to guess? But I'm happy for you, regardless.” You said, trying to be lighthearted, but your voice dropped a bit, possibly revealing your true feelings.

“Okay, do you want a hint?”

You stared at her incredulously. “You seriously want me to guess?”

“Do you want a hint or no?” Billie asked again, ignoring your question. She was smiling widely now, and you were still feeling that pang of sadness that you couldn't quite shake, but you continued to play along anyway.

“Sure. I'll take a hint.” You said.

“Okay,” Billie started. “She's my best friend in the entire world.”

“You have a lot of best friends-”

“Girl, let me finish.” Billie said with a laugh. “She's my best friend in the entire world who's known me my entire life. She's come with me to almost every show, every interview, and has supported me through everything.”

Billie had come a little closer to you now, her tone becoming more sincere with every word.

“When I'm lonely, she comes and visits me in the studio, even when it's ridiculously late. And she always compliments me and never lets me feel bad about anything I make.”

Slowly, but surely, you were beginning to realize something. Her descriptions were becoming more and more specific. Were you being delusional?

“Billie, I… what are you saying?” You asked. Your heart pounded against your ribcage, hard enough you were sure they'd be bruised.

“Still don't know?” She asked, her voice just barely above a whisper.

You shook your head.

“Okay, I'll just tell you then.”

Billie gently cupped the side of your face. You leaned into the touch almost instantly. She was close enough that you could feel her breath on your lips.

“She's right in front of me.” She said with a grin.

You couldn't even process the sentence that just came out of her mouth, frozen in shock and disbelief.

“This song is about me?” You asked quietly, your voice breaking slightly. You felt a stinging sensation in your eyes, all of the emotion brewing within you threatening to spill.

“Do you remember the last time we hung out and you were filming me writing? I was writing this. I was writing this and thinking about you and how much I love you. I realized it as I was just… sitting there. You were laughing at some dumb meme on your phone and I just remember thinking how much I wanted you all to myself.”

You didn't realize you were crying until Billie had wiped away a tear.

“Hey, hey,” Billie said ever so softly, opting to hold both of your hands now. “Why are you crying?”

You laughed a bit through the tears, sniffling a few times before answering. “Because I… can't believe you felt this way the whole fucking time. I was going crazy, Billie.”

Billie let out a loud laugh of her own. It was your favorite sound in the world.

“Sorry. Honestly, I was trying to figure out my own feelings and how to tell you.”

“No, I'm sorry. For pushing you away.” you replied. Billie shook her head.

“Oh my god, stop. You don't have to apologize. It all worked out in the end, right?” She asked.

You smiled. “Yeah. It did.”

For several long seconds, there was a comfortable silence that stretched between the two of you. The both of you were smiling at each other, completely lost in the other's eyes. You didn't miss the way Billie's eyes glanced at your lips.

“Billie.” You spoke.

“Yeah, baby?”

The pet name made your heart soar.

“If you don't fucking kiss me right now–”

Billie didn't even let you finish your sentence, her lips colliding with your eyes in an explosion of pent up feelings and passion. She held both sides of your face in your hands, while yours snaked around her waist. You held onto her like she was gonna disappear any second and kissed her like you were starving.

The kiss started off innocent– but it quickly delved into something a bit more intense when Billie just slightly bit your lip, not enough to cause pain but enough to make you gasp. She introduced her tongue hesitantly, silently asking for your permission, which you granted without a second thought.

At some point, Billie finally got out of her swivel chair and moved to sit down on the couch with you. The two of you had pulled apart briefly for that, and when Billie was seated, her eyes were hooded and she was gazing at you like you were sex on longs. She patted her lap, and liked an obedient dog, you wasted no time crawling into her lap.

“I've dreamt about this.” You said, completely breathless and warm in the face.

“Oh, yeah?” Billie asked with a smirk that had your insides flipping upside down. “What else have you dreamt about?”

“Being able to call you mine.”

At that, Billie smiled. “That's all?”

“No, that's not all, but… I'd rather show than tell…” you trailed off, but it was obvious what you were referring to.

“We are getting out of my brother's basement, right fucking now.” Billie said.

The two of you snuck out of Finneas’ house, hand-in-hand and giggling like little kids in love.