#inspiration struck so i made this instead of sleeping. even though i have to be awake in less than two hours

[babygirltangerine]

bullet train + dj smokey nuke radio prod tags

[lightlycareless]

I saw this video and it made think of Naoya and Naohime. I can imagine she learned that vocabulary from Naobito lol

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTNdX5wP2/

Hello!!

Omggggg another video that isn't here anymore jfc I'm so sorry 😭 but from what I was able to recall it was a (with a daughter or granddaughter) and he says a bad word and she ends up saying the same thing lol it was kind of funny tho 😂

I wrote a little something inspired by it :) though I ended up writing it mostly on Y/N's perspective, cause she's the one that usually hangs around the kids the most (though a protective Naoya does appear, as well as Naomi)

warnings: none. Naobito is a bad influece tho. but overall domestic fluff.

also: a little bit of context regarding Naobito and his relationship with your and Naoya's youngest child.

Happy reading!!

It should come to no one’s surprise that Naobito is Naohime’s biggest, worst influence for a thousand reasons.

And why wouldn’t it be? Honestly, they spent almost every day together, with Naohime constantly following him everywhere, or more like Naobito bringing her along everywhere, citing that his favorite granddaughter had to be there for whatever important clan meeting he had for the day.

By his side when watching anime, or just spending the whole evening sleeping, a little Naobito on the making! It was only a matter of time before she began to mimic him…

Which was a very frightening statement for you and Naoya to ruminate on. To have a child so involved in serious manners is just the tip of the iceberg; both just want her to live out her childhood as happily as possible! 

But, oh, well, at least his father had the decency of not drinking in front of her—yet, this following incident finally made you and Naoya realize how spoiled Naohime had actually become, and how urgent it was for the two to step in.

It happened right after dropping off your children at school, with Naohime by your side since she was too young to attend yet (another matter that worried you—Naobito wanted to homeschool her, you and Naoya wished otherwise. Will this debate ever end?) accompanying you to your newest duty.

Apparently, the Zen’in were to meet a highly prestigious client, and you, wanting to do your part in making a good impression, headed right over to the kitchen to help arrange such an important dinner.

Stress to make this moment as perfectly as possible inevitably befell the staff, especially those that were still new to the (dubious) work ethic of the Zen’in; thus, it wouldn’t take long before one of them eventually crumbled, making a mistake that was easily fixable, but with the pressure of doing everything right the first time, believed otherwise.

“It’s ok, don’t worry—we still have more ingredients, right?” you quickly intercept, the cook nods. “See? Nothing to fret about! Now we just gotta—"

Little Naohime rarely involved herself in your activities, always kept occupied by her toys or any other activity you thought of beforehand, but something about the anxious complains from the staff members struck her with familiarity, like she’s seen this before somewhere else, and knew exactly what to do…

Cue your worst nightmare becoming a reality, having you inwardly screeching, skin pale at the notion of her imprudence.

“Stupid monkey!” Naohime says, with no hesitation, no second thoughts, nothing—just a reckless, albeit innocent, replication of her surroundings.

“Naohime!” you quickly retorted, shocked to hear such an awful sentence coming from your adorable daughter! “Where did you learn to say that?!”

But your daughter, instead of providing an answer, just continued giggling, thinking of your reaction to be a joke, as if you were entertained by her actions and not genuinely upset; it’s how Naobito reacted whenever she did that, after all, obviously the culprit behind it all.

“No, young lady, this is no laughing matter!” you insist once more, she does not budge. “Naohime—you will apologize to the staff right now for saying those awful words!”

“Lady Y/N, it’s fine—she’s just a child. She doesn’t know what she said.”

But that’s exactly what made this situation not fine. If anything, it made it even worse! Her laughter representing the sour realization that you’ve been too lax on your daughter, perhaps too carefree, freeing her of any necessary limits and discipline simply because she was your youngest maybe, your last child, the one you and Naoya had more time to parent together and yet didn’t seem like it.

You should’ve expected something like this to happen when Naobito got interested in spending time with his granddaughter. Yet, far from growing concerned, deep within, you and Naoya were happy that finally his family was retroactively trying to get along with their children, if only one of them…

But those days of carefree endearing were gone, you needed to put your foot down, and quickly.

“Naohime, if you do not apologize, we’re going to have problems.” She smiles, shaking her head playfully, nothing but a game for her you sadly conclude. “Alright, I don’t like doing this, but you leave me no other choice.

So, carefully grabbing her hand, you decided to go with what she considered the worst discipline ever, one appropriate for her age and situation: a timeout.

A decision she received with loud whines and cries, attempting to free herself from your hold but being unable to do as much as lightly tug at your arm, forced to accept the fate awaiting inside her bedroom; 5 minutes to think of the gravity of her actions, understand them, and hopefully, a genuine apology.

“Mamaaaaaaaa.” She would call from inside, pounding at the door. “Mamaaaaaaa!! Let me out!!”

It hurt you to hear her crying like that, your poor baby, the light of your life, one of the many reasons you loved being a mother—but such, it also reminded you that if you truly loved her, then you would discipline her when needed and set up limits that would protect her.

She was just a child and should act like one! Not copy dubious behaviors from people you’re going to start distancing from! Just as your husband would come to support…

“Care to explain the things you’re teaching my daughter?!” Naoya is quick to reproach his father as soon as you inform him of what happened. Somewhat afraid of Naobito, you usually let him handle these types of matters, but never alone, standing by his side as your protective husband gave him a piece of his mind. “I will not allow you to spend any more time with her if you’re just going to be a bad influence on her!”

“Ah, it’s nothing but a stupid expression! Just something to say to people that are being a bit foolish, motivate them to do better, nothing more!” Naobito dismisses, as always. You press your lips together, seeing the anger building up in Naoya’s face.

“Regardless of what it was, as his father, I do not want her replicating such behavior. So, you either behave for the first time in your life, or I won’t allow you to see Naohime ever again!”

“So now you’re threatening me?” Naobito chuckled. “She’s a much better, promising daughter than any of you ever were. A shame you don’t see it.”

You sigh; it’s nothing but obvious that he’d been drinking, kind of. Alcohol only made his defensive, intolerant nature worse, and subsequently, impossible to engage in a conversation with him.

But it’s not like either expected any different, he’s always been like this and would continue to do so until forever it seems. Thus, after brief consideration, you and Naoya decide to follow through with what both thought best: spend a few days with your father in hopes of giving Naohime a breath of fresh air, a break from the estate, as well as the opportunity to get along with the rest of her relatives, ones both hoped she’d take after.

Something she clearly didn’t like, that much Naomi was able to assess after seeing the tantrum her little sister was throwing.

“No! I don’t wanna leave, no! No!” Naohime cried, fists closed tightly as she thrashes all around her bed. “Mama and Papa hates me!”

“It’s hate Naohime—and no, they don’t hate you, peanut.” Naomi says, carefully sitting by her side and placing her hand behind her back, hoping to stop her before she either hurts her or herself. “You just did something they didn’t like, that’s all.”

“No, I didn’t!” she protests. “I never do bad!”

Naomi raises an eyebrow; so young and already so sure of herself. Well, can’t say they aren’t related.

“You do realize you insulted the staff, right? The same people that feed you every day? How would you feel if someone from our family said the same thing to mama? Or papa? Call them stupid.”

Naomi frowns, disliking the mental image of her parents being belittled—or being told anything ugly! It’s one thing what she does, and another entirely different when pertaining to others. Her parents are off limits!

Regret soon fills her senses, but too embarrassed to admit her wrongdoings, she responds with the only phrase she thinks works the same.

“I don’t wanna leave…”

“…Just apologize, Naohime. That’s all Mama and Papa want from you.” Naomi says, patting her back once more. “And stop mimicking all that the old man does, ok? He’s not good for you.”

“But he’s funny…”

“Papa can be… funnier if that’s what you really want.” Naomi couldn’t believe what she was saying, but here she was, defending her father!

But it was true, in a way; and necessary to stop her baby sister from turning into a small Naobito.

“No, he’s silly…”

Naomi chuckles; well, at least she’s not easy to fool.

“Mama and Papa love you and want nothing but the best for you.”

“…I know.” Naohime eventually admits, finally giving way to the first step of her so-called redemption, an apology that the staff warmly received, her parents briefly taken aback, yet happy.

…

If not curious as to know why she’d done so in the first place; perhaps a sudden change of heart?

“I just spoke to her, you know. She’s still capable of hearing and understanding.” Naomi says. “Don’t give up without trying.”

“Oh, I know.” You lament, and the notion you’ve been dragging along of being the worst parent ever sank deeper into your mind. “I just… I guess I was just shocked to hear her say that! Something so terrible, and of course, how close she actually was to Naobito. I knew they got along, just not to this extent!”

“I should’ve known, my love. They spend the whole day together, and she rarely listens to us when she’s with him!” Naoya frowns, feeling equally incompetent. “Don’t solely reprimand yourself, I too was at fault.”

“Well, if you must know, she was really upset at the thought of you guys being angry with her.” Your eldest added. “And honestly, you aren’t such bad parents. Maybe a bit… embarrassing, but nothing she couldn’t tolerate and appreciate. She’s still your daughter at the end of the day.”

You and Naoya look at each other, as if silently discussing what your daughter just said before smiling, quickly acknowledging her words as truthful—that no matter what happens, regardless of the issues that would naturally arise as time went on, and everything else… Naohime was still your and Naoya’s daughter: the energetic, joyful, but most importantly, caring girl you raised her to be.

She just needed guidance from time to time, like everyone often does. Some more than others, but even that didn’t lessen your children before your eyes, stop you and Naoya from seeing them as what they really are: perfect.

To be given such wisdom through your daughter Naomi made the two also realize how much she’s grown. The once adorable, rosy-cheeked baby who followed you everywhere you took her was now a woman in her own right: one that is supportive of her parents, as well as a good older sister both always knew she’d be.

Ah, time sure flies by. Best to enjoy these moments while they last.

“Thank you, mochi.” You smile, approaching to give her a quick pinch on the cheek, a gesture that has her quickly flustered, tensing her shoulders as she looks away, hoping no one had seen so. “For being a good sister to Naohime and a good daughter to us.”

“Mom, seriously—can you stop with the names… I’m not a little kid anymore.”

“Hmmm, really? You still act like one though?” Naoya snickers, she rolls her eyes.

“Don’t you two have more important matters to tend to anyways?? Like Grandpa?? He’s been telling me non-stop how excited he is to have us over since it’s been so long since he last saw us and to let him know if there’s any food I’d like to eat over there so he can buy it! And I just promised Naohime you guys wouldn’t take her if she apologized, so…”

“Oh, shit!” You gasped, looking over to Naoya, wide-eyed just as he was, at the notion of unwittingly getting into another problem just as soon as you got rid of the other! “What are we going to do? We just can’t cancel on my dad; you know how upset he gets! And he’s been feeling awful as of lately too… I think he just figured out that Naohime prefers being around your dad over mine!”

“Naohime is going to be upset with us again… and your dad too.”

“Not if you bribe her.” Naomi suggests. And even if it were an idea that would essentially label the two as bad parents, you end up taking her proposal—call it a white little lie, a necessary evil, whatever it took to keep your family happy!

It may have been easier to not spoil Naohime that much from the very beginning… ease Eiichi, your father, from sending her toys whenever one crossed his path; Naobito from badly influencing her, and Naomi from trying to be the cool sister (though she’d always deny it), the one she could always rush to whenever none of the former were collaborating with her, however that may be done.

Well, there’s only so much that could be done in these circumstances—it is simply the blessing curse of being the youngest child.

:') cool sister Naomi; I can't believe that one day I'm writing her as a baby and the next day she's Naohime's favorite hahahah 🥺 they grow up so fast....

Well, now I gotta turbo those tiktok requests because I fear I will forget them and THEN I WON'T KNOW WHAT TO WRITEEEEE

Anyways, this was a treat to write, as always. I love it when you guys indulge in my domestic stuff 😭 the Naohime acceptance makes me very very happy 😭😭😭😭😭💖💖💖 thank you so much!!! (though I gotta say, I hope we didn't come out as a horrible parent here hahah I don't know much about kids but I know for sure it's impossible for them to be perfect angels soooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo 🥺)

Now, take care, and hope to see you soon!!

[blocksruinedme]

SmallEtho wip clip cause ao3's down

[final fic! The Hangover Brunch ]

This is my fourth. I certainly hope ao3 will be up come tuesday afternoon, if not I'll put out more fic bits.

This one was supposed to be for @smallethoweek, back in january. I have two wips from that week that I still plan to publish! They are college larpers, they met playing a larp called "double life" and started hooking up. It's a few weeks later and they are hooking up all the time.

The final fic will be, I think, barely M. I don't love the title and i hope to be struck with inspiration.

(I also have a 2k modern Flower Husbands wip clip up and a "smallidarity back on empires without grian" post-lim life fic, and a silly smallidarity emp s2 one.)

"The Hangover Brunch" by BlocksRuinedMe

Thinking about the ongoing, and perhaps eternal, ambiguity around the nature of his relationship with Etho made Joel anxious, so he tried to limit how much he let himself dwell. He wasn’t very successful, but he kept trying because he couldn’t see a better option. The one time he’d tried to discuss it with Etho had been unpleasant and ended with Joel very drunk and making questionable decisions, sure he had been thoroughly and permanently dumped. It was still unclear to Joel (and he wasn’t about to ask) what Etho thought had happened, if he even thought there had been a fight, because he texted Joel two days later as if nothing had changed. Joel was relieved to be able to slip back into whatever-they-had-going-on as if nothing had happened, and privately swore to not bring it up again, regardless of how many times his friends asked him to. He was sure it would get sorted out eventually, one way or another. The (perhaps imagined) breakup had left Joel very clear that he wanted whatever he could get from Etho. He didn’t see any reason to risk losing what he was getting and his hopes for the future.  

The anxiety about Etho was usually easiest to push away when he was with Etho. Joel didn’t know enough about relationships to know if that was unusual or ironic, but he was very grateful to not (always) be a total disaster when they were together. The nights alone, the days spent repeatedly checking his messages (despite always having push notifications on for Etho), the wandering thoughts during class and in lab – those were the real problem. 

It was clear that Joel’s friends had grown weary of hearing him whine about Etho, possibly even more than they seemed sick of him gushing about Etho, so he tried to only share the anxiety spirals when he was at his worst and desperate for distraction. None of them knew how consistently (every day) he felt crazy about Etho - and not the good kind of “being crazy” about a super hot, totally ripped genius who keeps showing up at your dorm room to show you a very good time. Instead he had “try your best to not become a stalker but it’s looking dicey” crazy and “maybe fail out of school from being too gay” crazy. Not instead of, though, he’d accepted he had multiple kinds of crazy, and might be suffering from more kinds of Etho crazy than he realized. He told himself it was worth it. 

Despite being over nearly every night, Etho didn’t often stay the night in Joel’s cramped dorm room. When he did he usually woke up and left early. They never talked about it, of course, but Joel knew it was early enough that his housemates might not realize he hadn’t come home the night before. After weeks Joel hadn’t even been in Etho’s bedroom, which he told himself was… fine. When Etho fell asleep before Joel, or slept in after Joel (who never slept much anyway), Joel let himself be–or at least feel like–a total creep by watching Etho sleep. Those moments were both excruciating and exquisite to Joel’s fragile heart. In the relaxation of sleep, Etho looked peaceful, vulnerable, open - even soft. It felt precious and beautiful and it made Joel’s heart hurt. He longed to have that from waking Etho, and tried to be patient.

The rest of the world (or at least most of it) didn’t get to see this Etho, and Joel clung desperately to that knowledge, that he was being gifted with some special part of Etho. He knew he would sound crazy if he said it out loud. He knew that Etho wasn’t specifically gifting him this, he was on some level taking it without Etho’s knowledge.  But Etho felt safe enough to give Joel that [access], and that meant the world to Joel. 

For all their sexual connection and intensity, these moments were when Joel felt an intimacy he’d lacked in all of his ill-fated and brief attempts at dating. No matter what Etho thought, or felt, this was the best relationship Joel had ever had. 

On the excruciating side, all those feelings reminded Joel of everything he didn't have with Etho. Being affectionate and using pet names in public, romantic things like dates and sappy goodnight texts if they slept apart, and getting to introduce Etho to people and say “This is my boyfriend, Etho.” Right now he’d settle for having literally any idea of what he could expect from Etho, of what this meant to Etho, what he meant to Etho. They'd never even had a conversation about sex with other people, so Joel operated under the assumption that Etho was sleeping with an unknown number of other people. Joel was a little surprised that he didn't feel particularly jealous about the idea – he didn't think he needed to be Etho’s Only in any regard. It wasn't about the amount of time they spent together (though he'd love more), it was more about how they spent the time they had, how they interacted with the world, and with each other. If Etho had an actual serious public relationship, while Joel was left in limbo, that would at minimum sting, if not devastate him. Joel felt sure he’d be happy for Etho to have a dozen boyfriends (or girlfriends, or whoever friends)... as long as he could be one too. 

[jingyismom]

Thanks everyone for the prompts! I decided to try and knock these all out in one go:

@thegirlwhotrashcans: remember, you asked for it. au, nobody dies, wwx and yanli bodyswap. they're married to lwj and jzx. 100% crack. bonus points if jin zixuan completely loses his shit and lwj looks very calm but loses his sh*t after everything is back to normal

@alightbuthappypen: Competency kink! One or both of them (when I say 'them' I mean wangxian obvs, I know what I'm about) getting hot and bothered about the other being amazing. On a nighthunt maybe? Or anywhere else that strikes your fancy!

@hearteyeswangji: WRITE MORE P*RN

I think I can manage that. With a few tweaks, accidental seriousness, and broad, ridiculous fix-its tacked on. I have no idea how long this might be. Let’s try it in installments? I’ll reblog and add on as I go. Maybe it’ll be fun. We’ll find out.

Disclaimer that this is just gonna go for it with no revising and no beta readers, so pls do not hold me to any conceivable standard of coherency thx

--

WILL INCLUDE: wangxian, xuanli, let jyl and lwj be friends agenda, canon divergence, fix-it, everybody lives, arranged marriage, bodyswap, light angst, getting together, Attempts at Comedy, eventual (light?) wangxian smut

The Sunshot Campaign has just been won. Everyone goes over to Jin Guangshan’s house after the Nightless City banquet, to Negotiate Stuff, and some hasty political marriages happen resulting in Xuanli Wedded Bliss and Wangxian Un-confessed Wedded Tension. Then, suddenly...a curse befalls our brave heroes.

--

Wei Wuxian wakes suddenly, feeling odd. He’s sleeping on his stomach for one thing, which is not his usual, but he feels warm and comfortable enough that he doesn’t think it strange. But then there is the scent of peonies and gardenias, which is both familiar and alien, somehow. It makes him open his eyes. 

Which is when he sees the hand before him on the bolster. It is slender and elegant. Small. Pale. Familiar? Wearing a jade bangle. He pushes himself up a bit, startled, only to see the hand move when he does. 

The hand. Is his hand. He stares at it. The shock of it, coupled with the early hour, leave his mind working very slowly.

At length, he becomes aware of an odd weight across his back, which then shifts. Wei Wuxian turns.

He is met with the sleepy, moon-eyed stare of one Jin Zixuan, still cradling him in his arms.

“What the fuck,” says Wei Wuxian. His voice is. Soft. And high.

He would think this was all some messed-up dream if not for the fact that his dreams of late have all been messed up in an entirely different way. He’s also certain, in an odd, detached way, that he never would have imagined the battle scars that mar Jin Zixuan’s distressingly visible skin.

Jin Zixuan’s brow furrows, and he blinks. “A-Li?”

“...What the fuck.”

~~~

When Lan Wangji wakes at his customary hour, he is just slightly more tired than usual. The coverlet over him is oddly heavy, but he does not give it any thought until light from the rising sun slips over an unfamiliar sill and into his eyes. His entire body goes tense as he remembers. 

Jinlintai. The long hours of debate, of negotiation. The hasty marriages. 

He sits up in his strange bed and turns. There, in the bed opposite, is Wei Ying’s sleeping form. Close, yet still distant. Safe, at least.

Lan Wangji relaxes, and takes a breath. It was a near thing, keeping the sects from demanding more and more from Wei Ying, from treating him like a criminal instead of the hero he is. But somehow, Jiang Wanyin and Xiongzhang ended up on the same page, defending him, working tirelessly toward a compromise with the more critical parties. And now Lan Wangji has the dubious honor of ‘keeping Wei Ying in check,’ as Yao-zongzhu so inelegantly put it, through marriage. 

A strictly political marriage. A convenient solution. To bind them together, to keep Wei Ying tied under the umbrella of Lan Wangji’s rigid honor. 

It is unclear, as of yet, if Wei Ying resents this arrangement. He has not been himself since Nightless City, and the destruction of Wen Ruohan’s forces. First his long coma, then a lingering tiredness that he has not seemed able to shake, which dampens his normally-vivid expressions of feeling.

Lan Wangji is worried. But this, at least, Wei Ying has made clear is unwelcome. He seems to want to pretend that nothing has changed. Not about himself, and not between the two of them. Lan Wangji has done his best to honor his wishes, despite everything.

Now, he rises and dresses before sinking into his morning meditation. It is still strange to do so fully dressed, weighed down by the propriety required for the public, but it has felt necessary, now that Wei Ying shares chambers with him. A physical manifestation of the barrier between them, more important than ever now that they are, bizarrely, married. 

Before his meditation is finished, he hears Wei Ying stir. It is unusual for him to wake so early. Lan Wangji’s eyes snap open, immediately searching him for signs of pain.

Wei Wuxian turns over, then goes very still. He sits bolt upright, searching the bed with wild eyes, then turns them on the room at large. When they land on Lan Wangji, he curls in on himself, the fingers of one hand tightening at the collars of his sleeping robe, clutching it closed.

“La—Lan-er-gongzi?” 

His voice is oddly breathy, and his eyes...they are wide with confusion, with just the slightest tinge of fear. Lan Wangji is struck nearly senseless by the term of address, aberrant in Wei Ying’s mouth.

“What is wrong?”

Searching the room again, Wei Wuxian moves toward the edge of the bed with a strangely graceful modesty. It looks alien on his long limbs. “My...my husband. Where…?”

The word jolts through Lan Wangji’s entire body. He has never heard Wei Ying say it before. He has...wanted to hear it. Dearly, he realizes suddenly. But it sounds wrong. Distressed. Everything Wei Ying says sounds wrong.

“Wei Ying,” he says. 

Wei Ying’s eyes snap to his. “A-Xian? Where is he? Is he with A-Xuan? Are they alright?”

Lan Wangji blinks at him, uncomprehending, for several seconds. Then he begins to understand.

“You are not—”

The doors to their chambers burst open, and Jiang Yanli rushes in. The tasteful purple and gold robes she has adopted in the few days since the weddings are loose, uncharacteristically askew—not impreprietous, but verging on it. She spots Lan Wangji and her stormy expression clears.

“Lan Zhan,” she says, and her shoulders droop. 

Lan Wangji blinks at her, thrown by her use of this name, then glances at Wei Ying, who has gone completely still, his mouth open in a small, shocked ‘o.’ Jiang Yanli follows his gaze and freezes.

Just then, Jin Zixuan comes barreling into the room, significantly more unkempt than his wife. He has not even tied back his hair. 

“A-Li,” he implores, “what’s happened? We can’t just go barging into our guests’,” he pauses, and bows awkwardly, hastily, to Lan Wangji and Wei Ying in turn, “rooms like this. Please,” he takes her arm, but she shakes him off. 

She’s still staring at Wei Ying. “Sh...Shijie?”

Wei Ying startles, and looks down at himself. He holds out his arms, his hands, and looks at those too. Then he looks up at Jiang Yanli. “A-Xian?”

“Shijie,” Jiang Yanli says, and slumps over to the bed, embracing Wei Ying.

“A-Li,” hisses Jin Zixuan, scandalized. 

Lan Wangji glances at Jin Zixuan’s wife embracing his own husband on the bed, and rises. He walks briskly past them all to shut the door. Then he returns. 

“Wei Ying,” he says again. Jiang Yanli looks up at him.

It is obvious, now that he has realized it. Her face, animated by his personality. The soft warmth of her eyes sharpened just so. The deliberately graceless way she threw herself—himself—into Wei Ying’s—no, Jiang Yanli’s—arms.

Lan Wangji takes a deep breath. “Is this a curse?”

“Yes,” Wei Ying says with Jiang Yanli’s face, but his own certainty.

“How can we break it?” Lan Wangji asks.

“I”m not sure, not yet. I need to try a few things—or—having the original curse would be safer.” He looks at his sister in his own body. “I...don’t really want to experiment with this.”

Jiang Yanli tsks and bumps his shoulder a little too forcefully, jostling Wei Ying in her currently slight form. “Vain,” she says, teasing.

“Shijieee,” he whines. It sounds bizarre in Jiang Yanli’s voice. “I don’t want to accidentally hurt you.”

“I know,” Jiang Yanli says, soothing. 

“Do you feel alright?” Wei Ying goes on, urgent.

“Perfectly alright, now that you’re both here,” she says, smiling at the newcomers in turn.

Something sharply acidic surges in Lan Wangji’s stomach at such a look on Wei Ying’s face, directed at...Jin Zixuan.

“Really, though,” Wei Ying presses, “any nausea? Dizziness? Pain? You’re not worried?”

“Not at all. Our A-Xian will figure it out.”

Lan Wangji watches as the appearance of Wei Ying’s knuckle affectionately brushes Jiang Yanli’s nose. 

Strange. It is all...so strange.

“If—”

“What is happening?” Jin Zixuan interrupts.

All three of them look at him. He stares between them, wild-eyed and desperately askew. Lan Wangji has never considered him to be particularly slow on the uptake, but he supposes allowances must be made for the stress of waking up with a stranger in one’s bed.

He does not care to investigate the perverse pang of jealousy he feels at the thought.

“A-Xuan, it’s me,” Jiang Yanli says. Jin Zixuan stares at her in Wei Ying’s body, uncomprehending. She goes on slowly, but not unkindly. “A-Xian and I have been cursed into each other’s bodies. He’s in there, and I’m in here.”

Her husband blinks several times, very quickly. Lan Wangji recognizes the moment it sinks in by the deep flush that rises across his entire face, and is certain he does not wish to know what precisely inspired it. 

Jin Zixuan takes an involuntary half-step back, then forward again, as he speaks with renewed urgency. “Why has this happened? Can it be undone?”

“Great questions,” Wei Ying says, falsely encouraging. Lan Wangji exchanges a glance with him, and it almost feels natural, to share such a thing with either Wei Ying or Jiang Yanli. “Someone was clearly either targeting me—that’s Wei Wuxian, that’s me, in here—or you...whom you know to be Jin Zixuan. I hope.”

Jin Zixuan turns a deeper shade of red. “Obviously,” he bites out. “But why?”

Wei Ying rolls his eyes dramatically. It is not something Lan Wangji ever imagined Jiang Yanli doing.

“We don’t know yet, but we will once we find and question the person responsible,” Wei Ying says. Jiang Yanli grips his arm suddenly. Wei Ying looks at her. “And yes, it can be undone. Of course it can. I’ll figure it out.”

“Cast a rebound,” Lan Wangji says, brisk. The more quickly they are done with this, the better.

Wei Ying’s face falls. “Ah,” he says, “well, we…”

“My cultivation is too weak for him to reliably use,” Jiang Yanli says suddenly. “And I’m not very good at the method, I’m afraid.”

Lan Wangji nods. Steps forward. Then hesitates. “If the curse was cast in such a way, one of you may end up in the caster’s body. And they in yours.”

They all look at Jiang Yanli. Her expression grows grim. “Alright,” she says, then looks to Lan Wangji. There is something steely in her expression that is familiar on Wei Ying’s face. “Thank you for the warning. Go ahead.”

Lan Wangji hesitates only a moment longer, expecting protests from the other two. But Wei Ying is wearing a small, knowing smile, and Jin Zixuan merely nods at her, reassuring. Lan Wangji senses his esteem for the Jin heir rising at such solid trust in his wife. 

He steps forward and casts the rebound. They all hold their breath. 

Wei Ying glances around, his wry expression entirely foreign on Jiang Yanli’s face. “Anything?”

“No,” says Jiang Yanli.

Wei Ying sighs. “More work for us, then.”

“A-Xian,” Jiang Yanli says, taking gentle hold of his wrist. “You know what this means.”

“Ah?”

“You’ll have to be me.”

“Ah. No, I—”

“A-Xian.”

Wei Ying scratches his head, a not-at-all ladylike gesture. “Or we could just stay in here and let these two investigate?”

The smile Jiang Yanli turns on him is tender, and knowing, and indulgent. “I’d like to see you try to sit still when there’s a puzzle to solve.”

He sighs. “Alright. But you have to be me, too.”

She nods, and theatrically slouches into a sprawling, sloppy posture. Wei Ying laughs, his head thrown back, a hand on his stomach. Jin Zixuan turns around, looking almost ill. 

Lan Wangji understands, and he doesn’t. It is dizzying, and distinctly wrong-looking, to see both of them this way. Yet there is also something endearing about it. About the parts of them that do overlap, and fit into each other better than one would expect. 

“A-Xuan,” Jiang Yanli calls softly, noticing her husband’s distress.

Lan Wangji gets the distinct impression that that tone in Wei Ying’s voice is not helping the situation.

“Jin-gongzi,” he says. “It would be best for all of us to go about our days as normal, and not to arouse suspicion. Wei Ying sleeps late, and will not be missed for the morning. Jin-shao-furen may claim mild illness until the afternoon. But you and I must behave as normal. There are still the other sects to host.”

“Yes,” Jin Zixuan says absently. He runs a hand over his face. “Yes. You’re right. A-Li—” he turns and looks at the pair of them on the bed, and pauses. He shakes his head as if to clear it. “I’ll go back and dress. Join me when—or���Wei—” he stops. “I will be attending my duties. Please let me know what else I can do.”

“Remember to act natural,” Jiang Yanli says. “When A-Xian joins you later, try to look less like a roasted tomato, hmm?”

Jin Zixuan’s mouth twists into a wry smile, and he nods at the floor, then flees the room. Jiang Yanli and Wei Ying turn their eyes to Lan Wangji.

“I shall also depart,” he says. He circles his arms to bow to Jiang Yanli, but Wei Ying stands and pulls him over toward the door. Lan Wangji lets him, and tries not to pull away from the improprietous touch from a married lady. 

“Lan Zhan,” he says, hushed and urgent. “I’m not...you don’t think I’m hurting her, am I? Just by being in here? Can you sense any resentment?”

Lan Wangji feels something tighten in his chest. Wei Ying has not let Lan Wangji so much as examine his pulse since he roused from his coma, but the idea that he is so constantly steeped in resentment as to cause worry that his very soul may be harmful...is distressing. He takes hold of his slender wrist carefully. It is still Jiang Yanli’s body, and he will treat it with the respect it is owed. 

“I cannot,” he says. The only energy in Jiang Yanli’s body is generated by her own small but steady golden core. “I sense nothing that may be harmful.”

Wei Ying lets out a relieved breath. “Alright. But, um. What about the other way? Is her...is my body harming her?”

Lan Wangji turns to go back and perform the same examination, but Wei Ying stops him. “No, that’s alright. I’ll. We’ll just get this over with, and we can. Between the two of us, we can fix whatever...whatever damage I do.”

Lan Wangji stares at him, but Wei Ying refuses to meet his eyes. At length, he nods. “We can.”

“Alright. Ah, thanks. You should go.”

Lan Wangji goes.

[makeste]

BnHA 323: “I Don’t Know How to Explain to You That You Should Care About Other People”

Previously on BnHA: Kacchan was all, “Izuku, I’m sorry.” Bakugou Stans were all, “[sobs for a week straight and tearfully awards him the Nobel Prize for character development].” Deku was all, “[faints in Kacchan’s arms].” Iida was all, “[trying to decide if Ochako genuinely tried to kill him a few minutes ago].” Horikoshi was all, “NO TIME FOR HUGS WE MUST GET BACK TO UA.” The civilians holed up at U.A. were all, “WE TOOK A VOTE AND DECIDED THAT WE’RE ALL GOING TO BE JERKS ABOUT THIS AND MAKE A BIG FUSS ABOUT YOU LETTING DEKU BACK INTO THE SCHOOL.” Deku was all “[stands there looking like he expected nothing less and breaking my heart more and more with each passing moment].” Ochako was all, “that does it, looks like I’m gonna have to do something about this... next chapter, that is.”

Today on BnHA: Flashback!Rat Principal is all “I just want you all to know that I spent nine million dollars turning U.A. into a giant Battleship-style grid that can burrow underground and zoom around in a giant subway maze because Horikoshi lacks a grounded understanding of both civil engineering and economics.” Back in the present day, Jeanist is all, “EVERYONE TAKE HEED, MY COMRADES AND I HAVE DEEMED IT EXPEDIENT TO CONVEY THIS AUSPICIOUS YOUTH BACK TO THIS STRONGHOLD. WE ANTICIPATE THAT WE MAY DEPEND UPON YOUR GOODWILL AND ACQUIESCENCE TO THESE TERMS.” The civilians were all, “NO.” Ochako was all, “EMPATHY, MOTHERFUCKERS, DO YOU SPEAK IT?!” The civilians were all, “oh shit.” Anyway so Ochako is a giant badass, but I’m a little worried that she’s going to get struck by lightning. Please come down from there.

so before we start this chapter, I would just like to apologize for having not posted the ch 321 recap yet, and would like to reassure everyone, and especially Iida who is staring at me with Sad Wobbly Guilt Trip Eyes, that I will get to that as soon as I can

OMG FLASHBACK??

yes please Horikoshi please show us more of class 1-A and their Deku intervention strategy jam sessions

oh dear

Iida you are too pure and good for this cruel world. [sprays the U.A. civilians with a water bottle] NO. BAD CIVILIANS! NO OSTRACIZING SCARED AND EXHAUSTED CHILDREN IN THE HOUSE

EXCUSE ME RAT PRINCIPAL WHAT’S WITH THESE MIXED MESSAGES

???

RAT PRINCIPAL: he’s free to return to us at any time!!

ALSO RAT PRINCIPAL: but it’s too risky for him to return to us

?? ??????? ?????????????????????

so now he’s going on about how strong the U.A. Barrier is, and how it’s comparable to the defensive capabilities of Tartarus. this would have sounded a lot more impressive before chapter 297 lol

OH!!!! HELLO, WHAT’S THIS!!!

A TIMELY CALLBACK TO A CERTAIN MYSTERIOUS EVENT WHICH HASN’T BEEN REFERENCED SINCE USJ? [U.A. TRAITOR MUSIC INTENSIFIES]

so now Rat Principal says he upgraded U.A.’s security systems with his own “modifications”, whatever the fuck that means. I mean look, I’ve been saying for a long time now that U.A. is the best place for everyone to hole up, don’t get me wrong. but that was mostly on account of there not being any other practical alternatives. but you’re making it sound like you figured out a way to actually make it Decay-proof or some wild shit like that

-- hold up, DID YOU ADD A FORCE FIELD. DID YOU TRICK THIS SCHOOL OUT WAKANDA-STYLE YOU CRAZY MARSUPIAL. HOLY SHIT. because that would actually be perfect

LMAO

WHAT KIND OF GALAXY BRAIN BULLSHIT. “NAH THERE’S NO NEED FOR A FORCE FIELD, LET’S JUST PUT WHEELS ON IT”

oh okay so the whole campus is basically capable of burrowing itself underground. that’s insane lol I wonder how they pulled that off. probably got poor Cementoss working overtime

blah blah blah so basically the entire campus is split into a grid and each section of the grid is capable of its own independent movement. lol this is just the Merone Base from KHR. you thought no one would notice this casual plagiarism ten years after the fact, but YOU UNDERESTIMATED YOUR AUDIENCE, HORIKOSHI

“joke’s on you imma just lampshade it” WELL ALL RIGHT THEN

“look at me I’m so fucking self-aware” fucking swear to god. I can’t believe this man is my favorite mangaka of all time smdh

“excuse me, I wasn’t finished describing all the rest of this bullshit yet,” Rat Principal breaks in impatiently. “we also added a steel wall all around the underground of the campus that’s 3000 steel plates thick. that’s fifteen fucking meters of solid fucking steel just fyi. and if anyone fucks around with any part of it the defense system will activate immediately! and also all of the plates are independently motorized, whatever the fuck that means!! in conclusion you’re gonna need a fucking tower crane to suspend all of your disbelief by the time I’m through with this paragraph”

“also Shiketsu is almost as reinforced as U.A. but not quite because we still had to make sure we were better.” but of course. and apparently the two schools are connected via a secret tunnel as Hagakure mentioned earlier

LSDKFJLSDKJFLK

“WAIT WHAT” LMAO YOU HEARD HIM, NOW INASA CAN VISIT YOU BOTH IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT AND TELL YOU ALL ABOUT THE WEIRD DREAM HE HAD. GOD BLESS YOU HORIKOSHI

(ETA: moment of appreciation for Shouto and Katsuki having the same thought at the same time and making Knowing Eye Contact and saying the exact same thing out loud in perfect unison like the best friends they are. what a blessed day.)

so Tokoyami is all “but wait if you engineered all this shit all the way back during the Band arc how did you even know that Tomura’s quirk awakening would become a thing, Horikoshi -- uh, I mean, Principal Nezu”

and Rat Principal is all “lol idk”

“basically I just woke up one morning and was all ‘say, you know what this school really needs? a fifteen-meter-thick underground steel wall, and the ability to break up into little pieces that individually zoom around wherever the fuck they want.’ jesus christ. lol if money and common sense were apparently no obstacle why didn’t you just teleport U.A. to the fucking moon or something. maybe I should shut up before I given him any ideas

dsfaelkjldkjgl

you heard it here first, folks, all of this cost a grand total of nine million U.S. dollars. well technically it cost “more than” nine million dollars. never has that distinction been more important lmao. are we sure this barrier was really made of steel and not cardboard? who the hell sold it to them, Ea-Nasir??

this is my favorite manga series of all time. yes I am ashamed

“in conclusion please do your best to reach Deku-kun” SO WHAT WAS ALL THAT NONSENSE ABOUT IT BEING TOO RISKY THEN. anyway thank you for this super informative and edifying flashback, Horikoshi. I will cherish it always. I don’t even want to read another translation of this absurdity lmao, there’s something special about it just the way it is. pretty sure Horikoshi just had a cracked out fever dream one night and transferred it to the pages of the manga verbatim

anyway so back to the unruly mob

not their finest moment. please excuse me while I cover poor Deku’s ears and give him a good shoosh pap

oh wow the parents are out here too

is Mitsuki trying to hold Inko back?? that’s the last thing this fandom needs right now is more Mitsuki discourse fffwlkjs. and even Jiroudad, scientifically proven to be the best dad in all of BnHA, is just standing there silently looking vaguely unhappy. way to rise to the moment you guys

MONOMA

so this settles it for me that Aizawa is not at UA. I know a lot of people have been wondering about his whereabouts, and if I had to wager a guess it would be that something happened with Shirakumo/Kurogiri. I can’t think of anything else -- even the loss of an eye and a limb -- that would keep him from his kids at a time like this

anyway but this is excellent Monoma content right here though. I love that he apparently adopted Eri after a single interaction with her. also WHERE IS SHINSOU DAMMIT. THE PEOPLE NEED TO KNOW

and Kouta’s there too looking like he wants to run over to Deku but Ragdoll won’t let him :/

it’s gotta be pretty upsetting for him to see his hero like this and not having anyone stand up for him. [taps megaphone] IS THIS THING ON. OKAY YEAH IT SEEMS TO BE WORKING. AHEM. PAGING URARAKA OCHAKO. GONNA NEED YOU TO GET OVER HERE ALREADY AND MAKE THAT BIG DRAMATIC SPEECH WHICH YOU ARE CLEARLY DYING TO MAKE. IF YOU DON’T DO IT SOON I’M GONNA HAVE TO STEP IN, AND YOU REALLY DON’T WANT ME TO DO THAT SINCE MY SPEECH WILL NOT BE VERY GOOD OR INSPIRING, AND WILL PROBABLY JUST CONSIST OF “HELLO, YOU ARE ALL STUPID, PLEASE SHUT UP AND GO AWAY”

so now Mic is telling them to calm down. at least someone’s speaking up here, geez

OH MY GOD

MY MAN JEANIST OUT HERE DOING WHAT HE DOES BEST: MAKING EVERYONE FEEL GUILTY AND JUDGED

OH MY GOD HE IS GIVING SUCH A LONG AND BORING SPEECH LMAO IS YOUR STRATEGY TO PUT THEM ALL TO SLEEP OR WHAT

truly in awe of this man’s ability to take messages which could easily be conveyed in ELI5-speak, and stubbornly convert them into incomprehensible language the likes of which you need a graduate degree in order to understand

“hey guys, so originally our plan was to use Deku as bait for the villains, but that didn’t really work and also we realized it was kinda dumb and was probably gonna get him killed, so we brought him back here instead.” was that really so hard, Jeanist. also are we all really just gonna sit back here and watch Jeanist take full credit for Bakugou’s plan just like that lmao

(ETA:

WHERE DID ENDEAVOR GO AND WHO IS THIS DIABOLICAL MASTER OF DISGUISE. lol I genuinely didn’t notice this because I was too busy digging through thesauruses trying to rewrite Jeanist’s speech; many thanks to @class1akids​ for pointing it out and making my day immeasurably better. take it easy there Dick Tracy.)

“anyway so please stop being dicks and let him fucking rest so he can save all your ungrateful asses” what an impassioned and inspiring plea. time to see if the masses will listen to reason

narrator: they did not listen to reason

oh my god finally Ochako is doing something. YEAH OCHAKO WOOOO SHOW THEM HOW IT’S DONE

hmm

this entire chapter is truly and utterly nonsensical to me lol

(ETA: on my second readthrough I’m fucking dying at how she stole the megaphone right out of Mic’s hand lmao. and how Kacchan is all “fuck yeah nothing I appreciate more than some quality fucking larceny.”)

oh I see she was jumping on top of the main building so as to scream down at them all more impressively

“ANYWAY DEKU IS PRETTY COOL ACTUALLY, YOU GUYS ARE JUST MEAN” couldn’t have said it better myself Ochako

lol uh

gotta say I did not have “Ochako reveals the secret of OFA to the entire U.A. Citizen Clown Parade” on my bingo card for this week. it’s a bold strategy cotton let’s see if it pays off

SDLFKJSL

“NO, SERIOUSLY, HAVE YOU LOOKED AT HIM YOU GUYS. YOU THINK HE LIKES RUNNING AROUND DRESSED LIKE A RUSTED OIL DRUM?? HE DID THAT FOR YOU YOU UNGRATEFUL SLOBS”

so she is basically explaining the entire Deku Angst arc to them and explaining what a good and selfless protagonist Deku is, YES, PREACH

OMG IT’S THE GIGANTIC FOX LADY

not to insinuate anything, but what exactly were you doing standing out here with the hysterical mob, Gigantic Fox Lady? you’re better than that

-- KACCHAN SIGHTING!!

sdlkfjl. thanks for weighing in with that helpful and important observation. where have you been for the last five minutes. were you asleep. was it Jeanist’s speech

never mind, now he’s yelling at the civilians so I instantly forgive him

THE FUTURE NUMBER ONE HERO, EVERYONE. THANK YOU, THANK YOU. HE’LL BE HERE ALL WEEK

“anyway so I’m just going to end the chapter here” lmao seventeen pages truly do go by so fast. at least he didn’t try to force in a cliffhanger at the end this time. dare I say, growth

so I guess the civilians are either gonna have a Kamino and/or Fukuoka-esque moment where they remember how to be decent people and apologize to this poor young man, or else they’ll remain unpersuaded, and so Kacchan will have to knock a few of their heads around until they become more inclined to be reasonable. either option is fine by me lol

[ac3id]

Hawk’s eye| 18+

pairings: hawks [keigo tamaki] x female! reader

summary: hawks is in his rut, desperate for some relief. his annoying secretary won’t stop irritating him so he decides to take his pent up frustrations on her.       ( •̀ ω •́ )✧

+

anonymous said:

hi!! so while the requests are still open, could you write some headcannons for Hawks x reader when he's in rut? maybe the reader is a bit clueless and doesn't even know he goes through stuff like that? dirty details are welcome 👀❤️

this was high-key inspired by @tainted-wine​‘s this fic. (i hope u like my take on it !! 💓) 

a/n: aaaa this took so much longer than i thought it would take 😭, also thanks @the-grimm-writer  for proof reading this! (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ) also this is porn w plot so if u just was to skip to da porn. skip to this ‘◌’ bhai 

ALSO THANKYOU FOR 900 FOLLOWERS LMAO WTF FOR REAL 😭

tagging: @lady-tokugawa-of-mikawa​, @koiibito​, @reinawritesbnha​, @shorkbrian​

warnings: noncon, hate fucking, one slap, she bites his dick at some point, scumbag hawks.

word count:  5862

navigation

The sound of your phone buzzing on the side table with a loud, irritating noise jolts you awake. You roll around on the bed, your fingers reaching to turn the vibrating device off. Groaning, you sit up straight. The warm mattress under you threatens to lull you back to sleep but you shove the thought away instead choosing to stretch your arms over your head and yawn endlessly. You were tired, so goddamn tired. Rubbing your temples lazily you start thinking about the dreadful day you have ahead of yourself. You think about your boss: Hawks, the man who makes you hate your life and job. He has trapped you into a never-ending nightmare which starts the second you open your eyes till the moment you fall asleep and even then he still manages to haunt you in your dreams. 

Cleaning up after his messes, obeying his ever so pliantly. He has turned you into his little pet slave. He says that it’s your job as you are his assistant, his little helper there to make his job a little less hectic. You must listen to his needs and wants and to some degree, you do agree with him: it is your job, it’s what you signed up for after all but you can also sense him misusing his title when he is with you. He never listens to your suggestions which results in him calling you late after work hours to help with his problems knowing damn well you had already warned him beforehand. And, oh his flirty, suggestive comments which borderline sexual harassment. Hawks is a difficult man to work with and you often find yourself wondering how much calmer your life would be if you never worked for him but you do not have that luxury of leaving the job. It pays ridiculously well and you have bills to pay, your family to support. No, you cannot afford to lose this job. So you sit through his torment and hope for the best.

Seconds later after you have gathered your will to live you start scrolling through your phone, skimming through the morning news lazily. Your eyebrows furrow and eyes turn into angry slits as you glance upon a displeasing, astonishing article.

 ‘No. 2 Hero Hawks spotted partying with strippers–’

Your heart stops for a moment.

What the fuck was this? 

You hesitantly read through the article, your heartbeat increasing every second that your eyes focus on the led screen, reading the details of the damned article. Eyes widening as panic settles in your nerves, you realize the gravity of the situation you had found yourself under as Hawks’ manager. Hawks had been spotted partying with strippers in a nightclub with a bunch of celebrities. The crazy stalker who had managed to follow him succeeded in capturing exclusive pictures of Hawks dressed in an expensive suit, his hair styled to perfection dancing under the dim lights of the club with women in basically their underwear shamelessly grinding upon him. You honestly couldn’t have given a single fuck about what Hawks did in his free time but since he had managed to get a paparazzi to tail him and now that his career was at risk; it became your problem. Your first and foremost instinct was to call Hawks and ask him what the hell he was thinking. Not being careful enough, he had managed to taint his entire reputation. The people of Japan now probably viewed him as a reckless party animal rather than the No. 2 Hero! 

Before you could call him, your phone’s screen lights up illuminating a contact you dread. ‘Hero Commission’ it’s written in bold letters, your face drops. Your fingers shake, filled with anxiety as you accept the call. Inhaling and exhaling, you try to calm your nerves. If it is a call from the Commission, you know it’s bad. Bad. 

You pick up the phone and instantly regret it, “What were you doing?” an angry, masculine voice snarls through the screen. You open your mouth to answer but are not given a chance too. “How did you let him go to a strip club during patrol hours?” you bite your lip thinking of an acceptable excuse, “He had to go there for work! It’s a misunderstanding. He went down to the strip club undercover to meet up with a crook to get some intel– that’s what he told me. This is a misunderstanding, I–” your explanation was cut short as the person on the other end of the call deemed it enough. “Whatever it is, fix it and never let this happen again.” he sneers a warning before cutting the call. It wasn’t a complete lie, Hawks did tell you that he was investigating a case on his own and that he would be gaining information from shady people but you did not expect him to go to a strip club out of all places. The worst part: he never even told you in detail anything about this case neither did he notice the paparazzi tailing his back. You sigh in frustration, rubbing your forehead, you quickly ring up his number only for it be sent right to voicemail. You almost scream. Where the fuck was this bastard?

Managing Hawks was not a walk in the park. The hero commission had sent you down especially to be Hawks’ secretary. You had a reputation: you were known to be responsible, diligent, and punctual. You were one of their best, entrusted with the responsibility to manage Hawks and you did a good job but it was Hawks who just made the job so hard. 

Creating problems he could never solve by himself; on lucky days you would get a call from him at three in the morning, him begging you to come to help him. You want to say no, deny him any help. Let him suffer by himself but you cannot do that. If he screws up and you are not there to fix it. You lose your job, you can’t afford that. You give your 100%, you do but it’s Hawks. He has a problem with you, well, he has a problem with everyone in the commission but projects it mainly at you. He does not respect you. 

He chooses to ignore your decisions and suggestions, diminishing them with a cruel chuckle, “Look, I need you but just not now.” He would say with an apologetic smile, “just let me work at my own pace, I will call when I will need you. After all, I love seeing your cute face.” You would always have to force yourself from not slapping his smug face before he took off into the bright, blue sky.

The truth untold, it wasn’t his fault completely either. He was just so fast. It was hard for anyone to keep up with him and since he did his job right; bringing peace to the nation you could not deem him worthless. But it still was a bother at times like this when you were left completely in the dark while Hawks ruined his hard-earned reputation. 

You got into the building earlier that morning to wait for Hawks in his office, you needed to talk to him. This was not his first mishap. Not long ago, another article about him shamelessly flirting with a fan had been published. It had said the fan was visibly uncomfortable with him but Hawks didn’t seem to care, he kept presting. You had managed to cover it up as the two being close friends who were publicly joking around, there was no real harm done. It was a lie though, you had to pay the fan a large check to keep her mouth shut. She accepted the money and the story was lost and forgotten but you had no idea how you were going to cover this hell up.

The clock struck nine as the day began, people rushing into the building all tensed but there was no sign of Hawks. You tried calling him on his number but the call directed to voicemail yet again. You were growing impatient, did something happen to him? Sure Hawks fucked things over sometimes but he never disappeared like this. It got you genuinely worried. Something horrible could have happened to him. After all, he was on a case. 

You waited for another thirty minutes and there was yet no sign of him. His sidekicks came knocking on his office door only to be surprised to see you there instead of their boss. You told them to continue with their day and not worry about Hawks, he was just awfully late. Not a big deal, he will be here soon. Soon. 

Another hour passed by, no sign of Hawks and about now your phone was blowing up with angry calls from his sponsors and business partners, screaming at the top of their lungs frowning upon the scandal. Heck, even Endeavor called you after he couldn’t reach Hawks himself. The call made you nervous as anxiety crept in yet again. Hawks wasn’t answering to Endeavour something bad must have happened. Getting tired of the wait, you make up your mind to drop by his penthouse and to go see him for yourself. His silence was driving you crazy and worried at the same time, you just hoped he would be there well and safe. You could not imagine the ruckus that would create if something were to happen to him. 

You walked out of his office after waiting for an hour. Rushing down to the basement you got into your car and before driving away to his house. Just before leaving, you decided to test your luck by calling him. Hoping, praying he would answer this time and luckily he did .

“Hawks!” you cried, a wave of relief washing over you, “Where are you? What are you doing?” you began pestering him with questions, not letting him answer even once. Hawks, tired of waiting,  interrupted your monologue of questions with a chuckle. “Aw, you’re worried about me, baby?” his tone was low and mischievous, the sentence slurring almost into a moan at the last word. You rolled your eyes and clenched your fists in irritation, you weren’t new to his teasing. Hawks thought it was appropriate for him to casually flirt with his secretary. Send unasked comments about your figure, perverted implications about what he would do to a ‘cute little thing like you’ which made you very uncomfortable being around him at times. But it wasn’t that what made him get on your last nerves. It was the fact that he could even think about joking at a time like this which made you furious. 

You screamed into the phone, giving him a piece of your mind. Degrading him for not taking care of himself, complaining about how he had managed to put you in such a tight spot. 

“Once again I am asking, where the fuck are you. Hawks?” you ended your speech with spite in your words. Hawks sighed, “I am in the office,” he says your name with an edge in his voice, instantly shutting you down, “Where the hell are you?” The smugness in his tone remains and you can tell he is smirking on the other side of the screen as if he’s won. You hang up abruptly before walking out of your car and into the building, hurriedly making your way towards Hawk’s office. 

You slam the door open glaring upon hawks as he sits behind his table. Dirty boots resting pliantly on the shiny, polished wood. His wings out, stretched to their fullest, filling up the room standing on high alert. They have a deeper hue to them, they look darker– a darker red. How did that happen? You find yourself wondering. Is he on drugs? His face is tilted upwards, facing the ceiling. Eyes screwed shut. They open as he hears you enter and walk towards him, his wings falling back behind him calm and collected. 

“You’re late,” he says with a smirk, you bang your fist on the table beside where his feet rest, making him flinch and bring them down instinctively. His eyes widened in shock, he was not expecting you to be this furious. Sure, he knew he knew he had gotten you mad but he was not expecting you to be this angry. Without any hesitation, you start scolding him again. He watches you ramble in ominous glee. A poker face masking his expression, he watches you trot about how much trouble he is in. His job is to protect meek and weak citizens who cannot fight for themselves, what he was doing in a strip in the name of business is something you cannot grasp your head around. You repeat your lecture which you had already tortured him over the phone while the entire time Hawks drums his fingers underneath the table, waiting for you to get over with your dumb speech. His eyes trail on your lips, watching it move. Plump, pillow-like features tinted dark red ramble on about how much of an irresponsible person he was. Complaining about how much trouble he puts you through daily. Honestly, he doesn’t quite catch what you were saying. His mind busy imaging you shutting the fuck and letting him get through the day– or better yet how pathetic you would look underneath him while he shoves his dick down your throat. The thought makes his cock throb. His eyes change from an unbothered, bored look to something sinister as they start trailing all over your body. His eyebrows slightly furrow as he catches up on the few degrading terms you throw at him. 

You talked too much. Way too much, do you realize how much better you would look if you keep your pretty, little mouth shut? The entire time, it’s always: Hawks don’t do this, Hawks don’t do that. Don’t you ever get tired? He wonders whether your dumb little brain had any thoughts other than the ones which tell you to irritate him all the time. You should shut up, really stop talking. He might do something bad, he’s already stressed enough as it is being in his rut and having no way to relieve himself, he is going through a rough time here. The other night he escaped to a strip club in hopes of relieving some stress and it had worked but it had also brought along a mind splitting scandal.

The entire morning, Hawks was busy avoiding people. Whether it be his fans, reporters, or even someone he knew; he paid no mind to them trying to get to the office as soon as possible to deal with the mess he had created.

It wasn’t his fault entirely, he was in his rut and needed sexual relief which he was finding very hard to receive. With his work piling up and you breathing down his neck, he couldn’t even take represents as they slowed him down. He couldn’t risk falling asleep on duty. A stupid, little headline about what he does in his free time was much more favorable than a failed mission in which he would let countless innocent lives slip by his fingers. 

He watches you ramble, his eyes trailing over your body locking on your tits. He stares at them intensely, watching them bounce slowly every time you huff out of irritation and frustration. Your work shirt works him favors, the white almost translucent material shows off the slightest shadow of your black, lacy bra. It’s enough to get him going- imaging how your soft mounds would feel in his hands. How you would whimper under his touch as he tugs and pulls on your perky nipples, you probably wouldn’t sound as monstrous as you do right now. Your moans would be girlish, small whimpers would leave your lips as you would try your best to cover them up. You would try to hide your face under his assault but he wouldn’t let you, pinning you down instead and forcing himself on you while you cried for him to stop. Beg for his mercy. 

He can feel his jeans tighten. 

“So please, Hawks. Just be a little more responsible.” you finish, your voice turning into a plea. He hums and apologizes for his impulsive thinking, like always, he is not sorry. “Let's fix this mess, what do you say?” he asks with an apologetic grin, trying to be polite. You on the other hand don’t even spare him a glance, walking right out the door instead. It leaves him very offended. 

◌

“Ah! What a troublesome day it was,” Hawks chimes in walking into his office with you closely following behind, “It was all your fault.” you spit making hawks chuckle, “Whatever happens, happens for the good.” he says, a scoff leaves your lips, “What was good about that?” you ask annoyed. “I get to have you alone with me now~” Hawks winks at you making you roll your eyes dramatically. Both of you stand together in Hawks’ office after hours. The day is done, everyone in the agency building has taken their leave excluding the two of you. It had been a long day fixing up after Hawks. You were tired and all you wanted was a warm bath and some sleep. 

“Do you want to know why it happened?” Hawks asks out of the blue, “What happened?” you question, “Why was I at the strip club?” you sigh, “I don’t give two shits about your personal life, Hawks.” replying sternly. A look of disappointment arises on his face, “It’s actually more than that, really, I u-uh have this condition- it gets very hard to work during these times-”

 “What are you even talking about?” You interject confused and clueless. You turn to him, a glare evident on your face you stare at him sheepishly. What was he on about now?

“I am serious, I went into my rut, and that's why I went to the strip club-” “Into a what?” Hawks’ eyes widened, were you really that clueless? “A rut, [y/n],” he says like it is a matter of fact, something everybody is aware of. “A rut. You know like how some animals go into heat and they-” your face scrunches as he explains his rut to you, you visibly grow more and more repulsed. Hawks studies you face, his heart genuinely breaking at your expressions. “Why are you telling me this?” you screech, “jeez Hawks, I did not need to know any of that!” you continue. 

Hawks is hurt, he accepted a reaction which showed more concern. Maybe he went a bit too far imagining that you would offer him help but seeing you so disgusted by him shattered his heart and made him lose all his respect for you. You were a terrible human being, no different from those villains he put behind the bars every day. “I am telling you all of this because- this actually happens!  Many- fuck- millions of people like me actually suffer from this shit! You should be a little more emphatic.” he reasons. He accepts you to understand at least now but you gloriously manage to disappoint him yet again. A rude snarl leaves your lips followed by a scoff, “What are you really trying to tell me Hawks? That you don’t want to do your job and to justify your laziness; you are making lame excuses now?” you shove a finger to his chest, it pushes him off the edge. 

Something in his snaps, he looks down where your fingertip touches his chest. You are smaller than him, he’s at least a foot bigger than you. Where does your bratty, puny self get all this confidence from? His eyes darken as something sinister floats within him. He stares down at your finger, wanting to rip it off. He wants to see you cry. He wants to see you in pain and misery, suffering a great deal while nobody comes to help you. 

“Hawks, you know what? I am so done with your bullshit. I am leaving.” You turn away from him, heading to the door but before you could move a step. Hawks grabs you by writs, caging your delicate hand into a bone-crushing death grip, “What the fuck?” you question, “Hawks?” you continue. You wait for his response, turning to him. He is facing the floor, his hair scanning over his eyes making it impossible for you to read his expression, not that you could read what was going on with him normally but now; it’s even harder. “Are you going to let go?” you ask again only to be met by him squeezing your wrists even tighter. You bring your other hand over him to pry yourself free from his clutches but he doesn’t want to let go. 

“Hawks wha-” you don’t get to complete your statement as Hawks pushes you down on the floor making you fall on your butt. You let out a loud hiss. You frown, yelling out “What is wrong with you!?” You try to stand back up but his hands settle on your shoulder pushing you back down. You try fighting but it’s to no use. Did you forget he is the no. 2 Pro- Hero? He is much stronger than you, he brings down villains twice his size daily. What makes you think your weak kicks and punches will be enough to beat him? 

You keep struggling under him, screaming how you were going to report him and ruin his career, how he is going to be sorry for messing with you.

 “Shut. Up.” he finally speaks, he brings his gloved hand to your perfectly styled hair. Pulling tightly on your roots he stretches your face upwards, making it easier for him to look down on you while you cry in agony, “Stop crying.'' His voice is deep and raspy, much different from how he usually talks. You look up at him, fear swimming in your eyes as tears prick at the corners of your sockets, lips trembling. If you already weren’t terrified enough, your horror becomes tenth fold when you see his boner raging in his pants, “Come, on. Hawks..” your voice is small and weak, it's a broken cry. You know what he is going to make you do. He was going to violate you, break you beyond repair. 

This was so wrong. As much you hated Hawks, you never would have thought he would do something like this. Hawks was a hero. He is meant to fight for justice, punish evil. Why is he doing this? “Hawks no. Please. Was it something I said? I take it back I didn’t mean it-” 

“You know, y/n, you are not so different from those villains yourself,” if looks could kill, you would be dead. The pure, anger, and hatred he looks at you with bothers you. It makes you hate yourself, there is something sinister in his eyes which makes you sure about the fact that he is not afraid of hurting you. He has given up on you, after all, his polite gestures, generosity you always ignored- he’s fed up with your sheer ignorance and your ego. He hates you. He does and heck if he wasn’t in his rut; he would never bring his dick anywhere near you. He does not respect you as a human and in no way does he have any romantical attachment to you. All he ever saw was a walking alarm clock, bugging him every second, and now all he is going to see you as is his cocksleeve whom he can stuff his fat cock into whenever and however he seems fine. To him you are just a walking hole he can ruin whenever he wants to, you have managed to get on his bad side and he is going to show you his bad side.

He undoes his belt, his pants falling to his thighs displaying his expensive boxers and his growing hardness. His cock is throbbing within its confines, fighting desperately to come free. His free hand pulls his boxers down and his cock springs free, hitting his abdomen. It stands long and hard, the tip blushed red and angry, tiniest bit of pre-cum spilling sweetly from his slit. He pumps his cock in his hand before forcing it against your mouth, pressing it to your lips smearing his pre all over your lips. You whimper in protest, moving your head the littlest you can under his tight grip. “Bitch open up. You had this coming for a long time,” his dick slaps your cheek while his fingers try to pry open your mouth. Pushing his gloved digits forcefully into your mouth, the rough fabric feels disgusting on your tongue. His fingers capture the lower part of your jaw, tearing your mouth apart with deranged strength. A loud cry escapes from you as he stuffs your empty mouth full of his cock, “Yeah, that’s more like it. Fuck.” he bottoms out into your throat, his shaft hitting the back of your throat making you gag, “get on with it. A slut like you would have the experience, right?” he taunts you. You do as he says, puckering your lips firmly around his length, your hands resting on his exposed thighs while you stroke him with your tongue. You feel his chiseled thigh muscles flex under your fingers as he melts in pleasure, tiny moans leaving his lips shamelessly. 

As Hawks drowns in overwhelming pleasure, a criminal idea crosses your mind. Your eyes trail up to his face. His eyes are screwed close, he bites his lower lip softly. Carefully and slowly, you graze your teeth over his cock. Clamping down on it lightly, you hold your position. Your heart beats faster when Hawks stiffens and in a quick flash, he pushes you off his cock throwing you into the ground before backing up, squealing in pain.

 “YOU LITTLE BITCH!” he screams, you sprint to the door. Trembling fingers try to unlock the doorknob while Hawks cries in agony behind you. You can feel him loom behind you, ready to come for your neck. A part of you tells you that you will not make it but the adrenaline rushing in your veins calls to be hopeful. Just open the door and just run. 

Your cold, quivering fingers almost unlock the heavy wooden door but before you can push it open. Hawks appears right behind you, pushing his body onto your back. You feel his cock poking at your ass, his hand grabs your head pulling you, prying you off the door. You scream and cry trying to break free, grabbing his hand clawing on it to let you free. Hawks chooses to show no mercy as he drags you by your hair to his desk, your scalp hurts from his grip. You can feel tiny strands breakaway. He turns you around and slams your back to his wooden desk, you whimper at the contact. He stands in front of you, pressing his knee between your thighs. His hand reaches out to pull at your collar, forcing you to look at him. 

He is livid, eyebrows furrowed with a death glare his jaw clenched, and his eyes darker than you have ever seen before. He looks at you with murderous intent, you think he might as well kill you with his wings flared open. The feathers turning into knives, you beg for your life. 

Hawks observes your face. Broken, scared for your life your eyes are glassy, ridden in fear your makeup smeared all over your face. He thinks it's beautiful, he has finally got you begging for mercy, finally thinking of him as the man he is. He appreciates your submission but it does not erase the fact that you just bite oh his dick. You beg for mercy, your voice is small and broken. It comes barely above a whisper, “I am so sorry hawks, please don’t do this.” He doesn’t listen, staring at you head-on with his jaw clenched. He brings his free hand to the air, keeping it steady for a second before bringing it down with a horrendous force. You feel it before it happens; white, hot flashing pain erupts through your cheek stinging you hard. You cry out in agony as your face drops to the other side. The strike was powerful, it left you sore, you can still feel it sting your face. It leaves you swollen, you try to bring your hand up to your face lightly to carcasses you paining cheek but Hawks pushes your face on the wooden desk before you could, trapping your arms behind your back holding it with one hand. “You don’t realize your position, do you? You know what? I was going- planning to be gentle with you. I thought I would at least make you cum but now,” he pulls a feather out his wings preceding to tear open your pencil skirt with the sharp end. The ripped fabric falls to the ground leaving you in your panties and the pantyhose you always wear under your skirts, “There we go. I hope you are a pain slut, otherwise you would really not enjoy this.” he says with a small chuckle before ripping you out of your bottoms, leaving you in your panties completely vulnerable to him. He abandons his gloves, rubbing his fingers on your clothed cunt roughly trying to gather slickness from your dry hole. Pleasure shoots down your body as his digits find your clit, rubbing tight circles on the little pearl, “Does this feel good? You are getting wet.” a smirk scars his face, “Who gets off to being raped?” he says sharply. Your face scrunches up in disgust and embarrassment. A heavy lump forms in your throat and the waterworks that you had been holding off burst open. Big, fat tears roll down your cheeks as you cry for mercy. You didn't know why this was happening to you, for your entire life you had been a nice person: always helpful, sensitive, and kind. At least, that was what you thought yourself to be. Never in a million years could you- or anyone, in fact, could have ever thought that you would be crying pathetically while your boss: a person known to all as a Hero, the truest, most honest person to exist ever would be the one defiling you, tearing you down to nothing just for his pleasure. 

“Shut up, you like this.” He snarls at you, so sick of your loud wails he even shoves two fingers inside your mouth plunging them to the back of her throat, “Don’t you dare bite now, slut.” he warns. His fingers stop prodding at your clit when he notices the wet spot forming on your panties, he wastes no time shimming them down to your ankles, whistling when he sees your glistening pussy. You only wail louder pleading him not proceed any further. Hawks turns a blind eye to all your begging, “I should just shove it in, right?” he asks petting his finger over your hole, “but that won’t be fun,” he snickers. You feel his move away from your cunt and move higher. Panic settles, he couldn't be serious, “Hawks. Please no. Please don’t. I don-” finger rims along your asshole, inching to dip in, “What? Don’t want me to fuck your ass?” he spanks your ass hard making you flinch, “Please I’ve never-” you cry out hoping he would understand, “No one’s ever fucked you in the ass before?” you whine at the lewd words which shamelessly fall from his lips, “Guess there’s a first for everything.” he says with a scoff. 

His digits bury into your hole, stretching you out in a way you’ve never felt before. The stretch burns, filling a fresh set of tears rolling down your eyes, smudging your mascara and eyeliner You looked like a whore. He keeps hammering his fingers inside you without mercy, a loud whine leaves your lips as you feel a tingle of pleasure from him hitting the right spot. “Do you like that? Too bad, this isn’t for you.” he moves his fingers from you before lining his fat cock to your almost too tiny hole, “How will this fit?” he laughs to himself, pressing his engorged tip in slowly, “Will be a tight fit,” he continues to shove his cock into your hole, his face turns off one to ecstasy as your walls take him inch by inch. You scream in pain, his cock was much bigger than his fingers. It was stretching you out, numbing your mind and soul, you did not know how much more you could take. Salty tears fell from your eyes as Hawks bottomed himself in you, he waited for a moment before starting to thrust into you unforgivingly. Dragging his fat cock out and your walls pulling him right back in. As he kept ramming into you. Slowly, you start to pleasure tingle up your spine as his tip smashed against the right spots. Your cries of pain turn to pleasurable moans. Hawks wastes no time in teasing you, “Look at you moaning like a slut,” he spanks your ass with swift force sending your rear to sting. You feel unbearable pleasure starting to build up in your abdomen, a straining coil wanting to burst which each of Hawks’ strong thrusts yet it is left unfilled as the simulation is not enough to make you cum from all alone. Hawks notices this, the pitiful crying for him to touch your swollen little clit which was begging to be played with. He almost thought he would give it to you, after all, he was a good person. Almost. 

Hawks just snicker, his cruel, sadistic laugh echoing in the room, “No, no, no.” he teases, “no matter how much you cry, baby. I am not letting you cum. This is your punishment, you deserve this. You’ve been a bad girl.” Hawks couldn’t formulate how he was able to form complete sentences. The moment he had caught you, he had let himself go feral. Dragging you down like a predator, he finally had you under him. He kept grunting and breathing profanity down your ear along with shameful praises about how well your slutty ass takes him. He is glad he is finally getting his much-deserved relief but he is not done yet. He won’t be done until he is filling your vulnerable womb with his seed, he won’t be done until he hears you asking him to give you his children. He is not going to leave you be until he has destroyed you, balls deep in your tiny pussy. He is going to keep you here all night fucking you, he is going to stay there all night fucking you with hate which he has buried within himself for you over the years. He is going to melt you in his hand, break you until only he can build you up, and maybe he will not let you go even after that. Maybe he will keep you after all hawks mate for life. 

Just hope he lets you cum the next time. 

[sdvharveybby]

How the Bachelor’s write love notes

Inspiration for this was the fact that I made another bachelor batch, but it got angsty, and I thought- I can’t do this yet. I haven’t cultivated enough of a following that deems this necessary yet.

Anyways!! I hope you guys enjoyed this because I loved writing it!! They are all so adorable. I love having the bachelors so goofy and sweet. Honestly, they’re all so unique too. 

Also, I am open for asks.

There was a person who requested Alex Fluff Prompt #16 and if you read this- send me another ask. I made yours angsty and I didn’t realize that yet until I was putting on chapstick and then it hit me. I’d like to do yours over. THANKS BBY

Alex

His love notes to you always have something to do with muscles or working out. Like, “I think your muscles are bigger than mine, but I still love you.” Like Alex truly means well, but he has no idea on how to make a proper love note. His note is also part scribbles- almost like he rushed it, but you knew he wracked his brain for probably a good hour. He doesn’t make rough drafts- he just writes it and goes, “Yeah, that’s good.” Even reading it though, you can feel that he really tried and that alone makes you happy. He’s always been about his strength and training every second of the day, but the fact that he sat down to write you a note about how much he loves you, c’mon. The lad really does what he can, and it’s adorable every second of the day.

Sam

His love notes almost always have a little doodle next to them. He draws like a goofy version of himself and you with a heart in the middle. He draws himself with Goku hair too. Sometimes he’ll write an adorable love note though that generally goes like, “You look as beautiful as my guitar” or “I’m comfortable enough to sing around you.” He’s always goofy and happy, the optimistic guy that wants to put a smile on your face and laugh instead of- aww!! You’d always see him out of the corner of your eye too- poking his head around the corner to see your reaction. And when you finish reading it, he would always come barreling into the room giving you a big hug and asking, “What did you think of it?”

Sebastian

Sebastian can really pull a 180 on you. Sometimes he makes thoughtful love notes that pull at your heart strings- the kind that makes you run and give him a big kiss. But also, he can make love notes that make you go, “wtf” and make you laugh. You never know what kind of specific mood he’s in when he writes these- you just have to open them up see what’s inside. Like a surprise egg, but a folded piece of paper. He always signs his love notes with a big heart that’s colored in black- no matter what the note is. It could be, “I saw a frog that looked like you today” or “You’re the light at the end of my tunnel. I love seeing that bright light every day.” You can tell he actually has a way with words, but sometimes you’ll find a love note that’s a quote from Cave Saga. It’s sweet enough that he’d write it to you, but you wonder if he knows that you read them too.

Harvey

Pfft, this man just scribbles. As a doctor his signature just cultivated into a mass of scribbles and half the time you must have him read the love note to you. He just pours his heart onto paper too, almost like he cried while writing it (it sometimes makes you cry though.) Sometimes it’s better to have him read it to you though, because you can really feel his emotion as he’s reading it. He eventually gets good enough that he can write you love notes that you can actually read, and he always seals the note with a heart sticker. You’ll get the, “I’m so unbelievably lucky to have you. Some days I wish I could lay in bed to watch how peaceful you sleep. You’re so cute, and some days I wonder why you chose me. I love you to no end and I can’t wait to grow old with you (although I’m already there.)” And he signs it with, ‘Love, your faithful husband, Harvey’ When he’s in a particular goofy mood though he’ll write, “Thanks for performing heart surgery on me yesterday. I was wondering why my pulse would pick up every time I saw you…” with a smiley face at the end.

Elliot

Oh, man. This guy knows how to write love letters. He can write the short but sweet, the long and passionate, and poetry love notes. He easily pours himself onto each and every love note. The, “You have captured beauty that is otherwise unobtainable” kind of notes you’d read and sign each love note with, ‘Sincerely, your love struck husband.’ Rarely when he gets writers block though- he would just fill the note with a ton of hearts varying in size and colors. Sometimes you’d wake up to a love note that was a few pages long. You’d spend your morning drinking amazing coffee made by him and reading it. It would easily bring a tear to your eye because his way with words is unlike anything you’ve ever read. It would always grant him a big, long hug from you that he would just drink in the affection. His notes were like the big hugs that he gave, just comforting and warm. It was like safety and security on a piece of paper.  

Shane

He… does what he can. His love notes always cracked you up because you’d get the, “You smell” kind of notes, but if you flipped the note over it would finish with, “good.” He just loved teasing you with his love notes, and he didn’t give them out often. You’d get the, “You sleep weird.” Flip it over, “stop it.” It was a running theme with him, and you’d eventually start leaving him love notes like that too. He’d sign each love note with whatever he felt like. Sometimes it was, “I’m hungry” or “I stink today. I need to shower” and that’s just how it was. He was goofy and you were here for it. He’d like to leave the note in random places too, your jacket pocket, in your hood, or crammed into one of your winter gloves- when he made it in spring. You just cannot expect, for the life of you, what he will do. The pleasant surprise always makes you smile though… and laugh.

[certifiedskywalker]

Breaking Oaths and Following Orders - Din Djarin

thebounty said: Hey!! I was wondering if I could ask for a request for a Mandalorian x Jedi!reader? It’s inspired by this song (Jenny- Studio Killers) which is basically about friends turned into lovers.

AN: Ah, yes, the TikTok song...I hope I did your idea justice! (I cut the rest of your request out on this official post because I didn’t want to totally spoil what happens!)

You were familiar with the carbon stink of blaster bolts and the excited tension of battle. Limited stints in combat during the Clone Wars, when you were barely old enough to be a padawan, had introduced you to the harsh adrenaline and smells of war. A gunfight in some alley on some Outer Rim world was nothing compared to what you had seen. Though, now, you knew all of what was at stake; you loved all that was at stake.

“I don’t think they’re Jedi,” Din observed as he ducked down behind the thick stone wall you were using as cover. You shot the helmeted man an incredulous look.

“Really? What gave you that idea? The fact they’re not using laser swords or that they’re shooting at us?” Din didn’t respond to your sarcasm and instead popped up above the wall to let a few bolts fly. Based on the yelps of pain, they hit their marks.

“We need to get out of here,” he said once he ducked back down. You nodded and glanced at the Child, still tucked away in his cradle. His big eyes were glued to you, as they often were in the heat of battle. Expectant, waiting for you to make your, the, move.

“Yeah, we do,” you agreed, before you pressed the button on the Child’s cradle that closed the little creature within. The last thing you wanted was more pressure. 

“They have us pinned,” Din said and tipped his head back towards the wall behind you. “And there’s at least five,” the Mandalorian popped up from behind the wall again and nearly missed a blaster bolt to the head, “six up front.”

“Can’t you jet us out of here?”

Wordlessly, Din reached around to his back and rapped his gloved knuckles against the fuel tank of his jet pack. An empty, metallic clang echoed the knocking of his hand. No fuel. 

“Karabast,” you cursed as you turned your attention to the enemies firing luring shots at the relative safety of the wall. There were too many. A step beyond the stone would mean certain death. So did staying put. Direness set in, loomed like a storm cloud in your mind. You glanced back at Din and the Child’s cradle only to have a lump form in your throat. 

As if on cue, the cradle covers opened and revealed the watchful eyes of the Child. He was still focused on you. As you took a moment to study him in return, you neither heard a coo of worry nor did you see flinch of fear. He was calm, eerily so; as if he knew what you were thinking, what you knew you had to do. You moved your gaze to Din and watched as he let a few shots go towards your attackers. A stray blaster bolt from the enemy knocked against the beskar plate on his chest, right above his heart. Too close to where his armor ended and his clothing began. Too close for comfort. You couldn't lose him. 

Adrenaline, pure and vile rushed through you. Before you could move against your instincts, your hand reached out and pulled Din back down behind the stone wall. The dark visor of his helmet met your gaze. You could feel the question on his lips, despite having never seen them. You had spent enough time imagining them; how they looked and how they might feel against your own.

“Grab the kid and run on my word,” you said with a tone of seriousness to break yourself from your wonderings. “Got it?”

Din was still for a moment and you realized that your hand lingered on his arm. Warmth spread through your fingers, up your arm, and to your face. Quickly, you let go, and the Mandalorian seemed to have recovered. He nodded wordlessly and reached out towards the cradle. When the pod was tucked under his arm, you moved to face the stone wall you all were hidden behind. 

“What are you planning, Y/N?” 

Din’s tone was cold, laced with concern. After all the cycles you and the man had worked and lived together, you had noticed he only said your name when you were about to do something dangerous. You had wished he said it more, in different contexts, like one of affection. Though, you had reasoned long ago that Din’s concern was his affection. Like the Jedi, it seemed that Mandalorian of Din’s Creed forewent too-personal, entangling attachments. It was the first principle of the Code that you had wished you had broken long ago. In a sense, you had. The care you held, the love, for Din and the Child...you were a Jedi no longer.

But that didn’t mean you couldn’t pretend.

“You can ask me questions later.”

Before Din could attempt to stop you, you reached down to each of your hips and pulled the two metal, somewhat cylindrical pieces of your lightsaber from your belt. In a practiced motion, you latched the two segments together and pressed the ignite switch. As soon as the blade ignited, you focused your mind on the small, stone wall that sheltered you. Once you pictured it clear in your mind, you threw your hands up and pushed forward. When you opened your eyes, the stone wall hurtled towards your attackers and drove some down into the dirt. You glanced at Din.

“Now!”

At your word, Din rushed towards the now dwindling group of criminals that had been shooting at you. Due to the laser sword in your hands, most of their fire was focused on you. With an ease that surprised you, you twirled your saber in the air and deflected the shots. Most landed in the chests of those had taken aim, giving each a swift death. You gave an extra flourish to redirect a blaster bolt towards one of the attackers that was more interested in Din and cradle.

The man fell quickly and a surge of confidence rushed through you. You still had it, even after all this time of hiding! Only a few criminals remained and you drew closer and closer. As you moved, their aim grew more and more precise. One even dared to charge at you. With you busied dispatching him, another shot off his rifle. White-hot and searing hurt ripped through your lower leg, then your shoulder. A yelp of pain escaped your lips. Overcome by heated rage and long ago lessons forgotten, you tilted forward and struck him down.

Then there was silence. Only your haggard breath filled your ears. The pain in your leg and shoulder overwhelmed your senses. It had been a long time since you had taken a hit. An even longer time since you had used the weapon of your dead Master.

You fell to your knees, tried to focus on forcing your breathing steady. When you hit the ground, your thumb instinctively struck the power switch. With a hiss, the blade closed and you found enough strength to lift your gaze. Your eyes locked with Din’s darkened visor.

“Y/N.”

There was that concern again. It was the last thing you heard before you fell back, let your body rest against the dirt of the alleyway and splatters of blood.

You woke with a start. The wild beating of your heart propelled you, so you sat up straight in the sleeping nook. Your head nearly slammed against the ceiling. When you recognized the interior of the Razor Crest, you allowed yourself to catch your breath.

“Hey, hey, hey” Din appeared in the entrance of the sleeping nook with his hands raised towards you. He looked as if he were approaching a wounded animal. “You’re safe. You’re home.”

You nodded but your head did not clear. On your skin still clung the stink of the alley, the carbon of blaster fire, and, against your hand, you felt the cold hilt of the lightsaber. The moment your eyes landed on the weapon, you felt your breath get caught in your throat once more. Memories of the fight rushed back and your heart still thundered in your chest. You focused on Din’s helmet, studied his now straightened posture, and swallowed hard.

“The Child, is he-”

“He’s fine,” Din replied before the question could leave your lips. You shook your head.

“No, did he see...did he see me?”

“It was hard not to see you,” Din said softly.  

Tension filled the silence that trailed after his words. It was heavier than the pressure of battle. Din always had a way of making it difficult for you to breath. But this was like trying to wade through the muck of a full trash compactor. The air between you was thick, weighed down by everything you both wanted to say to the other.

You shifted in the sleeping nook in an effort to find a more comfortable position. As you moved, your shoulder knocked against the wall and you hissed in pain. Din lurched forwards and towards you. You felt heated skin against your arms and, when you looked down, you found that he had not donned his signature gloves.

“Here. I’ll help you step out.”

Din was careful as he eased you out of the sleeping nook while you tired not to be lost in tender touch of his bare hands against your skin. A wave of affection washed over you when you noted the bandages on your lower leg and shoulder. He had taken his gloves off to take care of you. You wished you could have been conscious to remember it.

“Thanks,” you said once you were on your feet.

Though, Din didn’t let go. Instead, he helped you over to the crates you both used as makeshift seats during meal time. Only when you were both sat down did his hands slip from your arms. The silence seemed to have followed you both over as it settles back between you. 

Your mind swirled with worry and doubt, every word you wanted to say. Betrayal was the word that came back most often. You had betrayed the year of trust you had built with Din by not telling him about your past. You had betrayed the Child by not using the Force to forge a deeper connection with him or hear his story. You had betrayed yourself, the oath you swore long ago to never use the teachings of the Jedi. The thought made your stomach twist.

“Is it yours?”

Din’s question broke you from your down spiral. You met the dark gaze of his visor and shook your head. “No. It’s my old Master’s. I lost mine in battle and took his when he…fell.”

“Master? So, you’re a Jedi?”

“No, I never finished the Tri-”

“You can’t do that.” You cocked your head at his interruption. “You can’t keep saying ‘no’ and then give a reason that implies ‘yes’. Are you or are you not a Jedi?”

You swallowed hard, the truth, as Din knew it, balanced on the tip of your tongue. “Yes.”

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” There was an edge of anger in his voice but as heated as you had expected. “Why didn’t you tell me when we were sent to look for Jedi, for him?”

“Like I was saying, I didn’t finished my training or the Trials. I don’t know the mysteries the Council kept hidden or where any others are.” Din stood up at your reasoning and stared down at you. Even masked behind the helmet, you still felt the intensity of his eyes on you. 

“You should have told me.” He said, the heat a little higher in his voice. “Do you not trust me enough to keep you safe?”

Stoked by the flames of his voice, you stood from your seat. Din’s visor remained trained on you, waiting for your next move. There was only a step’s worth of space between you now and it was either the close proximity or the pain of your wounds that made your face flush. You weren’t entirely sure as to which but you did know your own truth.

“No, I trust you, Din, with my life,” his name left your lips without a thought. Between thoughts, you realized it was the first time you said his name aloud after learning on Nevarro; but you couldn’t stop now. “The Jedi’s way is old, just as old as the Mandalore, and we have our customs. Following orders is one of them and I was given an order to stay quiet, to stay hidden. I will not apologize for following that order, even if I am a Jedi no longer.”

All of the sudden, the fight and anger left you. You thought of your Master, how he would be disappointed in your outburst. Overwhelmed by the feeling, you sat back down on your crate while Din stayed standing. Heavy, you head fell into your hands. In the dark behind your eyelids, you found little solace or comfort.

Just as you were about to admit defeat and retire back to the sleeping nook, hands gripped your wrists. Gently, Din pulled your hands away from your face and, in response, you looked into his visor. For a moment, you swore that you could see his eyes shining beneath his helmet, his own order and oath manifested in beskar. Before you could ask what he was doing, his hands fell from your wrists and tucked up under the bottom of his helmet.

“Din,” you said, the same concern that swaddled your name in his voice now held his own. “Don’t do this, not like this.”

“I trust you, Y/N, with my life.” His words echoed your own only softer and you were too caught off guard by that tenderness to try to stop his hands as they pushed up. 

You saw the first slivers of tanned skin. Then a scruff covered chin and slope of his jawline. Lips were next on the tour of Din’s features; the very lips you had tried to imagine hundreds of times before. They were pinker than you thought, a little chapped too, but you still longed for them. Then the tip and bridge of his curved nose. A pair of dark brown eyes.

You held Din’s eyes with yours as he finished removing the helmet. He set it on the floor of the Razor Crest with a dull thud, his eyes never leaving yours. Strands of brown hair were set against his forehead, tantalizing enough for you to touch. You fought the urge so you could take in his features a little longer. Despite knowing, based on his voice, that Din was handsome, it was another thing to see it confirmed. 

Unable to hold back anymore, you reached a careful hand out. Din recoiled, flinched away from your reach and you pulled back. Just as you were about to apologize, Din recovered and lifted his own hand. Warm, he guided your hand with his until your fingertips brushed against his temple. When he let go of your wrist, you brushed the hair off from his forehead.

At your touch, Din sucked in a shakey, sharp breath. Scared for a moment that he wouldn’t exhale, you traced your hand down from his forehead to the side of his face. Once you had cupped his cheek, Din closed his eyes and let the breath go. His head tilted, leaned into your touch.

“We’re both oath breakers now, huh?”

Din’s eyes opened at your question. Dark and knowing, his eyes met yours before they flickered down to your lips. You trailed your hand along his jaw until you held his chin between two of your fingers. His breath hitched at the suggestive touch.

“Tell me to stop if you don’t want this,” you murmured, the pain of your wounds long forgotten. “Din?”

Wordlessly, from where he kneeled before, Din rushed up and towards you. Messily, his lips found yours and his hands gripped at your waist. Quickly, he pulled you against his chest where the cold kiss of beskar greeted your skin. Not that you minded. You were too caught up in Din’s lips against yours, how you had waited a year for this. You weren’t about to let that go.

Not for any order.

[thegracelessfaceless]

*slithers in*

Can I request some Helen headcanons? Just like general dating him and maybe some nsfw if possible.

@mutat-ad-astra , ₐᄂᵣᵢg𝓱𝚝 yₒᵤ'ᵥₑ 𝚍ₒ𝚗ₑ ᵢ𝚝 𝚗ₒw. ᵢ'ᵥₑ 𝚋ₑ𝚌ₒᗰₑ ₐ 𝘴ᵢᗰ𝐩 fₒᵣ Hₑᄂₑ𝚗 . W𝓱ₐ𝚝 𝚍ₒ yₒᵤ 𝓱ₐᵥₑ 𝚝ₒ 𝘴ₐy fₒᵣ yₒᵤᵣ𝘴ₑᄂf??

(づ￣ ³￣)づ

ꇙꄲ ꇙ꒐ꋊꉔꏂ ꓄ꁝ꒐ꇙ ꉣꄲꇙ꓄ ꉔꋬꂵꏂ ꄲ꒤꓄ ꇙꄲ ꒒ꄲꋊꍌ, ꒐'ꂵ ꍌꄲ꒐ꋊꍌ ꓄ꄲ ꅐꋪ꒐꓄ꏂ ꋬꋊ꒯ ꉣꄲꇙ꓄ ꁝꏂ꒒ꏂꋊ'ꇙ ꋊꇙꊰꅐ ꒐ꋊ ꒐꓄ꇙ ꄲꅐꋊ, ꍌ꒒ꄲꋪ꒐ꄲ꒤ꇙ ꉣꄲꇙ꓄ ❤

ᕼᗴᒪᗴᑎ ᗝ丅Ꭵᔕ/ᗷᒪᗝᗝᗪƳ ᑭᗩᎥᑎ丅ᗴᖇ ᖇᗴᒪᗩ丅ᎥᗝᑎᔕᕼᎥᑭ ᕼᗴᗩᗪᑕᗩᑎᗝᑎᔕ

(With a fem!SO)

♡Let's just get canon out of the way real quick.

♡Helen is very calm and quiet

♡He isn't very expressive and doesn't speak much, but when he does, he's always the picture of the perfect gentleman.

♡If something doesn't concern him, Helen is pretty apathetic towards it. However, if it's something he cares about, Helen will be very passionate.

♡His parents treated him as a pet or toy, and this caused Helen to have repression issues.

♡He won't show emotion towards a person unless they show emotion first, then he will reciprocate. This is essential to remember as Helen's significant other; you'll have to make the first move every time.

♡Helen's a Libra. His birthday is October 1st

♡Helen's parents were so excited when they found out they were going to be parents. That night, Helen's mother dreamed that she had a beautiful baby girl with delicate features, the deepest blue eyes that she had ever seen, and coal black hair so fine that it looked like dark lace against the baby girl's alabaster skin. She woke up certain that she was pregnant with a baby girl that looked just like in her dream. Mrs. Otis went into labor and delivered a baby that indeed looked just like in her dream, but it was a boy. So they decided to continue on and name him Helen, and raise him as they would a little girl.

♡This treatment continued until he started school at six. Then his parents decided to dress him as and refer to him as a boy in order to not draw attention.

♡Helen still suffers from body dysphoria because of this. For a long time, Helen couldn't reconcile whether he was male or female in his mind, so he existed in a chaotic state of one, the other, both and neither all at the same time. Now- after years of therapy, and a great deal of time building his trust with Reader, Helen identifies as agender preferring he/they/it pronouns and a refined but masculine aesthetic.

♡Reader is the only person allowed to call him Helen. And even she doesn't do it often, only when she's serious. He prefers Reader to call him darling, love, honey, dear, and, if he's feeling frisky, Sir 😍. All others may refer to him by his surname, Otis.

♡Helen can be quite manipulative and his intelligence is obvious

♡While in "working" mode, Helen is very cautious of the scene he his creating, and presents every body as if it were a canvas to bear his work.

♡His fascination with blood stems from his childhood. He had always had trouble making friends, only managing one at a time and spaced distantly apart. His only childhood friend had been murdered by bullies in the park, rocks thrown at him for being friends with that "weird sissyboy kid" until one struck his temple, killing him instantly. The bullies had hurriedly buried his friend in the deep snow from the night before. Helen knew this, he had told you, because he had watched it all from his perch in a tree. After the bullies had fled, Helen had uncovered his friend and stared at his body lying in red stained snow, and the bullies later blamed Helen with his friends death. Ultimately, he had been cleared, as there had been a witness in the park.

♡The false accusations of murder didn't stop there, much to your displeasure.

♡In high school, a classmate of Helen's, one who happened to be Helen's only friend, fell from the building and died. A witness said that Helen had killed him, but no concrete evidence was found.

♡Not to say that Helen is an angel. You know he's far from that, too.

♡Later, the same year, as a freshman at university, Helen killed 17 people from his dorm building, and wounded 5 on Devil's Night (October 30th).

♡Helen was found insane by the courts as a minor and received 6 years of inpatient treatment before being released back into society.

♡He started "his work" again three years later, and then met you two years after that.

♡Helen smokes cigarettes (though not as much as Tim) and unwinds after "work" with music and a rum and Coke or whisky on the rocks.

♡Helen enjoys lofi hiphop; classical music; instrumental and instrumental covers of songs; music from the early 1960's like: Frankie Valli, The Big Bopper, the Animals, and the Zombies; and indie rock like The Flaming Lips, Harvey Danger, Dinosaur Jr, and The Smashing Pumpkins.

♡He loves discovering new music with you, listening to playlists you make him for hours. But you're gonna listen to some of his music, too and he makes playlists for you to play according to mood.

♡Helen's love languages are: quality time, acts of service, and words of affirmation. But the love languages he craves are: all of them except receiving gifts! Getting a gift is uncomfortable for Helen, especially if he has no gift to give back. He wants you to feel just as appreciated as you feel, if not more.

♡Helen thought that he was completely asexual before he met you. No one he had met had ever... Moved him in that way. And he was fine with that. Why should he mourn something he'd never even wanted?

♡And then he met you at an antique art showcase of pieces by and inspired by René Magritte. (Example here: ◎▼◎) After you spent hours together at the show, exchanging witty banter, and eventually, phone numbers, Helen found himself thinking about you that night, alone in bed. And then his mind wondered something it had never thought about anyone else. He wondered what you looked like naked. What your skin would feel like. How would you taste?

♡He frowned to himself, confused by the foreign thought for a moment before he realized that he felt sexual desire for you.

♡It still took him a long while of dating you before he felt comfortable enough to even kiss you in a sexual way. The two of you were practically engaged when he gave you his virginity.

♡Bonus wholesome content headcanon/drabble: Once you convinced Helen to bleach his naturally blue black hair. Not wanting to disappoint you, and telling himself that it was just hair, he consented and you happily set to work. An hour later, he emerged from the shower with a shock of platinum white hair 😱. He had to support himself with a hand on the back of the couch because his knees started shaking when he caught a glance of himself in the mirror over the fireplace. A long, thin fingered hand with a fine tremor lifted to cover his mouth. You knew without him telling you that he absolutely, 100%, no doubt, undisputedly hated it. His already porcelain skin had paled even more, now trembling chalk instead of bone China. His midnight blue eyes held a sort of flinching terror in them as they tried to look anywhere but the vicinity of the mantle mirror. You approached him gently and pulled the towel thrown around his shoulders loose and used his shoulder to balance you as you went up on tiptoe to finish drying his now shockingly white hair.

♡You leave Helen waiting shirtless in the living room to deal with putting his shoes and socks on and you pull on a light jacket to guard against the chill that manages to never be around when we need it during the daytime hours as you enter yours and Helen's shared bedroom. You find Helen a clean black tee shirt and pick up one of your beanies from the coatrack behind the bedroom door. This one was black with a tree frog leaping over the words Frog Leap Studios done in a typewriter font in white thread, a circle of bright blue making the frogs eye stand out.

♡You take the shirt and beanie to Helen and he pulls the shirt on. You feel a little sad that he's covering up, but there would be time to enjoy his body later. Helen sits on the couch so you can slip the beanie over his baby fine hair easier than going up on tiptoe to match his 6'2" lean frame. The bleach may have stolen its darkness, but it couldn't steal its softness. Helen's hair was probably the softest thing you'd ever touched.

♡Hair sufficiently covered, you and Helen get into your car and head to the only place open at the hour of 3:24 in the morning. Walmart. Your sleep schedule had never been normal and Helen didn't help you normalize it at all. In fact, if anything it had gotten worse, the two of you wrapped up in your own hyperfixations, leaned up against each other back to back, or one of you holding the other as one of you writes while the other draws.

♡You feel Helen's hand find your thigh and squeeze it, letting you know he's not upset with you. You reached down and covered his hand with yours, returning the squeeze and you finish out the short ride more relaxed now that you know Helen isn't mad at you. Helen follows you to the beauty section once you're inside the store. He patiently watches as you pick out boxes from 4 different companies.

♡An amused Helen watches you as you quibble with the four boxes. You shuffle through them, running through them over and over like a person considering their hand while playing cards.

♡You end up with him bending down slightly again so you can compare the dyes to his eyebrows. He thinks it's the sweetest thing that you're going through such a clear effort to fix his hair. Obviously you feel responsible for the mistake and he hates that.

♡Gently taking the boxes from your hands, he picks a random red and black one from the four you were debating between and puts the rest back on the shelf.

♡Then Helen pulls you into his arms and holds you tight and close, burying a kiss on top of your head. You smile into his chest, breathing in the scent of paint, paint thinner, lavender shampoo, and jasmine soap. On anyone else, the paint thinner smell would have made you sick. But on Helen, it just smelled like home. You two stay in your embrace, Helen swaying slightly to a beat only he could hear. A stolen moment, a stolen dance, to help ground yourselves.

♡Helen broke the hug after a few moments more, but kept hold of your hand. You walk to the checkout line and pay almost $10 for the dye. The price gave you a mild case of sticker shock, but you shook it off and smiled at the older cashier, who was beaming as her eyes moved between you and Helen. The two of you seemed to get that reaction from older people. That look of pure hope that more people got to experience the love that shone between you. You both thank the cashier repeatedly as Helen payed her the money needed.

"You two have a good night" she smiled at us, "the world needs more couples that look at each other the way you do. You look, at each other like you're reach others entire worlds."

"She is" Helen says softly, pulling me into a hug and a quick kiss, "She's my whole universe."

♡You're pretty certain that the woman's smile could not get bigger. But you didn't really want to find out, since you were starting to notice that her teeth were huge and you were starting to get squicked out by it. Helen must have picked up on your discomfort because he led you away in the protective half circle of his arm.

♡"My knight in shining armor" you croon at him as you walk back to the car, "Thank you for saving me. I am forever in your debt. However could I repay you, Sir?"

♡Helen took in a sharp breath and chuckled as he slowly let it out, "I can think of a few things."

♡"You'll have to show me when you have the time" I teased as Helen opened your car door for me. He'd taught you that chivalry was not dead, and you'd realized that it would be easier to let Helen be a gentleman than it would be to convince him that you could open your own doors.

♡You drove home and locked the doors behind you. You headed straight for the bathroom and Helen borrowed a stool from the island bar to sit on so you could reach all of his head.

♡Twenty minutes later, you threw dye covered vinyl gloves in the trash and settled an old towel around Helen's shoulders and neck to keep the dye from dripping on him. You'd clipped a pillowcase over his hair and you had just finished hitting the dye with heat to assure his hair took the dye well, absorbed it.

♡Helen smiled contentedly up at you from his spot on the stool.

♡You tilted his chin up to kiss him. He kissed you back and then sent soft kisses across your cheek and jawbone, and then kissed and nipped down your neck. Helen focused his kisses back on your lips, kissing you like the kisses would magically cure everything, would keep you alive.

♡The timer you'd set so Helen would know when to wash the dye out of his hair went off, and Helen stood

♡Having already taken off his shirt, Helen unfastened his jeans and let them slide down his legs, stepping out of them as they pooled around his feet, leaving him completely nude, comfortable.

♡instead of getting in the shower, Helen pulled you closer to the shower and used his nimble hands to liberate you of your clothes. Before you could protest, or even decide if ypu wanted to get in, Helen had pulled you under the spray of the shower and he stood in it now, extra dye streaming in lines

♡You turned Helen's back to you and massaged his scalp as the water rinsed the excess dye down the drain. When the water ran clear, you massaged some of the color protect conditioner that came with the dye and Helen switched places with you, his hands never leaving your hips so he could catch you if you slipped.

♡Helen washes your back for you and then your hair, lathering up a clean washcloth with jasmine soap and making sure not to miss a spot. Then he rubbed some lavender scented shampoo into my hair. Then he rinsed it and repeated the process before leaving some conditioner to sit in my hair.

♡Finally Helen worked some conditioner into your hair that matched the shampoo. You help Helen rinse everything from his hair and you condition his hair with the rest of the conditioner that came with the dye.

♡Showers with Helen always end up with him bathing you, his hands and keen eye not missing a single millimeter of your skin. Showers rarely turned sexual between the two of you, instead the two of you focused on the intimacy of showering together.

♡After all the soap and hair products are rinsed from both of you, Helen turned off the water and wrapped you in warm towels, quickly drying himself off and slinging a towel around his hips.

♡Helen obviously felt better once his hair was back to its natural inky darkness.

♡You could tell from the mischievous grin he wore as he escorted you to the bedroom.

AN: so I wrote on this well into the night... Fell asleep in the process a few times 😅. If you see continuity issues with the POV, let me know so I can fix it. I kept wanting to write in first person 😂

[suicidalslasher]

𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒍𝒚 𝒎𝒂𝒅𝒍𝒚 𝒅𝒆𝒆𝒑𝒍𝒚 ➤ 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒕𝒆

Here's one of three Carrie White fics!! :D This is honestly short and sweet, plus simple... compared to the other two. But.... it's here and I'm very much happy with the way it came out. I hope you all enjoy it, as well.

Although, the gif is of Sissy, you can pretend it's either version of Carrie.

(Chloe or Angela's. I, personally, just prefer Sissy's. Although, I love all three.) And despite it being Sissy, too, I took inspiration from the (2002) adaption with Angela whereas Carrie never died in the accident of her house.

Instead, she lives and runs away. And yadda yadda. Enjoy!! xx

Warnings: None. Unless you count fluff and love confessions UwU.

“I know she was your friend but c’mon, (Y/N). She was nothing more than a piece of shit… Grow up. Move on.”

“She was a monster, (Y/N). Do you really think she wasn’t? After all she had done? She destroyed everything and hurt so many people… she killed several hundred people, too… if that isn’t a cruel, heartless bitch, I don’t know who or what is.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re just like her…. are you a demon in disguise, too, (Y/N)?”

They said the same exact thing. The statements were always said by different people but the topic of the subject remained the same - Carrie White.   Carrie White was the devil. So on and so forth…

It was a constant reminder she no longer was here with us - with me.  

 The tragedy that struck on prom  night wasn’t my fault. Nor, was it Carrie’s.

Carrie had so much anger built up within her, she was bound to explode with rage eventually. And that day just so happened to unravel at the dance. All thanks to the students (and some teachers) of Bates High.

They constantly bullied Carrie for no real given reason, they harassed her for things she couldn’t quite control, either.  Not me, though.

I’m not crazy, even if there are people that  say I am and even if there are those that put words in my mouth I never said to begin with, too -

It’s not true.

None of it is true.

Everything you’ve read about Carrie White is false. Everything you’ve, more than likely, heard about her is furthest from the truth, also.

She’s not a monster. She never was one. She was just an ordinary girl, begging to be loved,  to be happy. And I loved her.

I just… I wish more than anything she realized how much I loved her.  I was in love with Carrie White, truly, madly, deeply…. in love with her.

And nobody could ever change how I felt - how I feel - towards her.

The night I was going to confess my feelings, believe it or not, was before the dance. Before everything happened.

The moment I arrived to the dance, well…by then, it was too late.   I hadn’t known it yet but almost everyone  was trapped inside the gymnasium, nails digging through the doors as they tried - and failed - to escape.

Their blood curling whines and agonizing moans were silenced by the music that played out on the speakers which echoed outside of the windows and bounced back and forth from the building to the parking lot.

I didn’t realize something terrible had happened until I smelled an intoxicating scent that caused my eyes to blur over with tears and caused me to grimace as the odor only grew stronger, thicker.

I winced and gazed around the parking lot which still remained full of different colored vehicles.     Confusion struck but after a moment or two later, realization hit like a ton of bricks.

From where I had stood, I saw a huge  cloud of gray smoke lingering around the building, only growing more and more thicker in the sky.

When I first arrived, the sky was crystal clear.  Not a single   speck of white was seen from above.   Now, that beautiful shade of blue was replaced with dark and haunting clouds of gray.

Even the moon was no longer hanging in the air for the smoke had it hidden.

The odor that swarmed the air, I realized, was people’s flesh burning.   One by one, people within the school were dying and suffocating to death.

Call me whatever you wish, as I’ve been called every name in the book, but I mean it when I say that I could care less  about the students and teachers of Bates High. If that made me an insensitive bitch, so be it.

The only reason I even attempted to try to get inside the building was because I remembered Carrie had gone to the dance with Tommy Ross.  And I’d do anything to save her.

Expect… I couldn’t.

Every area of the school was locked. Every entrance and exit doors were shut tightly. No matter how hard I tried to open them,  the damned thing wouldn’t budge.

I even tried to go through the windows but they were shut, too. There was nothing I could do.

Nothing expect fall to the ground and bury my face in my hands as tears began to fall, one by one, a tear dropped and soaked my hands and stained my cheeks.

Everyone said prom was a night to remember… but I doubt anyone wanted to remember their prom like this.

*~*

The following week after the incident, I heard a knock at my door. Slowly making my way out of bed, I walk down my too small and narrow hallway and open the door once I’ve reached the entrance,  glancing at the  person behind the screen door.

Sue Snell stood there, hands in her pocket and a look of sadness painted across her face.

“(Y/N),” She began.  “Can…. can we talk?”

“About what?” I snarled, not caring if I came off as rude or ignorant or any other definition.  I didn’t want to talk. I wanted to sleep and never wake up. I already knew where the conversation was going and what the main subject was going to be about. And I didn’t want to hear it. I didn’t want to talk about it.

“It’s about last week…  It’s…. it’s about Carrie.”

“I already know. She’s dead, okay? She’s dead and she isn’t going to come back, you don’t have to remind me.” I go to shut the door but Sue sticks her foot out and stops me from doing so. I narrow my eyebrows at her and give her a questioning gaze.

“Please…” She but all begged. “Tonight. Meet me at her headstone, tonight, would you? Midnight. I’m being serious. Trust me on this, would you? I know you have no reason to… but please.. if not for me, for Carrie.”

“Fine. I’ll think about it. Now, I have to go.”

“(Y/N), wait-”

Before she could finish her sentence, I’m  closing the door in her face and storming back to my bedroom, falling onto my mattress with an ‘ugh’ leaving my lips.

For the past few days, I didn’t do anything expect cry and scream into my pillow.

The moment I got back under the covers and buried my face under several blankets and two of my pillows,  the tears came rushing back down.

I was surprised I still had tears left in me from all the crying I had done, truth be told.

I tried, really, I did… to be strong but it was so hard. Especially when Carrie wasn’t here to make things better.

It was so difficult to live when  the one person you kept yourself alive for is no longer around…. it’s hard to live when your heart is no longer beating.

The day Carrie White died was the day a little part of me died, too.

*~*

It was 11:50PM.

The house was eerily silent. The only noise, from where I was at in my bedroom, was the whistle of the wind and the gentle knocking of tree limbs outside on my window.

I glance at the clock by my bedside table. It now read 11:52.

I sigh and sit up, my feet touching the cold hardwood floor. I rub my hands over my face tiredly as I try to come to a decision whether or not I wanted to meet Sue at Carrie’s gravestone.

I came to the decision… yes, I should go.  After all, I wanted to make sure nobody wrote any more harsh and ruthless slurs on Carrie’s grave.

Even in death, they wouldn’t let her rest and wouldn’t stop picking on her.   Carrie should be able to rest and yet there’s hundreds of people who forbid her from doing so. It was a shame.

People say Carrie White is a monster or the daughter of the Devil himself but in reality, the only monsters are the ones  that won’t leave that poor girl alone.

"If you look in the face of evil - evil's going to look right back at you."

*~*

The time I got to the cemetery  it had just turned midnight.  As I exited out the car, it seemed as if the howl of the wind grew louder upon my arrival.

“Hello?” I call out. My voice seems loud against the empty area and I grimace; I didn’t realize how wobbly it sounded until I had spoken.

(I blamed that on all the off and on crying sessions I’ve done recently.)

“Sue? Are you there? Hello?”

Nothing.

I groan and face palm, shaking my head from side to side. I should’ve known not to come. I should have known better and yet-

“(Y/N).”

My eyes dart forward and I feel my knees begin to buckle out underneath me and all the air in my lungs is snatched away from me.

“(Y/N).” She repeats, walking toward me and gives me a wry smile. “Hi.”

“C-Carrie?” My voice shook and I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. There she was, alive, breathing and all.

And she was right in front of me.

“You… I thought you were dead.” I was speechless. I could barely form any sentences without stumbling over my words.

“That’s why I’m here,” Carrie explained, stepping closer to me.  She rests the palm of her hand across my cheek, fingers brushing over my skin and I shudder, goose bumps prickling ever so softly across my arms.

“I didn’t know how to tell you….” She continued, sighing as she moves a loose piece of hair back and out from my face, tucking it behind my ear.

“I didn’t want anyone to know but Sue found me  on the side of the road when my house collapsed… she took me under her wing and helped me out.” She informed.  Carrie looked up and gave me a shy smile, her cheeks turning a bright rosy red.

“She insisted I should tell you, too… I was wanting to tell you, regardless but… I had been so scared. I’ve been terrified recently…. and with everything that happened, I only got more scared and… well, I thought you’d be like them and laugh at me or go on and tell the world where I was at and-”

“Carrie, I love you.” I blurt, unable to stop the words from forming out my mouth.

“I’d never, in any way, hurt you. I’ve loved you for the longest time and I thought…. I thought you were dead, Carrie… and it truly felt like I lost a piece of myself, too.”

The blush on Carrie’s cheeks grows darker, deeper as she nods. Tears swell in the corner of her eyes and she laughs softly, taking her hand away from my cheek as she wipes her eyes, sniffling quietly.

“I know. Sue told me, too… and I didn’t believe her. How could anyone love a freak like me? The laughing stock? Everyone’s personal punching bag..” Carrie smiled sadly as she shook her head.

“Mama told me it was a sin, you know? Love only is shared between a man and a woman. Not two men or two women together but… I realized I’d rather burn in Hell and be with the person I love than to go to Heaven being the person I’m not. I love you, (Y/N).

“I prayed every night for a friend and you came into my life at the time I needed you the most. You’re not only my best friend but my blessing, too.” By the time she’s finished talking, I’m crying and pulling her into my chest, hugging her tightly.

“I love you, I love you, I love you.” I repeat.  “From the moment I met you in the library and we bonded over our favorite novels together at the start of school, I knew I wanted to be your friend. I could care less what others thought.

And then when we went to the park that Saturday evening and had a picnic, I knew I loved you then…. I knew that no matter what, whether we were friends or more, I always wanted to make you happy, Carrie White.”

“And you do,” she reassured, voice cracking as she buried her head in the crook between my shoulder and neck. “You make me the happiest girl alive. I’ve never known true happiness until you came into the picture, (Y/N).”

I pull a little bit of ways out and take her face, pressing my hands across her cheeks and with little to no hesitation, I press my lips hungrily against hers.

Carrie, almost instantly, kisses back.

“I love you.” I murmur into the kiss, not daring to pull away.

“I love you.” She muttered. Through the kiss, I can feel the corners of her lips curling up into a smile. A grin finds its way across my face, too.

“Let’s go… let’s get out of here.” She said, pulling back as she looks up and into my eyes. “Let’s leave Chamberlain and never look back.”

And so, well, we did.

Carrie White wasn’t your average or your typical ordinary girl. She had powers, as I came to find out. I knew there was something unique, something special about her and now I knew what it was.

Carrie White wasn’t a demon. Or the daughter of the Devil or none of that sort.

Carrie White was simply just a girl, ready to start her own life and accomplish her own goals and seek happiness.

And I, (Y/N) (L/N) would do anything to help her achieve that.

Carrie White deserved better than to live in fear and shame.

Carrie White, just like anybody else, deserved to be happy.

So, whether you believe me or not, I don’t care.

If you still think she is a monster in disguise or whatever; I do not care.

I know the truth. Sue Snell knows the truth, too. Carrie White is anything but a monster.

Carrie White is, and forever will be, my girl.

And that’s just that.

End of story.

[writing-in-april]

Converging Parallels

Spencer Reid x Female Single Mom Reader (Spencer’s POV)

Summary: Spencer goes to a support group Penelope suggested after the death of Maeve. He quickly connects with a single mom who’s experiences have been similar to Spencer’s.

A/N: I’m prefacing this by saying I know shit about math and am horrible at it lol 😂 so my math analogies might be horribly off 😂 This is my fifth fic for my 30 fics in 30 days for April- this one was requested by @samuel-de-champagne-problems- this is the request- (go check out there fics too!!) I tweaked it a little bit so I hope you enjoy it 🥺 a lot of it is confined to Spencer grappling with his thoughts- but there is dialogue I promise lol 😂I had a good time writing it ☺️Thanks for all the love recently and if you want to drop me an ask for any reason you can do so here- I’m always looking for some new friends on here (I promise I don’t bite lol) Thanks again and hope y’all enjoy 🥰

Warnings: Angst with a hopeful ending, General dealings surrounding death and grief, Mentions of Maeve’s death, Reader’s a widow, Guilt about moving on, Reader’s child is a daughter

Main Masterlist Word Count: 1.6k

Parallel lines were never supposed to meet, they were set on a strict path following in a similar direction with no hope of ever converging. At least that’s what was the widely accepted definition by anyone with any authority in the field of mathematics.

My own math degree was being contested by a set of two lines set on a collision course with each other, though they were not supposed to. Logically I knew that the two lines were not beholden to any mathematical equation as I was referring to two human lives.

We were set on a similar course, only slight differences that seemingly were leading us to different destinations, or at least I tried to convince myself that. I tried every night to convince myself that she was only a friend, that it wasn’t what she wanted and I was desecrating the memory of the person I still claimed to be the only person I loved.

Logically I knew that by forcing where I wanted our relationship to go, what I thought the universe wanted to happen wasn’t what I truly wanted. The reason I had boxed us in so vehemently was only because I was scared and guilty, I knew it too. I wanted us to converge, but logic doesn’t always win out when dealing with guilt.

It had all started with Garcia mentioning that I should consider going to a grief support group after the death of Maeve. Every action I took was being weighed down by her death, whether I cared to admit it or not.

Garcia had good intentions when she suggested going to this meeting to me, of that I was sure. It isn’t that I saw no reason to go to the support group, I just knew that it would dreg up all the unwanted feelings that bombarded me enough already.

The flier in my hands felt heavy even though it was made of paper it weighed my hands down enough where I almost dropped it. I could have let it go then to have it fly away, being taken by the wind, that would let me forget about it. But, I knew it would have only made me forget for a short while, I’d inevitably get questions from Garcia and my own mind wouldn’t let me forget the reality of what had happened. And, logically I knew that it would most likely help. So instead of letting the wind take it away, I crumpled the paper slightly in my hands out of frustration, moving my feet forward one step at a time to enter the building.

That’s where I had first met her. When I first walked in I didn’t immediately lock eyes with her or anything, my eyes were too fixated on the ground for that to happen.

I only noticed her when she was invited to tell her story. Her strength instantly captivated me, almost making me feel like a failure at first. Her story of how she lost her husband was eerily similar in some aspects, especially the cause of his death. The feeling of failure on my part to be strong swirled in my gut as she recounted her struggles that were so starkly similar to mine. She even had a young daughter to take care of as well, she often spoke of her whenever she told her story, almost neglecting herself sometimes- which she admitted she knew she needed to work on.

However, when she came up to me to talk after the meeting was concluded my opinion switched to view her as inspiring. We began getting coffee after each meeting, sometimes talking for hours, sometimes sitting in silence. Whatever I needed she was there to give it to me, whenever she needed help I wanted to be there too.

To see our almost parallel lives begin to converge at first felt like someone had driven a car into traffic about to collide straight into my path. My mind would not stop arguing about whether or not I should pull away from her or not, like guilt was on shoulder and my potential happiness was on the other.

—-

Guilt was eating away at me from the inside out slowly, that part of my mind would not stop clawing away any good aspect of my relationship with Y/N. The relationship between us had shifted in recent weeks, tension invading what had once been a simply platonic connection formed through our shared experiences. When it became clear to me what our lingering stares and touches were leading to, guilt had reared its ugly head to burrow its way down deep and take root.

It had disrupted my sleep even more than usual, nightmares ranging from Maeve guilting me to the visuals of her death. The images of Maeve and any time I had shared with her invaded my brain at all hours of the night, haunting me. I scrunched my eyes up tight, maybe that would banish the images from my brain. That only made the guilt worse it seemed as I now felt double the guilt for wanting to banish the thoughts about a person I still claimed to love.

My hand hit the pillow in frustration, then grabbing it and throwing it to some unknown location across the room. Sitting up, no longer being able to tolerate laying down knowing that sleep would never come, made my exhausted joints beg me to lay back down. I leaned forward to put my head in my hands, also tangling my curls with my fingers. I tried to think about what Y/N had said to me at one of the first meetings I had attended, my normally impeccable memory struggled as the memory of Maeve’s bloodied face would not leave. Screaming internally was the only thing that seemed to work to push the words I was looking for forward,

“I try to think about something my therapist told me- Although it's difficult today to see beyond the sorrow, May looking back in memory help comfort you tomorrow.”

The quote wasn’t something groundbreaking or new, though the origins were unknown. But, the words still struck me deep everytime I forced my memory to call back on them.

The words she had spoken in the meeting when talking about her husband made me want to try too. She inspired me whenever she told snippets of her story to me or the rest of the group, her story had been similar to mine- with the added element of having a daughter to raise on her own.

Her strength was what had drawn me to her initially, like a moth to flame. Our relationship wasn’t even a friendship at first, just two people sharing advice (more her giving it to me) about how to deal with crippling grief.

What had blossomed since then from death and decay had thrown me for a loop. I hadn’t been expecting for this to happen, I never even thought romance would be an option for me again. I thought that I would have one great love and that our time in the sun had ended along with any option for romantic interests in the future.

Then she came along and spun my thinking upside down, not that I blamed her at all for it. She originally had just reached out to help me, not to pursue any romantic connection purposefully while I was vulnerable.

She continued to stay with me to help despite my urge to push her away even though that’s not what I wanted. I tried hard to convince myself that our lives were never meant to connect, that we were destined to remain apart.

It took many more sleepless nights for me to realize what I hadn’t seen for so long, even with Y/N reassuring me at every turn. Maeve would want me to be happy, I was sure of it. So I’d try to let myself, no longer letting myself get hindered by my own swirling thoughts of guilt that Maeve wouldn’t have wanted me to feel.

—-

Asking her out on a date had been surprisingly easy once I had let go a little of my guilt. We had chosen to go somewhere different than a coffee shop, since we already did that often. I took her out to more of an upscale restaurant than she was used to, which may be too fancy for some for a first date, but she deserved it. She worked so hard to take care of her daughter and even me to some extent.

At the end of the night we were both standing outside her door ready to go in to relieve the babysitter for the night. I had already given her a chaste kiss for the night, even though my nerves kept trying to talk me out of it. I was about to say goodbye when she grabbed my wrist to hold in her hands. She looked afraid at first, almost like she wondered if I wouldn’t like her touching me. Touch may bother me with most people, but she wasn’t most people, I’d happily share germs with her. When I did not pull away relief was evident in her eyes, then taking a big breath before speaking,

“Would you like to meet my daughter?” Her voice was shaky, understandably full of worry.

“Of course.” In the past hesitation would have littered my voice if she had asked me the same question. But, my thoughts had been slowly shifting to want our lines to converge fully and with no fear. Sure, Maeve would always capture a place in my heart, but I was ready for our lives to collide. Our parallel lives converged into one line, with a set path forward. It may get derailed from its intended path, but we would be stronger together than apart.

Ask me anything

—-

Tag lists (message me if you want to be added):

All works: @shotarosleftpinky @oreogutz @90spumkin @kyra-morningstar @s1utformgg @takeyourleap-of-faith (damn tumblr just let me tag them)

All MGG characters: @muffin-cup @willowrose99

Spencer Reid/CM: @calm-and-doctor @destiny-tsukino @safertokiss @slutforthegubes @onlyhereforthefanfics @jareauswifey

[hookingminor]

the way that you love me - anthony beauvillier

a/n: inspired by pov by ariana, a lot of it is from tito’s perspective. lightly edited. all fluff. thank you @thirteenisles​ for telling me to write for tito

word count: 2.5k

summary: anthony’s been in love with you for a long time

-

Anthony was in love with you.

He knew it from the moment he met you that he was done for. There really wasn’t anything inherently special about you, which probably wasn’t the nicest thing to say, but it was true. But when you smiled at him for the first time and extended your hand in introduction, something inside of him shifted.

It was subtle, almost imperceptible, and he didn’t even register it at first, but then he shook your hand and a calm settled over him. Anthony didn’t understand what it meant then, but he understood it now.

It was the same feeling he felt right now as he watched you sleep next to him your hair strewn across the pillow and mouth slightly agape. Soft snores escaped your lips, though you always denied it when he told you. It bothered him a bit at the beginning, the snores used to keep him awake during late nights when he had early morning practice. Now he couldn’t sleep without you, snoring and all.

You looked so peaceful lying beside him. With one hand lightly holding onto his bicep, his heart fluttered. It was something you always did when you were asleep: reach out until you grabbed some body part.

When he came home late at night from road trips across the country and settled into bed, you never failed to do the same thing. You were a notoriously heavy sleeper, but whenever Anthony slid under the sheets, you swatted in his direction until you came into contact with him. Whatever you hit, you grabbed onto before rolling over and crawling as close to him as possible.

The first time it happened, all Anthony could do was laugh. He thought you might’ve been awake and that his return woke you, but when he didn’t see your breathing change or eyes flicker open, his chest had gotten so tight he was afraid it would burst.

An overwhelming softness consumed him at that, and it hit him with full force every time it happened. It was the little things. You never realized you did it, nor did he ever tell you.

“Stop staring, weirdo,” you peeked one eye open and caught Anthony looking at you.

Anthony coughed out the stiffness in his throat before replying.

“I can’t help it,” he chuckled, hoping you couldn’t see through him and how vulnerable he was feeling right now, ���You’re so beautiful in the morning.”

Whatever Anthony was afraid of you seeing, you didn’t because you rolled your eyes.

-

“Can you make me some tea, please?” You called out to your boyfriend who was rummaging through the kitchen.

“Yeah, give me a minute,” he hollered back, and you heard the coffee machine running to dispense hot water.

Anthony reached over your shoulder from behind to place the mug on the table next to your textbooks. He paused halfway through his retreat to rest his hand on your shoulder and gave you a soft kiss on top of your head.

“Baby, you have three other mugs in front of you,” Anthony said, noticing the half-filled mugs in front of you.

You shrugged, “It tastes better when you make it.”

Anthony left you to continue your studies, but your statement replayed in his mind as he went into the living room and turned on whatever game was playing at the moment. You’d said it without hesitation, and Anthony doubted you even processed what you said.

It was all he could think about.

Later that night when he went to clear the table after you’d disappeared to take a shower, he saw that the only mug that was empty was the one he’d made for you earlier.

He noticed everything after that. Every morning before you left, there was always a mug semi-filled with coffee or tea resting on the counter that you’d made before going to class. Every evening when he made you a cup of tea before bed, you drank every drop.

Intrinsically, Anthony knew he didn’t make tea any better than the next person, but it never failed to brighten his mood every time he woke up and saw the empty tea mug from the night before sitting on the nightstand.

-

Anthony knew you had your doubts sometimes. Not about him. Never about him.

But he knew you had insecurities. About your relationship, about yourself and the need you had to compare yourself to other girls, about why Anthony was even with you to begin with.

None that you ever voiced them with him, but he could tell when you began to pull away and close yourself off from him. He never understood why or what caused it, but he could always read the signs leading up to it.

Anthony also knew how to snap you out of it. The first time it happened, he feared you were going to break up with him, but now he was practically a professional.

“What are your plans for the night? Are you still going out with the guys?”

You had been unusually quiet during dinner, and now you were hand washing the dishes instead of just putting them in the dishwasher; a telltale sign you were thinking too much and needed a mundane task to clear your head.

Approaching you from behind, Anthony wrapped his arms around your abdomen and nuzzled his face into your neck.

“Actually, I was thinking we should stay in for the night,” the words sounded muffled against your skin, and the vibrations tickled, which only caused Anthony to squeeze you tighter.

“Oh?” You questioned, unable to stop the smile tugging at your lips.

“Mhmm,” he hummed as he reached forward to turn off the sink, “I can’t neglect my girl right before leaving for a road trip.”

“You’re not leaving for another two days.”

“Then we’ve got less time than I thought,” Anthony said with fake realization, “Better get started now.”

You squealed in surprise as Anthony spun you around and hiked you up by your thighs. He had no care for the wet hands clutching onto his shoulders as you steadied yourself. Leaving the dirty dishes to be dealt with later, he carried you from the kitchen and into the bedroom where he spent all night showing you just how much he loved you.

-

“How’s Y/N doing?” Mat asked Anthony when they boarded the plane, “Tell her I say hi.”  He’d plopped down next to Anthony who was sending you one final text before take off, and Mat knew that love struck face anywhere. It was a face he only reserved for you, and Mat didn’t have to look at his phone to know Anthony was texting you.

“She’s doing well,” Anthony answered, firing off an ‘I love you’ before locking his phone.

“Yeah? You guys are still coming to the wedding next month, right?” Mat asked. One of their teammates was finally tying the knot, and Anthony knew Mat was only asking so he didn’t have to be the only single one there. He would still be the only single one, but Mat always inserted himself into yours and Anthony’s relationship whenever he had to third wheel.

“Yeah, we’ll be there,” Anthony replied with an eye roll as he checked his phone one last time to see you’d replied with an ‘I love you too’ before switching it to airplane mode.

“God, it’s just a matter of time before you two are getting hitched and I’m left all alone,” Mat sighed before pulling an eye mask over his head and putting in his headphones.

Mat made the comment in passing; he didn’t understand the weight of what he’d just said, and he was already brushing it off and leaving Anthony to sit and think about it.

Maybe Anthony should’ve felt panicked after the realization hit, but all he felt was that same sense of calm wash over him. He’d never given much thought to his future. He definitely didn’t plan on ending things with you and when he pictured himself in five years, you were always there beside him but he’d never made definitive plans.

Mat began dozing off as the plane took flight, but Anthony was wide awake. He knew he wanted to marry you, he was sure about that. There was no doubt in his mind that you were the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, but the feeling was all-consuming.

He was happy, yes. Calm in a way he’d never felt before but also nervous. It wasn’t something you two had ever talked about, and for the first time, Anthony was insecure. He imagined it’s what you felt like when you started pushing away, and he finally understood.

Would you even want to get married? Did you want a life with him? Kids? A picket fence? The whole nine-yards?

Anthony knew he would give you anything you wanted, but the question was: Did you want him to?

-

As you flitted around the party, Anthony watched you with intent eyes. The girls had stolen you away earlier in the evening demanding pictures and that you mingle with them instead of hanging onto Anthony the entire night, not that Anthony minded that. He very much preferred when you were near him, if only to stop the chirps he was receiving.

“God, you’re such a lost puppy without her,” Jordan commented, snapping Anthony from his stupor as his gaze flickered back to his friends. Anthony blushed, knowing the comment was directed at him, but he had no comeback.

“Ease off, he’s just imagining his own wedding now,” Matt teased with a knowing look. Nearly all the guys had been there before, and Anthony knew they meant it in good fun.

“Popping the question any time soon, Beau?” Scott asked as he took a swig of his beer. Being the most recent one to get married, he understood the feeling probably better than the other married guys.

“Not soon but thinking about it,” Anthony admitted sheepishly. He wasn’t one to talk about his feelings with the guys. Sure, he went to one of the older ones if he ever needed advice, but those times were few and far between. By the raised brows of everyone near him, he could tell they were shocked with his admission. Happy, nonetheless, but still surprised.

Anthony had started thinking about it during the road trip when Mat had unknowingly dropped that bomb on him. He thought about it constantly, but he still hadn’t brought it up to you yet.

“Really? Good for you, dude,” Jordan said, and suddenly Anthony felt shy.

He couldn’t help it, his eyes shifted back to find you in the middle of conversation with Sydney as you snapped some pictures for other girls. You were glowing. You always glowed to Anthony, and maybe it was the wedding atmosphere, but right now, it was like you had a halo surrounding you.

Your face lit up at something someone said, and even though you were across the room, he could hear your laughter in his head.

The other guys exchanged a few glances between themselves as Anthony’s attention was stolen again by you. They couldn’t really blame him, they’d all been in his shoes at some point.

As the night dragged on and the drinks flowed freely, Anthony absorbed all of it: the soft voice you used when talking to the young kids who begged you to play with them, the way you clutched onto his arm when you made your rounds and mingled with other guests, the atrocious line dancing you did with Mat since Anthony refused to cotton-eye joe.

“Come on,” you said out of breath as you extended your hand to Anthony. You were tired from the long dance and a slower one had come on right after, “Just one dance.”

With a heavy sigh, Anthony took your hand as you led him to the dance floor for a slow dance. Your face was warm for the exertion and alcohol, and even a little sweaty and smudged, Anthony thought you were gorgeous.

His hands fell to your waist as yours wrapped around his neck, and he pulled your body flushed with his. You swayed to the music and rested your head on his chest.

“I wish you could see yourself the way I see you,” Anthony mumbled against your hair. Although unprompted, it wasn’t unwelcome.

“Oh yeah? Why is that?” You asked, pulling back to look at your boyfriend. It wasn’t normally like Anthony to be this soft, especially in public, but the wedding had only enhanced his good mood.

“Because I can’t even begin to describe how beautiful you are and how much I’m in love with you.”

He said it so simply and casually, as if he were recounting his favorite part of dinner instead of baring his heart for you to see. Your teasing smile softened into one of appreciation.

“Who knew weddings could turn you into such a sap, Beauvis?” you joked lightly, though you pulled yourself closer to him. It was that same stupid nickname Mat had called him one time, and you frequently used it much to Anthony’s dismay.

He tightened his grip on you as he returned your warm smile, and he could see it all right then: his entire life laid out ahead of him with you in the center of it all. Truth be told, Anthony was a sap for you, had been for a long time and you knew it.

“I want a winter wedding, too,” you commented easily after a moment, and Anthony felt his heart rate speed up.

“And if I want a summer wedding?” He threw back, though the smile on his face indicated he was only teasing.

“Hmm…” you paused to ponder the thought, “I think we might have to compromise on a fall wedding then. Summer is too hot for me.”

“Fall sounds nice,” Anthony mused, “A little difficult with the season, but we can make it work if you want.”

“As long as you’re there, I don’t really care when it is,” you replied, and Anthony found himself thinking the same thing.

He didn’t respond after that, deciding to let the music engulf the two of you as you continued to sway. Another slow song followed right after, but Anthony made no motion to leave. He would’ve stayed there all night if you wanted if it weren’t for Mat disrupting your dance and asking to cut in.

Anthony let him take over without hesitation as he didn’t really care much for dancing anyway, but he walked back to your table feeling lighter than he had ever felt in his life.

Unable to stop himself, he pulled out his phone as he watched you and Mat laugh on the dance floor, the song changing to a more upbeat one. Mat spun you away in a dramatic twirl that almost sent you stumbling had it not been for Mat’s hold on your hand.

Anthony smiled to himself as he opened Google to search for engagement rings.

[not-krys]

WIP Wednesday: "Yes, I admit it, you were right." [Ikesen]

Another that was nestled in my notes for Fictober 2019, this one not seeing the light of day until now.

This was inspired by spite, quite honestly.

At the time think I was playing a Mitsuhide event (originally around the time his route first came out or real close to it) and...

I was not pleased at how the events turned.

So I decided to take out my frustration in writing.

So, usual warning, raw text, not edited. And it was written in spite, so might not be the best light for Mitsuhide.

-------

You weren't in the mood to see anyone after returning to Azuchi. Hideyoshi had been the most kind in explaining the plan to you, information that did little to reassure you, especially considering the facts were given to you after the entire fiasco was over and dealt with. 

The worst part was that the truth was delivered by Hideyoshi, and not Mitsuhide. The one you had to spend the day in the cell with. The one you thought had grown serious about but was proven terribly wrong thanks to that little adventure.

Were you just entertainment for him? You were scared out of your mind and all he could do was laugh at you? That you were just a toy he could occupy his time with? Not to mention he could have escaped at any time, so you were scared for so long for literally no reason?

It didn't matter how nice being held by him felt, knowing he was toying with you the entire time. You didn't want to say how much it hurt when you found that out, but… by that point, you were just so tired and hurt, all you could manage was giving him the silent treatment all the way back to Azuchi, not even having the strength to slap him. Though it was tempting to tell Hideyoshi how hurt you were by Mitsuhide's actions, as you were sure he wouldn't hesitate to punch that grin off his face, it just didn't seem worth it. Mitsuhide didn't care about your feelings, so what was the point?

You skipped dinner that evening, not having much of an appetite, and had planned on curling up in your futon and sleeping away your heartache, but someone else had different ideas.

Despite telling your maids that you wanted to be left alone for the night, Mitsuhide still managed to weasel his way into your room, finding you wrapped in your blanket cocoon up over your head.

"Still angry, I see." his teasing was toned down, but you were still in no mood to hear his voice.

"And I thought you would get the message that I wanted to be left alone. Go away, Mitsuhide."

Much to your dismay, he did the exact opposite and sat behind you, his knee brushing against your back.

"...That's not going away."

"I figured it'd be better to talk to you before you slept. You've had a difficult day today, and it looked like you needed reassurance." 

"I don't want to talk. End of conversation." You pulled your blankets closer. "Satisfied?"

"Hardly." He made an attempt to rub your arm, but you pulled it away from him. 

"Well, too bad. I'm not in the mood." You tried to make yourself as small as possible in the blankets. "So save us both the trouble and just leave. It's not like you cared in the first place, so why bother starting now?"

You could see his fingertips floating above you, but they stopped at your words, hanging frozen in midair. 

You didn't want to look, but you hoped that had struck at least something in his cold heart.

But, instead, all you heard was a soft chuckle, your heart struck another time this day.

"My top priority was your safety, first and foremost." he took in a breath, "but I wasn't lying when I said you were a distraction to me."

"That's not helping me feel any better, Mitsuhide."

"You were cold and scared. Why wouldn't I think of your needs first over mine?"

"You could have gotten us out sooner and saved me the heartache."

"I needed the time so that Hideyoshi could make his grand entrance."

"He said you were still late."

"I have never said that keeping time was a strong skill of mine. Not with you there, especially."

"And if we had been separated once we were found out? In a separate cell far from where you or Hideyoshi could find me? Or worse?" You shivered, not wanting to let the possibilities race through your mind, "would you have wasted your time then?"

"Of course not," his voice was softer, gentler this time.

"So why waste time, then? Was my being scared that amusing to you? Was keeping things from me such a riot to you?"

You bit your lip, already feeling your chin quivering with the tears that were pricking your eyes.

"Because it wasn't funny to me, Mitsuhide."

It was quiet for the moment, save for a few sniffles from you. Neither of you moved.

Finally, Mitsuhide tried to break the silence.

"...[Name]-" 

You cut him off.

"Whatever 'reward' you were hoping to give me, you might as well throw it out. If you want to give me anything, start by apologizing or, if all you see me as is just a toy for your amusement, then just leave."

The room was quiet again, the wind outside whispering through the trees being the only sound.

Finally, you heard shuffling of cloth and the metal clinking of his sword and gun at his side as he moved. He didn't move away, however, instead moving in front of you. Through your blurry vision, you see he moved to his knees, lowering himself down further and further. Once he was sure you were watching him, his forehead touched the floor, white hair and robes pooling around him. You sat up, watching him with careful eyes.

"Yes, I admit it," his tone was more serious and somber than you had ever heard it, "you are right. I should have escaped with you sooner, rather than letting my desire to tease you cloud my decisions."

He took in a small breath and continued.

"And I'll admit that I took too much enjoyment in having you in my arms, thus explaining the delay in our escape. And I didn't tell you about Hideyoshi in case there were any more listening ears around us. It would have made our escape more difficult than it was."

You took in a breath this time, ready to say something, but he pressed on.

"I kept you as uninformed as I felt necessary, to keep suspicions about us low. And, I'll admit, we were extremely lucky they were idiotic to lock us up together. However, it's very clear to me now how poorly the situation was handled on both ends, and you had suffered needlessly because of it."

He raised his head just enough to look at you again, his eyes reflecting his guilt.

"For that, I offer my deepest apologizes, for needlessly stressing you, and for giving the impression that I thoroughly enjoy seeing you distressed. Teasing you, yes, that I do thoroughly enjoy. When you stop enjoying it is when it stops being fun."

He sighed. 

"I'm sorry for not recognizing that line sooner. If it makes up for my transgressions today, I'm more than willing to be at your mercy until you can forgive me."

[tinylittlestella]

Okay so I’m just gonna post this now I guess. I was waiting until it was more “done” but???

Edit: omg I forgot to credit @yeenybeanies for inspiring me to just throw this idea out to the public instead of hoarding it and waiting for it to be perfect

I’ve been kicking around the idea of a Cinderella story where the prince doesn’t let her leave at midnight. They’ve hung out at a few balls because magic or whatever. Ella is her name, society is a mix of humans and elves. Elves are like maximum 20 inches tall, half elves take after their elf parents like 25% of the time. Bases covered? Cool.

Ella’s heart seized in her chest when she realized that the doors back into the ballroom were locked. She ran quickly for another pair, but they were locked, too. They were all locked. She was trapped out here on the balcony.

“No...” she murmured to herself, glancing back up at the clock tower in the courtyard. She only had a few minutes left until the spell broke; if she couldn’t get away she would be stranded at the palace. Her family would find out that she’d been sneaking away, and if she wasn’t killed for treason for using magic inside the palace surely her stepmother would do it herself, like she’d been threatening to do all Ella’s life. After all, it would be too easy...

“Something wrong, my lady?” came a voice across the cool garden air, and Ella spun around to see that the prince had joined her. How did he get out on the balcony? Had he come out before her?

“Y-yes,” she said, finally letting go of the door handle to turn towards him. “I’ve been out much later than I intended, and I need to go home. Can you open the door?”

For just a moment hope bloomed in her chest when he nodded, but the slow smile that stretched across his face made her heart sink. “I can, but I won’t. You’ve proven far too elusive, my lady. I can’t let you go when I’ve finally got you right where I want you.”

Any words she might’ve been able to muster caught in her throat as she realized his meaning—he’d done this deliberately. He’d trapped her out here to prevent her from running away. She had known that he was getting frustrated at her disappearing, but she never imagined he would take this much interest in her, a nobody who hadn’t even given him her name. She didn’t really think she deserved this much attention.

“I c-can’t stay, your highness, please,” she said, horrified when her voice started to break. But she couldn’t help it, she couldn’t hold in her fear. “There w-will be—t-terrible consequences if I don’t go—“

For a moment the prince seemed equipped to give her a snappy response, but then he looked down at her and he could see the genuine terror in her eyes and it seemed to strike something in him—the teasing disappeared from his face, replaced by concern. He reached out for her and steadied her shoulders.

“Easy, it’s alright,” he said, trying to go for a soothing tone, rubbing at her arms over the sleeves of her dress. “Nothing’s as bad as all that. I can protect you from anything that happens.”

“I d-don’t think you’ll w-want to for long...” she murmured, and he frowned. Her lip trembled and she let out a soft, pained little wail as the clock began to chime, lifting her hands to her mouth. It was over. It was all over.

The prince was still touching her shoulders when it started to happen, when her dress started to glow and magic started to swirl up in the air around her. He had to let her go as it whipped around her body and dissolved all the careful work that had been put into her appearance, taking away her fine hairstyle and makeup, taking away the fine fabric that made up her dress, taking away the human stature she had gained through her fairy godmother’s magic. When the magic was gone and the light had faded, all that was left was Ella, in her true form.

She wrapped her arms around herself, as though that would cover the ragged scrap of a dress her family had given her for daily wear, or the stained apron tied around her waist, or the fact that she wasn’t wearing any shoes. Her ears were just slightly pointed, the freckles on her cheeks caught the light like glitter, and if she stood up straight she would be no more than sixteen inches tall. She was part elf, like her mother had been.

She could only dare to glance up at his face once and immediately regretted it. Those eyes which had once been able to light her on fire from the inside out were now horrified as he looked down at her and she clenched her eyes shut, holding her hand over her mouth as she tried to restrain a sob.

“I’m s-so sorry, your h-highness,” she managed to choke out on a ragged breath. Her chest hitched and she had to pause to catch her breath again. “I n-never wanted you to s-see me l-like this—“

She was covered in a thin layer of soot and grime from the backbreaking work she did to keep her stepmother’s household running and her hair was a mess gathered at the back of her head. She knew how absolutely wretched she looked—a creature like her would never be allowed in the palace like this. Shame burned deep in her gut and she finally just collapsed on herself, falling into a crouch as she tried to make herself as small as possible—as if she weren’t small enough already.

For a long moment there was silence, and then she couldn’t help flinching as she heard him getting closer. He paused when she did, but when she didn’t actually try to run, he started again. He put a hand on her back and it covered her from her shoulders almost down to her hips. His fingers were so warm and she was so damn touch starved that she let out an entirely involuntary noise at the contact—a soft, aching sound from the back of her throat that apparently stirred him into action once more and he moved so quickly she didn’t have any chance to stop him. He scooped her up in his arms, tucking her securely against his chest, and started walking.

Ella didn’t have the courage to ask him where he was taking her, and even if she did she was so stunned by how quickly and securely he had picked her up and held her that she might not have been able to form questions anyways. Mostly her mind was whirring and trying to think of any way she could get out of this situation with her life. She wasn’t coming up with much.

It didn’t help that she was pressed right up against his chest and could hear his heartbeat thrumming through his body, which could have soothed her off to sleep if she weren’t so goddamn frightened. Instead it just clouded her head, made her lose her train of thought, and made her feel like she was about to doze off.

Finally he came to a stop and she realized that he had taken her some hidden way back into the castle. She had never been in this room before, but a quick glance around said that it was...it was most likely his bedroom. Oh, god, what had she gotten herself into?

He walked over to his giant four poster bed and, much more gently than she expected, set her down in the middle. He gave her a look as he took his hands away, trying to communicate without words to ask her not to run when he let her go. She nodded, and he gave her a brief smile that looked exactly like they used to before he walked off to a closet and started pulling out clothing. She watched him warily as she wrapped her arms around her knees where she was sat in the middle of the bed. He still hadn’t said a word about her true form since the spell had broken.

He came back without his jacket or his waistcoat, bootless, and holding a tiny bundle of fabric in his hands. He offered it to her with an unreadable look in his eyes. “Do you want to change into this?” He kept his voice soft and low for her and her breath caught when she realized what he was offering her.

A traditional elvish robe. She hadn’t seen one since she’d had to sell all of her mother’s to help with costs at the manor. It was simple, but clean, and she reached out a trembling hand for it. He allowed her to take it from his fingers and turned around.

“Tell me when you’re done,” he said, and Ella’s eyes widened. Change here? In front of him?

But she didn’t have much choice, did she? She took a deep breath and quickly whipped off the ragged dress and apron to put the robe on over her undergarments. Despite remembering how to tie the waist tape behind her back, it was made difficult by her trembling hands. She finally dared to look him in the face again when she was finished. Only—he was still turned around. She struggled for a moment for what to say before she finally settled on, “I’m done.”

For a moment she thought she said it too quietly for him to hear her, but then he turned around and tossed her old clothes aside and her breath caught once again. It hadn’t truly, fully struck her how much bigger he was than her now, but with him further away so that she could see more of him, the difference was stark. And it wasn’t the prince who had changed. It was just her. She found herself again struggling against tears and ducked her head, unable to meet his eyes. She didn’t know how he could stand to look at her after she lied to him. She didn’t know how he didn’t hate her. Maybe he did. Maybe he was just that kind that even though he couldn’t stand the sight of her he still wanted to make sure she survived the night.

One long, massive digit hooked under her chin and tilted her face back up to meet the princes gaze. His skin was warm and she could feel the strength in his hand just from this one small touch, something that he could barely feel. He leaned down to see her better, making himself look even bigger, and she trembled as his eyes bored into hers, questioning and curious.

“What’s your name?” he asked softly, and she knew that she could no longer evade him.

She took a deep breath and swallowed. “Ella. M-my name is Ella.”

“Ella...” He repeated it softly and she closed her eyes for a moment, pulling back from his hand. The way he said it sounded far too intimate, far too much like something she had desperately been wanting to hear, and it hurt her heart like a stab to the chest. A lump had formed in her throat and it was getting more and more difficult to swallow down. “Where are you from, Ella?”

She flinched as he sat in the bed beside her, but he took extra care not to jostle her, holding a hand out by her side in case she fell from his movements. The level of care was startling and Ella didn’t know how to take it.

“I’m f-from the T-Tremaine estate, y-your highness...” she said, though her voice was strained. She watched warily as he lifted his hand, but he just brushed his fingertip against her cheek. It was so gentle and tender and for a moment—for a moment she thought—maybe, maybe she had been granted the greatest gift she could ever ask for. Perhaps, there was a chance, if he could spare any affection, she would take even the barest scraps he could offer, she didn’t care as long as she could stay by his side and get out of that horrible house—

But then that moment shattered. She realized when his finger came away that he had been brushing away a smudge of soot on her cheek, and that was when she finally broke. Her face crumpled and the sob that had been building in her chest finally released. She lifted her hands to her face with her last shred of dignity, to at least try to muffle herself, but it turned out to not be necessary. Her body was just too small for her humiliation—she couldn’t physically sob as hard as she needed to, so she couldn’t even make a sound. She staggered as she gasped for air and that was when the prince finally decided to intervene.

Enormous hands seemed to appear out of nowhere and curl around Ella’s form. She let out a startled little yelp at the suddenness of it, and the sensation of being lifted off her feet, but it was short lived as in the next moment her head was nestled in the crook of the prince’s neck and he was stroking her back with his fingers while he held her securely in place with his other hand.

“I’ve got you,” he said, and his voice was deep and bassy and inside and outside, filling her head and the air around her. “You’re okay, it’s going to be okay. I’ve got you.”

She was too overwrought to question it anymore, so she just let herself be swept away, burying her face against his neck and crying every tear she had never let herself shed. She clung to his neck with one hand and reached under his collar with the other, almost as though she was trying to work her way under his shirt. He didn’t seem to care, as he hadn’t stopped trying to soothe her.

“Please don’t be frightened of me, darling. I would never hurt you,” he murmured down to her, as he stroked the shape of one of her legs through her robe with his thumb. “You’re okay. I’ll protect you from anyone who tries to harm you. You’re safe with me.”

And she felt like it. Pressed against his neck and chest, with his hands on her back and her legs, she felt so safe. He was so gentle with her that she couldn’t help trusting him, and she was warm and surrounded by his skin and the beat of his heart and his breathing and his scent. He was heady and spicy, with a sweet undercurrent of vanilla. She closed her eyes and turned to nose at his neck, looking for more of that scent. She thought the gesture small enough that he wouldn’t notice but he did stiffen just slightly, and she drew back immediately with a murmured apology.

“No, darling, stop,” he said, and he stroked her hair with one finger to encourage her to lay her head back down. “It’s okay. I just wasn’t expecting you to...trust so quickly. But I’m glad.” He stroked her hair again and she couldn’t help melting under the soft touch. “Ella, what...what happened out on the balcony? You changed.”

Immediately any relaxed feelings disappeared and she stiffened in his hold. She looked up at him, leaning back to see his face, and she could see the curiosity burning in his eyes. After a long moment she quietly began to tell her story.

“It‘s... a long story. It started when I was younger...” She hated how small her voice sounded, but she carried on and told the whole thing. Her mother’s death as a child, the arrival of her stepfamily, her father’s death and her subsequent misery. How the balls and meeting him had been a lovely escape, and she’d never intended to lead him on. She had grown to know and love him, but knew he could never be with someone like her.

The entire time she spoke he kept a hand at her back, supporting her silently through it all, and every now and then he reached up with a finger to brush away a tear or two or to find her tiny little hand. When she got to the end of the story he brushed hair behind her ear with one finger and gave her the softest look.

“I never could have imagined you were going through so much,” he said quietly, and she blinked. That was far from what she’d expected him to say. “You always seemed so—happy. I thought there might be something more, something underneath you didn’t want me to see, but I never...I never thought it was this.”

“I didn’t want to—to hide, or to lie, but I never would have been allowed into the palace otherwise,” she said. “My stepmother would have recognized me instantly, and then I never...” She paused, and her cheeks heated until she was sure he could feel it under his finger. “I never would’ve gotten to meet you.”

[dejunectar]

everything i wanted | Jaehyun

«« genre »» hurt/comfort, angst, fluff

«« pairings »» jaehyun x reader

«« warnings »» major character death, mentions of self-harm, suicidal ideations, alcohol abuse

«« summary »» 5 months after the death of your best friend, ((jungwoo {this ties into THIS jungwoo fic})) your boyfriend comes to visit you for the first time in awhile, worried and finds you in shambles & worse than he thought

«« song/inspiration »» everything i wanted by billie eilish & the anon who came up with this absolutely lovely idea <33

————————————————————

5 months. 3 weeks. 5 days. 19 hours. 43 minutes.

All the time that had passed since your best friend, your go-to, your number one person in the whole world, had decided to leave this life. The decision to leave his life. The decision to leave your life.

From the moment you got the phone call from Doyoung, who was short of breath and barely able to make a sentence, you knew your world was crumbling around you.

You’d never driven so fast in your life, but no matter how quickly you made it to the hospital, it would never make a difference. There was nothing you could do. There was nothing the boys could do. There was nothing the doctors could do.

You held onto your boyfriend, Jaehyun, for dear life as you watched the doctor walk towards your group with a grim frown. You listened in horror as he told you that there was no way to save him. They tried their best but it was too late. Jaehyun had to hold you up as your knees gave out on you, but even he barely had strength for himself.

You didn’t sleep that night. You didn’t sleep the next two weeks as a matter of fact. The only way you could get yourself to sleep was a Tylenol and a bottle of beer.

You spiraled. You were quickly losing touch with reality, waking up each day and forgetting that you couldn’t go to call Jungwoo to hang out. Each time the voicemail came up and you heard his voice it only shattered you more. You were turning into dust.

After a month, you moved out of your old apartment and left to a cabin in the woods that your parents used to own. They’d left it for you but you never visited until then. You thought moving out into the woods would help you clear your head.

Instead, you couldn’t escape it.

You were trapped in your own thoughts.

Each night only got progressively worse and worse.

Jaehyun made it a plan to drive up and visit you twice a week to make sure you were okay. Although things had gone tense between you two, neither of you wanted to break up. It was the last thing either of you needed. When he stayed with you in the cabin, you spent hours wrapped in each other’s arms.

One of you crying, the other consoling. Sometimes you both cried. Sometimes neither of you cried. Regardless, you spent the time wrapped up in each other, clinging as if the other were close to slipping away.

Unfortunately, Jaehyun hadn’t been up to the cabin to see you in just over a month. Your brain blamed you and your depression only made it worse. You began drinking again, but this time it was much heavier and much more often.

After you went through your beer supply, you slowly started going through the wine supply that your parents had kept away for celebrations.

One night, you couldn’t contain your thoughts and it all got too loud to handle. Crying led to yelling. Yelling led to throwing things. Throwing things led to glass being shattered around the entire place. The thoughts kept taking over. No matter how hard you tried to block them out, they refused to leave.

At last, you lifted a glass shard from the wooden floor and brought it to your skin.

Jaehyun finally made it up to your cabin. It was supposed to rain that night, and he was worried about you since you hadn’t returned his calls for a week. He blamed it on your poor service but made the trip up anyway.

He already had a key, so he let himself in, carrying groceries with him. As he made it into the door, his eyes scanned across the cabin.

Books were scattered, vases had been broken, glass covered a majority of the floor, and the furniture had dark and light stains all over it. He carefully set the groceries on the floor and hung his key beside the door before stepping into the place.

“Y/N? Y/N, I’m here!” he called out, walking in further. The farther he walked in, the more mess he saw. A deep sigh left his lips.

A loud thumping noise sounded from upstairs, causing him to look around once more before making his way up the stairs. When he entered the hallway, he noticed all of the pictures that once littered the walls were now taken down, leaving a lighter shade than the rest of the walls.

“Babe?” he called out once more, walking down to your room and swinging the door open. His eyes scanned the room for any sight of you. He didn’t see you anywhere but he heard a soft crying sound coming from your closet.

He breathed heavily before slowly moving towards the sound. When he finally approached the closet, his eyes fell to see you slumped to the ground with red everywhere. Your arms. Your thighs. The bottom of your feet.

“Oh God, Y/N—” he cursed under his breath and quickly pulled you up into him. Your blood painted his white shirt and jeans but he didn’t care. You continued crying, beginning to grow louder. “Why, why, why?” he hissed as he carried you to the bathroom.

You left your eyes on the ground, afraid to look him in the eye. Once in the bathroom, he sat you on the counter and began running bathwater. As he began to undress you, you shook your head and cried harder, leaning against his shoulder, “I can’t— I’m s— I’m so sorry, Jaehyun!”

He shushed your cries and ran a thumb across your cheek. “It’s okay, I’m here now, yeah? Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Once you were naked, he carefully led you into the bathtub and stopped the water. You didn’t hiss or flinch at the burning sensation the warm water caused towards your open cuts. You sat there, weakly leaning against the bathroom wall as Jaehyun searched for soap and a rag to clean you.

When he finished bathing you, he wrapped bandages around your arms, thighs, and feet. The cuts on your feet had come from the glass, and for this reason, he made sure to clean that up as well. Whilst you got dressed, he ordered pizza for both of you and began cleaning up the empty bottles that were scattered around the house.

It hurt to walk, so he demanded you stay sitting on the couch while cleaning up. Even though you offered to help countless times, he rejected the idea and reassured you that he wasn’t upset with you and wanted you to rest.

Sure enough, you dozed off for the first time in weeks, without the help of medicine or alcohol.

When you awoke, Jaehyun was beside you, watching a program on the TV. You didn’t speak up until he noticed you were awake and pressed a kiss to your temple.

“I’m sorry I’m putting you through this, I know you didn’t sign up for any of—”

He turned off the TV and hushed you. “Y/N, I love you. I know you’re not okay right now, and that’s okay. I’m not okay either. We lost someone we loved and we’re grieving. I’m not saying that I’m okay with you excessively drinking or hurting yourself, but I’m telling you that you don’t have to apologize to me for anything. If anything I should apologize to you for not coming up here sooner, okay?”

Tears welled up in your eyes and your lip trembled. You refused to look into his eyes, not feeling worthy enough. Jaehyun only sighed and pulled you in closer to him, pressing several kisses to your head and humming.

“I love you. Everything will be okay. It might not be okay right now, but it will be. I promise,” he mumbled and wrapped both arms around you. You took comfort in his arms and carefully crawled into his lap, wrapped your own arms around him.

For the remainder of the night, things were as they usually were. You both spent the time together in each other’s arms or just in each other’s presence. You were still shattered, but Jaehyun being there was enough to begin finding the pieces and gluing them back together.

It stormed heavily. Rain hit the windows and roof and lightning struck around the night sky, making claps of thunder rumble the world around you.

With the darkness surrounding you, your heart thudded against your chest with fear. Jaehyun felt you tense up in his arms as you laid in bed and automatically began humming softly to lull you to sleep. Within mere minutes, you were surely drifting back off into slumber.

———————————————————

[evolutionsvoid]

Before I had even started this trip, I already had the worry of getting lost. Driving for hours on end through places I had never even heard of, it seemed inevitable. Despite that, I had no other choice but to go. What life I had here was gone, and staying would only have me stewing in the rotten memories and people that plagued me. Though this opportunity was a weak one, it was my only shot out of here. So I packed up my meager things and drove off into the unknown. Best to take my chances out there, then remain in this prison a minute longer. My anxiety born from this journey drove me to prepare for every possible scenario. The biggest worry was getting lost on the way there, but with a mountain of maps, a GPS and a folder of addresses, numbers and contacts, I figured I would be safe. After all, once you get into the barren countryside of flat fields and endless dirt, all you had to do was pick a road in the right direction and drive. I needed to go west, so that was what I did. I drove on for hours, but it felt like I had hardly moved. What a strange feeling it was, to travel hundreds of miles and see absolutely nothing. This trip was supposed to be a transformation, a needed change for me to finally regain control of my life. Yet, I felt no joy or wonder. I guess I was expecting to encounter breathtaking landmarks and travel through strange new places, evidence that the world was bigger than my ignorant little hometown. Instead, I drove through a flattened world of grass, corn, dirt and the occasional pathetic tree. Not exactly the scenery that inspires awe. This repetitive land was probably the reason why things turned out this way, as it was impossible to get a bearing when everything looked the same. Hours had passed since I turned onto that empty road, and yet I failed to notice that things were not right. I ignored the fact that I hadn't seen a single street sign the entire time, or that there were no forks or splits to be found. To be fair, it was long into the night, so most of the blank landscape was smothered by the darkness. I just held onto the idea that I was almost to the next town, if you could all any of these places that. What little civilization I had seen was a sad collection of wore down store fronts, crumbling bars and ancient gas stations. They sat in clumps along these forgotten roads, sharing much with the greasy roadkill that was spattered on the asphalt. Pathetic as these places were, I still yearned for them as I drove down that endless road. Surely one had to be nearby, I just needed to go a few more miles. I followed this delusion for quite some time, pretending that the lack of signs or markers wasn't something to be concerned about. Eventually, I just had to give up. With the clock on my dash showing some obscenely late time, I knew I needed to pull over to collect my thoughts. Looking over my supplies, I found my GPS worthless and the maps just as useless. With no service or any indicators that could help me pinpoint my position, these intricate foldouts might has well have been blank. It was then that I realized that I wasn't lost, as it felt like it was something far worse. When one is stranded in a place they don't know, one of the biggest issues is the overwhelming amount of options. Be it the woods or some unknown city, you are faced with many directions and choices, but you have no clue where any of them lead. Do I go north or south? Do I take the parkway or the back roads? Which exit on the roundabout gets me going the right way? With all this, it is obvious why clueless people wind up going in circles. That was what I considered being "lost" was. This, was something quite different. I didn't have a ludicrous amount of options, rather, I only had two. Go forward or back. The problem was that both choices felt wrong. The path forward had no hope or potential, no signs that suggested anything was to be found up ahead. That choice led to an unknown future, but it seemed more enticing than turning back. Though I didn't know what lay ahead, I did know what was behind me: absolutely nothing. Turning around would mean driving a countless amount of hours until found out where civilization had stopped, but I had no clue where or when that was. I would just be retracing my steps through a known wasteland, losing both time and gas. In the end, the unknown path ahead seemed more comforting. Surely I was bound to run into something eventually, even if it was a rusty road sign or some hermit's shack. Though my mind was made up, I chose not to continue just yet. I was drained of all energy, and I knew it was a poor choice to drive in such condition. It was the middle of the night in the middle of nowhere, so what harm was there to grabbing a quick nap? Perhaps sleeping until the sun returned was a good choice. Daylight could reveal clues about my whereabouts, ones that were currently blotted out by the dark. A rested mind would also work way better, and it would probably solve this problem in a second. So I made sure my car was properly off the road before I turned it off. I locked the doors and leaned my seat back as far as I could. It wasn't long after I closed my eyes that my exhausted body finally received some reprieve.   I awoke awkwardly, as if some unremembered dream or nightmare had snapped me from my slumber. It was still night, though I didn't know how much time had passed. I looked at my phone, but my groggy mind couldn't interpret the numbers it showed. I tried to stretch my limbs in the cramped space, but it gave very little relief. My drowsy state made me think that I had only dozed off for a few minutes, as I sure didn't feel any better. Perhaps this cluttered, stuffy car wasn't the best place to get some beauty rest. I figured I would try to go back to sleep, as my options at the moment seemed just as bad as before. As I wriggled around in an attempt to get comfortable, my eyes looked out into the night and saw it. It was funny how strange it seemed at that moment, though I knew fully well what it was. The slow flash of a yellow light, a sight I was quite familiar with, but my tired brain struggled to understand it. I leaned forward for a better look, but it didn't help in the slightest. With my car turned off, the world was pitch black, save for the errant star and that pulsing light. It sat way off in the distance, but there was no mistaking what it was. It took me a second to understand that this was a good sign. A human construct like this suggested civilization, and also a cross road. Perhaps up ahead was where I could find some identifying signs or directions to a nearby town. With sluggish joy, I went to turn on my car and pursue this miracle, but then the thought struck me from out of the blue. How come I didn't see this before? Sure, I was tired and disoriented at the time, but a bright yellow light blinking in a dark void seemed impossible to ignore. I had sat in this spot for a good while before I had decided to get some rest, so how come I didn't see it then? As I struggled to properly answer this question, I looked to the light and noticed something odd. Looking at it now, after a few minutes of gathering myself, it seemed to be bigger. It flashed brighter and larger than before, but perhaps it was just my imagination. I sat there for a moment and soon confirmed that this was no illusion. The light seemed to be getting closer to me. I looked to my dashboard, thinking I had accidentally put the car in neutral and I was slowly rolling forward. The little arrow pointed firmly on the P, so that couldn't be the answer. When I looked back up, the light was nearly blinding. It also seemed to bob and sway about, as if blown about by a weak breeze. The realization that it was the one moving froze me in my seat. I had no clue what it was or what was happening, so panic took over and short-circuited my body. A turned into a statue in the front seat and only stared with wide, terrified eyes. I did nothing but watch as the light bobbed closer, until it was at last upon me. At first I believed it to be heading right towards me, but in those few horrified moments, I saw it walking upon the very road I had traveled. It strolled down the middle, treading upon the cracked asphalt and faded lines. When the light came perpendicular to the front of me car, I at last could see what it was. I recognized the three colored traffic light that hung over every nearly every road, but the rest of it refused to be understood. I saw a metallic skeleton, built of rebar and steel. It bent and twisted into a bizarre lattice, creating limbs and body from an iron spider's web.  It walked upon four legs, and the blinding light hung from a long, arching neck. Something black and wet hung in clumps from its body, creating a sticky cloak over its wiry bones. As I sat frozen in terror, the metallic beast strolled down the road. It walked with slow tired steps, its blinking head hung low. Though it was clearly no creature of flesh, it made me thinking of an exhausted horse, weary from a long day's work. It didn't approach my car, it just kept walking by. It was only when it was passing my driver window that it paused. It stopped in its march and slowly turned its pulsing head towards my vehicle. I could not tell if it was looking at the car or me, but I clearly caught its attention. It gazed at me with a single yellow eye. Above and below sat the green and red, but they remained dark and cracked, like eyes that had long gone blind. It made no move, it just sat there for a moment to watch. After a few seconds, it sadly lifted its legs and continued on its march. The bobbing light continued down that endless road, the blinking growing weaker as it went deeper into the night. I sat there until that yellow light grew small in my mirror, becoming just another star in the darkened sky. I didn't know what to do, or even think about it. Though it showed no aggression, I dared not turn around and pursue it. Instead, I simply turned the car on and pulled back onto the road. I gave up on any thought or reasoning, my mind refused to accept what I had seen. I just got into that dusty old lane and began to drive onwards... -------------------------------------------- “Caution” A design I came up with a way back, which fittingly enough was around the time I went on my roadtrip. I think it came to be through a mashup of traffic signs and weird art sculptures.