#oh writing tag.. you've been so neglected for so long.

[artists-ally]

Hello sweetheart 😘 I really really adore your writing so much ! So, I dare to send in an idea as well 🥰 maybe you're dating Harvey but he barely had time for you lately, so one time he wants to surprise you with dinner at his apartment and you enjoy your time together. Then you both end your evening with lovely passionate smut and lots of cuddles afterwards. In the morning he wakes up before you and takes time in admiring you, realizing how happy he is to have you ? Hope that's not too cheesy ❤️ thank you so much in advance!

{Warm} Reader x Harvey Specter

This has been sitting in my inbox for god knows how long. I thank you for your patience my dear. I love this idea so much, and this song Warm by SG Lewis is just perfect. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it. P.S. nothing is EVER too cheesy for me to write <3

Word Count: 3,998

Warnings: Just some good ole fluff and smut, some very soft dom!Harvey.

Tagging: @rosedpetal @blacktreacle22

Summary: After a particularly brutal month in the office, you've noticed some changes. Harvey is just... not present. Rather than demanding his attention, you just simply float by, knowing eventually he'll return his negligence. And boy does he ever.

~~~~~

“Yn, you really just need to grow a set and tell Harvey he’s being a jackass,” Donna scolds through the phone.

I roll my eyes, “Donna, I told you before. I don’t mind. He’s focused on winning this case, and it quite literally is the life and death of this firm. So, while I appreciate your ‘words of affirmation’, I didn’t ask for them.”

“I know, I just hate to see you so neglected.”

“Oh please,” I pff, flipping my head to move a chunk of hair out of my eye. “Neglected is probably the last thing I am. I can entertain myself. I actually haven’t minded the space. Every once and a while it’s good to go back to the basics. I’ve finally learned how to take care of the plants, I can make a mean lasagna too. I’ve even gotten back into reading. For fun.”

“Sheesh, clearly something is wrong if you’ve been reading voluntarily.”

I snickered. “I don’t know, I saw a book recommendation on instagram and fell in love. Childhood penpals turned strangers, turned back to penpals and she found out he’s the world's biggest rock star and he’s been writing songs about her the entire time.”

“Sounds exactly like the fairytale mushy-gushy shit you love. How you found Harvey to fill those shoes I’ll never understand.”

“He’s just… I don’t know, exactly what I need? My life is perpetually disorganized and he’s too organized. We balance each other out. It just works, and I love our life. I love our dynamic, and I love him. Since he’s so busy, and I have the energy and mental space to, I don’t mind picking up the slack. Again, things will balance themselves back.”

Donna sighed, and I knew that flat line was on her lips. “I know, you’re always so insightful. Optimistic bitch.” I cackled a laugh. “But in all seriousness, Harvey needs you. You’re right, he is too organized. He needs you to unwind him. I know how he is, and he needs a kick in the ass every once in a while. So, if by the end of the week, he doesn’t come around a little, just push him. He’ll fold. Especially for you, and that ass of yours.”

A smile bloomed onto my face, the door of our apartment building coming into view. “Thanks Donna, I’ll let you know how tonight goes. Maybe I’ll stop by the office in the morning and bring the crew some coffee, a few bagels as well.”

“This is why you will always remain my favorite. Now go eat that Chinese food, you sexy son of a bitch.”

“How did you know I had Chinese food?” 

“Because I’m Donna.” Then the line went dead.

Psycho. My psycho, but still a psycho. 

I did indeed have a takeout bag hooked in my elbow filled with Chinese food. Sesame chicken and wonton soup for me, beef and broccoli with pork lo-mein for Harvey. I got a small order of pork fried rice and some scallion pancakes to share. I was about ten seconds away from crouching in an alley and eating myself into a coma. 

The city streets were just beginning to fill up with Friday night festivities. Those heading to lavish dinners or exotic clubs, dressed to the nines with pristine hair and outfits. I looked down at my beat up orthopedic sneakers that kept the never ending foot pain of being a museum tour guide at bay. Here I was, surrounded by the most eccentric and busy place on earth, with absolutely nothing to do.

And that felt amazing. 

I scurried up the steps to the apartment building, greeting our doorsman with a smile and a wave. He gave me one back, pulling open the big glass doors. The mild April chill vanished and the comfortable, still air caressed my cheeks. The elevator door chimed open, chimed closed, and ascended to the top. 

21… 22… 23… the floors climbed and climbed. What was I going to watch? The new season of Bridgerton was out, I could watch that. No, the next season can’t possibly be as good as Charlottes. Maybe a movie? Didn’t that second Dunne one come out? I’m not sure I understand the first one enough to comprehend the second. 

The ding sounds, and I step off, juggling my keys as I rattle off more ideas in my head. 

There's always The Big Bang Theory, maybe Two Broke Girls? Nah, I’ve seen those a thousand times. Maybe I should watch something new. No, nothing sounds interesting. I could try to read, but I don’t wanna risk spilling anything on my book. Once in third grade, I was eating a bowl of cereal in the morning, and I spilled the entire thing on my book. If You Give A Mouse A Cookie was never the same again. 

When the door opened, I toed off my sneakers, kicking them in the corner. I threw the keys in the bowl and hummed a song aimlessly. In the kitchen, I pried a plate out of the cabinet and began to spoon food onto my plate. I won’t tell Harvey, but I stole some of his lo-mein. 

“Yn,” a voice spoke. 

I spun so hard I knocked my hip into the kitchen island corner, a scream bubbling out. “Jesus fucking christ Harvey! You could warn me next time, fucking hell.” 

My heart thrashed in my chest, my eyes going a little wonky from adrenaline. I swallowed, bending at the waist to catch my breath.

“Sorry, my love,” he smiled, coming to raise me from my hunched over position. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“A simple text would’ve been lovely,” I sighed, rising to my full height. “What the hell are you doing…”

All words died on my tongue as I looked around. The table was decorated with a white cloth, candles skewed about. There were flowers in a vase on the counter, beside it a card with two small boxes. There was champagne chilling in a metal bucket of ice, a box of chocolate covered strawberries and cherries next to it. 

“Harvey, what’s all this for? Our anniversary isn’t for two months.”

He grinned, that smirk going right to my chest. “No, it’s not.”

“Then what's all… this?” I waved my hand around, noticing a few balloons blown up and taped to the archway. I somehow completely missed the rose petals lining the floor. 

“It’s because I love you,” Harvey grabbed my hips, pressing our fronts together. “You’ve been… dealing with me for weeks now. My absence, my constant mood swings and lashing out. And I know what you’re gonna say-”

“That I know you’ve been stressed and need some time to focus on the case?”

Harvey tilted his head, a flat expression on his lips. “Yes. That.” 

“It’s not a big deal, Harvey. I know how important work is to you, and I know that you’ve really needed to focus so the firm doesn’t crumble and-”

“But I need you to know that you are a thousand times more important than work,” he says, placing his palms on my cheeks. He kisses me softly, stealing the air from my lungs. “Then the firm,” another kiss.  “And anything that has to do with that hellscape. I love you, Yn. And I don’t know what I would do without your constant flexibility with my chaotic life. So this is a very small token of my appreciation. The first part, at least.”

I hummed against his lips, letting my arms lay across his shoulders. I kiss him deeply. “The first part?”

“Mhmm,” he nodded, hands falling down my back, a less than PG-13 flex of his hands on my ass. “First, I want you to open those little boxes. Then, we’re gonna eat and have some dessert.”

“I feel like there's more to this list,” I smile, making my way back to the counter to get our food. One second to the next, Harvey gripped my arm and pulled me back into his chest. I could feel his desire pressing into me. “Looks like I’m right.”

“You’re always right,” he whispered, breath tickling my ear. He kissed the side of my neck, leaving a little bite below my ear. “Go sit, I’ll get the food.”

A new thrill fueled my body, propelling my steps to the dining room. I sat, playing with the end of the table cloth as Harvey brough everything over. The champagne, the card, the boxes and the food. Before he made his way to his seat, his palm cupped my neck and he tilted my head back. His deep, lust filled eyes locked with mine before he kissed me again. 

“Open whichever you’d like, darling,” he sat opposite me, tucking the napkin across his lap. 

“Just because I did what anyone would for their love doesn’t mean you need to shower me with gifts, Harvey,” I said, giving him a pointed look. 

“And if I bought them just because I wanted to?” 

Point taken. I read the card, a picture of a polar bear wearing sunglasses on a beach with a coconut in its hand plastered on the front. 

Classy. It made me giggle nonetheless.

To my Yn,

Thank you. I’m sorry. I love you. Thank you for being here, even when I wasn’t. I’m sorry for my absence, I promise I’ll be more conscious of my time spent at the office. I love you, more than I ever thought I’d ever be able to love anything. You are everything I’ve always wanted, and everything I never knew I’d need. After this last month, I didn’t understand just how badly I craved you. Your smile, your laugh, your warmth. The taste of you in the morning, and those adorable snores at night. No matter how many times I do it, I’ll never get tired of kissing you. Never tire of taking your breath away. I’ll never get sick of you being the first thing I see when I wake up, and the last thing before I sleep. 

You are forever entwined in my soul, Yn. And I wouldn’t dare to imagine it otherwise. 

I love you. <3 Harvey

I looked up at him, tears lining my eyes. He just winked at me, fork scraping his plate as he shoved a mouthful in. 

“Fuck you for that,” I sniffled, brushing away the tears as I blinked. “That was so uncalled for, you didn’t need to do that to me. That’s so unfair.”

He smiled, “I know you love that shit. And before you ask, Donna didn’t come near me when I was writing that. It all came from up here.”

I laughed as he touched the side of his head. “Good to know all those years at Harvard Law taught you something other than corporate jargon.”

“Open the boxes, little devil,” he sipped his champagne, nudging the boxes towards me. 

Both were a dark blue velvet, unlabeled. They were closed with a silver ribbon. The first one I grabbed was about the size of a book, and something rattled inside. I undid the bow, lifting the lid. Inside was a Kindle. I gasped, pulling it out and looking it over. 

“Harvey,” I grinned, mouth falling open. “You did not.”

“But I did,” he smiled brightly. “Unlimited.”

I could jump his bones from across the table. “Have I ever told you how much I love you?”

“Well, after you find out I got you a case, a Pop Socket, and one of those stands with the remote clicker so you don’t even have to hold it, you might love me a little more.” I squealed, pushing out of my chair as I crashed into him. We nearly tipped backwards. Harvey laughed, rubbing my sides as I latched onto him. “I knew you’d appreciate this. I know we haven’t been together much, but I remembered you showed me a video of some girl who had one.” “You remembered that?” A new set of tears choked my voice. 

“Of course I did. And I also remember you telling me that if I bought you another set of earrings you’d use them to pierce my ears, so that option went out the window.”

I swatted his chest, Harvey’s smile easy as he eased me off of him. “This is perfect, thank you so much.”

“Of course, my dear. Now open the next one.”

What could be better than a Kindle Unlimited? With a stand AND a remote to turn the pages for me. Harvey has no idea what he’s done, I’ll literally never get out of bed again. 

Practically ripping the box in half, I take off the lid and peer inside. 

I blink a few times, looking from him to the box. “My passport?”

“Yup.”

“I feel like there is something I’m not getting here.”

“There is.”

“Are you gonna tell me or make me guess?”

“I’m not that mean,” he rolled his eyes. 

“I mean you have been ignoring me for the past month,” I feigned being upset, letting out a little yelp when he threw a piece of broccoli at me. “You're literally four years old.”

“We’re going to China.”

Everything stopped moving. I dropped the box, my small, navy blue passport skittering across the floor. My ears buzzed, my fingers buzzed. “I- What?”

Harvey grinned. Fuck, I missed that grin. “We’re going to China. We won the case last night, and I am desperate for some time with you. You’ve always wanted to go, so why not now? I have everything set up. We’re gonna stay in the mountains, we’re gonna go hiking and see some shows. I also know you’ve wanted to-”

“We’re going to China?” I had to make sure I heard him right? I’ve been learning the language for years now, engrossed with their rich culture and history. The cuisine, the art, the music… everything. Had I been in a different timeline, I would’ve moved there. 

“Yes, my love. We’re going to China. Two weeks.”

“Two weeks?” My eyes nearly fell out of my skull. “I can’t take two weeks off of-”

“Yn,” he cut me off, knowing I was going to spiral into a never ending list of reasons of 'why this and why that'. “It’s all been taken care of. All you have to do is pack a bag and get you cute ass in my car on Sunday morning. Don’t worry about anything else.”

“But-But Harvey… what the FUCK? WE’RE GOING TO CHINA? Oh my god, I have to call Donna.”

“Can you call Donna tomorrow? I have other things I’d like to do before you go blabbering to her about how amazing and awesome I am for planning this.”

I eyed him suspiciously. “Donna planned this, didn’t she?"

“She did find the panda place. And the art festival. But everything else was my doing. You can applaud now.” Cocky, arrogant son of a bitch. My cocky, arrogant son of a bitch, but one nonetheless.

I looked at him, dumbfounded. He did all this for me, just because he had a crazy workload. I feel like it should be the opposite, me pampering him, congratulating him on his huge win. Not him fueling my book obsession and planning my dream trip. 

But it was yet another reason I loved him more and more every day. He just did these things, without prompting. Without need. He felt like he was neglecting me, leading to… all of this. 

We ate our dinner, chatting about anything other than the case. I asked about it, twice, and he completely side-stepped my attempt. I wanted to know, but if he didn’t want to talk, I wouldn’t push. I told him the plot of this terrible Mafia romance book I finished earlier in the week, and he listened to every grating, awful point I made about it. All with a dopey smile on his face. 

Harvey cleared the plates, setting them in the sink. He brought more champagne, the strawberries and the cherries. In a calm silence, we devoured them, eyes raking over each other. I risked a look below the table, seeing just exactly where he wanted the next phase of the night to go. 

“You looking at it makes it worse, you know,” Harvey leaned back in his chair, my legs propped in his lap. He stroked his hand up and down, fingers dipping into one of the holes in my jeans. 

“Good,” I smiled, a sinful intent in my eyes. 

He looked from my smile to my eyes and back down. With a curse, he threw my legs off his lap and pulled my chair close to his. Harvey enveloped his mouth with mine, the sweet taste of chocolate mixed with the sour berry and tarte champagne. Every flavor on his tongue became my own. 

I was in his lap the next second, legs folded against his thighs. Harvey kept me firmly planted. Steady. He wouldn’t dare let me fall. I got lost in him, suddenly aware just how long it had been since I truly had him. Truly tasted him. Truly craved him.

He stood, taking me with him. The familiar route to our bedroom whirled by. I landed on the bed with a soft bounce, tugging on the collar of his shirt until he laid on top of me.

“So demanding,” he whispered on my lips. I wrapped my legs around his hips to emphasize my need. “Fuck… I love it when you get like this.”

“You made me this way, Harvey,” I pleaded, eyes catching him. 

“I’m sorry I haven’t been able to give you what you deserve,” Harvey sighs. It’s not heavy, but it’s noticeable. “Let me take care of you, Yn.”

“I just need you to-”

“I know, my love. Let me worship you. Treat you how you deserve. You’ve been so patient with me, now let me return the favor.”

Well, I’d be stupid to deny him.

Delicately, he kissed down my torso, lifting my shirt over my head and throwing it for tomorrow's problem. He removed my socks, then my jeans. From ankle to knee, he kissed and bit my skin, making me squirm against the sheets.

Every nerve ending in my body was on fire, the tips of my fingers and toes pulsing with anticipation. With the last remaining pieces of my clothes gone, he spread my legs, kneeling to the ground. 

The sight of Harvey Specter on his knees between my thighs was… empowering. Not that he hasn’t tasted me with his tongue, I’ve just… always been on top. Never so… exposed.

A heady sigh left my lips, body going lax with the first pass of his tongue on me. I clenched my legs against his ears, muffling my whines. He pushed them against the mattress, eyes pinning me as he sank his teeth into the muscle of my thigh. 

“You know better than to hide those pretty moans from me, my love.” Yes, I do know better. “Scream my fucking name if you want.”

I just might. 

He made quick work of me, practiced movements easily sending me up and up and up. He’d slow back down, torture me with more bruising marks on my thighs while I writhed and begged for him to let me release. I arched up off the bed when he added his fingers.

I was so close, a month's worth of pent up desire threatening me all at once. My mind and body were on fire. I couldn’t hold off any longer. I chase that high, circling my hips against his face. His hands, firmly planted on my inner thighs, I shook, that month long ache finally subsiding before roaring back to life. 

When I thought he’d stop, he kept going. Around and around and around his tongue went. Teasing and sending an endless supply of pleasure through my body. 

“H-Harvey,” I gasped, my body up in flames over his never ending devotion.

“I’ll stop when I want to. Fuck Yn, you taste so sweet. Almost as sweet as hearing you beg for me to let you cum. Can you take one more?”

Again, I nodded, content to let him spend however long he wanted at my aching core. My second release came much sooner than the first. He didn’t bother teasing me, knowing it would ruin all his hard work if he stopped. With a few more sweeping passes, he licked me clean, sitting back on his heels to look at me. He wiped my cum off on the back of his hand, giving me a wicked grin.

“You are so fucking beautiful, all laid out for me to do as I please,” Harvey said, beginning to strip. 

“Please Harvey, have me. Any way that you like.”

He chuckled, kneeling over me. “I will, but like I said, I want tonight to be all about you.”

“Well I want you to fuck me.” I am not very good at being subtle. 

“How can I deny you when you ask so nicely,” he purred, closing our lips together, I parted my legs for him, desperate for the friction of his body on mine. His chest, his stomach, his hands lacing with mine. I needed all of him all over me. 

It didn’t take long for him to slip inside me, every inch of him stretching me in the most desirable way. I hummed as he stilled, his need clear in the way his arms shook to keep still. 

“Move, please please move,” I begged, threading my hand in his hair. With a reluctant drop of his head, he rolled his hips into mine, our bodies finally meeting in full. 

“I was trying to be gentle,” he reasoned. 

“Fuck gentle, I need you. I’ve missed you so much.”

“I know my love, I know.”

With each thrust into me, a new sensation bubbled inside me. My toes curled, my back bowed, my eyes fluttered shut. He quickened his pace, heavy breaths falling from his lips into mine. His air was mine. Every muttered curse and moan and praise went straight through me. He needed me as much as I needed him.

~~~~~

With my mind not fully awake, I lazily fling myself off my stomach and onto my back. My arm knocked into something hard, and I squinted against the morning sun. Oh, Harvey.

“Sorry,” I mumbled, crashing back down against the pillow. 

He chuckled, kissing the hand that accidentally hit him in the face. “It’s okay.”

“Are you going into the office?” I asked, still keeping my eyes closed. Man this bed is so comfy…

“No?” He said, a question in his tone. “Why would I?”

“Why else are you up so early?”

“I was just looking at you, my love. It’s been a while since I’ve just… looked at the love of my life. Taken the time to appreciate just how fucking stunning you are.”

My heart melted, a lovesick feeling welling up in my chest. I turned over, facing the handsome lawyer and grinned ear to ear. “I’m sure I look fabulous after last night.”

“You’ve never looked hotter. Lips swollen from mine, hair a mess from my hands… your body covered in my-”

“Okay,” I snatched his lips between my fingers, silencing his next words. “I did just wake up, at least let me shower before you destroy me again.”

“Only if I can quote on quote destroy you in the shower before I cook you breakfast and fuck you again on the counter.”

My eyes snapped open, meeting his blown out pupils. “You certainly have a vivid imagination for…” I looked over at the clock on the side of the bed. “... eight thirty-seven AM.”

“Wait till you find out I’ve been awake since six. With nothing to do but plot all the ways I could ruin you.”

I rolled my eyes playfully, offering my lips as a peace offering. He quickly accepted, kissing me deeply. “Man, I missed this.”

“More than you could ever know.”

[writingforstraykids]

I feel kind of angsty today and I’m in the mood to just read something that makes me cry so hear me out.Minho/Chan or Felix argue with you because you feel neglected and such in because they are so busy and barley make time for you and you just want to feel a little affection and they are also upset because they are stressed and kind of blow up and say stuff they shouldn’t have and evereyone is upset.Maybe they solve it (or they don’t if you want to be mean).But I really need something gut wrenching.

(Also don’t rush and take your time with writing this if you even want to<3)

-🎀

I've decided to be extra mean and make this a poly mess so you have all of the boys in it😂😂 I hope you like it and I don't make you cry too hard...also if you ever wanna talk, just let me know hun🥺🖤

You don't need me

Pairing: Minchanlix x femReader | Minho x Chan x Felix x femReader

Word Count: 2391

Warnings/Tags: angst, argument, insecurities, feeling neglected, feeling left out, loneliness, chan's a little stressed meanie, Minlix is...idk🤣

bold indicates English

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©️writingforstraykids 2024 -

Minho races down the stairs, cursing quietly as he drops his keys. He quickly bends down to pick them up, and his glasses, which he only quickly pushed up his nose before, fall onto the floor.

"Are you okay?" you ask, amused.

"Obviously not," he says, clearly annoyed.

"Well, can I help?" you ask gently, and Minho firmly shakes his head, grabbing his sneakers.

"I'm late; there's nothing you can do about that," he tells you, and you're about to answer, but he cuts you off. "Yongbok! I swear if you don't move your ass down here in five seconds, I'll drive without you!" he yells upstairs, making you flinch at the volume of his voice.

"Is Channie already-?"

"Don't think he slept here tonight," Minho shakes his head and grabs his bag. "FELIX!"

"Minho, for fucks sake!" Felix yells back and appears at the top of the stairs. "I swear, this man is driving me crazy. As if those five seconds would make any difference at this point, my God. It's Hyunjin, he won't kill us!" he curses as he walks downstairs, his hair messily falling around his head.

"Don't you start talking English now and think I don't know that means you're talking shit about me," Minho tells him, throwing his sneakers at him. "Put those on, we're late."

"Well, if someone wouldn't have taken so long waking up today," Felix comments and rolls his eyes at him. He looks up, startled, as you carefully brush his hair back for him, trying to fix the mess. "Not now, Y/nnie, we have to leave," he gently shakes you off.

You pull back your hand and nod gently, glancing at Minho, who's grabbing his stuff and unlocking the door. "Bye, see you later!" he shouts and waves you, stepping outside. Only two seconds later, he's back. "Felix, I swear I will kick you."

"Fuck off," Felix curses under his breath and grabs his things, waving at you and slipping outside as well. The door falls closed, and you're standing still for a moment.

"Well, good morning and goodbye to you too. I love you too," you whisper to yourself and sigh softly. Turning around you spot their packed lunch boxes still on the table. "Shit," you curse and throw your head back, frustrated. You know they barely make time to eat unless you made it. Well, maybe you could visit them later, get your kiss, and check on Chan.

You stand still in the suddenly very empty house and try to remember the last time they were all home and you've spent some quality time together. It feels like months and you soon realize it has been. One of them has always been either working or not even in the country. Sometimes it really doesn't feel like you're living with your three boyfriends but some roommates who stop by now and then.

"Oh, come on, don't be so dramatic," you shake your head and chew on your lower lip. You don't know when the last time was you had breakfast all together, you got a kiss goodbye from all of them or they came back in time for dinner. Needless to say, no one has properly touched you in weeks as well. Were you that easy to forget? Are you just another assignment to get done on their daily to-do lists? Something they could just reschedule to another day if they can't make time for it?

Sighing softly you make your way upstairs and rummage through your closet, searching for a nice outfit. You find a cute summer dress they all love and decide on that. After a quick shower, you fix your hair and make yourself presentable.

-

Only a little later, you're walking down the hallway to their practice room and gently knock at the door, letting yourself inside. Minho demonstrates some steps as Felix and Hyunjin watch him closely and try to mirror his movements. Felix messes up a step, and Minho starts laughing at him, chasing him through the room. He wraps his arms around his waist and pulls him against his chest, kissing his cheek. "Yongbokie, come on," he giggles softly, and Felix tries to squirm away from him.

"I'm sorry, hyungie," he laughs, eyes shining bright. "I promise I'll do better."

"Once you're done flirting, we could continue?" Hyunjin groans playfully annoyed.

Minho turns with Felix in his hold, and they face you. Surprise laces their features. "Y/n? What are you doing here?" Minho asks confused.

"Oh, you forgot your lunch today, and I didn't know how long you'd be at the company," you tell them, and Minho nods gently.

"Thanks," he tells you and lets go of Felix, walking over to his phone.

Felix stretches tiredly and watches Minho as he scrolls through his phone. "You wanna go again?"

Minho glances at his watch before nodding. "We should. We have like an hour before the rest join us." You nod gently to yourself and put their lunch down on the bench next to their stuff. "Chan's at the studio," he tells you before turning the music back on.

You watch them stunned as they continue practicing and don't really notice the compassionate smile Hyunjin gives you. Your throat tightens, and you quickly make your way outside. You're clearly not needed here.

You knock at the door, and Jisung opens the door, smiling at you brightly. "Hey, Y/n," he beams at you and pulls you into a hug. "Chan hyung, look who's here."

"Ji, I told you no visitors right now," he groans and pulls off his headphones with a heavy sigh. He spots you in the door and nods. "Oh, hi."

"Hi," you say quietly, holding on tightly to the box in your hand. "I just wanted to bring you your lunch. I won't disturb you for long."

"Ah, okay," he says and gestures toward the small table next to the door. "Just put it there, I'll eat later. Thanks, Y/n."

"You're welcome," you nod and are about to leave again but hesitate for a moment.

"Anything else?" Chan asks, not even looking at you.

"Will you be home tonight?" you ask gently, and he raises his eyebrows, still not looking over.

"Why?"

"Because you weren't yesterday," you say and see Jisung's confused frown at that.

"Hyung, you promised," Changbin sighs from his spot on the sofa, rolling his eyes at you in secrecy.

"Y/n, we've been over this before. If I get done in time, I'll be there; if not, then not," he announces, almost a little annoyed.

You scoff at him and put down the box heavily. "Sorry for asking, I guess," you spit out and open the door, stopping when you hear him groan.

"Stop being so pushy, my god," Chan rolls his eyes and looks at you for the first time today. "I'll be there. Are you happy now?"

"You know what?" you ask lowly. "You can stay here for another night. It makes no difference if you guys are there or not, you only have eyes for each other or work. Sometimes I wonder why my three roommates even need me."

"What the fuck did you just say?" Chan asks quietly and stares at you.

"You fucking heard me," you spit out with tears burning in your eyes. "At this rate, I'm just part of the interior. You don't say good morning, you don't say goodnight, you're not home for dinner, you're not there. And if you are you're busy with work or talk to Minho and Felix only. You don't need me right now, and that fucking hurts, Chan."

"Okay, that's enough delusional behavior for one day," Chan gets up with a groan and shakes his head at you. "We'll talk about this tonight, but right now, I really don't have time for this."

"Don't bother," you shake your head at him, heart breaking. "I'll take myself back out."

"Hyung," Changbin sighs a little, but Chan ignores him.

"Come on, Y/nnie, I'll take you to your car, yeah?" Jisung says gently and wraps his arm around you, pulling you outside. "He doesn't mean it. He's being dumb."

"Yes, he does; they all do," you sniffle, and Jisung frowns at you.

"What do you mean?" he asks worriedly.

"It's been like this for weeks now. They all rush out of the house and act like I don't exist anymore," you tell him, hot tears falling down your cheeks. "I know they're stressed; I know they have a lot to do, but is it really too much to ask?"

"No, Y/nnie, it isn't," he shakes his head and pulls you into a tight hug. "I'm sure what you're describing is true. They sometimes forget everything around them when things here get rough. I'm sorry, hun," he says and soothingly rubs your back. He thinks for a moment before shaking his head and gently patting your back. "Come on, they'll never learn if they don't see what it does to you."

"No, Ji, they're busy-" you protest through tears.

"I don't care," he shakes his head and leads you down the hallway. He rips open the door to the room and pulls you with him to Minho's phone, turning the music off. "Hyunjin, you come with me. You two have something to fix here."

Minho blinks at him, confused, and his face falls, seeing you crying in his arms. "Y/nnie, kitten," he says worriedly and quickly makes his way over. "Honey, what's wrong?" he asks gently, cupping your face and searching your eyes. "Hey, look at me," he says softly.

"Y-You don't need me," you hiccup, and Minho frowns at you.

"What do you mean?" he asks, confused, and Felix steps next to you, gently rubbing your lower back.

"Babe?" Felix asks worriedly as you don't answer.

"Go get Channie," Minho tells him, eyes widening as you furiously shake your head. Chan is usually the best to comfort you when you are really upset. "No? Why, kitten? What happened?"

"Channie s-says I'm delusional," you sob quietly as Minho sits down on the bench and pulls you into his lap.

"What?" Felix asks, confused. "Did you two get into a fight?" he asks, sitting down next to the two of you.

You bury your face in Minho's chest, so desperate for such a simple gesture. Sobs shake your body as you tell them about what happened with Chan and how neglected you felt during those past weeks. It all flows freely now, and they both listen quietly, not interrupting you once. Minho's hand rubs your back soothingly, and Felix fondles your hair gently.

"Oh kitten, I'm so sorry," Minho apologizes sincerely once you're done. "I had no idea you were suffering that much because of us."

"You're right, babe, we're so busy we sometimes forget about you or act a little harsh," Felix nods guiltily and leans down to kiss your head. "I'm so sorry we made you feel like that. You don't deserve that one bit, my dear."

"I know I'm being dramatic," you sniffle into Minho's shirt.

"No, you're not," he shakes his head and rests his head against yours. You really aren't. I didn't even say goodbye properly today. Or good morning," he says, his voice laced heavily with guilt. "And...I should've told you how beautiful you look today the minute you stepped inside."

You giggle sadly and pull back. "Yeah?"

"Mhm, our pretty girl," Felix adds fondly as Minho wipes your cheeks.

"We love you so much, even if we act like idiots sometimes," Minho promises and kisses your forehead.

"I love you guys too," you tell them with a sad little smile.

"I'll go and get Channie, okay?" Felix asks softly, and you nod timidly. He giggles at the comment Minho makes and quickly makes his way to the studio. He doesn't knock at the door and steps inside. "Channie babe, we need you."

"Not now, Lix," Chan shakes his head, writing down some things for Jisung.

"Minho said if you don't move your ass over there in two minutes top he won't have sex with you for the next three months. Our tour comes up, you don't wanna risk that," Felix says with a straight face, making Changbin and Jisung crack up.

Chan glances up at him suspiciously and sees Felix isn't joking. "Oh my fucking God, fine!"

Felix walks next to him and glances at Chan thoughtfully. "Push the group back for a moment, yeah? Stray Kids doesn't matter now, she does."

Chan's face falls a little and he straightens up as they reach the door. "Yeah, okay," he says quietly and steps inside with him. You're curled up in Minho's lap on the floor by now as he's playing with your hair. Tear streaks paint your cheeks, your eyes are reddish, and you're sniffling a little. "Baby, I'm sorry," Chan sighs and gets down on the floor next to you. "I'm stressed out, I didn't sleep last night, and I took it out on you. I'm an idiot, please forgive me?" he asks guiltily and hesitantly takes your hand. He must've really hurt you if you went to Minho and Felix about it. You usually prefer to settle arguments privately.

"It's not just you," Minho shakes his head, and Felix sums it up for him. Chan nods along, and his heart gets heavier with every word leaving his boyfriend's lips.

"Oh, Y/nnie baby," he whispers with tears in his eyes. "Can I give you a hug?" You nod timidly and climb off Minho's lap and into his arms instead. Chan pulls you in tight, burying his face in your shoulder. You relax in his hold and close your eyes. No matter how mad or hurt you were, you would never deny one of Chan's healing long hugs. "I'm so sorry, you're right, we've messed up big time. I love you so much, yeah? You're so beautiful and kind, and I could never stop loving you, baby. Never. I will do better, I promise."

"I love you too," you whisper and exhale softly, your heart feeling a lot lighter now that you've told them all. Minho and Felix join your hug and kiss your hair. "You'll be home tonight?" you ask timidly.

"Yeah, we'll all be home," Chan assures you kindly and squeezes you.

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

Taglist (Please let me know if you want to be added to or removed from the taglist):

@atinyniki @mal-lunar-28 @lilmisssona @aaasia111 @galaxycatdrawz @kthstrawberryshortcake @channieaddict @soullostinspaceandtime @malfoygalaxies @rebecca-johnson-28 @michelle4eve @lixie-phoria @gxtwllsn @xxstrayland

[makeyoumine69]

Neglected

Pairing: Patrick Bateman x fem!OC; CW: SMUT, FFM (kinda), established relationship, hurt/comfort, angst, breeding kink. Links: [MASTERLIST]; Song Rec: Jordin Sparks - S.O.S. (Let The Music Play); A/N: Sorry I've been away for so long, my gaming hangover is hitting hard, so I decided to post one of my drafts I'm writing for myself with my OC named April. Also, don't mind me using x reader tags since x OC tags seem to be dead. Anyway, ignore it if it's not your stuff. Love you all!

Panting, April tugged at the tie that bound her hands and wouldn't let her move. "Stop...please...Bateman...don't do this...not like this!"

But Patrick just chuckled and spread her legs, almost ripping her panties off and thrusting into her dripping slit in one swift stroke.

"Fuck," he growled, pulling out completely and then thrusting in again, longing for screams. "My little fairy... has such a tight pussy..."

The woman moaned loudly in response, so Bateman had to stick his finger in her mouth to shut her up and allow her to use it as a pacifier. Just as Patrick was about to lie on top of her and pin her to the bed, the door to their yacht suit swung open and Vanessa, his uncle's girlfriend by the way, stepped inside.

"Oh... what a scene," she murmured, putting a finger to her mouth, obviously enjoying the sight. "Mhmm... can I join you?"

Almost instantly, April pulled away from Patrick as she tried to cover herself, expecting her husband to tell Vanessa to go away, but instead he stopped in his tracks and examined the blonde with undisguised interest.

"I'm not surprised...I can tell you've been thinking about this all evening," he crooned, ignoring the way April writhed beneath him. "Uncle Vic doesn't satisfy you quietly enough?"

Vanessa leaned against the door. "April's such a lucky girl," she snapped, twirling a stray curl around her manicured finger. "So lucky that she can't even understand it...and that means she doesn't deserve you."

"Oh... really?" Patrick asked mockingly before he put his big palm over April's mouth to silence her objections. "You think you can do better?"

Wiggling like she was lying on burning coals, April was about to bite Patrick's finger, but then the man plunged his thumb into her mouth again, a gesture that was something very personal and intimate for both of them. Confused, she blinked several times and looked at him - the confidence he radiated was breathtaking - and she couldn't help but stop fighting him when his lips curled in a way that he was about to blow her a kiss.

"Let me handle this, honey." He whispered so only April could hear. "And then we can continue."

Meanwhile, Vanessa tapped her foot impatiently, the red nails of her hand almost scratching the wooden door. Such insolence only spurred Bateman to prolong the pause, as he relished the way he could keep women on the edge of their nerves.

"You know what," the man began, his face grimacing in disgust. "You can take your flat ass and get out of here right now and maybe... just maybe... I won't tell my uncle about this episode." 

Vanessa froze in shock, the gleam in her big green eyes fading. "Excuse me? What...what did you just say?"

Scowling, Bateman took a deep breath, fighting the urge to unleash his fury on this pathetic bitch. "I said...if you don't leave right now...I'm going to fucking kill you!" Patrick almost screamed and before he could get up from the bed, the woman was gone.

Groaning in annoyance, the man went to the door and closed it, then returned to April, who was lying on the bed crying.

"You...you really sent her away?" She asked in disbelief. "I thought...I thought you would allow her to join us."

Bateman stroked her cheek before kissing her lips. "What a bullshit," he chuckled softly, drawing an invisible line along her bound forearm, "I need you, April...only you," he purred, licking her lips and nibbling at them barely sensibly. "Now...I want you to be...my obedient little fairy...would you be good for me...would you do anything for me?"

April gasped, his words stirring something strange in her, something she thought was impossible for her to feel, "Yes...sir...I would." 

"Good girl," Patrick murmured, his voice a gravelly purr as his fingers traced the tears on her cheeks before sliding down her trembling body. "That's what I like to hear." He cupped her chin gently, lifting her face to meet his gaze. "I'm all yours. Always remember that."

Patrick's touch became more aggressive as he repositioned himself between her legs. His cock, still slick from earlier, found its way back into April's tight warmth with brutal ease. 

Biting her lower lip, the woman bucked her thighs up from the fullness he gave her without mercy. "Pat-Patrick...a-awww..." her voice cracked and she almost clawed at her skin, trying to free her hands. "Sir...s-sir...it's so deep..."

Bateman rolled his hips against hers, pinning her under his heavy frame as he slammed into her, the slap echoing off the walls of her yacht suit. This woman, moaning directly into his ear, was his everything in every possible way, and if he were to breed her, she would be irrevocably bound to him. His love, his obsession, his greatest sin.

"No one else...can make you feel the way I do..." he growled low against her neck, emphasizing each word with a hard thrust that made her gasp in response. "You belonged to me..." he reassured her in that cold, yet soothing tone, filled with twisted satisfaction. "You're all I want!"

As Patrick shifted their positions so that they were now on their sides, he drove deeper into April's yielding form, fucking her sideways. Then he slipped a hand between her legs to vigorously stimulate her clit as he continued his relentless pace, her body writhing with conflicting sensations - as embarrassment turned to arousal - creating an unsettling yet unmistakable chemistry.

"I'mma  c-cum..." April cried out, leaning back against his massive chest, tensed and covered in sweat. "I...f-fuck...I'm cumming!"

"Yeah...give it to me," Patrick spurred her on, thrusting even faster into her wet cunt, their mixed fluids spilling out with a wet, shameless sound. "Let it go...let it go like a good girl you are..."

His soft praise added to the fire of their passion, causing her body to quiver, but as he nibbled at her earlobe, she lost it completely as her orgasm washed over her like a tidal wave, crashing everything in its path. The tightness of her inner, velvety walls around his pulsating dick was too much to handle, though Bateman did his best to last longer, wanting to fuck out every little shock of her climax.

"God...you're so perfect," he squeezed her breast through the damp material of her dress. "You're gonna give me a child...I fucking swear..." Bateman whispered into her ear as he choked on his breath, almost reaching his peak. "Remember...my word..."

Closing his eyes, the man snuggled up to her with tremendous force, nearly shattering her bones as he rode out his own release, spurting his warm seed deep into her womb, making sure not a drop was wasted. April could feel every vein on his dick throbbing inside her, or it was just her clouded mind, for she couldn't even remember where she was.

He owned her, on every level and even beyond.

Spent and exhausted, they both collapsed on their backs, panting and gasping for air. Only after a few minutes did the man remember his tie wrapped around her wrists, and with an almost genuine tenderness, he released her hands and kissed them one by one. With her eyes closed, April just sighed and lay on his chest, seeking protection and he was only too willing to give it to her. 

His fairy, so small, so helpless. Intoxicating.

As they lay there for a while, Bateman looked up at the ceiling, listened to the waves crashing outside the yacht and absentmindedly painted little circles on his wife's bare back, who didn't even realize she was drifting.

But after almost a few minutes, April woke up lying on Patrick's solid chest, his breathing steady, but somehow she could tell that he was not asleep. "Patrick?"

Bateman shifted, leaned in closer and kissed the top of her head. "Yes, dear?"

"Do you remember our wedding?" April asked, looking up at him. "Are you...are you happy you married me?"

"Of course I remember our wedding, April," he replied softly, his voice like silk over steel. "It was a grand affair...fitting for us."

Her question about happiness made him pause. His happiness didn't conform to conventional notions, but April didn't need to hear that truth. Instead, he leaned into the persona she needed.

"I wouldn't have married you if I weren't sure you were the one," he continued, sincerity in his tone. "Our lives aren't perfect, but we fit together in ways others can't understand." His fingers lightly traced her cheek, a gesture that teetered between tenderness and possessiveness. "We're bound together... by more than just marriage," Patrick whispered darkly against her forehead. "You complete me."

As April clung to him, seeking comfort in these spoken reassurances, Patrick felt a twisted sense of satisfaction. Manipulating love into dominance was an art he had mastered to perfection.

"I guess... I can say the same about you." The woman murmured and yawned, hugging him tighter.

Resting his chin on her head as if offering comfort, Patrick allowed one more phrase to slip from his lips, almost tenderly. "You make me who I am...Now rest, tomorrow we go riding."

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

[aziraphales-library]

Hi, I love LOVE you all for this blog! Thank you for doing this for the community 🥰

I wonder if you can recommend some loooong multi-chapter E-rated Human AUs of a particular flavor. I tend to like ones where there is a meeting early on, a bit of pining, plenty of spicy interludes and not tooooo much angst in the story line. Bonus points for chubby/fat Aziraphale my beloved.

My absolute faves are Under Construction and Car Trouble by @summerofspock and Petrichor and Parchment by @katnoggin.

If you can make anything of this, I'd be eternally grateful! Thank you!

Hello! We have plentiful #human au and #long fic tags, so do have a root around those for more fics that will fit the bill. Here are some with the details you've requested, most of which I don't think we've recommended before...

Lavender Apiary Of Your Honey Eyes by snek_of_eden (E)

The first thing Aziraphale registered was fiery red hair matted with sweat. The second thing was the man’s face, sharp and intelligent and a little guarded, sunlight dappling a spray of freckles. Upon seeing this, two contradictory thoughts crossed his mind: ‘Gosh, he’s pretty’, and ‘I don’t believe I’ve ever heard a man use that many expletives in the space of a minute’. “Oh,” he said, swallowing hard. “Hello, then.” __________ When Aziraphale inherits a small, cosy cottage in the countryside, he finds unexpected company in a gardener he didn't even know he had. Crowley is sweet, and strange, and about as foul-mouthed as you can get. Before he knows it, he's falling pretty goddamn hard for a man whose friendship he's terrified of risking. Ah, the foils of love.

Angel in the Window by themaybedoctor (E)

Aziraphale has the best job a young bookworm could ever hope for—he works the evening shift at an independent bookshop, just a stone's throw away from Tadfield College, where he's only a few months away from getting his degree. He likes the location in Tadfield's cosy downtown, the friendly regulars, and his coworker, Newt. But most of all, he likes having the key to the biggest treasure trove of books he's ever seen. Aziraphale knows that he's not going to make friends sitting in the dark shop at night, alone with a book and some chocolate, but that's all right. He's not lonely while he has a book, which means he's hardly lonely at all. Really. Crowley works at a record shop, and he's got the biggest crush on the cutie working at the bookshop next door. Whose name he doesn't even know, because he's too awkward to ask. At least nobody's noticed. If his co-worker Anathema found out, he'd never hear the end of it. A story about bravery, misunderstandings, acceptance, and love.

Romeo in Black Jeans by Caedmon (E)

Popular fashion designer, Crowley, meets a beautiful man at his best friend's show, and it's love at first sight. He is determined to make Aziraphale fall for him, too... if only he could get Aziraphale to stop running so hot and cold.

and now all of my garden is grown in lavender by ilikeblue (E)

Popular queer romance author, A.Z. Fell, has been lying about having a husband and a happy marriage for years. Longing to escape a string of failed relationships and looking for a fresh start, Aziraphale moves into the cottage left to him by his Great Aunt Agnes. When a TV adaptation of one of his books leads to sudden popularity and throws him into the limelight, his fans (and the press) are eager to catch a glimpse of Aziraphale's own mysterious leading man. Unfortunately, he still has to cast someone for that role. Enter the handsome gardener… Under Crowley's meticulous care the cottage's neglected garden slowly comes back to life, and Aziraphale finds himself writing the most important love story he'll ever write: his own

Argumentum a fortiori by PeturbingPrism (E)

"From the stronger argument", the Good Omens Alternate Universe barristers fic you never knew you wanted! Crowley could be a rising star at Brimstone Chambers, if he could control his temper and apply himself. Aziraphale is on the edge of losing not only his job, but his entire family over a disagreement over which organisations he has granted funds to through his beloved Miracle Foundation, the philanthropic arm of his his family's angel investment firm. Anathema tries to help her old friend out by introducing him to the only lawyer she knows who might be crazy enough to take on the might of Celeste & Sons. Two people with different ways of dealing with their issues strike up an unlikely friendship, leading to love and healing. Lots of bickering, bookshop silliness, boozing, bentley rides, shared desserts and blushing.

Divine Restorations & Repairs by skimmingthesurface, SylWritesStuff (E)

While it's unfortunate for one’s car to break down in the middle of the countryside, the pretty-as-a-postcard Tadfield could hardly be considered the worst place Anthony J. Crowley has ever been. Of course, it doesn’t help that it looks like it hasn’t yet seen the turn of the millennia, let alone this decade, but perhaps that’s just what he needs as he crawls his way out of the Hell he’s endured for the past fifteen years. Maybe the last thirty, if he's honest with himself. Though he could do without the rain. When Aziraphale Fell happens upon him and offers him shelter from the storm in his little family-run antique repair shop, neither are expecting it to change everything. The angel with his white umbrella and his tartan bowtie doesn’t expect this mysterious stranger to be able to fill the timely vacancy in his shop or the quiet of his life, but they’ve both had experience in restoring once-beloved items back to their full glory. Perhaps Crowley hasn’t fallen quite so far that he wouldn’t fit in with the rest of Aziraphale’s ragtag team of eccentric restoration experts. And perhaps they may be able to turn that talent on themselves and each other, and seal the cracks in their own hearts.

- Mod D

[kitorin]

letters to my favourite author.

in which, within the darkest times of your struggles, a secret yet admiring fan is there for you.

contents. unknown bllk character (revealed towards the end, check tags if you want to know beforehand) x gn!reader | fluff | 6.591k words | writer!reader | self esteem issues | one argument (reader and isagi are harsh) | slowburn (?) | isagi is your childhood friend

a/n. thank you to yumi and ray for the help !

"I wanna be a writer."

It's summer of your final year of primary school, radiant sun sinking into the horizon, vibrant hues of orange bleeding out into the sky. The taste of soda lingers in your mouth, drops of the melted ice block gently plop onto your skin, the cold sensation makes you jolt a bit.

"Really?" Yoichi, the boy who's been by your side since forever piques with fascination. He pauses from eagerly sucking on his popsicle, turning towards you with his azure eyes, interest blazing within them.

You nod, ignoring part of the melted ice block dribbling down your chin. "Miss told me I was really good at it, she said to write everyday, I like stories. I don't want to stop making or reading them when we're adults." The liquid smeared onto your face remains neglected, as your heart begins pounding at your teacher's words.

"This is amazing, you have to keep writing. I want to read so much more."

It's not like the first time you've been complimented, but being called good at a game or sport can't even compare to someone craving more of what you created. There's an indescribable sense of pride heating up in your chest, maybe one day you could even write something, something that has people glued to every word on the page, something that someone couldn't resist putting down; something that's like the books you stay up reading.

You've finally found it, the soccer to your Yoichi, what you want to continue doing for the rest of your life, what you want to dedicate your life to.

"I think it's awesome! Your stories are always read out in class. You could beat Detective Conan!" He's too engrossed in this new found dream of yours, not even noticing the melting ice block in his hand, coating it with sticky syrup.

"Yocchan that'll never happen… All stories are beautiful, it's not like soccer where you have to be 'better'." Despite telling him off, another smile creeps up on your lips, with your best friend's support and teacher's encouragement, this new objective of yours seemed attainable. Either way, you were determined to work hard and persist no matter what.

Yoichi's hand grasps yours, the joyous glint remaining in his eyes. "Doesn't matter, I'll be the best striker and you'll be the best writer! Promise?"

"Promise." And with confident grins scrawled on your expressions, you race home, popsicles long gone and forgotten, melted away in the suffocating heat.

"Y/n, what the fuck is this?"

The cursing and vexation threaded into his voice and tone catch you off guard, a complete juxtaposition of the peaceful atmosphere of the classroom, with now only you and Yoichi there, soaked in the comfortable sunlight. Gold stains the room as cheery exclamations can be heard in the distance, as students rush to their after-school plans.

"What's wrong?" Your lips curve into a frown, scavenging through memories in an attempt to figure out what's wrong. Though you'd been struggling recently, none of those issues translated to your friendship with him. "Did something happen?"

"Oh my fucking god, I'm talking about this crap." He slams a sheet on the closest desk— yours. It's your career path form. You recognise your own handwriting, the occupations "psychology" and "law" written as the main two paths you're interested in.

"What about it?" You're still not sensing the issue here. "It's my future, I'm interested in those paths." There's a puzzled expression as you wonder, why Yoichi was so annoyed at the degrees you might want to study, it's not like you're altering his life.

Your confusion only seemed to amplify his anger. "What the hell happened to writing? Weren't you supposed to become an author?" So this is what this was about.

"It's just a hobby. Other jobs make more money anyways-"

"Fucking hell, since when did you care so much about money?"

You don't. Obviously money matters significantly within one's life, but you're not striving to be filthy rich. Realistically, studying at university would bring a lot more success than writing, at least, not at how you are currently.

"Yocchan— I still need to make a living, I can't make much out of being an author—."

"So? You haven't even tried."

Because it's obvious it'll never work. "Writing isn't a career I can succeed in, I mean, just look at Haru. Someone like them. Or anyone else I know who writes." "Haru"'s a friend of yours, one that you met on the website you frequently post your works, among plenty of other writers you've befriended. They're popular, only being on for a few months and managing to rack up thousands of likes, as well as plenty of followers.

You're over the moon for how well they do, you truly are, but it doesn't and can't stop the envy and insecurity creeping up on you; a fatal disease slowly infecting you, tainting you with overwhelming jealousy.

You can't help it, not even their account makes your achievements look pathetic and insignificant; if Haru were to have an off day and receive less attention on any of their uploads, it'd amount to what you get on a good day, actually, probably even more.

"Oh. My. God. Haru this, Haru that, you don't see me getting upset about Hiori or Kurona everyday do you?" Yoichi scowls, seemingly getting more upset at you and this whole ordeal. "You've got to be fucking kidding me."

"Sports and writing aren't the same. You wouldn't get it." He really wouldn't. In soccer you can practise the same kick over and over again, until it really drills into muscle memory. But when writing, you can't rewrite the same metaphor, or simile, or anything really, then be able to write something beautiful. Repetition can't save an author.

"Fine—, but one thing I understand is having a dream." That day twelve years old you announced your new life goal of becoming an author flits through your mind, and gosh you'd do anything for that oblivion, the oblivion of how harsh reality is, the oblivion that provides innocence the privilege of dreaming freely.

"You don't get it, writing needs talent." Or whatever the hell it is, because no matter how much effort you put in and how much wellbeing you sacrifice, there's always someone doing better; attracting more attention, more compliments and more love.

"And you have it. I know how you and Haru write, you're equally good, actually, your writing's so much more interesting. Talent isn't the fucking issue, it's you and how you're not trying enough"

"You're only saying that because you're too stupid to differentiate." Guilt is quick to stab you in the stomach, and you're already feeling the consequences and hurt of your words, as if they were targeted towards you.

Yoichi only scoffs. "And you're too fucking sad and undisciplined to work hard." And he's wrong. Completely. Yet it's salt to the wound, to be perceived in such an ugly manner by someone so valuable to you. “I have training now. Bye.”

You're mustering a response, wanting to apologise, beg for forgiveness; whilst desperately finding the right words to defend yourself. Yoichi doesn't give you a chance to respond, as he leaves, you notice the frustrated grit of his teeth and how even his footsteps sound livid.

"Yocchan—"

You follow, unsure of what you want to do. You want to cry, but you also want to scream out of rage. You're doing your best to chase him down the corridor, your legs are tempted to give out from the sheer emotional torment the argument was; yet you insist on pushing through the discomfort.

Yoichi's long gone by now, either sprinting home or running to the comfort of his soccer team.

As a sigh of defeat leaves your lips you return to the classroom for your stuff, chewing on the inside of your mouth out of frustration, not caring about the consequences nor the ulcers that'd appear there in a few days.

Fights are normal, they're inevitable in all kinds of relationships. They're not foreign to you and Yoichi considering how you've been friends since diapers, you both put the effort in communicating afterwards, and knew how to properly apologise.

But not once has Yoichi ever sworn at you like that.

It's immature to ignore issues instead of making an attempt to resolve them, but if you keep telling yourself to focus on going home for now, you can deal with your emotions once you were okay physically.

The pencil case returns to your bag, and your books are about until you notice the post-it stuck on it, sky blue with thin writing resembling fish bones.

Hello [username]

I've enjoyed reading your works for a long time now, they're such fascinating pieces that I find myself rereading and staying up late for.

I know I had no right to eavesdrop, however it was not intentional in the slightest. I don't think you and Haru are comparable. They may have more followers but your ideas and there their execution are a lot more beautiful in my eyes. Popularity, followers, and likes don't define you, or anyone.

I can tell you work hard I respect and admire it but take care of yourself. You take priority.

As you finish reading the pale blue post-it, you finally register the sense of dread.

The words are sweet, they're wholesome and what you've needed to hear for so long. Roses of warm comfort bloom within your heart at the sight of someone acknowledging the effort you put in.

But thorns of trepidation remind you that someone knows your online alias; someone at school nonetheless.

Ah.

You're screwed.

Your online presence has always been a secret, for the better. Someone discovering all the love stories you posted online would simply be embarrassing, that's for your follower's eyes and theirs only.

Normally you'd ignore the message, and just pray they don't decide to reveal your identity.

Yet you find the pen in your hand dancing across a piece of paper.

[To the light blue post-it, thank you so much ! It's really appreciated]

Then you don't stop there, pinning it onto the class noticeboard with a push pin. What were you thinking? Or expecting? You weren't exactly sure, and found this trivial attempt at contacting a stranger foolish, yet you still give your message displayed on your board the last hopeful look, before going home.

By the next day, your note was nowhere to be seen. And this time, instead of a post-it, it’s a pale blue envelope, carefully slid between your notebooks.

"And here, with the context of the Egalitarian and feminist era, we can tell…" The teacher's words are drowned by your fascination with the letter, as you carefully open it, ensuring only you get to witness the contents.

Hello again

i'm I'm glad to hear that my words could mean something to you. It's an honour for you to respond, I wasn't expecting anything back. I hope after yesterday you feel better, even if it's the slightest bit.I've been re-reading your stuff a lot recently, especially on the bus, train and before sleeping.

It's oddly weird, I never liked reading. I can't seem to find books that I don't give up on. Even so I never thought I would read romance. I always thought it’d be a bit uncomfortable to read.

I don't have much time since I've been busy, but if you have the time I'd like to receive a letter back. As long as it's from your heart. It's a lot for just a follower to ask. But I find you as interesting as your writing. If you're okay with sending a response can you slip it in the very last locker in our class? It's unused so it works for now.

There's a faint tinge of disappointment at them remaining anonymous, but it's cancelled out by the overwhelming joy tugging your lips into a smile.

Someone likes your writing enough to put the effort into a letter.

You still continue to ignore the teacher, tearing out a page of your English book, eagerly writing a response for whoever this. The now familiar blossom of warmth is back, you could almost start giggling at how exhilarating you found this all.

The pen skims across the torn out page, your reply gradually materialising. The world around you is completely dismissed, right now it's only you and the letter.

It's not until your teacher snaps at you, demanding your attention, earning a quick switch in demeanour; from accumulating excitement to fabricated focus and a feigned interest in classic texts.

Have you made up with Isagi?

Your heart drops at the mention of Yoichi in today’s letter, nails digging into your palm with frustration; because the answer to the question is no.

I'm not trying to intrude, but you should try to if you haven't (it looks like you haven't talked about it yet). Fighting is normal among people, but it's dangerous if you don't do something about it quickly.

With time, it can become irrepairable irreparable. And I don't want you to go through that with someone you care about cherish.

It's been around a week, a week of these note and letter exchanges, slipping them into the empty locker. Lately, you've found yourself patiently waiting for their messages to appear alongside your possessions. They didn’t always write letters, if they didn't have time it was a post-it note instead, either one had you fully engrossed, clinging onto every word written.

I can't really offer advice. It might be a bit scary but anyone can tell you and Isagi care about each other a lot. He looks upset at training. You seem to be the same during class too.

And they're right, ever since that heated exchange of untruthful words in the classroom, Yoichi's been avoiding you. Eyes avoiding yours, opting to eat with his soccer teammates instead, and the absence of time spent together leaves you feeling empty.

So don't beat yourself up about over it. Stress and anger can make you say things you don't mean. I know you'll be able to fix things.

They're right again. You didn't mean to call Yoichi stupid; all the insecurity and doubt had been accumulating recently, internalised with the suppression of expressing yourself, it had gotten to a point you couldn't control it. As a consequence, you unwillingly took it out on Yoichi, he retaliated and the pointless argument left both of you hurt.

A few glances of the classroom inform you that he's not here, either out speaking to someone in a different class or at a meeting for soccer. You ask Bachira, a teammate of Yoichi's.

"Hm? Isagi and Rin had to go do something, it might be about the upcoming game." Bachira pauses for a moment, pondering what exactly it might've been about. "Somethin' about them having to figure out who plays striker, probably." A quick thank you sends him buzzing away, on this way to go bother Kunigami.

After school it is.

Time passes rapidly, as you're preoccupied with selecting a work in progress to continue, brainstorming the potential trajectory of the events. Mechanical pencil rushes over paper, transcribing your thoughts into potential story. It's not until the bell drags you back to reality, as Yoichi calls out to you. Speak of the devil.

"Can we talk? After school and at our usual place?"

You nod "Was going to ask you the same." The convenience of how the two of you always seem to be aligned would've earnt a grin, if only it wasn't for such a serious and uncomfortable topic.

He reciprocates the nod, returning to his desk, as you fail to ignore the creeping dread ensnaring your heart.

You're not quite sure what you're exactly so worried about.

It's either:

a) Possibilities of another argument occurring, with the recent avoidance and discomfort, it’ll be worse than last time. It’s likely, given how tense the atmosphere was yesterday, regret and hurt lingering in the air yet simultaneously suffocating you.

b) The tiny sliver of chance that Yoichi wants to stop being your friend, rather than talk about the argument. Although this outcome is unlikely with how close you are, paranoia couldn't care less about logic and rationality.

c) Being unable to articulate your recent inner turmoil and conflict. Despite your passion for interpreting your thoughts and emotions into fiction, it feels impossible to explain yourself to Yoichi; words getting stuck in your throat and choking on the bitter self doubt.

Maybe it’ll be a combination of the three. Struggles with communication melt into another heated dispute, which would then solidify into a heavy burden within your heart, as Yoichi decides your insecurity is intolerable and disappears from your life.

You shake off the thought, as you make your way to where you’d always hang out with Yoichi; the rooftop. It’s prohibited for all students but with enough messing around you had managed to pick the lock, every break period invested on it was worth it; within the hours spent in school the pale cerulean and cotton like clouds were only for you two, accompanied by the wind playing with your hair.

By the time you arrive, Yoichi’s already there.

You analyse every crevice of his face, searching for any emotion and attempting to map out his thoughts. His eyebrows are slightly furrowed, and his arms are crossed, leaning against the fence.

“Yoi-,”

“I’m so sorry.”

And he doesn’t give you the opportunity or time to respond.

“I don’t know what I was saying, I know better than anyone else that you’re always working hard. Heck you probably spend more time writing than anything else. I didn’t mean anything I said last week, ‘m so sorry, I don’t know why but I was angry and took it out on you.”

It almost all comes out as a whine, not the kind with a bratty tone but the kind that an apologetic child would have as they cry. It’s not out of character, he’s always been a bit of a crybaby, especially as a kid, bawling at the slightest jump scare or change in weather. With how much older you are now, you’ve almost forgotten this side of Yoichi, it’s easy to grow used to the sharp tongued and brutal character he now adopts when on field.

“Those are my words… I said everything that day because I was anxious, not because I meant anything.” Relief washes over you and you’ve never relished in it so much. “I’m sorry for taking it out on you…” There’s a slight pout in his cheeks as he pulls you in for a hug.

“You were kind of right though.” Before you can refute he keeps going. “I don’t understand all those weird English techniques, and to be honest I still google a lot of the words you use because they’re too complicated.”

“But even then, I know your writing’s amazing. I was worried. I thought you had given up on it entirely, all because you think Haru’s better. It’s— I don’t want you to give up because you think you’re not good enough—, because you are. Writing to you is like soccer to me, I can’t imagine what it’d be like if either of us quit. But if writing doesn’t make you happy anymore I’ll respect it. Or if you’re not aiming to do it professionally.”

As kind as his words were, it doesn’t loosen the grip insecurity has on you. It doesn’t change how others have so much of what you want; Paragraphs of praise instead of the short, brief and shallow compliments, popularity; As Haru hit impressive milestones you were wondering why some of your works got so neglected. Everytime you hear him make some sort of self-deprecating comment, crescents of frustration being dug into your palms; because he’ll always have people waiting for his posts, typing out long paragraphs eulogising everything he writes. It doesn’t exactly matter how much he doubts himself, people will shower him in praise either way. It seems a bit hateful, but it can't be helped with how you'd do anything to receive even a fraction of the love he gets.

You have someone like that, remember? The letters come to mind, they’re a foreign yet comforting presence.

Writing is such a significant component of you, yet it leaves you feeling so empty at times. But even if there’s one person; someone who only knows you by your writing and willing to support you purely based on that.

Someone, is better than no one.

Although Yoichi’s been supporting you from the day you started writing, that's a different story, Yoichi has your friendship, the creator of the letters doesn’t.

“You’re worrying over nothing.” It’s far from nothing. There’s still uncertainty in the confidence of your work, you’ll probably never eliminate the grasp of jealousy asphyxiating you each time you notice the difference in feedback and attention in comparison to your friends. Maybe it’d be better for you to quit, to move on from that silly little dream you declared to follow as a kid, and accept that some dreams will always remain as dreams. “I’m still passionate about it, but I’m interested in other things too.”

“I understand,” His pout is replaced by a grin. “Whatever you choose to pick ‘m always here for you, ‘kay?

Tell him. Tell him how the sight of your friends’ success leaves you and your heart thirsty for the same love and attention they receive regularly. Tell him—

“Of course you are, you’re my best friend.” —instead comes out. “You always will be.” You’ll tell him another day. Probably.

Tick. Tock.

The clock in the kitchen reminds of you every passing second, as you're quietly bringing and preparing a drink for the night. You quickly re-read today's letter, getting ready to write out a response

I know you already told me that you and Isagi made up, but has the topic of the argument gotten better?

It might be a bit invasive to ask about it, but I'm worried. I'm an athlete, and I know it's different to being a writer. But what I do understand is what it's like for someone to seem so much better and out of reach. There's a lot of doubt and you start to question why you're even trying.

I can't guarantee results, but I like revisiting my favourite parts of my sport. It helps remember why you started. Sometimes we care too much about others' opinions and forget who we are.

When and why did you start writing? What's your favourite part of it? What made you love it so much? (There's no need to feel obligated to answer these. They've just helped me a lot and I hope they can help you too.)

Please remember you're enough. You always have and will be. You're more than enough.

Drawing in a sharp breath, you stare at those words, relishing in the soothing solace of their kindness. Unknowingly you've craved that saccharine emotion for so long, despite not asking for it or expressing the struggles burdening you.

Before you know it, your pen's gliding across the page, you're engrossed in completing a response, expressing your gratitude for his goodwill.

To be honest, I'd love to become an author. I love the idea of having a book. The thought of having my words printed with a cover, and bought and enjoyed by others brings me indescribable joy. But I'm scared. It's a risky career for anyone, but I'm scared it'll be like my presence online; almost non-existent.

You blink a couple of times. Conveying your thoughts wasn't even that hard, yet you struggled so much to tell anyone else, not even being able to muster an attempt.

But your subtle confusion evaporates, as you continue the letter, everything else disappears, including your worries. While the hours pass, it's just you, the letters and your racing heart.

xx / xx / 23

Your recent work was compelling. The confession was my favourite part, I enjoyed how it wasn't perfect. It's unrealistic and gets boring when they're perfect. I know that's the purpose of fiction but a bit of realism is appreciated. You always achieve the right balance, something that seems impossible to happen, yet believable and not weirdly convenient. I had a lot of fun reading it on my way to school this morning, thank you.

A letter from this morning, a couple of hours after posting.

xx / xx / 23

Training was a bit longer than usual, but I wanted to say good luck for our upcoming exam. I hope maths isn't too bad for you. The topics we're going over seemed tricky… You'll be fine though, you're always studying hard when you're supposed to.

Before the maths exam from the other day, the one that everyone was panicking over.

xx / xx / 23

This is for you. You mentioned craving it last night. Hope you enjoy it.

The day after you posted on a whim "I feel like royal milk tea and idfk why."

The notes, both the latest one and a few from the past days are enough to earn a verbal reaction from you, "Oh my god— I adore them so much." Beaming, you re-read the notes a couple of times, savouring their feedback and sincerity. A few were carried around, while the rest remained safe either at home or in your locker.

Yoichi pauses from sipping on his drink. "They're still writing to you? You really are popular." He shuffles a bit closer, "Wow, they even went far as getting a drink for you. It's already been a few months."

"They already read my recent post too." You're already writing back, depicting your appreciation for their feedback. "That was quick though, I posted it before leaving the house and they had already written a response by the time I got to class."

"Hm." Yoichi hums a bit, gazing up at the sky and swallowing a piece of his onigiri. "How'd they find out it was you, only I know your username, you don't use your real name as your alias, and you're not public about writing as a whole. I can't guess anyone on our team, but that's the only clue we have, right?"

You nod, "They're also in our class." Too many questions and no answers. "I should ask them in my response."

He pulls out his phone, opening the notes app and typing the only two clues you have. "Right, but making a guess should be fun. It's a bit like all those general ability tests our parents made us practice, no? C'mon we'll figure something out if we work together."

"Why not." You recall everyone in your class. "Soccer team and in our class, aside from you there's Bachira, Kunigami, Yukimiya, Reo, Rin, Otoya and Chigiri."

"Well first we can eliminate—"

"Bachira." To his amusement you finish this sentence.

"Yup, I don't think he's physically capable of reading, or writing legibly. Besides, he'd be straightforward about it. If it was him everyone would've found your account by now." So that limits the possibilities to six people.

"Kunigami doesn't seem into reading either."

"He isn't, if he's not at soccer training he's either at the gym, eating or sleeping. There's no way it's Otoya, he only talks to people he wants to date, and does it straightforwardly " You'd question what kind of person would behave like that, but for now you'll save it for another day.

"Reo studies and reads a lot, doesn't he?" That would explain how they rectified any errors.

"Business and economics related books mainly, but he reads fiction too. He could've gotten his dad to pay someone to find you. Something like that."

"…" The soccer team was certainly a unique group.

"It's definitely possible it's him. But he would've been extra about it, I mean he's the heir of the Mikage Corp, 'course he'd do something extravagant as a fan. Who else again?"

"Rin, and Yukimiya, oh and Chigiri."

"100% Yukimiya. I guarantee you. If not, then Chigiri." Yoichi, then that's not a 100% guarantee, but you keep that thought to yourself.

"I thought Yukimiya would hate reading, since he said art strains his eyes."

"He reads as a hobby. So does Chigiri. Rin only likes horror, all your works are romance."

"Can't you just ask?" As fun as attempting to deduce who the fan was, your curiosity couldn't be contained.

Yoichi shrugs. "It'd be awkward if we're wrong. You'd rather not risk someone else finding your account."

"Wonderful point." You glance at your phone and notice the time, break's about to end. "Let's get out of here, before we get caught."

"I don't wanna go to maths… Not on a Monday afternoon please—" Those were his last words before you dragged him back to class.

"Wait, where's my phone?"

It's finally Friday, the conclusion of the week and the long awaited weekend. You had just left the school to go out for dinner with Yoichi and Bachira, until you realised its absence from its usual pocket in your bag.

"You must've left it in the classroom." Yoichi asks, "Bachira and I can wait here for you. Or I can go run up to get it for you."

"No it's fine, the place is nearby anyways. I'll meet you there."

Either of them don't get the opportunity to protest, rushing back into the building and up the stairs. How inconvenient of you to lose your phone, especially on the one day you're dying to leave immediately.

You finally arrive at your classroom, but there's someone already there, hood concealing their face, despite it being summer.

And they're at your desk.

"What the hell—" You waste no time, sprinting to your desk and grasping their hood, pulling it off and exposing their face, whilst having a grip on their wrist.

A shocked gasp leaves their lips; your name, but instead of your real one it's the one you use online. Is he—?

Adorned with captivating and noticeable eye lashes, alluring, deep beryl eyes stare right back at yours. Accompanying them on the pale canvas of his skin were faint pink and glossy lips. His teal hair's a bit messy, almost covering his eyes and contrasting the soft rose dusted on his cheeks

He's ethereal.

"Itoshi…Rin?"

The silence is loud, neither of you knowing what to say.

With the release of his wrist, you decide to break the silence.

"You're the one who's been writing letters to me?" Now that you've registered the surprise and who he is, you notice the sky blue envelope in his other hand, confirming your suspicions.

"Guess I got caught."

"Wait, that doesn't make sense—? I never told you about my account."

"I know you didn't." He responds verbally, voice hoarse and raspy. "I recognised your writing style after seeing sir show the class your writing."

That was from a year ago. "You knew me from that?"

"And some intuition. Whenever you made a post rambling about something at school, it matched up with whatever was happening here. So I took the risk and wrote that note." You're still in disbelief, Itoshi Rin, popular with his seemingly permanent stoicism, wrote all those affectionate words.

"To be honest, I know it would've been better to approach you normally. But I'm not—." He pauses, before continuing, roughly stuffing the envelope in his pocket. "I'm not like Yukimiya or Karasu, I can't express myself well through words and I was a bit worried." That explained his anonymity.

"Every time I read whatever you write, letter or not, I love it. A lot. I found your writing through a mis-click and I don't regret anything, your works are so addictive." There it is again, the sweet, warm words that sooth your scars and hurt.

"I like you, a lot. Though I can't say for sure if I love you, but I know I am with your writing. I want to talk about how much I cherish you and your hard work, instead of expressing it through a letter. I like the expression you make when you're focused, or how you smile while eating your favourite foods." Sunlight drenches the two of you in warmth, colouring the classroom gold.

The sun isn't the only reason why you feel so hot.

It's so infatuating, despite him not being a close friend at all. The way he speaks of you and your writing so highly. Your heart's pounding against your chest, begging for more of him.

"I don't want us to be just writer and fan. I want to grow close to you, and eventually end up as lovers." Rin's face is a bright red with embarrassment, averting his gaze from you. "Gosh, your writing is almost as pretty as you."

It almost feels like a dream, to finally feel some reassurance of your insecurities, even if Rin had been sending you letters and notes for the past few months. Something tells you to be a bit daring. "May I?" Your fingers reach up to his face.

It catches him off guard, and the flustered expression on his face is adorable as he nods. His hair's soft, as you brush it away from his eyes.

"Rin, I'd love that. You've been my lighthouse, I've felt so lost recently and those words you left me saved me." You're already regretting using a metaphor in regular conversation, but it's what you do best, even if it is embarrassing to say it verbally. "If it weren't for you, I think I would've quit writing entirely."

It was completely unfamiliar to you, for someone to praise you with that much effort, to finally have a source of comfort that seems to understand the relentless storm of self doubt; yet you can't imagine things without Rin anymore.

What has this boy done to you.

"It was my intention to prevent that." Despite him maintaining his calm and cold tone, he's still blushing heavily. "I'll be your lighthouse for as long as you'll allow me to then."

You joke around a bit, amused at his words. "I guess you'll be by my side forever then."

"That'd be ideal, sweetheart."

He relishes the growing blush on your face, chuckling at leaving you speechless and flustered.

"I can't believe you out of all people would do that. Why the hell would you gaslight me?"

"Listen, I didn't gaslight you."

"Lies, Isagi Yoichi, you're the reason my phone went missing that day." His lips curve into a delighted grin, as he helps you carry the heavy boxes.

"I was setting you up with the love of your life."

"You also knew the letters were his. You tried to convince me it was Yukimiya or Chigiri." Books are placed onto the shelf.

"I was trying to surprise you, I can't believe you didn't notice that. Didn't you find it weird how we spoke about the argument the same day the letter mentioned it, and after Rin spoke to me? Dude you ditched Bachira and I for him—" More books now. "You've grown up so much though— I can't believe you've publishing a book and you're in university already."

"You're literally the same age as me."

"I was born a few months earlier."

"Yet I'm taller." The faux offense on his expression is priceless.

Before he retaliates, you're called out to by a few people.

"y/n!" It's Reo, followed by the rest of his team, most you recognise, Nagi, Chigiri, and Yukimiya.

"Long time no see!" Violet hair tied up and with his expensive outfit, he looks like he's going to a business conference rather than meeting up with an old classmate. "Congratulations, it's doing really well already. You should've told me you've been writing since high school, I would've loved proofreading for you."

"Thanks, but aren't you guys busy with training?" Rin mentioned a few important and upcoming games.

"I have my priorities. I really loved the fireworks chapter—"

"124-136." Nagi butts in.

"Hm?"

"The page numbers. If it was really your favourite you would've recognised them." Not even you, the author remember that. "You're a fake fan Reo."

"Congratulations." Ignoring Nagi doubting Reo's 'loyalty' as a fan, Chigiri approaches you with a smile, a copy of your book in hand. "Mind signing my copy?"

With a thanks and a nod, your pen (Yoichi insisted on you keeping it at all times) glides along the cover, producing your autograph.

"Someone's popular." A familiar and raspy voice comments—, it's Rin. "Sorry for being late, Coach was being annoying. Did I miss anything?" Similarly to Reo, he's overdressed for the situation, covered in designer brands.

Chigiri scoffs. "You never apologise for being late to practise."

"Shut up princess." The nickname makes Chigiri chuckle, joining whatever chaos Reo started, muttering a comment about love birds under his breath.

"Rin, you already know you didn't have to come— Yoichi and I were only helping Anri restock."

His arms wrap around you from behind, head resting on your shoulder. "I'd rather be with you than train." Rin's hair tickles your cheek as he places a kiss on it. "I knew you could do it." Pride is laced with his voice, almost as if he was talking about one of his soccer games.

"It's thanks to you."

"Bullshit. You're the one who took the initiative to send your manuscript, you're the one who spent hours working on it, you're the one who didn't give up. My support can't compare."

A lot of things come to mind. The initial letters and notes, which became him bringing your favourite foods and drinks during your all your writing sessions. Rin was always there, ensuring you never overworked yourself, proofreading every word and providing his input and feedback. He even went as far as utilising his and his team's fame to assist with the promotion.

"It still meant the world to me. And it still does." Despite it being a regular way of him being affectionate, it still manages to make your face heat up, probably colouring them pink by now.

Though it's been years, there's still a bit of uncertainty. Even with a published book, it's scary knowing that it's out there for criticism.

"You're going to be okay." Rin, as always, notices the change in mood, hand caressing yours. "I'm always going to be by your side."

"I know just— it's so weird." It's surreal how you went from contemplating giving up writing to signing something you wrote from scratch. "I'll probably have to make alt accounts just in case of hate comments."

"Don't think you have to worry about that, Reo already sued some people. Pretty sure Isagi and Nagi stay up fighting people online. So don't worry about anything happening, we're all here to support you, you're my favourite and I love you." He concludes his speech with a peck on the lips, ignoring everyone who recognises him. "Let's get out of here."

"Wait, aren't we having dinner with everyone?"

"Change of plans, I only want to spend my money on you." Rin's already walking out the store, holding you hand. "You said you wanted to try Kobe beef, no?"

"Fine— you win." A high school reunion will have to wait for another day.

From milk tea to infamous and expensive beef, it's sweet how he things have changed yet have still remained heart warming, just like how he went from fan to lover.

tagging : @yuzurins

© kitorin : do not repost, plagiarize, change, or translate

[whumpsday]

Pin and Needle

Whump writing masterlist | G/t writing tag

g/t sideblog here! @smallsday

content: g/t, whump, tiny whump, borrowers, animal attack, caretaking, needles/stitches, hurt/comfort, fear, past child neglect, probable medical inaccuracies, found family

Whumpmas in July Day 3: Stitches & Bandages GT July Day 3: Impulsive Two Weeks of Whump Day 2: Needles

of my 10 Whumpmas in July entries, 3 of them will be combos with GT July! here's the first of those! i will never get tired of writing borrower whump. i should write a borrower whump series someday. for any non-g/t people unfamiliar, borrowers are a species of tiny people who secretly live in humans' houses, like fairies without wings. if you've ever seen anything labeled "tiny whump", this is that.

-

Pin had been a dad for five years now, and he liked to think he was getting pretty good at it.

The kid was already seven and self-sufficient enough to not die on her own for who knows how long when he found her, so he didn't have to deal with any of that baby crap. Now she was twelve, and she was better at some stuff than he was.

Pin decided to go borrowing while the kid slept in today, with the human off at school. It was perfect, because then he could take his time looking for a surprise. Today was the five-year anniversary, and he wanted to make it special. There was a lot he'd missed in Chime's life, and from what the kid had said about her old parents, they weren't exactly in the habit of celebrating her.

He had to make it special.

Pin had already gathered all the food and supplies he needed to grab, so all that was left was the present. He'd been looking around every time he went out, but he couldn't see anything. The human lived by himself- mostly, aside from that damn cat he'd brought home last month- and was a starkly healthy eater. Not a lot of little bits and bobs he could use to make toys for her, either.

It had been easier to get treats for the kid with the family who used to live in the apartment, who always kept sweets around, but food was food. It was better for the kid this way in the long run, anyway. But he really wished he could get her a treat, just this once.

He didn't really go into the human's room. He was of the opinion that a man needed his privacy, and food was supposed to be kept in the kitchen, so why would he need to? Most of all, the cat liked to hang out in there, and that was a risk he didn't need to take. Apparently the human was just watching it for a friend, which was the only reason he hadn't taken the kid and moved. But maybe the guy was hiding some snacks in there. From all the studying he seemed to do in there, it was likely, right?

Just this once.

Pin approached the bedroom. He could probably have squeezed himself through the gap under the door if he needed to, but the door was open a crack. He peeked in.

The cat snoozed happily on the chair left messily pulled out from the desk. Perfect, it was asleep. All he had to do was not make noise and-

It didn't take long for Pin to find his prize. There, right on the desk, a bag of marshmallows. Bingo. The bag even proclaimed them "mini", like they were made for borrowers. He could probably fit two or three in his rucksack to surprise the kid with when she wakes up.

Even with the chair pulled away, it was a little too close to the cat for comfort. He really should turn around and just try and make the kid another toy.

Ah, fuck it.

Pin could take a little risk. The cat was asleep. He readied his sticky hand- a human children's toy, a little less reliable than a grappling hook but much quieter- and climbed his way up the desk.

No issues. He was in the clear. He ripped a small hole in the bag and stuffed three marshmallows in his pack.

When he turned around, the cat was not asleep.

It stared straight at him with huge, yellow eyes, pupils constricted and tail flickering back and forth.

"Oh, shit. Hey, kitty," Pin whispered, backing away slowly.

The cat hunkered down, its hindquarters wiggling slightly, like-

Heart pounding, Pin dropped the pack and ran. But he was too slow, of course he was too slow, he was five inches tall. Borrowers weren't made to be fast, they were made to be sneaky, and he'd done the one thing a borrower was never supposed to do: he'd been found.

The cat was on the desk in an instant and its paws pinned him to its surface in another, their fuzzy exteriors giving way to claws stabbing through his clothes, through his skin. He screamed, trying to squirm away, but that only made the agony intensify, the claws dragging through flesh as blood stained his ruined clothes.

"No! Stop!" he cried uselessly, gasping with pain, but the cat didn't listen. Its head drew closer, mouth opening to reveal a maw full of sharp teeth that could easily crush bones.

Pin wailed in despair. He was going to die a violent, bloody death before he even hit forty. It wasn't supposed to end like this!

He kicked wildly, and by some stroke of luck, he managed to land a hit on the cat's snout, causing it to rear back a little.

That was all he needed. Pin tore away from the paws, letting out another shriek as they popped through his skin, and ran toward the front of the desk as fast as he could, dropping blood behind him.

The cat spun, tail flickering and ears forward with excitement.

"Fuck off!" Pin shouted. He shoved the desk drawer open just enough to slide in, landing on the bottom with a grunt.

The cat's paw dove in after, reaching for him. He scrambled to the back of the drawer, trembling in terror.

"Calm- calm down," he told himself, trying to get his quick breathing under control. The drawer was too small: even if the cat got it open, it wouldn't be able to fit all the way in the back. He wrapped his arms around himself, quickly becoming soaked in blood as his midsection throbbed with pain.

It was so dark, the only light coming from the sliver where the cat's paw batted around, searching for him. Pin grabbed at the piece of paper he found himself sitting on, tearing off a piece with shaking hands and wrapping it over himself like a bandage. He pressed it there tightly, even as it became soaked with blood, too.

Pin always tried to be strong for the kid. But Chime wasn't here right now, so he let himself cry. It was the worst pain he'd ever felt in his life, and he might still die. What would happen to him? How was he going to get back home? What if he didn't stop bleeding and he died here in the dark?

He didn't know how long he'd been sitting there when the front door clicked open, making him startle in his frazzled state. The human wasn't supposed to be home yet, was he? Or had he just been sitting here that long?

"This is why I need to check my emails, Yarny!" the human called. Right, the beast that might have caused his slow, painful death was named Yarny.

The cat's paw retreated and it hopped off the desk, exiting the room with a loud, insistent meow.

"Yarny!" the human gasped. "Is that blood!? What happened? Are you hurt?"

Oh no. The human was going to find him if he didn't move. Pin stood up: now that the cat was gone, he needed to get out of here.

He took one step, stumbled, and sat right back down as his vision spun.

"Oh, thank god," the human said distantly. "What, then, did you catch a mouse? Please tell me it's not still running around my apartment."

The human was going to kill him.

He would die without even getting to say goodbye to Chime. She was going to be abandoned again, this time by him. No kid should have to go through that. He was supposed to be getting her a present. How had this all gone so wrong? He didn't want to die.

But the footsteps drew closer, and he didn't have a choice. He scooted back into the corner of the drawer, clutching the paper around himself like he would even have the time to bleed out. He sobbed, hoping it would at least be quick.

The door creaked as the human swung it open, pattering over to the desk. Pin's whole world rumbled around him as the human slid the drawer open, revealing him trembling in the corner.

"H-hi," Pin said weakly.

The human stared, eyes wide with disbelief. Pin had never been so close to a human before. He was even bigger up close. He looked like he might have been, well, a scrawny nerd, maybe a little more than half Pin's age if he had to guess, but things like that didn't matter at his size. A human baby could crush him, let alone a young man.

"What are you?" the human asked, incredulous.

The last thing Pin was going to do was put his species at risk. He shrugged. "Dying," he squeaked, unable to keep casual.

"Oh, oh no." The human seemed to snap out of his incredulous stupor, enormous hands reaching toward him. Pin cringed back, but the human scooped him up anyway.

Pin squeezed his eyes shut and held his breath, trying not to whimper, but no death came for him. The human's hands were gentle, carrying him out of the drawer.

"Yarny, no," the human chastised, closing the bedroom door behind him as he walked out to the kitchen. He turned his attention to Pin. "I'm so sorry, I don't even know what you are. Yarny hurt you?"

"Yeah." He slowly opened his eyes, staring up at the giant. His trembling started up again. "Are you gonna kill me?"

"What? No!" The human seemed to realize he was making Pin uncomfortable and set him down carefully on the counter. "I won't hurt you, I promise. I'm- well, I'm not a doctor yet, I'm just a med student- are you still bleeding?"

Pin let out a shaky sigh of relief. His heart still raced with terror, but if the human was able to help him- well, he'd already been found.

He pulled the paper away from his injuries, getting a good look for the first time. Several bloody marks raked down his left side where the cat had sunk its claws into him. Blood oozed from them, warm and red.

"Look, uh," Pin didn't know the human's name. He almost never had company over, and no one just says their own name to themself. "Human guy. I know you don't know me but, you gotta help me, okay? I have a kid waiting up for me." It was risky revealing Chime's existence, but he never said he lived here, and since the human knew nothing about him, he'd have no way of knowing. His voice shook a little as he pled his case. "Single dad. She's got no one else. I can't die here, alright? C'mon. It- it hurts."

"Of course I'll help you!" the human exclaimed. He wrung his hands nervously. "It's just- I'm really not qualified, yet, is the thing. I could drive you to the emergency room? Or maybe, um, given your size, a small animal vet?"

"I'm not an animal!" Pin insisted, offended. "No, no, kid, listen. You can do this, alright? I've seen those books you keep in the living room. You got all the diagrams and shit. I can't be going to an emergency room and showing myself off to everybody. Just fix me and I'll be out of your hair."

"I haven't even done residency yet!" the human protested. "I've done a suture practice kit, but that's for normal-sized wounds, and it's just for practice, and I can't even determine that you need stitches because I'm not a doctor!" After a moment, he added, "And my name's Kendry."

"Pin," he introduced himself. "Practice kit's better than nothing. Just do that." He couldn't have this human take him out to get prodded at by a bunch of other humans, it sounded like his worst nightmare. "And I'm rushing you, 'cause I'm getting dizzy here."

Kendry looked alarmed at that. "Oh- okay!" he agreed, obviously still anxious. "Can you take off your shirt so I can examine you?"

"You got it." Pin removed the tatters that were once his shirt, wincing as the movement ignited more pain in his side.

Kendry peered closer. "I- yeah, I'm going to give you stitches. I would really like to take longer, but you can't have that much blood in you... I'm not a vet..." he trailed off.

"Good, 'cause I'm not a mouse," Pin grumbled, but the repeated broaching of the topic made him nervous. If Kendry saw him as a fellow person, he would probably be okay. But if the human saw him as an animal... who knows what he would do to him? The fact that his life laid entirely in this giant stranger's hands was terrifying.

"I'll be right back." Kendry dashed out of the kitchen, returning with a black fabric case. He unzipped it to reveal a cut-up silicone pad with all the cuts neatly sewn closed, curved needles of various sizes, thread, a bunch of different tweezers, and a few sets of scissors as tall as Pin.

Oh, he didn't like that last part at all.

But Kendry reached for the smallest curved needle, which still looked pretty damn big. "This is the practice kit. I did pretty well with the suture pad, but you're so small..." he fretted. He threaded the needle, pulled a packet from a drawer, ripped it open, and wiped the needle, thread, and one tweezer down with the tissue inside. He opened another one and held it hesitantly in front of Pin.

"I need to sanitize you first. Cats' claws can carry germs, I don't want you to get infected. It's going to sting," he warned. "I'm sorry, I can't give you anything for the pain, I'm worried you might even overdose on ibuprofen at your size..."

Pin maneuvered himself onto his other side, letting his injury face up toward Kendry, way too vulnerable. "It already stings, and I don't know what ibuprofen is. Just do it."

"Okay. Here goes." Kendry swiped the wipe over Pin's side, and he had to bite his cheek to keep from shrieking. It hurt, the fluid inside seeping into his open wounds.

"Are you okay?" Kendry asked.

"I will be once this thing stops bleeding," Pin said, voice strained.

"Alright, I just need you to hold still. Is it okay if I...?" Kendry brought his other hand to hover around him.

Pin hated the idea of being held in place, unable to move, but he nodded anyway. Whatever the doc-in-training had to do. "Go for it."

Kendry rested a finger on his back and a thumb on his chest, holding him gently but firmly in place despite Pin's continued trembling. "Just try and stay still. I'm sorry if it hurts. I'll do my best," he promised.

The needle entered his skin, dipping in and out as Pin fought the urge to squirm away. He couldn't hold back this time, sobbing harder every time the needle re-entered him. There were no more check-ups from Kendry: Pin could see, through tear-blurred eyes, all his focus was on the wound.

After way too long, Kendry released his hold, allowing Pin freedom of movement again. He didn't take advantage of it, exhausted by blood loss and his ordeal.

"Don't move," Kendry told him anyway. He grabbed one of the scissors.

Pin put his hands up, adrenaline flooding him. "I won't! What are you doing with that!?"

"Easy." Kendry wiped that down with the stinging wipe, too. "You still have the thread attached. I won't hurt you." He glanced down at the scissors, then back at Pin. "I know it must seem frightening to someone your size, but I'm just going to cut the thread. Honest."

"Right. Right, yeah." Pin forced himself to relax, lowering his hands back down as Kendry snipped the thread, leaving several wounds in his side stitched up relatively neatly.

Kendry grabbed a band-aid, one of the few medical tools Pin liked to take to keep around under the floorboards, and peeled the plastic away. He dropped some clear-ish gel from a tube onto the center. "I'm going to add some Neosporin on it just to be safe. An infection would wreak havoc on you."

"Sounds good to me," Pin agreed, sitting up. Kendry wrapped the band-aid around his body, the stitches hidden underneath. Good. He didn't want the kid to freak out about it.

"There. That went... pretty well, I think," Kendry said, almost stunned. "Where can I... discharge you to?"

"Thanks. The floor," Pin instructed. He could just get back home when Kendry wasn't looking. He'd have to find a new place after that, now that the human knew. Even if he was friendly enough to help, there was no way he'd want them to stay. "I'll be out soon as I can move around right."

Kendry tilted his head, the situation finally clicking. "Were you... living here?"

"Uh, yeah," Pin admitted. "Since before you moved in, actually."

"Oh! Well, um, I'm not going to kick you out after you just got attacked. You're... my patient. That wouldn't do," Kendry decided. "Does your daughter live here, too?"

The jig was pretty much up at this point. If Kendry wanted to hurt him, he already would have. "Yeah. Which is why I'm not telling you exactly where. I'm thankful and all, but... you get it."

"Oh, of course," Kendry agreed quickly. "You're just being a good dad."

Pin smiled at that, despite the pain. He wiped the tears from his face. "Thanks. I try, you know? She's not even my kid by blood, she actually lived here before either of us. I was scouting for a new place when I found her here all on her own. Seven years old, could you believe that?"

"What!? That's crazy!" Kendry pulled up a chair and sat, transfixed. "Seven years old, four inches tall?"

"Three tall. She was little. Apparently her parents had too many kids, so they just started kicking 'em out as soon as they were old enough. I don't think seven's old enough, but hey, what do I know?" Pin shook his head. "Today's the five-year anniversary of when we met. Usually stay out of your room, you gotta have your privacy, but I wanted to get the kid something special. Could I still get a few of those marshmallows?"

"Oh! Yeah, of course!" Kendry ran off toward the room, returning with a handful of mini-marshmallows as well as Pin's rucksack and sticky hand. "I figure these are yours?"

"Yeah. Thanks for being cool about everything." This was going so much better than he'd expected. "We'll move out soon. Probably should have the day you brought the cat."

"Um, you could stay if you want." Kendry offered, hope flashing in his eyes. "You were here first, after all."

This guy was obviously ridiculously lonely. But he mentioned having a friend? "I mean, yeah, that'd be great, if it's really alright. You okay?"

"Yeah! It's just- I lost my parents a few years ago," Kendry admitted. "You seem like... a really good dad. I don't want to make things harder for you. I don't mind having roommates."

Ah, so that was it. Pin reached out and patted Kendry's hand. He wouldn't mind having another pseudo-kid. "Me neither."

-

here's some more borrower whump i wrote if you like this! and be on the lookout for a Tiny Kane AU on thursday :)

feel free to ask to be on any of my taglists, btw!

everything taglist:

@lilac-and-lemon-whumps

@t0rture-me

@whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump

@dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night

@whumpshaped

one-shots taglist:

@icyheart-and-friends

@kira-the-whump-enthusiast

@lilac-and-lemon-whumps

@whuarri

@whumpycries

g/t whump taglist:

@whumpinthepot

@cupcakes-and-pain

just this one

@a-crumb-of-whump

event: @whumpmasinjuly @gianttol @promptsforyourwhumpfic

[secondsonaym]

Hi, I just wanted to stop by to say that you're doing incredible work!!! And to please not worry about how long or short it takes, I'll be honest the amount of content you're putting out is insane, I hear "oh I'm needing a break" and expect anything from 1 month to years, and you writing and drawing so much, like, almost daily, is so crazy!! And I just want to let you know that, as with everyone else I'm sure, we're here and not going to be disappointed or disappear if you change the pace of which you're writing! And also thank you for sharing this very cool vision of cotl, I reblog and leave comments but idk if you can see those (I'm newish to Tumblr) so I just wanna be sure that I at least send one thing to you so that!!! You know for sure people are reading and having a great time!!!

Thank you so much, this really does mean a lot to me, aaaaah

I just get antsy when there's been a lull because with ADHD, a break of a few days can easily slip into me neglecting something for a few weeks or even months, so I kind of have to be a bit harsher on myself in terms of routine OTL I do struggle a little bit with things, but so far it's been mostly a breeze getting all this writing out, so it's all good!

And yes, I absolutely do see your tags and commentary, and I LOVE it all. You've become a regular in my notes and whenever I see your stuff I just smile so wide, so I wanna thank you :D!!!!

I'll definitely take breaks when I need them (I've got quite a bit of IRL stuff that happens like some medical things, so I do gotta structure my schedule around those), but I am fueled by people's enjoyment and investment in this, so with any luck, the train'll keep going!!

[spencer-reids-adventures]

✨ 2022 Writing Year In Review ✨

Thanks to @feeisamarshmallow​ for tagging me!

1. Number of stories posted to AO3: 12

2. Word count posted for the year: 299,454

3. Fandoms I wrote for: Criminal Minds

4. Pairings: Luke Alvez/Spencer Reid, Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid, lots of friendship stuff between the team

5. Story with the most:

Kudos: A Collection of Blurbs Featuring Autistic Spencer Reid with 844

Bookmarks: Also A Collection of Blurbs Featuring Autistic Spencer Reid with 242

Comments: bau super seven loving-reid-a-thon with 159 comment threads

6. Work I’m most proud of (and why):

to seek and to find the narrow way. it's so personal and i was so nervous to post it because of the religious themes but i'm really pleased with how it turned out and i've gotten some amazing feedback <3

7. Work I’m least proud of (and why):

secret storm. i'm not not proud of it! but i wrote it for a challenge and i think i rushed it a little and could've done a lot more with it if i'd given it the time it deserved.

8. Share or describe a favorite review you received:

there's one person who's been reading you don't have to be sorry for doing it on your own and leaving long, detailed comments on every single chapter. i love this person so much. every comment from them makes me cry, they quote my work and talk about what they liked and what they're looking forward to. it's a writer's dream.

9. A time when writing was really, really hard:

writing the little scenes that i have to get through to get to what i really want to be writing. it's so hard to slog through sometimes, but it's always worth it once i make it to the good part and it gets easy again.

10. A scene or character you wrote that surprised you: 

an upcoming chapter of you don't have to be sorry for doing it on your own has a nightmare aftermath scene that i wasn't planning at all but i'm really into it now that i'm writing it and i'm excited to see how it affects the story as a whole. it literally came out of nowhere but i love it so, so much. also, that fic as a whole has surprised me - it started as a really long oneshot and now i'm at about 75k and only halfway done.

11. A favorite excerpt of your writing:

“Oh. Sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?” Morgan asks. 

“Keeping you here. Falling asleep on you. Trauma dumping on you.”

“You didn’t trauma dump on me. I asked questions and you answered. And I don’t mind that you fell asleep on me. You clearly needed the rest.”

Spencer buries his face in his hands. “I don’t usually talk about these things.” 

“I know, kid.”

“I don’t like talking about these things.”

“I know.”

“I don’t want this to change our friendship,” Spencer sighs. “I don’t want things to be weird from now on. I don’t want you to treat me differently.”

“It won’t change anything,” Morgan promises. “I won’t treat you differently.”

“I don’t want you to be worried about me all the time now.”

“Reid. I was already worried about you all the time.”

from you've got a friend

12. How did you grow as a writer this year: 

i wrote a lot this year! i did a lot of sprints, and that made me really productive, and i forced myself to write even when i didn't want to. and i think that was good for me. i also have been making a conscious effort to write what i want to write and not what other people necessarily want to read, and not getting hung up on hits or kudos or comments. if i start worrying too much about what people are going to think about what i'm writing, i stop and regroup and go back to writing what i want, even if that means deleting a whole bunch of stuff.

13. How do you hope to grow next year:

i want to better balance my writing time with the rest of my life. i'm not always good at determining how much writing is enough and how much is too much, and i neglect other aspects of my life in favor of writing which isn't always healthy. i do want to continue to write for me, though. and i've started a trend of writing a chapter ahead in chapter fics so i don't get overwhelmed, and i want to keep that up because it's working really well. i also want to put more effort into brainstorming for the discord fic because i love that one and i feel like i've neglected it a little lately.

14. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc etc): 

chris (@domestikhighway58) and maze (@tobias-hankel) have been so supportive and encouraging and spent so much time sprinting with me and chatting with me and reading my little snippets and keeping me motivated to keep writing. they also both write amazing fics that inspire me to write, period. i am endlessly grateful to both of them.

15. Anything from your real life show up in your writing this year:

i mean, i write fanfiction to process my emotions and issues, so yes, a lot of my real life shows up in my writing. spencer's coping mechanisms are my coping mechanisms. his stims are my stims. his autistic traits are my autistic traits. i have dozens of unfinished fics in my google drive that i've used to process issues in my marriage. also, spencer's therapist in one fic is an exact copy of my favorite former therapist, all the way down to her first name.

16. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers:

write what you want to write and don't worry about what anyone else is going to think. if there's something you're dying to read and no one's written yet - write it! if you have an idea that won't leave you alone - write it! don't worry about if it's good or if other people are going to like it. you are the most important audience. just do the thing!

17. Any projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year:

i'm really enjoying writing you don't have to be sorry for doing it on your own and now that i have an idea of where it's going to end up, i can't wait to get there. we're only about halfway through, so there's still a lot yet to come, and i can't wait to find out what that is, haha. Besides that, i guess we'll just see what happens. i've spontaneously written a couple of oneshots in the past few weeks and i'd like to do more of those in the future instead of always getting stuck in my long fics.

18. Tag some writers whose answers you’d like to read.

@eldrai @masterwords @tobias-hankel @domestikhighway58

[a-ghostlight-for-roman]

how to never stop being sad

Summary: Following his brother's acceptance, Roman's life felt like it was falling apart. His family was turning against him, that awful snake was being allowed in their home, and worst of all, he still couldn't seem to do anything right, no matter how hard he tried.

How does he choose to deal with it?

Not in a good way, that's for sure.

Warnings: Gore/Death/Violence (none actually occur but it is described), food mention, cursing

AO3 link

Chapter 1

Repeat to yourself that they’re not really gone

Time has proven

That fooling yourself into believing a lie

Is the most effective way

To deal with things you have no control over

Roman was fine. Completely 100% percent, absolutely fine, and he would tolerate no thinking to the contrary. Things were abnormal, sure, but he was coping. Maybe he felt a bit (a lot) guilty for letting things in the Mindscape get so bad, but it’s okay! He’s managing! Maybe he’s surrounded by people that barely tolerate him now, but he’ll fix it!

...eventually.

Right now, though, he’s in his room. Alone, as is usual these days. Usually, he’d ask Patton or Virgil to hang out with him, but after the last video, things were… Tense, to say the least. 

Patton wasn’t mad at him, of course; he wasn’t ever truly mad at any of them. However, Roman would have to be stupid not to notice the disappointed looks Patton gave him when he thought he wasn’t looking or the way that after Roman left the room, he always made a point to talk to Janus afterwards, as if he needed special attention just for enduring Roman’s presence.

Things were a little better with Virgil, but he was frustrated with Roman for tolerating Janus’ presence at all. Despite his obvious vitriol towards him, he still outright refused to talk about what exactly Janus had ever done to him. So Roman was forced to choose between Patton, his father figure who’d never meant to do him wrong (who had acted like Roman was unreasonable for sticking to the very moral rule set that Patton had imposed on him since they were children), or Virgil, who Roman had been wrong in not listening to before, & who was obviously extremely hurt and betrayed by both Janus, and now his own family.

He still hadn’t quite been able to choose, straddling the line between adhering to Patton’s kindness policy towards Janus and respecting Virgil’s feelings. It didn’t really work-- rather, it just seemed to leave them both dissatisfied. Roman could hardly stand it.

...but it’s fine. Really. It’ll blow over eventually. He isn’t quite sure how, exactly, but things always turn out alright in the end, right? There’s always a happy ending.

Except when there isn’t, but… bad endings only happen in Remus’ stories, & he doesn’t have power here in the Mindscape.

...except he sorta does, now. After his video, he’d (albeit reluctantly) been accepted. His ideas were considered, even valued, now. Sometimes, he was even chosen over Roman. Not only by Thomas, but also by the other sides, at times; Logan may think he’s slick, but Roman’s seen him specifically request his brother’s assistance in the Imagination, in the living room, in the archives, in his room- It made Roman sick to think about, and whenever he walked through the house, he could see evidence of his brother’s influence littered throughout. For the life of him, he couldn’t understand the appeal. When had society fallen so far as to value a duke more than a prince?

---

Roman hadn’t thought he’d been in his room for long; he’d only meant to duck in to get a breather after having to endure Remus’ maniacal ramblings for nearly half an hour, but it seemed he’d been brooding long enough to attract Logan’s concern. He heard a knock at his door and broke out of his haze, looking towards it.

“I apologize for bothering you Roman, but I was wanting to inquire whether you were alright. It’s been an hour,” Logan said. Had Roman really been away for that long? No wonder Logan was checking on him.

“Yeah, Specs- Sorry. I’ll be out in a minute, just finishing a project,” he lied. Logan was so cold, calm, rational- Surely he would look down on Roman’s groveling simply because he couldn't deal with his brother for more than a few minutes. As much as Roman was full of himself and proud of his work, he thought if Logan talked down to him, he’d break down and cry.

“We’re currently 'hanging out' in the common room. You’re welcome to join whenever you finish. I look forward to hearing about what you’ve been working on.” Roman could hear his footsteps slowly grow farther from the door.

Shit. Now Logan thought he’d been working on something, so now he had to do something-- he couldn't just show up empty-handed. They’d see through his lies in an instant. He’d be just as bad as Janus, imagine what Virgil would think--

He took a steadying breath. Okay, yeah, he’d lied, but that wasn’t so awful, he just had to make it right. He just had to make something, and that shouldn’t be so hard, right? That’s his job! He’ll just think of something real quick, and it’ll be done in a jiffy, and then it won’t be a lie anymore, and on top of that, he’ll have something to talk about! Talking parts were hard to come by sometimes when you had to find something that would include the two people you hate most, your former-enemy-turned-best-friend, your dad and your colleague (as he insisted to be called), but everyone was always eager to hear his new ideas, so this would be perfect.

---

It was nothing special, but it would do. He hadn’t had the time or energy to think of a concept for a whole scripted video, so instead, he’d written the next Shoutout Sunday. Simple, but it had to be done, and it was already Friday, anyways. He closed his notebook, and stood up, keeping it under his arm. He never knew when inspiration would strike, so he tried to carry it with him whenever possible. He opened his door and stepped out from his room, making his way down the hallway past the multicolored doors of the other sides, pointedly avoiding looking at Janus’ signature black and yellow-colored door. Out of sight, out of mind.

As he walked into the commons, the conversations faltered for a moment, but everyone quickly returned to what they were doing. Remus was noticeably absent; Patton and Virgil were curled up on the couch, sharing a blanket between them and speaking in excited whispers; and Logan and Janus were speaking across the counter separating the living room and the kitchen while Logan made dinner on the stove and Janus leaned with his hands crossed under his chin. 

Roman lingered by the stairs for a moment, caught off guard by the lack of greeting, but continued to the side of the couch not occupied by Patton and Virgil. He’d hoped to share his script with Logan, but he was busy at the moment, and he so rarely was this casual with the others; Roman figured it better to let him be for the time being. He pulled his notebook from under his arm and summoned a pencil from his desk. If he couldn’t share his idea, he might as well get started on the next.

He spent around five minutes doodling a new creature to introduce into the Imagination when Logan finally seemed to notice he was there.

“Ah, Roman! Apologies, I hadn’t noticed you were here. What was the idea you were working on?” he asked. He turned off the stove and fully turned to Roman, looking past Janus. Roman was almost ashamed to say he felt a certain degree of satisfaction that Logan had put aside his conversation with Janus in favor of speaking with him. Keyword being "almost."

“Well, it is a most illustrious, melodic creation--” Roman sunk down from the living room and rose into the kitchen, laid his now open notebook on the counter, and gestured towards it with a bow-- “Behold, the newest Shoutout Sunday!” He smiled and rose from his position, bouncing on his feet a bit as Logan rested his chin on his hand, looking thoughtful, and read it. Logan gave a slight, satisfied smile.

“So you’ve worked ahead of schedule, then. Wonderful! Good work, Roman."

“I know,” Roman replied, beaming, “I shall have a new idea by the morn-- perhaps I can even start the next video script!”

“So long as you do not burn yourself out, Roman. Otherwise, I look forward to your next contribution.” Logan closed Roman’s notebook, handed it back to him, and then opened a cabinet, gathering bowls for… Whatever healthy monstrosity was in the pot on the stove. Roman could only guess what it was. Some sort of soup, maybe? “Will you be joining us for dinner tonight, Roman?”

“I’m afraid there are simply too many ideas and too little time, I must return to my work!” Roman replied. Janus narrowed his eyes at him from across the counter.

“I wouldn’t be witnessing any self-neglect right now, would I, Roman?” his voice dripped, cool and patronizing. It carried a lilt of care, but it was clearly faked-- Patton would have scolded him if he’d been listening. Roman rolled his eyes.

“No, I am simply dedicated to my craft! Creations don’t come from thin air, do they?” he replied. Logan tilted his head, brows furrowed.

“...They do,” he said. He raised his palm, and atop it, a paper appeared. “As you can clearly see, I’ve just summoned this piece of paper- Now, it’s not on par with many of your creations, of course, but I’m sure you understand my point. Just last week, you summoned me a new Rubik’s Cube. Don’t you remember?”

Virgil snorted from across the room, and Roman sighed. “Yes, Specs, I- I remember. I meant that metaphorically.”

“That was not a metaphor. According to Oxford Languages Dictionary, a metaphor is 'a figure of speech in which a word or phrase is applied to an object or action to which it is not literally applicable.' Would you like an example?”

“Not now, Logan. I’ll be taking my leave-”

“Aw,” Patton interrupted, “why not stay? You’ve spent so much time up in your room- Now, I know sometimes we need our alone time, but spending some time with your famILY won’t kill ya!”

“Did someone say kill?” came Remus’ shrill, excited voice from by the lamp where he’d just appeared.

“Not that kind of kill!” Patton rushed, “there will be absolutely no killing on my watch, mister!” Remus put his hands on his hips and blew a raspberry at that, exaggeratedly pouting at him.

“You’re no fun,” he replied. “Nothing wrong with a little casual murder to pass the time! Everyone dies sometime, might as well make it exciting.” Patton grimaced as Virgil’s eyes went wide and he groaned.

“...Everyone dies sometime. We are going to die. Thomas is going to die. Death is inevitable,” Virgil mumbled shakily, though it was still quite loud once the tempest tongue kicked in. He put his hands in his hair, but before he could pull at it, Patton led his hands away.

“Now Remus, that may be true, but there’s no need to dwell on it, especially when you know it will upset Virgil,” Logan said with a strict tone.

“Oh oh, I wonder who’ll go first when Thomas dies? Think it’ll be all at once, or one by one? I vote Roman-”

“Won’t you just shut up?” Roman spoke up, voice raised. “You’re harming Virgil and you know it. Keep your ideas in your side of the Mindscape; We don’t want them here.” His fists balled up as he glared at his brother. Oh, what he’d give to be able to walk up to him, to punch him square in the jaw. He’d love to unsheathe his sword and bury it right in his fucking stomach, to watch the emotions flicker through his eyes as they slowly went glassy and he collapsed to his knees, the blade continuing up through his skin like it was paper, the blood leaking through his clothing and pooling around him on the floor-

Roman blinked hard, brows furrowed. No one had responded to him yet, because it had only been a moment. What kind of thought was that? Certainly not one becoming of a prince. Was Remus messing with him somehow? Roman knew he could project thoughts into Thomas and the others’ heads, but Roman had never experienced it himself-- Why would Remus give him an intrusive thought right now, especially one so gruesome as to include his own gory death by Roman’s hands? He didn’t look like he had done anything, but he had to have, right? Roman didn’t come up with ideas like that. He was light creativity, he was good creativity!

Patton must’ve noticed his distress, as he quickly looked between the two. “Oooookay,” he began, “Remus is being a little inconsiderate of Virgil. And that isn’t okay! But that doesn’t mean we don’t want him at all. Everyone messes up from time to time!”

“But he’s doing it on purpose!” Roman exclaimed. He gestured his arms towards Remus and waved them incredulously. “I mean, look at him! He doesn’t even care!” 

Remus didn’t respond, continuing to stand in his spot, smiling and unblinking. Janus cleared his throat, gathering their attention. 

“I’m sure Remus just loves being talked about as if he isn’t here. Regardless, it’s hardly fair to criticize him for one incident that’s a result of his function as intrusive thoughts, especially considering that you’ve shown a pattern of worse behavior over the past… What, three years?” He looked towards Logan for confirmation.

“Yes, approximately that long, although that’s a misleading usage of the information. He’s improved over time,” Logan responded.

“Only if you consider his treatment of Virgil exclusively. Regardless, you've proved my point,” Janus said, sounding satisfied. “If it took Roman three years to warm up to Virgil, why does Remus only get a few months? Not to mention that he’s just being told that he’s unwanted and to leave, you've never experienced despite your actions, and which is preposterous notwithstanding.”

Virgil finally ripped his hands from Patton and covered his ears, shutting his eyes tightly.

“Shut up shut up shut up!” he said frantically. Patton bit his lip and looked around the room.

“Listen, usually I’d encourage a healthy family discussion, but now’s really not the time to be doing this-- Roman, please go to your room. Remus, I’m not mad at you, but I’d really appreciate it if you would go ahead and leave for the night, too.”

Roman stared at Patton for a moment, mouth agape and brows furrowed. “My room- Patton, I’m not five! This isn’t even my fault-”

“Don’t argue, Roman,” Logan cut him off, “Do as Patton said. We’ll discuss this more in-depth later.”

Roman gave a loud scoff as he trudged across the room and began making his way up the stairs. He gave one last glare to Remus, who’d finally begun to move, and then continued to his room, where he fell backwards onto his bed. He closed the door with a flick of his hand, and stared at the ceiling, letting out a resigned sigh as he reminisced. Why was everything so backwards nowadays, he wondered? When had the dastardly acts of his brother become the new norm, overshadowing his own heroism and creativity?

It wasn’t as if Roman could even do anything about it, either; Patton’s decisions on what was right and wrong was like the word of law in the Mindscape. Sure, Roman could challenge his thinking, but he hardly wanted a repeat of his… Frog incident. He couldn’t bear it if he distressed him that much again. All Roman could hope for was that one day, sooner rather than later, someone would either talk some sense into him, or he’d come to the realization himself that Remus was merely a parasite to their famILY.

For now, at least, Roman could dream. 

‘Patton loves me just as much as the others. He’s a dad! Dads love all their children equally.‘

‘Even if it seems like it sometimes, no one really hates me- Well, besides Remus.’

‘...And even if they do, I can fix it.’

Even if it meant lying to himself.

[depravity-n-savagery]

Imagine being someone who writes smut stories, and you're dating Eddie.

He'd definitely read them to you. 😏

‎♡‧₊˚ Eddie Munson x (fem)Reader - 18+ smut blurb

⊹ ੈ♡ ��� — — — — — — — — — — ₊˚ ‧₊ ๑ ˎˊ˗

You try to hide the hobby from him at first. Embarrassed because you think he'd be freaked out. Especially if he finds the stories you've written about him, filled with sexual fantasies and scenes of things you wish he'd do to you in reality.

Then one day he's looking through your bookbag while you use the bathroom. Just to copy some of your notes for class. Instead he finds THE notebook. Dog-eared right at the end of the most recent short story you wrote about him. It was absolute filth. All the rough treatment that you were too shy to ask for. The dirty words you longed to hear him say to you. The positions. The passion. It surprised him how much it all turned him on. Knowing his seemingly innocent girl was a lot hornier than she let on.

So he has an idea.

By the time you came back into the bedroom, he was standing at the foot of the bed with your notebook open in his hands. It felt like all the blood drained from your body, and your heart sunk into the pit of your stomach. Oh my god. He probably thinks I'm so fucking gross now.

Until he starts to read. Out loud.

"He stood there, looking sexy as ever. Like the new-age sculpture of a Greek deity. Soft skin over hard muscle, like carved marble. To others, he was plain and even repulsive. To me? He was an adonis."

He read your words like they were highly respected literature. The way one would perform Shakespeare (minus the old type of accent). That part didn't surprise you. You were used the dramatic ways he told stories during his Hellfire campaigns. Still, there was something about the way he bled seduction into the delivery. It kept you nailed to your spot by the door. Frozen as he continued with a grin.

"I really like this part here." He said, guiding his eyes to the proper paragraph with his index finger on the page. "Nobody felt pleasure in giving pleasure the way Eddie did. He could give it to you softly as a gift, or wield it roughly as a weapon. Attacking your clit and holding it hostage until you surrendered. Taking you out with a deep whisper of encouragement." His voiced dropped in tone, dripping with sex. "There you go. That's my good girl." Ghh

It made your heart race, throbbing in your chest, ears and another area that was beginning to feel very neglected. "I- Eddie, I can explain. I never meant for you to-"

"To find this?" Eddie held the book up, closing it but keeping his thumb in place so he wouldn't lose the page. He closed the distance between you, and softly kissed your lips. So chaste it felt out of place, given the words he just said to you barely a minute ago. "Sweetheart, I'm not upset or weirded out. Is this-" He gestured with the book again. "-the kind of stuff you really want from me?"

It was impossible to lie straight to his face. You've never been able to do it, even before you became a couple. So you bit the bullet and nodded your head slowly.

"Why didn't you say so? All this time I was taking it slow because I thought you wanted it that way. You never seemed fully satisfied. But from what I've read so far... I could've been fucking your brains out for months now."

He reached behind you and closed the bedroom door, locking it so his uncle wouldn't open it whenever he got in from work. The book was opened again, and flipped right to the start of the first smut scene. "Get on the bed, baby. We've got a lot to catch up on."

♡ A/N: Couldn't get this thought out of my head 🤣 So here we are. It ALMOST became a full smut fic, but I just didn't have it in me. If anyone else decides to use the idea for a fic though, tag me. I'd LOVE to read it! ~

Masterlist, Ao3

[sakusaur]

pairing: sakusa kiyoomi x f! reader

tags: NSFW, consensual somnophilia, aged up characters, thigh riding, slight humiliation

synopsis: sakusa goes to bed earlier than you since he has to wake up in the wee hours of the morning for training while you get home late due to overtime at work but one day you're just too needy for him.

a/n: skip till paragraph 6 for the filth and there will be more notes at the end! 💖 i hope you guys like this!

It's been a tough day at work, with your boss haunting behind your back asking for more documents to be submitted before the deadline and meetings with clients for meals to secure a deal. But this was your job for the past year, it was also the first time you've met Sakusa Kiyoomi.

He was a private client, you only met him for a coffee run to set up his bank account and to assist him with his assets. But slowly, coffee runs turned into casual meals and casual meals turned into dates. Before you knew it, both of you were in love with each other and decided to move in.

So, Sakusa isn't surprised that you're home late again today, he knows your work schedule. And he isn't even awake to be surprised. It's currently the volleyball league season so he needs to get as much sleep, so by the time you step into your shared bedroom, he's sound asleep in the bed.

You put down your handbag and took off your blazer before walking over to him, watching his chest slowly rise with ease. He looks ethereal with his black curls falling into place. You couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt for neglecting him for the past few weeks, both of you haven't even touched each other for almost a month!

And because of that, you couldn't help but to think about something Sakusa had said one night, many months ago while you two were in bed.

"You know, I'm okay with you touching me while I'm asleep," Sakusa says as he looks up at the ceiling, sweat was rolling off his neck and his face was flushed. You looked up at him while lying on his chest, surprised at his sudden permission. "You like that?" You asked him. And he covers his red face with his arm, nodding along.

Now, you gulped a little as you knelt on the floor next to him, you needed this, after such a gruesome day, you needed some form of release. You sweep his hair up to get a better look at his face and kissed his cheek softly before turning your attention to his sweatpants.

You tore the blankets away from his grip and quickly unzipped your skirt to let it fall to your ankles. He was still deeply asleep as you climbed into bed, putting one knee in between his thighs. Next, you unbuttoned your blouse to cup your breasts.

That earned a moan from you as you freed them, not unhooking your bra. Sakusa still looks so beautiful in his uninterrupted sleep and that drove you further, because imagine if he actually woke up to you, grinding on his half-hard cock underneath his sweats.

You plopped down nicely on one of his thighs and started to slowly move, grinding softly on it to not wake him up. But you couldn't keep your mouth shut as the friction of his sweatpants sent waves of arousal through your panties.

"Y/n?"

Your eyes shot up to see Sakusa stir awake and he's squinting his eyes, catching every one of your erotic movements. That quickly sent his blood straight to his cock, and his brain started to work. You started to whine, "Sorry Omi, I needed you."

Hot tears threatened to spill as you kept on grinding on his thigh, trying to get off but you can't because it wasn't enough, especially since Sakusa was watching you with lust in his eyes. You felt humiliated as sat up to grip your hips, his fingers digging in your flesh.

"Don't apologise, baby," Sakusa whispers. "Let me take care of you now." And he started to control your hips, moving them at a rapid speed, making sure your clit is getting every simulation it needs.

a/n: OH WOW it's been almost a month since I posted something and we were at 400 followers BUT WE ARE ALMOST HITTING 700???? thank you TT

now, sorry for the lack of updates, i've been busy with my personal life and with lots of haikyuu events happening on twitter, you can find me @sakusar on twitter! though i write mostly ships there.....

never less, here's an update after so long I hope you all like it!

[vv3nti]

liar — t. oikawa & h. iwaizumi

synopsis—a love triangle of unrequited love

warnings—angst , unrequited love , break-up , some aspects based off american high school , there may be a little ooc i'm still learning to writing the hq boys sorry :/

a/n—this is a one-shot i wrote i'm hoping to make into a series- i've started part two so that's promised if not a series, send an ask or wtv to be tagged for that <3

“I’m tired of hiding, Tooru. I’m tired of being kept a secret.” You said softly, twirling the necklace around your neck between two fingers. The weight of this relationship finally lifting off your shoulders, but that didn’t stop the inevitable thump growing in your throat. You love Oikawa, you really do, but you can’t keep going like this. Your heart won’t allow it. You want someone proud to show you off and cherish you with all they have. Maybe, your expectations were too high from the beginning; if you had set the bar lower, this all could have been avoided. Or if Oikawa truly cared for you, loved you as he said he did. Whatever the reason, the dull ache was too much to bear. “I can’t do this anymore; it hurts too much.”

Oikawa had not expected those words to leave your plush lips. No, he thought you’d complain again, he’d kiss it better, and you would forget about it, like usual. But this—this was the last thing he wanted to hear. You were happy; he was sure of it. What the hell provoked you to feel like this? “What do you mean? We agreed we would wait.”

“Yeah, months ago.” You wave your hand through the air. You had no intention of allowing the boy to dismiss your concerns, not again. “And every time I mention it, you disregard my feelings like they don’t matter.”

His eyebrows furrowed, a clear frown set on his face. “Of course, your feelings matter to me.”

“If that were true, we wouldn’t be in this situation.” Anxiety started creeping up your spine, a deep shiver demersing. You couldn’t help but feel off-put; if you didn’t end the conversation fast, you knew you’d slip back in his clutches. “Please, don’t make this any harder than it has to be. No one even knew we were together; that means things can go back to normal.”

“Normal?” He mumbled, eyes downcast to the floor. “What does that even mean? Nevermind that—is this about my fangirls? Because I can tell them to back off. Or Mei? Did she say something to you.” Oikawa’s calm demeanor began to wear off, and panic soon set it. The perfect picture he had planted in his head was decaying within the second, and he couldn’t manage the thought. He couldn’t even see the harsh reality behind his imagination; nothing about your relationship was ideal. Oikawa pushed you too far off the deep end, and as he tried to meet his own needs, he neglected yours.

His hands reached out to you, afraid you’d disappear if he didn’t get ahold of you soon.

The mention of his ex stung a little more than it should. But what are you supposed to feel? Tooru was publicly dating her for a lot longer than you've been together and you felt inferior to her in so many ways. They didn't break up on bad terms and you can't help but wonder if he still has feelings for her—it would justify his need to keep you a secret. “No! I’m done, I’m done with this, Tooru. This how couples are supposed to act; I don’t want to act like this. I’m sorry, but I can’t keep doing this. I need time, a break, anything but this.”

That night you both went home with a gaping hole in your chest and beds a little colder than before. Uncertainty crept in; was this a temporary break or a breakup. Neither of you had the answer.

You spent the first day of the long weekend cooped in your room, fresh tear streaks following the tracks on the old. On Sunday, you had to head to the school to decorate lockers for senior night or week in Sejohs case; the volleyball team had games on Tuesday and Friday this week. Luckily your appointed third year was Iwaizumi, so you didn’t have to trouble over an awkward encounter with Oikawa. Monday consisted of endless baking; it was safe to say you went slightly overboard. Assortments of brownies, cupcakes, mini cheesecakes, and peach cobbler aligned the countertops. One might say you’re a stress baker.

On the contrary, Oikawa spent his weekend hounding down on his team with tiring drills and repetitive rotations. His temper was short, and his attitude anything but playful. None of the club members wanted to be the one to confront their captain, leaving him alone in his thoughts—thoughts about you. At night he got little to no sleep, spending his sleepless nights replaying all his wrongs as if the answer will all of a sudden appear. But how is Oikawa supposed to fix a problem he didn’t even know what there.

Tuesday rolled around faster than anyone could have expected. You sat restlessly in the clubroom, waiting for Iwaizumi to meet you there. You requested him to join you in the room, considering you didn’t walk to school with him and Oikawa as you usually would. Regardless of where you interacted, you knew Iwa had many questions, and you’d preferably be interrogated in private than in front of the entire student body.

Iwa rushed into the room, school bag around his shoulder and one of his jerseys flailing in his hand. “Hey,” He spoke, his usually irritated tone nowhere to be heard. Upon seeing him, scorching anxiety rose in your chest. Deep breaths, Y/N, deep breaths. “I brought this.”

“Iwa, hi,” You chirped, hopping on the tabletop and embracing your friend—holding on a little tighter than usual. Despite your constant mantra of ‘I’m fine,’ you did long for some form of comfort. “Yes, right, thank you. Just set in on my bag. I want to show you what I made.” You dragged the boy by his hand to the table occupying your tasty treats. You figured he could share the desserts with the rest of the team once they won tonight. The hopeful look on your face slightly dropped. Iwa didn’t look as excited as you hoped for. Instead, he looked deep in thought, like something was bothering him.

“What’s going on?” He questioned quietly, finally meeting your puzzled eyes. “Come on, Y/N, you cook when you’re upset. Anyone who’s known you for more than a year knows that.”

Mouth ajar and eyes wide, you searched for an excuse to preach to Iwaizumi—although you know your attempts will be futile. Since you were in elementary school, you’ve grown up the boy and had no doubt he would read you like an open book. And if not you, then most definitely Oikawa. “Nothings going on; I just wanted you to have an array of options. Is that so bad? You could be a little more thankful, you know.”

“Of course, I’m thankful for all of this. But I’m going to find it a little concerning when Shittykawa is as quiet as a mouse, and you’ve got bags under your eyes from what? The hours you spent baking through the night?.” Iwa uttered, raising his voice a bit.

Unfortunately, that only further pushed you to the defensive stature. You wished he’d just leave it, shove it under a rug as you did this weekend. “Not everything I do involves Oikawa! If he’s acting weird, then you can ask him about that instead of undermining what I did for you!” You frantically grabbed your bag off the ground, planning to leave the room. “If you didn’t like it, you could have said thanks and thrown it away—”

“Hey, Hey,” A tight grip encloses around your bicep, halting your departure. “I’m sorry, I really like everything you did for me, you know cheesecake is my favorite. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I’m sorry.” Iwaizumi’s grip doesn’t falter, even as your teary eyes meet his own.

The lump grew in your throat as you fought back the waterworks. “We broke up, or I broke up with him, I guess. Can you even break up with someone who didn’t want you in the first place?” You said, through a broken sob. Iwa doesn’t say anything. He just stares at you with the same pitiful look you’ve seen a thousand times. His free hand moved to the side of your face, patting your hair a few times before he pushed your head into his chest. Words wouldn’t provide you with the support you needed, so Iwa simply let you cry in his embrace—secretly plotting all the ways he wanted to beat Oikawa’s ass.

He didn’t need to ask. He knew all the reasons why this happened. Hell, Hajime had seen the foreseeable future unravel when Oikawa presented your relationship.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be such a downer on game day.” You lifted your head, lightly brushing your palms along his uniform, waiting for your tears to dry. The door to the clubroom snapped open, hitting the opposing wall, prompting you and Iwa to rush apart. The look on the face read shocked, more towards the fact you didn’t need the club questioning why you were crying this early in the morning. But the brunette boy in front of you idly took a long, deep breath encouraging you to do the same.

“Oh, are we interrupting something?”

“Just Iwa and his not-girlfriend, what’s new?” Mattsun and Makki seemed to be having a good morning, and not even Iawizumi could shake them out of the teasing moods. Despite their playful banter, you couldn’t help but focus on the silent set of eyes following your movements, and something about his silence was off-putting.

You turned to the two, a sly smile planted on your lips. “I’m not even indulging,” Fake it til’ you make it. “But I did make a small arsenal of desserts, so help yourself-”

“If I decide to share with these idiots.”

“Help yourself-if Iwa chooses to so graciously gift you the pleasure.” You said sweetly, playfully bowing as Mattsun and Makki rolled their eyes. “I have to go to class, so enjoy, and good luck.”

“Here I got it.” Iwa offered, plucking your bag from the floor with a small smile. The kind gesture made your heart flutter, your mood beginning to lift simultaneously. Ever since you were little, Iwaizumi always seemed to know what you needed to feel better, almost like an institution. Maybe that’s why his tone was short and sharp when he told Oikawa to move away from the door as you tried to leave, you’re used to his cold demeanor, but it was unsettling. You didn’t want him to be this angry with his best friend because of you, although it was a little awarding.

Oikawa’s lips laid ajar, fumbling his thoughts to form a reasonable enough sentence. He wanted to say something astounding to you, something that gave you no choice but to come back to him. He planned it all day yesterday, but now as you hide behind Iwa, he drew a blank.

“I’m serious, Oikawa. Move.”

Oikawa hung his head in shame, shuffling to the side, allowing you and Iwa to exit the room. The overwhelming feeling of patheticness climbing his veins. He didn’t mind his best friend’s anger towards him, but this wasn’t rage. Iwaizumi was disappointed, and Tooru couldn’t shake his glare.

Practice was usually a time the boys could assert their worries into energy, but the thick tension left everyone unsettled. Today’s warmup was eerily different.

Tooru watched you bounce in and out of the gym with the rest of the cheer squad; Iwa’s jersey adorned your figure. His expression held that of a kicked puppy, and it was pissing off the rest of the team. They needed their captain in his best frame of mind if they wanted to win.

Hajime’s humorless laugh broke the silence. “I warned you, you know.” Oikawa shifted his attention. “I told you you’d only hurt her, and you continued reassuring me you wouldn't, time after fucking time. And...there was a time I believed you, but you’re a liar, and Y/N sees it too.”

Oikawa’s sadness morphed into anger, eyes twitching as he bit the inside of his cheek. “If I’m a liar, that makes you one too.” He sneered, eyes still downcast on the court. His emotions were on overdrive, plucking and pinching in his mind. Oikawa knew he should resort to this method of release, but he was losing all control.

The ace sucked in a sharp breath, eye blazing. “Yea, well, I can live with that. Can you?”

Coach cut the conversation short, asking why the boys weren’t warming up before the game. The captain and ace have begotten many altercations through the years, but they always found a way to convert their anger into power. Coach Irihata only hopes that proves true with tonight’s game.

You, on the other hand, had a million tasks to complete before you could settle down in the gym, so you ultimately missed the scuffle in the gym. Just that didn’t make you ignorant to the rising tension, and you couldn’t help but feel it was your fault.

[a-pretty-nerd]

Tomura Shigaraki x AllMight!Daughter!Reader

Chapter 9

Premis:

When The League of Villains discovers that AllMight has a daughter, they are quick to snatch you up and hold you hostage. Shigaraki had a careful and thought out plan, but that was before you got there. Now you’re in the mood for some not-so-healthy rebellion.

Word count: 2,756

Warnings: Cursing

A/N:

Oh dear lord I'm slow at getting these out. Life's been kickin' my ass lately. But thank you to everyone who's been giving me feedback on my stuff, I really love to hear from you guys!

Taglist: 

(So sorry, I forgot when I originally posted!) 

@craftybean13 @babayaga67 @imjustverable

@bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love

@kamenoyaki @hentaiqween101 @skzero-99 @justanotherlifeff

@witch-o-memes​

Chapter 8 Chapter 10

Two months. You've been "missing" for two months now. The days flew by, your time occupied by quirk training Shigaraki insisted on but never told you why. The times you tried to ask he'd brush it off, or say something like:

"So you don’t throw another fit." His words were harsh but he said them with a flat and bored tone. Like it was a poorly acted line.

So now you had better control. You could move things on command, you knew basic combat, you certainly knew how to kick Dabi's ass by now, that didn't take too long. You were being allowed more and more freedom. Even allowed to leave for a convenience store runs with Toga once or twice. No one policed you, told you what you could and could not do anymore. You could have easily ran away by now. You supposed they really didn't need you either. For their plan to work all they would need was some blood and Toga could easily pass as you.

That idea sent a shiver down your spine. You're sure Shigaraki has thought of that already, so why hadn't he? Why was he training you? Would he use your quirk against the heroes in some way? Was he grooming you to turn and fight your father? You wouldn't. No matter what you wouldn't fight your father. Would you? You shook yourself of this thought as you walked down the ally to the back door of the hide out.

Toga unlocked the door and you stepped in, greeted by a dark and dingy back room. You made your way through the dark halls, following closely behind her as she led you up the stairs that finally led to the parts of the building with power. Soon you found yourself walking to the familiar living space where a few people rested. Dabi laid himself out on one of the couches, Spinner sat fiddling with his burner phone, and Twice had started yelling at the TV before you arrived.

"Luuuunch!" Toga shouted. Toga was often used as the errand girl, she brought back necessary supplies, oftentimes food. Today Toga asked you to tag along and help out, and there wasn't a single objection to the hostage going out on the town. You sat the heavy bags down on the coffee table, taking out the contents as you spoke.

"Where are the others?" You asked.

"Mr. Compress was sent on an errand of his own. And Shigaraki's probably pouting in his room. He'll come out when he's hungry." Dabi groaned as he took his meal from your hand.

"Oh. I'll just bring it to him." You said, absent-minded. All eyes turned to you, looking confused and shocked. "What?" You asked.

"Nothing! It's just-"

"He doesn't like to be disturbed." Toga and Twice spoke. You paused and looked at the box in your hand. It would get cold if he didn't eat soon, and besides, none of you had had much to eat lately, you were sure he was hungry. You knew you were.

"I'll just leave it at the door and knock. It'll get cold and then he'll be in an even worse mood." You told them. They watched you turn and walk up the stairs to his "room". You stood in front of the door, with such thin walls you could hear furious typing on the other side. Loud clicking of a mouse, and the sound of a computer's fan. You took a deep breath and softly knocked on the door. Suddenly the sounds abruptly stopped, followed by a bark.

"What!?"

"Foods here." You called back. You heard footsteps on the other side growing louder and louder until the door flew open. You stared up at the tall man as he looked down on you. His hair hung over his face, his eyes hardly visible. Your heart rate quickened the longer you looked at him. What the hell is wrong with you?

"Give it to me." He held out his hand, his pinky holding out in preparation to receive the box.

"You said you liked spice stuff, right?" You asked as you placed it in his hand.

"Yeah."

"We got you their spicy special. I hope it's not too much. The sign said 'caution' on it." He scoffed at you, turning the box and looking at the writing on it. He fell very quiet. Inspecting the box, you suddenly worried that something was wrong with it. That maybe you'd messed up somehow. But before your anxiety could reach its peak-

"Thank you." His voice was low and soft. You could hardly hear him. Then before you could respond he closed the door and left you alone again. Did he really say that? You never heard him say that to anyone. Granted, you hardly knew him but still, the way he said it, it made you feel... special in some way. You shook yourself from your train of thought and shuffled down the hallway, pausing when you heard movement and the door to Shigaraki's room open. You froze.

"Wait a minute." He barked. You turned too look at him. He hung out of the doorway to stare at you.

"W-What?" You asked. Shigaraki had a way of making people feel like they were in trouble. His ability to easily become an authority figure was something you were beginning to understand now.

"You...went out?" You nodded. He paused and looked away, his eyes shifting as the gears spun in his head. He turned back into his room as he spoke, "come here for a second." He asked. You slowly made your way to his room, the door left wide for you to peak inside. A dark room lit by portable light fixtures and a laptop computer which sat on an old desk. A cot thrown to the corner covered by the same old and tattered blankets the rest of you had.

"Am I... in trouble?" You croaked.

"What? No. Close the door behind you, you'll let in a draft." He ordered, seeming genuinely confused by your question. You closed the door behind you, leaving you completely alone with him in his space. Your heart raced.

You watched him turn and look up at the wall which he had decorated with plans. Pictures of heroes and villains cut out and pinned. Newspaper clippings, printed out articles and research essays. He was planning something, but what it was was difficult to determine. You did notice however, a cut out of an empty figure with your name on it pinned to the center of it all. You stared at it for a second before he broke you from your train of thought.

"Well?"

"Huh!?"

"What do you think?" He asked. His attention turned to his meal, he picked at it, taking a few bites.

"Of what?"

"...the plan." You looked back at the wall, puzzled you tried your best to gain any sort of information from it. Only being able to find bits and pieces. You knew it involved you, your father, and the take down of hero society. A cut out piece of article said something about the rise of villains, that more and more people were turning to villain work. How those rates have a correlation with classes. You slowly turned back to look at him.

"I'm sorry you're gonna have to explain this to me." You told him. He rolled his eyes and stood, directing his attention to his work as he spoke.

"This is the second part of the plan."

"What was the first?"

"Taking you as a hostage."

"Right. But, didn't you say the plan was to expose the heroes after they weren't able to rescue me and not only expose the faulty heroes but also my father as a neglectful and flawed individual not worthy of the hero title?" He paused.

"Yes."

"But that didn't go as planned."

"....."

"Didn't you say something about making a video to broadcast outing myself as All Might's daughter and causing panic? What happened to that plan?"

"It became leverage. If they attempt to come for you, then we'll go with that. But if we do that now, they'll come for you now and we'll be forced to fight."

"Isn't a fight...a good thing? You'd get news coverage and You'd no doubt gain supporters."

"Normally it would. But a fight isn't what we need right now. The heroes have us surrounded. If we make any move at all, we're in their hands. We won't be able to win."

"Not even with your quirk? Couldn't you-"

"Not with everyone here. As strong as I've gotten, I'm not strong enough to keep them from getting swept up and dusted too."

"Right."

"We're in a tight spot. One wrong move and we'll be wiped out."

"What about your supporters? Couldn't you get help from the outside."

"I could, but the heroes would see it coming. They have our signal tapped. Any sort of communication has to be verbal or written."

"Homing pigeon?" You offered. It made him smirk.

"Right now we're like a fox trapped in its own hole by hunters."

"So... we dig?" That made him smile, wide.

"Dig. If we could smuggle ourselves out of the city, we could reach a clear spot where we can call for backup to get us."

"Why not send one person to smuggle themselves out? Toga could easily disguise herself and leave."

"They have a barrier."

"What?"

"Part of the city is closed off until further notice. They know exactly where we are. If one gets out, they won't hesitate to come for all of us. We all have to get out at once and they can't notice until it's too late."

"But how the hell are you gonna do that?" His smile widened. He looked truly excited and happy. For the first time you saw your capture seem truly excited about something.

"We have a few secret recruits in the city. Spies." He turned his attention back to his meal box, reaching in to pull out the inner box that held the food, to reveal a piece of paper sitting underneath in the flimsy take out box. "I didn't know they were letting you out of the base now." He spoke as he opened and read the note within the box.

"I thought, you knew. I thought you were the one that said I could. Dabi said it was fine." He read the note and stood to pin it up on the wall before speaking.

"I've been too busy with this to worry about you. You shouldn't believe everything that Dabi says. I told him to make sure you just don't have another episode and cause a scene before we leave. I thought assigning him babysitting duty would keep him busy." He chuckled. "There's just one thing I don't understand." He turned back to you. "Why didn't you leave?"

"I...I..."

"You had the opportunity, but you're still here. Why?" You froze. Why? Why didn't you run?

"I was scared I'd be killed." You lied. He laughed at you.

"Don't lie to me. You lost that fear a long time ago. You know that's not true. If I wanted you dead I would have killed you a long time ago."

"You've kept me alive to use me as bate. To, to expose the truth." You argued.

"With Toga, we wouldn't need to." You swallowed hard. You knew he had thought about this.

"I'll tell you why I stayed, if you tell me why you've been training me." He scoffed.

"To keep you busy, to keep you from having another episode."

"That doesn't make sense. You could have drugged me, killed me, you said it yourself. But you kept me alive, you kept me busy. You could have kept me on my meds, unable to use it at all but you insisted I learn my quirk. You trained me yourself. Why?" His smile faded and his expression became dark.

"I asked you first." He growled. You looked away from him and thought for a moment before gaining the strength to answer. You knew the truth for a while now. You never wanted to say it out loud. You refused to look at him as you spoke.

"I don't wanna go back. But you probably already knew that by now. You just wanted to hear me say it, huh?" His smirk returned.

"Had a hunch." He snickered.

"Now you answer me."

"Why don't you wanna go back?"

"We had a deal. Answer my question now." You barked at him. It took him a long pause. A full minute of waiting in silence felt like agony.

"I thought it would help you feel better." He muttered in a surprisingly husky tone. "Keep you from asking me to dust you again." That's right, during your episode...

"I'm sorry." You blurted.

"What?"

"I'm sorry I... I asked you to kill me." You hid your face from him. He shifted and crossed his arms across his chest.

"It's not a big deal, I dust people all the time."

"No, I know. But like, I can't imagine being asked to by someone having a fucking break down happens all the time too. I kinda...kinda put you in a shitty position." When you looked up, he looked confused. Comically so. "What?"

"I took you hostage." He reminded you. You couldn't help but chuckle, that made him more confused.

"Shit, yeah, you're right. Guess I shouldn't be so hard on myself huh?" He looked away. "Still. My intentions weren't to upset you."

"You didn't upset me."

"It seems like I upset you." You toyed. His guard was down, he was vulnerable, and allowing you to be there.

"Shut up. You didn't answer my other question!" He shouted in an almost playful tone. You couldn't help but smile, only to have it slowly fade as you thought about your second answer.

"I don't want to go back because..." you stopped, the words getting stuck in your throat. You were unable to speak. He looked down at you, waiting for an answer. He seemed almost relaxed. He seemed normal. Like a normal guy leaning against the wall of his bedroom with his arms folded across his chest. Your eyes wandered up to his scarred neck, bright red scabs forming. Inflamed and fresh. He had recently scratched at it again, clearly in an upset state too. When he blinked you got a clear view of the scarring around his eyes.

"Boss!" A familiar voice shouted from outside the door. "Boss!" Before you could move the door was thrown open, Spinner's wide eyes finding you standing there. He shook his confusion loose before turning back to Shigaraki who quickly changed his position to attention. "Come quick!"

You followed him back to the living space where the old television sat. The news playing loudly as everyone gathered around to watch in panic. Swat teams and heroes decorated the screen as shot after shot showed them surrounding your building. Fear ran from your toes to your head, making you feel nauseous and dizzy. Shit. Shit. Shit. They're here for you. But you...you weren't ready to leave. And what about-

"Not again! - We can take 'em'!" Twice shouted at it like a sport was playing.

"Tomura, what are we going to do!?" Toga asked, frantically bobbing up and down in panic. He watched the TV intently listening in.

"After receiving a tip from an anonymous source, police and heroes found missing tourist Y/L/N Y/N being held captive by The League of Villains in this abandoned office building. Officials are working now to safely rescue the hostage."

Suddenly a loud voice was heard both on TV and through the halls of the building.

"League of Villains. We have you surrounded. Please let Y/L/N go and no one will be hurt." A cop shouted through a megaphone.

"C'mon Shigaraki, what's the plan?" Dabi asked, clearly starting to get uncomfortable. Before Shigaraki could respond, you spoke.

"Well, looks like this is it for me." You began walking away, only to be stopped by a strong, four-fingered grip pulling you back.

"Where do you think you're going!?" He growled.

"The jig is up, Shigaraki! Let me go! I'm not useful anymore. All they want is me, if I'm out of your hair you'll be able to escape easier." His grip tightened, pulling you closer as his red eyes bore into yours.

"So long as you're here they won't dare make a move. You're still my most valuable player. You're staying right here."

[lilyclawthorne]

Keeping Up A-fear-ance's Thoughts

I finished writing this shortly after 3 am after watching the new episode like three times because I simply had too much energy about it and I have so many thoughts because I simply live for clawthornes and also I tried to break it up with more photos this time sorry not sorry if it's a lot ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

YOUNG EDA!! let me just say I am quite a fan of opening with a flashback like we've done here and the last episode

"we have never seen a curse like this before" Lilith you had shit luck picking out curses huh

"cut it out if we have to" goddamn Gwen let'a calm the fuck down a bit.

anyways we've only really seen young Eda as a wild and confident and happy little child so I appreciate seeing this side of her with the anxiety and fear she's feeling here. I love seeing what the curse stuff was like for her as a kid

Gwen: I raised a perfectly fine kid

Me: no you didn't look at her she's got anxiety

I'm guessing this is their backyard or just some woods behind their house?? wonder if the portal was placed there by another elder family member.

lmao I can't even begin to imagine what small Eda experiencing the human realm was like for the first time

Gwens giving me "I can't accept that my child is disabled/chronically ill/etc." here. y’know the kinda parent that'll put their kid through hell over something they probably will find a way to learn to live with (which Eda did do)

ok that's it I humbly request to know the story behind the fang now (also the noise she made when she put it in was freaking cute)

new dress! new boots! new dress! new boots!

..yikes that fridge is empty

"calm down the curse acts stronger when you're stressed" Eda do you know who you're talking to here

confirmation losing limbs is in fact a side effect of the curse!! (y'know since Eda originally said it just happens when you get older)

please I love these sisters they're so sweet and make me wanna go 🥺

"suddenly curious about my past" "always. always curious" Luz says exactly what we all think

witchlet?? sweet flea?? she's got pet names for them 🥺 (although idk how much I'd like to be referred to as any kind of flea sorry Lilith)

ok Gwen is very much not close to what I expected and I'm kinda grateful for that

she's more like super caring but still managed to royally fuck up which was my original head canon for clawthorne parents so uh that's cool. but literally, look at their body language, Eda's pissed, Lilith's sad and making herself small. she's clearly messed up with her parenting on both of them along the way.

"who knows what they put in those nasty concoctions?" mama clawthorne would be a fucking anti-vaxxer wouldn't she

ok I side with Eda here more than Luz and Lilith. just because Luz misses her mother, or Lilith hasn’t seen their mom in so long doesn’t mean Eda has to feel all grateful for the presence of Gwen, especially if the woman has caused her a lot of trouble over the years

I feel like the fact that its actually both Lilith and Gwendolyn have spent their whole lives dedicated to trying to find a cure could probably have held some kind of weight on Eda at some point. Even though she shouldn't feel guilty or responsible for that, I still feel like it's gotta suck knowing these people have spent so much time on something you know is likely never gonna happen, all for you.

Lilith 😞 her mother really just didn't pay attention to her all these years

hey if this guy does some next level healing magic then why isn't he more well-known, huh? why’d it take so long to come across him?? Gwen do you know what the fuck you're doing cause I think you don't

Lilith just because you're depressed about your mom doesn't mean you have to bring king down too 😠

SUPER irrelevant but is anyone else just bothered by the way Lilith is holding her spoon?? that doesn't seem like a comfortable way to hold a spoon. also is she left handed??

"knife season came early" EDA WHAT DOES THAT MEAN. is this a boiling isles things or is this a it’s common for people to throw knives at you thing

also I want to be surprised Eda fell for the apple blood signs but I am not 😔 

Luz please trust you're gut on this one and not mama clawthorne

ok now I need to know why the fridge was empty but they had 18 cartons of ice cream this is why you guys don't have food you're wasting it all on ice cream.

wow never thought I'd see the day hooty became the voice of reason

also, night market ice cream?? are they implying this ice cream is like, edibles of some sort?? Lilith does seem kinda high here ngl. idk man but at least she wants to stand up for herself so good for her.

PLEASE kings just offering her ice cream while she transforms

"first in a series" Gwen honey oh no. you've been duped. I think we can see where Lilith got her naïveté from huh.

Also, nice snatch Luz 😊

anyways love how this show is basically making fun of moms who refuse to give their kids proper medical treatment or listen to medical professionals here

EXCUSE ME why do we know Gwen's palisman's name before we know Lilith's?????

"I am a mother who'll do anything for her daughter" you're mom who's suffocating obsession with one daughter has left the other neglected and is currently causing her to turn into a full on beast ya dummy

Eda DOES have a right to be upset. it sucks that her own valid emotions that she should get to feel will cause her while body to betray her.

PLEASE I’M SO GLAD LILITH’S BEAST DESIGN LOOKS LIKE HER AND IS NOT THE THING FROM THE TRAILER THAT IS ACTUALLY IN EDA"S HEAD WHEN SHE’S TRANSFORMED

but also why is she SO massive?? also anyone concerned that this is her first transformation and the light glyph trick wouldn't even work??

Gwen look at what you've done, you've fostered feelings of inferiority in one daughter causing her to feel the need for sibling rivalry that the pure instincts of the raven beast cannot suppress no matter how much their sisterly relationship had improved.

HOW COULD YOUR OTHER DAUGHTER ALSO BEING CURSED BE A PART OF THE PROCESS GWEN??

"after Eda was cursed, I joined the beast keeping coven" woah woah WOAH. you're telling me you only joined because of trying to help Eda. that covens existed, before Eda got cursed, and you very much weren't a part of one. combine that with "some words for belos" she has and do I smell wild witch theory still plausible???

anyways at least mama clawthorne is getting some sense into her head here

Morton c'mon help a girl out, that's some dang good art too what the heck dude

ok fine mama clawthorne to the rescue

no pls not raven beast Lilith crying im crying now

Gwen: I raised a fine and self-sufficient child

Me: no you didn't look at her. she's got, SO MUCH.

GODDAMN THATS SOME POWER. ngl this only adds fuel to the fire in my head that there was some kinda reasoning these sisters were torn apart, that someone felt they'd be too powerful together (and they were probably right)

"I heard you but I couldn't stop myself, I couldn't do anything" may be just because she's not used to the curse but again part of me is concerned that because she couldn't pull herself out of it even a little bit like Eda did that there's something wrong there. but she also could've been stressed beyond reasonably calming herself down too.

ok but this is sweet

NOOO im so sad Lilith's leaving :( I literally cried ok

"you lived here?" fine OKAY king that was hilarious even if im sad about this

"reconnect with dad" excuse me where the fuck has this man been in the middle of all of this. curse shit is going DOWN and he's just chilling at home.

I am curious about people's thoughts regarding the whole Lilith regression thing and the fact that she's literally going to be living with her parents again. I feel like it could help nurture that inner child she's been reverting back to and help her out a LOT. but I could also be concerned about it feeding into the regression and making it worse?? idk and this show probably ain't getting that actually deep into psych anyways

"some day my hair is gonna be big enough to do that too" Luz I cannot wait for the day. also mood, I wish I could do that too.

alright who's holding the fucking pen for hooty we need a volunteer RIGHT NOW so we can remain in contact with Lulu

NOT THE ONLY HUMAN? my bets on the real azura rip never mind she said he

Titan’s Blood?? interesting. If the blood of the titan is around I wonder what that means regarding the titans existence, and how long its been since the titan fell.

AHH BABY LUZ PHOTO

ALSO WHO THE FUCK IS THAT?? They're really gonna spring that on us like this??? Camila's gotta notice somethings wrong right??? Unless any differences she just chalks up to the camp?? oh god :(

well, anyways lumity shippers come get yo juice next weekend

anyways im gonna need to add a NOT canon compliant tag on that one Gwendolyn fic I wrote because it definitely do not comply anymore

[athena-is-a-chaotic-lil-shit]

Feral Fatality

(Part 1)

So this has been in my works for a week now. You see, it was a typical day for me scrolling through Tumblr and visiting some....tags, and then a short drabble inspired me to write about a feral reader totally not because I was craving violence and murder no, which reached more than 4k words on the first draft so here we are! Shitty title, I know. The proofread work went over 7k, and it's not even finished yet. Once I'm done posting this and my main orc fic, I will get into the requests so please be patient!

Pairing: Jason Voorhees x Fem!Reader

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Brief blood and violence at the end of the first part

Contains: Swearing, mentions of neglect and abuse (not graphic)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

-

Screams slit through the twilight as the frigid autumn wind blew harshly through the trees of Camp Crystal Lake. The rustling of bushes and cracking of twigs echoed as foolish teenagers attempted to escape, running for their lives when they were the ones who dared step foot in the place, tarnishing it with their sins.

Jason Voorhees, the innocent kid who died several years ago; pushed to the lake by his bullies and left to drown for being different and unsightly— all because the counselors were busy with their fucking business—, returned as an undead killing machine right after his mother murdered them and died. His sole purpose: to protect the land and purge the people who had no right to be here, sentencing them to a horrendous death.

One by one, they struck the ground, lifeless, either chopped into pieces, beheaded, or stabbed countless times by his trusty machete.

Limbs...ripped off with his bare hands.

-

The muffled snapping of branches reached your ears as the vehicle's wheels ran over them, stirring you from your nap. You rubbed your chilled skin under your clothes as you looked out of the window, thumping your forehead on the glass when you leaned forward the moment you saw the scenery. Trees, both ancient and young, their leaves varying in hues of green, orange and red, filled your line of sight. It was still early in autumn, your favorite time of the year, not hot but not too cold either. You watched in awe as the warm-colored leaves cascaded down from the branches and down to the ground, some carried by the wind farther from their origin.

The view did its best to distract you from a couple in session a seat before yours. They always seem to do that all the time, regardless of place or occasion.

This was a week-long getaway after graduation, they said.

Nothing but a white lie.

An excuse for the girls to hook up with their campus crushes, a week of fucking and smoking drugs.

You, however, just got invited —forced— by your "friend" Eloiza, the self-proclaimed hottest girl in the entire school, typical captain of the cheerleading squad; blonde and curvy. Her words were much too sugar-coated that even a deaf person could tell she had ulterior motives.

She only planned to use you as a tool to raise her fame. A stepping stone for her own gain.

That wasn't the only reason though.

Everyone knew who you were, but only by your name. News and rumors alike spread like wildfire through gossipy mouths. Your deeds were known throughout campus.

(Y/N)(L/N), top academic competitor and multiple-award winner, a straight-A student for five years in succession. Some believed you were a genius, the rest called you insane.

You wouldn't call yourself a genius though, you did not possess the obsessive need to acquire eternal knowledge and discover the secrets of the universe as most of them do, to effortlessly solve every problem that comes their way.

If that were the case, then you wouldn't be here in the first place.

You only love learning and indulging in the beauty of Mother Nature, plus a handful of hyper-fixations.

Fine, a buttload of hyper-fixations. And such came in handy in various situations.

You were unrivaled, not one of your peers could come close to your level of wit. Many people wished to have a brain like yours, and just as many hated you for even having one, praised you just as much as slandered your name and judged you.

Despite your reputation, the poor school didn't broadcast it, at least every time. The staff probably got tired of repeating the same phrase over and over again. Which caused more than half of the whole campus to never believe you to be the one behind all of that, laughing at your face when you said your name.

"You? The (Y/N) (L/N)? Ha! As if I'd fall for that! Everyone knows how she looks. You're the absolute opposite!"

"You got to be kidding me."

"You're a joker, aren't you? Is this a prank? If so please stop it, don't pretend like you're her."

Yep, and it goes on and on and on. They were right, you didn't look like someone who would win contests or excel in class.

You constantly wore clothes that hid your form, silent unless spoken to or asked to answer, distant and reserved, you preferred the company of books and nature to the rowdiness and prying hands of humans. A sociopath they deemed you. Quite an extreme word to use when you simply wanted to enjoy the only things that made you happy in this living hell.

You only know a handful of people who approached you first-hand and praised you genuinely, even asking for an autograph, which really surprised you.

Yet, they would never understand you even if you explained, because you can't, words evade you when it comes down to voice out what you feel. Even if you can, no one would care. And even if they did? You doubt it was real. Everyone wants to use you, and they seem to believe you'd let them. You didn't trust anyone. The last time you did only left you sobbing on the dirt.

You wanted to be left alone.

To connect with nature and get as far away as possible from your parents. Parents who kept shouting profanities at each other, the main cause for your depression and anxiety levels to skyrocket, the shaking turning into trembling, 7 hours of sleep to barely a blink.

That's why you agreed to go in the first place.

You hated your household—despised it— a mess of broken shards of bottles and ceramics littered your kitchen floor more often than not. You didn't bother cleaning it up anymore, your mother would just waste away her money on more things to break and throw them at your joke of a father when they fought anyway.

Not only that, you thought...No, you believed if you worked hard to be the best and win countless competitions, your parents would give you recognition and reconcile for your sake, but no, no, no. They didn't care one bit about you or your medals, it was as if you were never even included in their lives at all. Even birthday celebrations ceased to exist in everyone's books after your 13th.

So you gave up.

Down into the void, your wishful thinking went, that they'll become better people over time, that the attention and love you deserve will be given one day. Instead, you wallowed yourself in your studies, besting everyone in everything academic. Oh, but you weren't athletic. Far from it. Damn, you were getting thin and sleep-deprived from being neglected, dark circles under your eyes every time you looked at your reflection. People hating your existence wasn't helping, some teachers even suspected you of cheating.

There's no way in hell you'd let yourself get dragged down to end up like them! You were of legal age now, a fresh graduate from high school, you doubt your parents even knew that since they didn't fucking show up on your graduation day. You were moving out of that shithole of a town. Anywhere is better than where they breathed and spat their poison.

And so here you are. Standing in this breath-taking and mysterious place. Camp Crystal Lake, it is named, secluded, barely touched by modernization as it is hidden between mountains and trees as far as the eye could see. Not to mention its namesake, the lake, you imagined it would mirror the sky, be it day or night. You loved it, you adored the fresh, breathable air that went through you the moment you stepped out of the van.

You also knew about him.

Resolved to never go back to that goddamned house, you took everything you had and needed; the special little trinkets you've collected through the years shoved into a box, the few clothes you had, art materials, and your precious books carefully packed inside a big travel bag, along with your stocked up canned goods, convenience food, snacks, and toiletries.

And other, important things.

You hauled your baggage out of the van and got off, immediately moving to the side and away from everyone.

You got used to people ignoring you that you didn't care anymore.

Why waste your time with them when you can have all of it to yourself?

Eloiza led the group into the larger cabins, the others went straight into the lake for a swim. You even notice some teens disappear into the trees, most likely for a quickie.

In return, you stayed out of their way, fully satisfied being invisible and with your own company as you trudged to a cabin, the one you caught a glimpse of earlier in the van. It was a long way's separated from the rest, closest to the forest and hidden behind a few trees.

You were panting when you finally stopped in front of it, clearly not used to walking long distances and carrying stuff near as heavy as your weight.

Upon closer inspection, you found yourself gaping at its appearance. The wooden walls lost their color as they aged, white and brown mushrooms grew on the ground along with green moss sticking to the beams, and a few vines crawling their way up and on the roof. Despite all of that, the cabin looked sturdy still.

There's this "one with nature" vibe that drew you to it, like a string pulling you closer and inviting you. Ominous most would say, but you almost cried when the rich scent of earth and oxygen filled your lungs as you took one big inhale, sighing in content for once. It was a lot smaller compared to the others, but you didn't care. As long as you were left alone with your stuff you were a-okay.

Perfect.

You turned the knob and peeked inside, letting out a small gasp and opening the door wider to see the whole thing.

Old as it is, it was proper and neat, regardless of the tiny cobwebs on the upper corners. A small, square dining table sat in the middle of the first part of the place, two wooden stools placed underneath. There were cupboards on the wall and a simple sink with an empty space to the side. You went to the next room, doorless and separated with but a wall of thick plywood. It had a single bed in the corner, off-white cotton sheets sitting atop, not a wrinkle in sight. No pillow though. There's a decent-sized closet along with a small table on one side of the bed. One of the windows had a hole in the middle, a ray of sunlight streaming in through the cracks. It was too big for the size of a gunshot, so maybe a rock.

A bit hesitant, your fingers traced the wood, feeling the inconsistent texture. When you went through the back door, your smile reached your ears when trunks of trees and bushes greeted you...

Wait, is that what you think it is?

Stepping closer to the treeline, your jaw dropped when you spotted a thicket of fruit-bearing plants past them, gathered in a tiny clearing.

Blueberries.

Purple little cuties poked out of the green shrubs, sporting a vibrant hue that caught your eye. The sun shone overhead and providing the energy they needed. Blueberries managed to grow in the area despite the trees fencing them.

Tempted and suspicious, you crouched down, inspecting the shrub if it really was a blueberry plant and not a deadly doppelganger. Once you were sure it was, (it would be hilarious if you simply died from nighshade poisoning), you plucked one and brought it to your mouth. It was sweeter than you expected, with a slightly bitter aftertaste. You hummed in delight, wiping the juice with your thumb when it dribbled out, staining your finger and lips.

You didn't want to anger anybody. Hell, coming here was already trespassing, so you didn't push your luck and left it alone, hoping they'd forgive you for picking one. They surely didn't look wild with the way they lined up.

You scanned the rest of the area, eventually going back inside to unpack after your little evaluation.

-

The sun was a hand's away from setting when you finished. Pride swelled in your chest at the work you did, your things stocked and organized with care inside the cabinets and drawers. You won't have to worry about your food for now as cupboards were filled to the brim with them. You also had a decent amount of money left from your savings account that your parents weren't aware of. Prize money, allowance, and the salary you got from doing online jobs all went into it. The camp was a few miles off the road, and a couple more to the nearest gas station with a convenience store. Very far yes, but it's better than living with the people who made you do this in the first place.

You just hoped you wouldn't die walking.

Everything was worth it, anyways. You were free now, at least that's what you think.

You trudged to the bed, eyeing the cushions, wary and a little scared to touch the sheets that appeared to be cleaned just recently, you didn't even lay a finger on them ever since you got inside. Oh, but your tired muscles were screaming to just flump down and relax.

So you did.

You dumped yourself face first and inhaled. It wasn't smelly nor fragrant, just the simple freshness on the cotton fabric. You felt beat but ain't sleepy, yet, so you reached to the drawer beside the bed and pulled out a book to pass the time as you waited for the sun to go down and give way for the moon. Its spine and pages had creases, worn out and yellow-stained from age and use. It was a horror-mystery novel told through a first-person narrative, a story of a middle-aged detective and her Maine coon in their attempts to solve a murder case of a young European lady named Cassandra Chase.

You dozed off in the middle of chapter 21, the part where Dinnie, the cat, discovers a valuable clue to the crime, a rotten limb in the dried basement well.

—

—

Jason settled down on the stairs of his porch; shoulders relaxed and hunched as he leisurely sharpened his machete with a small whetstone. Lines of sunlight kissed him through the leaves of trees, the birds in the area chirped on their perches, and the grass swayed, gentle, as a cool wind passed by.

His day be so fine. No troublemakers to deal wi—

The alarm rang, announcing unwelcomed arrival. As if a switch flipped inside, he's already on his feet, making his way swiftly to their location.

A new batch of wretched youngsters, another day ruined. Hunting them down makes his blood thrum in his veins, yes, but they soured his mood, just when he was at peace. He's dead set on slaughtering them in the most gruesome ways possible, only then he could go back and enjoy the serenity the nature around him brings.

He surveyed the area, camouflaging with the wilderness, silent as he watched and counted the soon-to-be corpses, his mother's voice at the back of his mind, guiding him.

They decided to go either to the main cabins, or the lake...even into the trees.

All but one.

Jason already planned to cut down the couple later as they lose themselves in the forest, doing nasty, dirty things to his camp. The killer shifted his attention to you, curious as to why you didn't join the lot. Instead, you walked back down the road. He followed and saw you approach the small cabin, separated from the rest, your eyes widened...

Adoration?

You were quiet— except for the little gasps of awe you let out in between pants—as you looked around and over the place. The ones you came with were rowdy and destructive, a complete opposite. He hid as he observed you from afar, moving around to adjust his vision on you. You smiled every time you looked to the trees, he noticed.

Why were you smiling like that? Why did you pick this cabin? Were you planning on defiling it?

The last question in his mind made his blood boil. He'll kill you first if that was the case. That cabin you chose was special, it was where he and his mother used to stay. He occasionally visits that one to keep it clean and free of dust. If you even think of—

Jason, sweetie...look closer. She does not have such intentions.

His mother's words rang in his head. Even from where he stood, he could see what you did inside. You looked a little hesitant, touching and drawing back your hand before letting your fingers feel the wood as if it was something delicate. Despite the initial...shyness? You proceeded to make it your home, somewhat, dropping the large duffel bags you carried on your front and back, and a similarly large roller case on your left. It was as if you planned to stay for a long time.

Jason hears you take a long breath and sigh as you went out the backdoor. You grinned wider when you saw the nature around you. You stepped forward, straight in his direction...

For a moment he thought you saw him, seeing your jaw drop. You moved closer, and he just froze there, until you crouched down.

Oh, his plants.

He watched you as you gently picked a fruit, your gaze...soft. You brought it to your mouth, some of the juice spilling on the side and you wiped it with your thumb.

Cute.

You went back inside and continued to unpack your things, carefully maneuvering around the cabin.

Maybe he'll spare you if you continue to be good. You didn't do anything dirty, yet. It's only a matter of time before the camp is shrouded in darkness and his hunt will begin.

Let's see what you'll do before that happens.

-

Jason tracked down the three that went into the forest. He knew the place like the back of his hand, and it was easier to pinpoint them as he heard moans.

What he saw was utmost disgusting, two girls pleasuring a male with their mouths in broad daylight.

Kill them, my boy! Such foul beings need to die! Kill them, kill!

He circled them, steps soundless. Jason gripped his machete and brought it down the guy's neck, embedding the weapon into the bark, the head rolled down, oozing with blood, and fell against the women, drenching them in red. Not a single cry left from their mouths as he sliced both with one swing, blood pouring out of their throats and staining the ground. Jason dragged their bodies and tossed them into a pit he dug beforehand, making quick work in burying them.

A swift end. Now he waits.

[hughiecampbelle]

Parting Gift (Sam Wilson Oneshot)

Character/s: Sam

Word Count: 1,411

Tag List: @dontdowhatisayandnobodygetshurt @myriadimagines @lilyswritings @encounterthepast @writerdream22 @brithedemonspawn @megnotfound @ladyeliot @locke-writes @thedarkqueenofavalon @fangirlsarah16 @randomfandomimagine @amirahiddleston @diana-westmoon @valkyrie-2312

A/N: This was supposed to be fluffy, but the closest I can get to that is melancholy lol. The weathers been nice and it got me feeling nostalgic for summer. I hope this gives off that vibe, if that makes sense? Sam just seemed perfect for this and I kinda love this :) It doesn't exactly fit the timeline, but oh well :P There are only Endgame spoilers, none with TFATWS. I can't thank you enough for letting me rest with my health/writing and posting in general. I hope you like it! Feedback is always appreciated 💜💖💜

Summary: You finally got him back 💌

Gif Credit: @biwilson / link 💕

FIC MASTERLISTS 1 -> 3 /WANNA BE ADDED TO THE TAG LIST?

The low hum of the fan stirs in the quiet heat, restless, a lullaby you've grown used to since the season thawed. The snow puddles disappearing from the hot sidewalks, the grass growing green, the layers shedding around you until there is nothing but skin and the cool air that kisses it. It's old and shaky, the blades twisted, the fixture rattling, threatening to fall from the ceiling with every spin. Another chore you simply never got around to fixing, neglected much like the rest of the house. Like you, it was lucky it was still standing. The floors cried and creaked, needing to be replaced, but where was the time? The paint chipped, falling flake by flake, the shelves in need of dusting, the lawn grown too long, things were rusted, ruining, aging. Everything crooked, leaning, too heavy to stand on its own. One in the same, you and it, a reflection of your inner world, your inner turmoil, your grief defying, humanizing, materializing in rusted pipes, in thorny bushes, and weeds sprouting in the cracks of the sidewalks.

It was your dream. An escape. A slice of heaven he plucked from the skies. At least, that's how he'd described it. His hand, warm and calloused, over your eyes, letting your suspicions get the better of you, questioning like a child. What color was the door? How many windows? Was there a backyard? A steadiness in his voice you knew was not as solid as he showed, leading you past the street, past your new neighbors, the shade of the trees making your skin prickle. Up the path, you tried counting your own steps, anything to cheat the system. A leap of faith, you put so nicely. A house he passed by, one that struck him, caught his eye in a way nothing ever had. You? A house? Romanticized by the shoe box apartments the city had to offer, you never pictured any other life. Not out of opposition, but sheer innocence, a passive, thoughtless gesture you'd never recognized until the opportunity came along. Little convincing, it took. Somewhere far away from danger, from life, where you would always be safe together. That was enough. Always would be.

A fixer upper, that's what it was. Someone to care for in their old age, a long forgotten space only one with a heart of gold could fall for. Whether you were speaking of you, or the house, he'd never get the chance to ask. Where he saw the two of you, together, watching the rain pour from outside, comforted by a warm kitchen, a grand bedroom, nooks you could fill with hints of yourselves, you saw a slanted driveway, an unkempt garden, leaky ceilings and no hot water. He had hope. Dripped in honey,band hope, his voice sang through the thin walls, a symphony of ideas, of dreams for what it would one day be, taking you by the hand, leading you through. A maze of projects, big and small, things you'd add to a list of infinite length, your pen running out of ink long before you ever reached the bottom. For now, a coat of paint, a bucket or two for the leaks. He promised you, in the middle of an empty house, that it would one day be your home. You trusted him, because he was so sure of it, unlike anything else before.

You watched him sleep, the two of you facing one another. The sheets long discarded, too warm to even touch. You could follow the rise and fall of his back, the way in which he held the pillow to him, as if scared to let go. Tracing every line of him with your eyes, taking note of every single change, drinking him up every second you had together. The beads of sweat across his hairline. The upturn of his mouth, a whisper of a smile, as if caught in a sweet dream. The lines you see in yourself not yet reflected in him. Untouched by time. Five years could turn into a lifetime with the right kind of loneliness.

Plastic stuck to the furniture, bloated, sweaty, patiently waiting to be unwrapped. You couldn't bear to look at it, any of it, turning away from entire rooms, going only where it was necessary, using what you needed, not ready to face this place alone. It wasn't that first day, where your things, tightened by the city smog and lack of breathing room, were scattered wherever they might fit, left to expand in their new environment. The kitchen table in the living room. Chairs in the hallway. A couch discarded by the window, blocking the natural light. For the time being, he promised. Too many boxes to count, filled to the brim of glasses and mugs, wedding pictures and high school yearbooks, things you thought you needed, and things you knew you did. All of it wrapped in plastic, paper, t-shirts and towels. Whatever you could find to protect it. Sleeping on the floor those first few days, the mattress late, the frame even later, leaning on one another for that kind of comfort. It wasn't that first day, or week, but enough time to settle. The small things weren't yet opened. Two cups, to dishes, an endless waiting game for supplies to be shipped, of time to be found between work days and exhausted nights. He had a plan though, first the inside, then out. Sometimes there weren't enough plans, or lists, or schedules in the world to stop what would come next.

All of this, less than a month before The Blip.

Things hadn't changed since then, not without him. Five years you carved your path into the floorboards, avoiding everything that hurt like a landmine. His cup, his dish, his knife, and fork, and spoon, untouched. You would not look through your wedding album, or seep into the couch you bought together, or pluck the thorn riddled bushes like you pictured. His side of the bed empty, his clothes tucked away where you didn't have to see. All except one shirt taped up, turned away. His cologne fading from the collar, something out of your control, that made you want to scream. Everything these days, it seemed, was out of your control. Others, they moved on eventually. Started dating. Remarried. Found new friends, had more kids, picked up where they left off. Family reached out, teammates too, but you couldn't look at them. The anger, the sadness, all of it overwhelming. It left you drowning in questions no one had the answer to, everyone asking themselves the same thing: Why him, and not them? Why him, and not you? Why did any of this happen in the first place?

Isolating became the cure, and the corruption. The salt in the wound, a familiar sting you grew to expect, even want. A home for two, he promised, only now you were one. How cruel could the universe be? Hour by hour, day by day, you counted, carrying on for when he'd be back, because he would be. Sam, your Sam, too stubborn a man to give up like that. You would have dusted, washed the floors, made the place a little more welcoming if you'd known he'd be back when he did. Everyone came back, reappearing out of thin air, but where they felt frenzy, uncertain in explaining all that's happened, you were at peace, able to breathe again. Time had stopped when he was gone, your life paused. You could feel it, the moment when, the clocks in the house ticking once again inside their boxes.

Now, you lay together, as you had that first night. Not on the floor, not as naive as you were, but together none of the less. The sunlight strains, wanting to light up the room from behind the curtains. Even without it, you find yourself baking, wishing the fan would have a little more power. Sleeping in, you could have laughed. Five years he had, somewhere else, to rest, and yet you let him, not wanting to wake from what you fear might be a nightmare. If you woke up, and he was gone again, you weren't sure what you'd do, how much longer you could stand it. He assured you though, much like he had with this house, everything would work out in the end. That he was here, and he'd never leave you again.

Ever.