#ya. he really doesn’t deserve you at all because at this point. even if you’re irritated… you understand.

[sashimiyas]

tonight, osamu, i am thinking of you. welcome homeeeeeee 🫂

[thepersonnamedsam]

radio

pairing: the genz!driver x team x 23!grid

summary: some team radios of our beloved genz!driver

warnings: some swearing

note: oh i hope you all will like what i did here, it took me a hot minute, soo, pls don’t be a ghost reader

our genz!driver doesn’t drive for a specific team (pls imagine which ever is your fav), so the colours of the team radio will be violet, bc it’s not used :)

masterlist / taglist

Bahrain 2023

Q2

- „Okay y/n, you made it into Q2! Let’s keep that same pace you had in Q1“

- „Oh did you hear that? Where did Oscar place??“

- „Piastri is out in Q1, P18“

- „Wooh!! Oscar owes me 50 bucks!!! He lost the bet, he lost it! He didn’t think I’d out-qualify him!“

End of Qualifying

- „Good job, y/l/n! Thats P12 for you! Great start of the season“

- „Yeah baby! I’m the new Smooth Operator, Smooth Operator!“

Race

- „Uhm guys, I think there’s something wrong with my car…“

- „What is it, y/n?“

- „I just overtook Charles, how is that even possible?! Wtf guys, am I that fast?“

- „Oh my god, y/n, you had me stressed out here. I really thought you had technical problems for a second“

- „No worries, I’m just faster than a Ferrari“

—

- „Radio check“

- „It’s a cruel summer!“

—

- „Tell me, tell me how we finished, how I finished?!“

- „P11 baby!“

- „Uh, yeah, who’s almost in the points?!“

- „YOU!“

—

Saudi Arabia 2023

FP2

- „Tell me, is Danny here?“

- „Yea, why?“

- „Can you tell him I said hi? Please“

- „Uhm, sure I can, why?“

- „I just promised him yesterday I‘d give him a shoutout from the track, hahaha“

Q1

- „Okay, y/n, let’s get into Q3 today!“

- „Let’s gooooo!“

- „Could you not scream into the coms, please?“

- „WOHOO!“

- „y/n…“

- „Love you“

- „I don’t…“

- „You totally do“

- „I don’t“

- „You dooooo“

Q2

- „P12, good job y/n“

- „Could’ve gone better“

- „It’s a good result, y/n“

- „But still no Q3“

- „Hey, y/n, cheer up, it’s the same result as last race“

- „I thought we improved, I thought I improved“

- „We can still climb up the ladder“

- „As if, I’m not good enough for that many overtakes, I can defend, but that… I don’t know man“

- „Hey hey, listen to me, y/n. You deserve that spot in F1, you’re young and you’re learning with every race, with every test. I know you’ll be champion one day. Maybe not this race, but you’re gonna go far, kid“

- „…“

- „Are you crying, hahaha?“

- „Let me be emotional, dipshit“

- „Oh Lando is gonna have a field day with this, hahaha“

- „Please don’t show that to Lando“

- „Come to the garage first and we can discuss it“

Race

- „Radio check, y/n“

- „Vamos a la playa“

- „Loud and clear…“

—

- „FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, SHIT, SHIT, DAMN, WHY DOES IT NEVER GO MY WAY?!“

- „Unfortunate events, retire the car, y/n“

- „UNFORTUNATE?! STROLL JUST STOPPED IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ROAD AND I HAD TO BREAK SO HARD NOT TO CRASH INTO HIM THAT I CRASHED INTO THE WALL!“

- „It is what it is“

- „Don’t meme me, I’m mad… haha, okay, thank you“

Australia 2023

Q2

- „Good pace, y/n, let’s keep it that way and we’ll make it into Q3“

- „Alrighty mighty“

- „Cringe“

—

- „AND THATS P9 FOR YOU“

- „Huh?“

- „P9“

- „I’m into Q3?! Am I really?“

- „Yes! Yes you are!“

Q3

- „Whoop, whoop, that’s the sound of the police“

- „Whoop, whoop, that’s the sound that I need“

- „P10 baby“

- „P10!“

Race

- „Hi y/n, you’re doing really good out there, bring 'em home for me, will ya?“

- „Danny?“

- „Yes?“

- „Hi Danny“

- „Hi, y/n! You’re currently P9, with 0.548s to Piastri“

- „Okay“

- „Let’s push and stay in the points!“

—

- „YOU‘VE CROSSED THE FINISH LINE AS 7TH!!!“

- „THOSE ARE 6 POINTS, RIGHT?“

- „YES!“

- „It’s all because of Danny!“

- „I’ll gladly let him know“

Miami 2023

Race

- „I- help!“

- „What’s going on? y/n talk to me“

- „I don’t think my break is working“

- „y/n, we are going to retire then, box box“

- „I’ll try for one more lap“

- „No you won’t“

- „I will“

—

- „I think it’s fine“

- „…“

- „Yea, it’s fine, I can brake normally, hihi, sorry for the worries“

- „You’re a menace, y/n“

Monaco 2023

FP1

- „Monaco baby, the land of pretty people and expensive things, I am home“

- „Why’s that, you’re not from Monaco, y/n“

- „I am pretty and expensive therefore I am home“

Race

- „Radio check, y/n“

- „NOT NOW“

- „Noted“

—

- „I don’t feel pretty“

- „Sucks for you“

- „Man, that’s a shit move“

- „Sucks“

—

- „Okay y/n, you’re currently P11 with 0.639s behind DeVries, let’s push to P10“

- „DeVries? Nyck is P10? What happened?“

- „I don’t know, let’s just push him off of P10“

- „Harsh“

- „I’m a bad bitch“

- „Fuck that bitch“

—

- „Great job, y/n P10!“

- „Where is DeVries?“

- „P12“

- „Who overtook him?“

- „Bottas“

- „HAH!“

- „Be nice“

- „Ugh“

Montréal 2023

FP3

- „You are currently P3, I repeat, you are currently placed on P3“

- „Who’s pranking me? Max? Lando?“

- „No one, you ARE P3!“

- „WHAT?!“

- „Let’s take that pace into qualifying“

- „Uhm, yea, definitely“

Q2

- „What’s my time?“

- „1:18.725“

- „And Max‘s?“

- „1:19.092“

- „WHAT?“

- „You are P1, y/n“

- „Are you kidding me?“

- „I would never“

- „Mhm, but really? P1?“

- „I swear to god, P1“

Q3

- „Fuck! Shit! Holy macaroni fucking meatballs! I crashed, I repeat, I crashed“

- „Yea, we saw, retire the car“

Race

- „P7, good job!“

- „Thanks…“

- „Oh and y/n, you’ve been voted driver of the day“

- „Really?“

- „Really“

- „Firstly, I wanna thank the ground, because without it, I wouldn’t be standing here today“

- „That only works if you’re really standing somewhere, y/n, you’re sitting in an F1 car“

- „Then I’d like to thank my F1 car…“

- „I deactivated your coms“

Austria 2023

Sprint Shootout

- „What exactly is a Sprint really?“

- „Oh my god, really y/n?“

- „No… of course not…“

—

- „Great job, you placed P13“

- „Mhm, thanks… I‘m thirsty“

- „…“

- „Did no one hear me? I want my drink, where is the drink?“

- „You will not have the drink“

- „Oh you waited so long for that, didn’t you?“

- „No…, yes“

- „Kimi is a legend.“

Sprint

- „I don’t like this Sprint thingy“

- „Why?“

- „I don’t know, just because“

—

- „P15“

- „No good job?“

- „Not today“

- „Understandable“

Race

- „I want to go home, I am tired of this“

- „What?“

- „It’s getting boring with Max always leading and winning“

- „Thats why we need to push as hard as we can“

- „As if I’ll ever overtake Max“

- „One day, y/n, one day“

- „But not today, that’s why I want to go home“

- „You can’t“

- „Loser“

Silverstone 2023

FP2

- „Why do I not see Charles on the grid?“

- „Why do you have time to look at the screen and not see Charles on there?“

- „You should be driving“

- „I am“

- „Clearly not fast enough“

- „Hey, I am faster than you think“

- „You are currently driving with a speed of 156 km/h“

- „How do you know that..?“

- „I am your race engineer, I know everything“

- „Did you know that I just farted, hahaha?“

- „Unfortunately“

- „Hihi“

- „You’re gross“

- „Thank you“

- „Welcome“

—

Race

- „If Lewis stands on that podium, he owes me a dinner“

- „And if he doesn’t?“

- „I owe him a pity dinner“

- „And if you stand on that podium?“

- „Thats unrealistic, that’s why we didn’t bet on it“

- „True“

- „HEY!“

- „You said it first!“

- „Not a reason for you to call it out!“

- „Women“

- „I heard that“

- „You were supposed to“

- „Less talking, more driving!“

- „Yes boss“

- „Yes boss“

—

- „Omg, omg, omg, tell me I crossed that line without a single penalty and we don’t get a grid penalty? Please tell me this is true?“

- „YOU ARE P4 Y/N“

- „Am I really?“

- „Yes!“

- „If it weren’t for the safety car you would’ve been P3!“

- „I don’t care! It’s my best result so far!“

- „So near and yet so far“

- „Lew is P3?“

- „Yep“

- „P4 and I get a free dinner from Lew, what a day“

- „Be proud and loud“

- „WOOHOO!!!“

- „Maybe not so loud…“

- „Sorry not sorry“

Hungary 2023

FP1

- „Oh Danny Ric is back on the grid!“

- „Mhm“

- „Aren’t you happy to see my favourite person driving again?“

- „Totally“

- „Be happy!“

- „Okay…“

—

- „Oh… I just passed Danny“

- „You are on your flying lap, he needs to let you pass..?“

- „Yeah… but he needs a positive experience on his first race back…“

- „HES THE ENEMY“

- „He’s my best friend…“

- „Does he know that?“

- „Uhm, I hope so“

Race

- „Tell Lando he’s doing a great job“

- „Just drive“

- „Okay…“

—

- „Lando says thank you, by the way“

- „For what?“

- „Just forget it“

- „Okay“

—

- „Oh, for that! You’re welcome, Landi“

- „It took you 4 laps to realise“

- „My brain is sometimes slow, let me be“

- „I would if I could“

—

- „Oh how I hate Perez“

- „It’s mutual“

- „Hihi“

—

- „Radio check“

- „I am so glad that the summer break is right in front of me, just 33 more laps and it’s me chilling on the beach, getting tan and reading good books and you know, that’s how my dream life looks like and…“

- „How can she be so talkative but still be on for a podium? It’s a mystery for me“

- „And Lando and me oh and Danny will go on vacation together. Maybe Lewis will come as well. I want to go to the Maldives but we’ll see. Oh and you know what would be cool? If we really…“

- „Is she still talking? Yep…“

- „I could learn how to surf and eat loads of stuff and just relax“

- „So you finally decided to stop speaking and concentrate on the race? Great job, y/n“

- „Thanks!“

—

- „Thats P5 for you! What a race to start the summer break“

- „Thank you so much“

- „We’ll see us in 3 weeks!“

- „Byeeeee“

°°°

@ironmaiden1313 , @topguncultleader , @biglittlesecret, @gulabjamooon , @lovelyy-moonlight , @peachyplumsss , @mistrose23 , @copper-boom , @love4lando , @champomiel , @serenityleah , @iloveyou3000morgan , @angelwithoutmywings , @elleeeee21 , @youkissedareaderinthedark , @mikauraur , @thybulleric , @lpab , @fdl305 , @mellowarcadefun , @teti-menchon0604 , @vildetry06 , @bibissparkles , @aurora-maria , @lunnnix , @sya-skies , @Buckywifeyy , @dakotali , @rechtrecht , @noncannonships , @1eclerc16 , @pitlanebabe , @sopheeg , @avengersheart , @thatsadsmallchild , @peachiicherries , @idkiwantchocolatee , @callsign-scully , @mehrmonga , @badbatch-simp24 , @lissyontour , @din0nugs , @elliegrey2803 , @gay-for-victoria-de-angelis , @10vely-yutazen , @daggersquadphantom , @azriel-the-shadowsinger , @i-love-scott-mccall

[pedge-page]

Candles

Part 5 to Best Man Series. follow Christmas Party.

Joel Miller x F!Reader, Tommy Miller x F!Reader

Summary: It's Tommy's birthday. So why are you still looking for Joel to celebrate it?

notes: Its been 4 months but here's the next part for those of you still waiting on since December! The next part will most likely be the finale.

Warnings: unprotected sex (with Tommy), infidelity / cheating, pregnant reader, toy usage, dildo riding, breeding kink, oral m!receiving (with Joel), m!masturbation, short voyeurism, vaginal fingering, cum eating, jealous!Joel, emotions are FLLYYINNGGG in this one

18+ ONLY

- - - -

Joel Miller doesn’t get jealous. 

He’s at home, drifting off in thought as his hands do poor work on wrapping paper around the new pair of shoes and watch that he picked out. When Sarah, who’s focus is on brushing her doll’s hair and changing her bathing suit, starts yapping about how Uncle Tommy's kid is gonna be her best friend since she doesn't have any siblings to play with right now, all Joel can think about is you and Tommy together right now on his special day. 

What would it be like, waking up to you in a shared bed every day? To be the first to kiss you, smell your morning breath and sift his fingers through your bed head? To see your eyes shine from the sun reflecting off of them, twinkling with the buildup of a tear after a yawn.

What would it be like, getting a birthday blow job from you first thing in the morning? Even if you aren’t his wife, he’s thought about getting to have you all the time, just for him. He doesn’t get jealous of Tommy very often, because Joel Miller doesn’t get jealous, but he tuts at the idea that your mouth wrapped around his cock is a sight he gets to behold more often than Joel ever will. 

What would it be like, to not have to sneak around? To just have you loudly, unashamed, sloppily, proudly, the way you deserve, without constantly checking behind your back? To capture your lips in front of everyone like it were normal, to hold your pregnant belly like it was his, because damnit it might as well be.

It drives him insane he can’t mark you up the way Tommy can, less the two of you be caught in your affair. All he can do is pound you better, ruin you some more, and fill you with his seed. 

As if the last one hadn’t already reared its consequences in your growing belly. You’re too beautiful, too full of something special to be kept to one guy.

Still. He’ll only ever be second to Tommy.

What would it be like … to call you his?

“Dad…Dad!”

“What!”

Joel looks down at Sarah who’s got her hands on her hips and a stern look about her face.

Jesus, she really does spend too much time with me.

“The door,” she repeats, pointing downstairs. On cue, the doorbell chimes again.

He grunts as he lifts himself to his feet, brushing her head messily with his big palm before hopping down to answer.

It’s his dad.

“How old ya gotta be to leave your old man standin’ outside in the cold?”

Joel rolls his eyes, shifting to allow his father through the front. “It’s 79 degrees out.”

“Cold for my old bones,” he groans, feinting a shiver. “Share-Bear!”

Sarah bulldozers straight to his abdomen and wraps her arms in a big hug. 

Joel lightly tugs on one of her curly strands and she yelps “ow!”

“Go upstairs and get changed.”

She barrels upstairs to her room, leaving Joel and Miller senior. 

Joel continues tossing a bunch of tape on to the sad excuse of a gift before crinkling all the paper up and tossing it. He moves to search for a gift bag in the closet instead.

His dad sighs loudly. “Tommy sure got a nice beat goin’ for ‘im.”

“Sure does,” Joel notes, his attention more on the shoving past the vacuum.

“Good house, good job, kid on the way. A pretty gal.”

Joel closes the closet and turns towards his dad. “What’s your point, pops?”

“You know my point. He’s got it all together. You...”

“Me what? You don’t think I ain’t doin good on my own?”

“You shouldn’t have to be on your own. Sarah’s mom wasn’t...we knew she wasn’t gonna stick around. Its tough havin’ a kid to raise by yourself—“

“I wouldn’t trade my babygirl in for anything else in the world,” Joel snaps quickly. His eyes dart upstairs briefly. Its a conversation he hates when his dad brings up, especially when Sarah could just be lurking around the corner.

“Im not sayin’ that but.” Grandpa Miller shakes his head and takes a seat at the island. “Kid needs a mom. You need a woman. Someone to hold and kiss and make promises to. Someone to love.”

Joel drops the now filled bag on the countertop. I have that already. It’s just—complicated. “There a reason you stopped by? Other than to lecture me?”

His father grunts apathetically. “Just came by for some wrapping paper, but by the looks of it—“ He glances at Joel’s empty tape roll and bunched up pile of ribboned paper—“Guess I’ll go down to the store to get some.”

“Well you know where the door is.”

His dad follows Joel to his open front door to show him out. One aging father and one rapidly aging eldest son look at each other with a sense of sadness.

“Joel—“

“I’ll see you at Tommy’s.”

-

If you weren’t so pregnant, waking up before Tommy would have been so much easier to give him a blow job.

Instead. It’s half past 9, and you’re just rousing to consciousness. Fully well knowing Tommy has probably been awake for at least an hour but faking it just so he can wake up with you.

“Good morning birthday boy,” you grumble groggily, a soft smile spreading across your cheeks as you pull him in for a peck.

He grins and wraps himself around you. “Mmm Good Morning, little Momma. Ya know what I want for my birthday?”

You did know. He dropped hints like crazy and you already had it ready to go by your nightstand.

The thing about Tommy is…Tommy likes watching. It’s something you figured out when you were already dating after a year. Something about watching you touch yourself, spreading your legs on the bed and fucking yourself with a dildo, or grinding on his pillow and moaning as he stroked his cock from across the room, has him leaking in his palm with dirty words of encouragement.

And even with a hefty baby in your belly, his view of you bouncing on top of the sizable dildo was no different.

“Fuck, fuck that’s it angel. Takin’ that dick so good. Bet it feels good, huh?” He grips his balls with his palm while the other fists over his dick. Sitting upright in your makeup chair, fully naked and facing the bed, he gets a view of everything. His hungry eyes never once leave your body.

You nod. Your knees hurt, but the sight of Tommy’’s heart shaped eyes watching your milky breasts bounce, your lips spread to accomodate the girth of the silicon cock has you smiling for your deserving husband.

“It’s—not as easy with the bump…” you say fretfully. You feel like shit, not being able to give him the show that he wanted on his birthday. It’s a lot more difficult to angel and thrust a stick into you when there’s a planet blocking your view.

Tommy hoists himself up quickly, jerking his cock as he approaches you. He tosses the dildo and crawls over you before veiny hands caress along your hips, over your belly and squeezing your tits. “S’okay, little Momma. ‘m’here now. Daddy’s gonna make it better.”

You grasp his face with both hands and grin, pulling his lips to yours. At the same time, he slides his leaking member into your folds, forcing a grunt in the back of both of your throats as he bottoms out.

“Happy fuckin’ birthday to me,” he growls, fucking you steadily with deep strokes. “I get my one birthday wish today. Thinking’ I’m gonna leave a little present in this pussy. Have ya walk around all day with a lil bit of me inside.”

You laugh and gently tap your belly. “There’s a bit more than a ‘little’ bit of you inside me already.”

His stomach rumbles with a a chuckle. “That’s for everyone else to know who ya belong to. Nah, I’m talkin something just between you n me.” His arm holds himself above you as he rocks his hips with shallow ruts. “Shit, shit, ya gonna take it f’me? Gonna take my present on my fuckin’ birthday?”

You let out a high pitched whine, neck convulsing backwards as your cunt starts tightening around his length. 

Tommy locks your lips to his, tongue’s messily rolling into one another’s mouth. A string of saliva connect between the two of you when he pulls away, only for him to rub it against your breast.

“Tommy,” you moan desperately. You’re close, you’re about to tell him so: “I—“

“I love you,” he rasps. His eyes are shut tight as he finds that sweet spot inside, sending you over the edge before you can finish your thought.

 He thrusts a few more times before stilling. His balls twitch with satisfaction, each grunt from his chest echoing the spurts of his seed inside you. He feels at peace when he can be this close to you, his hand warm against your tight tummy and his soon-to-be kids.

His soon to be complete family.

His words rattle in your ears. You feel the opposite of light and airy after an orgasm. No, everything is heavy. Your head feels like a boulder stuck to the pillow. Yet empty. Your body so full yet feeling incredibly hollow right now. 

Tommy kisses your lips once more, not noticing the way you don't return the vervor. He sits up, wipes the sweat from his brows and slaps your thigh.

“You okay? Fucked ya a little too hard, baby momma?” He snickers.

You fake a laugh, hoping he’ll see you’re feeling exhausted rather than suspect anything is wrong.

Your husband kisses your forehead with a whisper “Stay in bed, you rest as long as ya need,” before walking towards the bathroom and closing the door behind him.

I love you. It should have made you feel surrounded by him. Comforted, secure, proud, inseparable, sound, cherished, warm, fuzzy, happy, truthful, light. Your husband confessing his love to you. 

Instead, it only reminded you of the dream had about Joel again last night.

Joel in your house. Joel in your bed. Joel dropping Sarah off at school and feeding your newborn with her bottle. Joel cooking in your backyard, Joel’s hands entwined with yours on a walk. Joel rubbing your shoulders and whispering sweet nothings in your ear. Joel kissing your cheek and telling you he lo—

You cover your face with the back of your hands. Tommy’s the one in your bed. Tommy holds your hand and kisses your cheek, and will be feeding and burping your baby, will be there for you forever and always because that’s what you promised to each other. 

You hold the ring on your finger up high in the air, its dazzling shimmer glints in your eyes. Your eternal promise, displayed on something so small yet so permanent, wrapped up in such a beautiful band.

The same ring that Best Man Joel carried in his pocket safely for months before you swore yourself to his brother. 

 You curse under your breath.

You’re still going to have to see him today.

-

He watches you crowd over Tommy seated at the head of the table, your hands lovingly on his shoulders. He thinks about his “one wish” for a while, but he only looks sideways towards you, holding your gaze for a moment before he confidently blows his candles. The room erupts in a rumble of cheers and clapping, but Tommy and you are only smiling at one another. He grabs your face and kisses you, smearing some icing on your nose. You laugh with him and rub it along his own, the two of you giddy and in your own world.

Joel Miller doesn’t get jealous.

And when you slice into the cake, nobody really understand why the cake is split between a blue and pink center. Everyones thinking the same thing--we already did the baby shower, it was going to be a girl!

“We might...have found out…there's gonna be another one,” you say sheepishly, your hands rollings over the heft of your larger than life belly that surprisingly has two little bubbas growing inside. 

Twins. you're having fucking twins. 

Tommy grasps your face and smears more icing on you, the two of you locking lips again and getting a little too pg-13 in a room full of raucous screeches that feel like nails on a chalkboard, shuffling chairs like a thunderous stampede. Everyone rushes to congratulate the two of you, how your lives are really starting, how exciting it must all be, what names you’ve been thinking of, its its everything you’d hoped it would be.

Joel Miller doesn’t get jealous.

Tommy knew, of course he did. Both of you planned it, to announce it like that. He’s got that smug look on his face, nothing of surprise. Just absolutely elated to share news that had been sitting on the two of you for who knows how long. Something Joel used to always get firsthand word from. You’re having twins. And he’s learning about it for the first time, same as everyone else. Tommy’s friends pat him on the back. Aunts kiss his cheek and even his dad smiles towards his youngest son’s success, all while the whole time, his ringed hand hasn’t left the curve of your swollen womb.

Joel Miller doesn’t get jealous.

He slips out the back of the room, everyone too engrossed in surrounding the happy couple. Nobody cared for Joel’s presence, not since the minute Tommy was born. Nobody would bat an eye for his absence today too.

…

You’re excited, you want to celebrate, and having everyone touching and surrounding you and asking questions wasn’t the way you wanted it. That’s why it was supposed to be during Tommy’s birthday, so there was something else to focus on.

But your body is on edge. It was attention from all that thrill. Jittery and warm under your palms.

Between your legs.

It’s hard to force Joel out of your mind whenever he’s in the same room. So when he dips out of the kitchen without making any gesture towards you, you didn’t hesitate to excuse yourself for a bathroom break. Nobody questions it, continuing their swarm around Tommy now who’s too eager for all the attention to really notice.

You don’t know what you expect from Joel. You don’t even know why you’re seeking him right now, and not standing by your husband’s side. You love Tommy. He’s everything to you. 

So why is there still this half of you that feels… like you need more?

Maybe your body is thinking on her own accord now, and that’s been a problem that needs to end. No. No you just wanted to talk. That’s all. He's your brother-in-law, for fucks sake. it’s natural you want to hear his thoughts. He’s gonna be a double uncle! He deserves a congratulations! Hope he’ll tell you congratulations too. Acknowledge it in some way. That its happening. That you and Tommy—are just you and Tommy. 

You wonder where the older Miller may have gone in such a small house. Sarah was still in the room, sneaking cake since nobody else seemed to care to slice it up, so where on earth—?

A callused palm wrap around your mouth and pulls you backwards into the dark bathroom, the door closing you inside with him warm and pressed tightly against your back.

“Shhhhhhhhh,” he whispers. The warmth of his breath makes you shiver, all the way down to the dampness spreading along your panties. Fuck. What was it about just ‘talking’ to him again? 

“J-Joel,” your voice wavers cautiously. “I—“ 

“You still gonna keep pretending you don’t want me?”

You face him as he turns the lights on and the two of you are caught in one another’s grasps. There’s a moment where you size him up, and he wonders if you’ll bluff his pass.

Instead, Like magnets that can’t resist their attractions, your instincts overwhelm you. Your eager fingers dig into the back of his neck and smash his lips against yours. The traces of icing still linger on your lips and tongue, the two of you devouring one another, fighting to get the last lick before coming apart to breathe.

Joel just smirks, his tongue swiping over his puffy lower lip. “Sweet,” he hums. His thumb brushes the bit of icing you didn’t know was still on your nose and puts it in his mouth. “How somethin’ so sweet come from someone so naughty?”

You quickly drop to a squat and roughly shove his hips back against the sink. Nimble fingers working swiftly to unbuckle his jeans and shove them down to his thighs.

You’re both panting through swollen lips, heart rate moving a lot quicker than the activities you’ve so far done would permit. He’s gorgeous like this—illuminated by the harsh florescent light above, his sincere, albeit sinful, smile and rosy cheeks watching you kiss his hardened length. 

He doesn’t force you. Doesn’t do anything to make you feel concerned. In fact, you’ve cornered him against the vanity, forcing yourself between his bent knees and inserting his tip to your wet mouth.

“Beautiful,” he whispers softly. His thumb strokes over your cheek as you guide more of his leaking cock into your mouth until it hits the back of your throat. He doesn’t take his eyes off of you, not even to blink. 

Your head bobs eagerly, swallowing around him. There’s just something about that huge dick of his that has you going feral. An itch you can’t scratch until his cum is either nested safely in your stomach or your womb. Maybe it’s because you’ll never be able to get rid of him. He’ll be around forever, and that means you can keep seeing him and his beefy horse cock forever. Forbidden yet yours for the taking. Every day if you wanted. 

The sounds of the party outside feel so remote compared to the events happening in such a little room right now. Just between you and Joel. 

The babies ain’t quite here yet so just you and Joel.

“Pretty pretty angel, sucking’ Daddy’s cock like that. What would your husband think? Suckin’ his big brother off in your house? I’d tell ‘im you got to your knees all by yourself. Little slut couldn’t wait for it. Second she saw me, needed my fat cock stretchin’ her throat, ain’t that right? Needed me to give ya something today too? Just that selfish, aren’t ya?”

You pull off his cock with a big gasp, smiling lazily. He slaps his cock against your open tongue with thick and wet patpatpats. 

He tsks you. “Pregnant gal, on her knees, takin’ cock like a slut. What a woman you are, little momma.”

You hum in approval, the drunken desire for Joel to fill your every senes clogging your brain.

Soft lips enclose around his tip again and he thrusts forward this time, holding his cock deep. You try to remember to breathe through your nose, even with his hairs tickling your lashes, but Joel pulls back enough to just his tip, and sets a gentle rhythm back and forth.

Joel’s head falls back against the mirror. His eyelids feel heavy each time he looks down to you. So full and rounded by a child—two children…if they're his, Joel’s having another daughter and his first son.

“Told ya you were made from breedin’. You’re gonna be like this the rest of ya life. Gonna put another baby in ya, then another—” he chuckles to himself, “N’another—havin’ ya suck cock not remember what number baby ya got growing’ in ya belly.”

He hisses through his teeth as you suck his member in and out, picking up pace. Your tongue works over his tip with each swipe, hand jerking off the base of his dick that you can’t fit. Any saliva and precum is immediately suckled and swallowed, leaving no evidence at the scene.

You’d gotten pretty good at that.

Joel’s beefy paw grasps the porcelain edge behind him as he hisses through his teeth. His stomach tenses, the veins in his v’line straining and you know he’s close. 

You alternate between sucking his balls and jacking off his cock above you. “What if I busted all over that pretty face? Have ya walk around your house with my cum on those lashes as everyone told ya what a cock hungry whore you are.”

You moan around him, your pussy so slicked between your thighs that it’s dripping down your pants. Its wrong. Fuck, you’re so wrong to want it. Want Tommy to see who’s marking you up, see how much you’d spread your pussy for Miller cock no matter if its your husbands his brothers.

His cock finds its way to your mouth again, and he starts thrusting lightly. 

“Swallow it, swallow it all. Want ya hesitatin’ to kiss Tommy after this. Knowin’ ya got my spunk in your mouth still. Fuck me babydoll, mouth’s a dream.”

His jaw drops low as he cums, and god what a sight. Your cunt throbs as he lets out pained breaths into the air, ready to cum if you were able to touch yourself right now.

You gulp down his salty load, lips suctioned to his tip and milking him clean to avoid any messes that might linger.

“That’s a good slutty wife,” he whispers down to you. Even on your knees, the heft of your pregnant belly is doing wonders to him. 

You lazily grin up to his smug grin. He knows you like showing him just how good you are at swallowing loads, like a good wife always does.

He pulls his softened cock out of your mouth, and you gasp a big breath of air, your hands still clinging to his thighs.

You feel his protective hands hoist you up to your feet. 

“Anything hurt?” He asks gently, holding your body flush against him as he rubs your tummy and hips. He feels much less tense than just moments ago when he pulled you in the bathroom with him. 

You shake your head. It’s not the first time you’ve gone down on a man while 30 pounds heavier with a baby. Your knees are a bit sore, but it’s nothing compared to the ache you’ve been feeling in your back for months now.

You try to pull away from Joel, but his arm is wrapped tightly around you. 

“Didn’t think you were pullin’ me in here just to suck me off. Why are you actin’ like this little snatch is happy from that?”

“I didn’t pull you—you pulled me,” you correct.

“You came lookin’ f’me. And you got on your knees all by yourself.”

His hands caress lower down your hip, gliding along your leggings towards your crotch. It should be wrong, the way your hand closes around his wrist to guide him closer, his digits dipping below the waistline and down your panties. 

He feels it: the soft squelch of your slick in your ruined underwear, pulsing madly. He grins and lets out a satisfied yet devious ‘ooooh there we go’ against your cheek. 

But there’s more. More dripping from here than he’s given you just from the thrill of sucking his cock.

He pushes his middle finger past your entrance and fingers out the glob of cum that had been deposited inside you earlier today.

“It’s —it’s Tommy’s birthday,” you moan, as if he needed an explanation as to why your husband’s seed is dripping out of your pussy. “Had—to give him—ooohhhhuugggg—his…gift—“

He continues to finger fuck you slowly, his younger brother’s cum practically pooling in your underwear. “Got one man’s cum in your mouth and a different one’s in ya pussy." He shakes his head. when he gets you like this, sometimes he would forget that you’re Tommy’s wife, after all. That Tommy gets you more than him. Gets to fill you whenever he pleases. Gets to hear your moans as loudly as he wants. That Tommy’s right to your pussy is his first and foremost, sacredly, forever and always.

That doesn’t stop Joel from seething at the thought of having to finger his brothers spent out of you.

"What, he didn’t make ya cum?” He taunts, picking up the pace. Even as you wreathe under his touch, your nails clench into his bicep, feeling the muscle work with each flick of his knuckle. “S’why you’re so desperate today? Wifey didn’t get her selfish little cunt pleased from your husband on his birthday?”

 "I did come …” you protest weakly. You squeeze your eyes shut, head tilted down as he works you open. It’s sloppy and sticky in your leggings, soaking the underside with your slick and Tommy’s cum being forced out by Joel’s big fingers relentlessly hitting the gummy spot inside.

His other hand grips your chin and forces you to look at him:

 “Then why you comin’ to me?”

There’s a prickle of a tear filling your eyes. You've been asking yourself the same thing for months. You don’t know from what; the brink of pleasure or guilt, but there’s a hefty stone that’s burrowed in your chest all day that you didn’t know needed to escape. The words are forced out of your chest with a pained gasp. 

"... I just want... more.”  

It should pain you to admit it, to be so selfish for these men, never feeling one is enough for you.

Normally He would kiss you right now, to hush your mind to reveal something so heavy, but instead, he holds your gaze, gritting his teeth with a snarl just barely poking along his lip. He wants to let your words sink into your bones, really grasp what you've been denying for too long. Suffer with it, even.

You hadn’t even realized he backed you up against the door, pressing his knee between your leg. You’ve become trapped and hadn’t even noticed. His fingers prod your entrance incessantly, reaching deep inside so there’s no way of you to wiggle out of his grasp. curling up and beating your g-spot better than Tommy can—at this point, its very possible you’ve had more sex with Joel than with your own husband.

And that makes the coil in your pussy snap.

Joel belittles you without any words while you fall apart against the wooden door holding you up. Working the heft of his palm against your clit until your brows are furrowing, mouth agape, walls clamping down tight around him as you cum. The door rattles with each little roll of your hips, and your moans aren’t hushed either. 

He watches, the way your eyes are glued to him, blown wide in guilt and in pleasure while little whines escape your lips. Unrelenting and stoic as he works you through your orgasm, granting no mercy nor even trying to shush your little cries from over stimulation. You don’t hesitate when he brings his fingers to your lips, swallowing them whole and sucking Tommy and your slick off Joel’s fingers. He wipes the rest off on your shirt.

Every emotion you feel with Tommy, you feel with Joel in moments like these. He holds you close to him as you breathe in his musky, minty scent. His shirt smells a bit like flowered softener and a hint of early morning sweat. Fumigated with the thick aroma of sex.

You're looking at the ring on your knuckle.

“I helped pick it out. Carried it for months. ’S practically my ring to you too.” He’s babbling now, getting lost in that hazy after-orgasm glow between two people who are connected by a strong, strange bond. “Sometimes …sometimes I think about stealing you away all to myself.”

He makes you two look in the mirror together, with him cradling your belly as you hold your ring hand to your chest. “Look,” he commands softly against your ear. “Kinda looks like our own little family.”

You hate that you kind of liked that idea. But then Tommy is in your mind, the man that you actually love, who fought for you, who you tied your vows to, and as far as you’re concerned, the father of your children. 

Angry, you try to break away and shove Joel, but he's used to it. Used to you closing him off right after these moments of pure insanity. He's not letting it happen today. This time he’s got a firm grip on you like a brick wall and steel wire melding you tight to him. He knows you don’t actually want to push him away. 

"You said you wanted more.”

It’s not a question: it’s a statement. A fact.

The very real thought, the one you tried to push away every time this happens, dawns on you: Joel is tired of sneaking around. Wants to have you when he wants. When everyone is watching. 

Not just sex. To be in your bed, making you dinner and watching movies, dropping Sarah off to school rubbing your back when you’re in pain, there for the babies when you deliver and every day after. 

You manage to push him off of you and shake your head. The chatter outside grows louder than the beats of your heart. Hoisting your pants back up into place, you go to grab the bathroom door, but Joels strong grip lays over top your and forces the door shut.

There’s a deadly, threatening finality to his tone. “I’m telling him.”

You turn back with a shocked expression, partially expecting him to be joking about it. Not that it’s funny. It’s not funny at all. 

But Joel hasn’t moved. Hasn’t cracked a smile. A man whose resolve has overcome his patience. His lips are tight, jaw tense as he watches you try to answer to that horrifying outcome. 

“Joel. No. Are you insane?”

“If its my kids you’re having, I have every right to be there for you—“

“But it’s NOT!”

“You know that? Tell me right know, you know it for sure. Say it ain’t mine, and I’ll never bring it up again.”

You go quiet, looking down at the belly that’s carrying your babies. You want to shrink away from your fears, from the men who’ve caught you between them with their words and their love and their touch. You’re Tommy’s wife. Yet here you are with Joel. Again. In your and Tommy’s house. And Joel’s hand on you, and on your finger is Tommy’s ring—Joel’s ring--TOMMY—

 It’s too much. Everything is closing around you, your lungs suffocating themselves under the pressure that you caused by seeking him out. Finding him and putting yourself in this exact situation ever. Single. Time. 

You yank the door again, desperate to escape, but Joel doesn’t budge. He refuses to let you walk away from the conversation. From him.

“You didn’t deny it,” he reminds you. he pulls your reluctant focus to him again. “Just say it: Tell me you want me. Tell me you lo—”

“I don’t.” You declare rigidly. Its too far. No, no, no,nonoNO. You expel those thoughts, his words, quick to cast them out before letting them enter your system. The next words rush out of your mouth with a deep ache seized in the pit of your stomach: “You’re just a good fuck.”

The air is thin around you. Something has dropped, a pin, a dime, a fucking boulder, between the two of you. Joel grits his teeth and removes his hand from the door, backing away from you with a scowl. He pulls it the knob open harshly and brushes past you quickly, not even taking a moment to check if anyone was nearby to see you emerging from the bathroom too.

He grabs his jacket and strides towards the living room. You can make out the commotion behind the wall; Sarah is having her own philosophy course to her personal audience, asking, "Whats the point of having so many candles if you can only make one wish!?"

Joel grabs her hand and dismisses them quickly. Her sad cries echo into the hall: “But why! It’s too early!”

Joel’s stern voice echoes in the hall as they make their way across the entryway.  “Because I said so. I’ve got work tomorrow. We’re leaving.”

She continues to complain, but Joel doesn’t have any heart to continue their conversation. Ushering her out of the house and slamming the front door behind them.

You stare at the door, having not moved from your place. 

The carpet beneath your socked-feet feels too shaggy. I hated this carpet. Its too fucking much for fucking Texas and every god damn person who sees it here.

You flinch when Tommy’s hand creeps along your belly. Disgusting your sniffle as a cough and wiping your nose. You worry he noticed, but he doesn’t do anything to push the matter further. “What’s up with him?”

You huff an annoyed sigh. “I don’t fucking know. He’s your brother. Just Leave me the fuck alone.”

Tommy observes  your face momentarily, the way you avoid his eyes. He pulls away. “I’m gonna let this one slide as a pregnancy hormonal thing,” he says lowly, a cold soberness to his tone. “Then you can tell me what’s botherin’ ya so much lately. Or not. I’ll let you decide.”

You cover your face with your hands, sinful hands that feel like dry leather and charred ashes. Hands that don’t feel like your own anymore.

It would be better if Tommy just walked away. So you can simmer in your guilt and pain, like any cheating wife would. Like a sensible man who doesn’t take that shit from his wife, no matter what her personal problems are. From a woman who’s secretly jeopardizing their marriage for… what exactly?

You wanted more…but…what did you want more of?

Instead, Tommy feels his lips quiver slightly. He brings your head to his chest, smothering you in his scent and his embrace, his love and comfort.

Your insides break down in a flood. Tears and hiccups suffocate you as you wrap your arms around your husband and sob into his denim jacket, the one you just gave him this morning as his first birthday gift from his new wife. 

Tommy’s never pushed you for anything. Maybe to his own detriment.

Deep down, you suspect, he knows it too.

Instead, he just holds you, swaying back and forth with gentle ‘shhh’ into your forehead. Never once faltering on the stretch of his hug, his arms holding you up and against him like a seatbelt built for a lifetime.

You feel like you just drove the car off a cliff.

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[aerowolf]

the mercs realize it's your bday and you didn't tell anyone because your family doesn't do birthdays

I’m so sorry this is a mess between British and American english. I have an American parent and a Canadian one so it messed me up lolll

if didn't include a Merc you wanted, feel free to request and I'll try and add them :]

includes: Miss Pauling & offense classes

cute platonic, gn!reader

warnings: n/a, this is basically all fluff

You'd rather not make a big deal of it being your birthday, even though it is you were taught that birthdays aren't a big deal and your family never really did them.

You kind of wish someone would care but you feel guilty about that so you choose not to tell anyone about it

The only one of these who actually knows it's your birthday is Miss Pauling, who’s seen your personnel files

Miss Pauling

She knows it's your birthday, and instead of ignoring it she decides to at least discreetly make it a good day for you

She arrives on base for a routine inspection, clipboard in hand, but once she's done with the main thing, instead of leaving, she comes to your room

"I saw that it's your birthday today. I don't know if you celebrate, or anything, but, uh, I thought you'd like a gift. Maybe."

She hands you a box, inside are some candy bars and a plush of a bear

"I know it's not exactly the nicest thing, and I know it's kinda... stereotypical... but, y'know, I thought you'd like something. So, happy birthday. From me.” She’s really shy about it, you get the feeling she didn’t--probably still doesn’t--really get to celebrate birthdays either. 

She offers you a ride on her motorbike, something nice, on the open road--away from this base for a little while. You accept, taking a seat behind her, enjoying the open air--though it is pretty hot out. You guys talk, just enjoying the time.

She smiles at you as you get back. “Happy birthday. You deserve it.”

You thank her and even give her a hug. It’s nice that you got this for once. 

Scout

He has no idea whatsoever that it’s your birthday. He’s interacting with you like usual, teasing you, just hanging out. You’re happy as you talk that day; he’s always good at making you laugh and smile.

At some point he notices that you’re a little down, as much as you may try to hide it, he can tell. You’re his friend, and even though he might act like he doesn’t care sometimes, you know he does. A lot.

You tell yourself you don’t want anything on your birthday, that it’s easier if no one knows, but secretly, you do.

“Hey, what’s up? C’mon, ya know I can tell when something’s wrong.” 

You tell him it’s nothing. 

“You sure? Really? You’re kinda… I dunno, sadder than usual.” After he asks a few times, you finally come out and tell him. You don’t say much. Just “It’s my birthday.”

“No kiddin’? Well, why didn’t ya tell me?” He comes off pretty strong. You feel kind of apologetic for mentioning it, and look away from him. “Aw, hey. Y’know what--it don’t matter. I’m gonna throw you a party like you ain’t never seen, believe me.”

You try to tell him you don’t want a party--well, you do. Maybe. No you don’t. Well, sure. But not a big one. He’s really sweet and enthusiastic about it. “Someone like you deserves a big birthday--but if you don’t want it, dat’s okay. Ya know, we could just hang out, or somethin’. You n’ me, yeah?” 

You tell him you’d like that a lot. You both find a quiet spot in the base where you can just talk. He messes around, too, and pops in a Tom Jones record. 

He’s a little shy, a little embarrassed, but he even sings happy birthday to you. He just seems glad no one can hear him. He doesn’t have a gift handy for you, but he ends up scribbling you a quick doodle of him telling you happy birthday. It’s misspelt, but the drawing is cute, and you keep it. “I hope ya had a good day. I’m just sorry I didn’t know sooner.” You tell him that it wasn’t his fault, how could he have known? 

After all is done, he gives you an awkward hug. You smile and return it.

Soldier

He’s a little crazy so he’s just hanging around base, today he had the idea to strip and cover himself in honey, so everyone has had to convince him to please not do that, and now he’s just moping around, muttering about how anti patriotic this all is.

You sit next to him and mope as well. Unlike him, no one knows the reason you’re moping. To anyone else’s point of view, you’re just comforting him--for whatever weird reason. But he sees that you’re just as sad as him.

“What’s wrong, maggot? Is there someone who needs to see my fists meet their face?”

You tell him no, no one did anything. You’re a little intimidated by him, and you don’t see much reason to tell him anyways. But it’s nice sitting with a friend. 

“If it’s not a person, then… it must be an object! Give it to me and I will destroy it immediately.” He’s being as sweet as he can, you smile and shake your head.

You sit there for a bit, smiling as you watch the other mercs come and go. Today isn’t a bad day, just a little sad. Later, you plan to find some kind of sweet treat to eat alone.

Soldier stands up, at attention, and points at you. “MAGGOT, AS YOUR SUPERIOR AND SENIOR, I ORDER YOU TO TELL ME WHAT IS WRONG!”

With a sad smile and a chuckle you finally tell him.

“Your birthday?” Soldier seems genuinely surprised. He places a hand on his chin and thinks. “We cannot go without celebrating! This is momentous!”

Although you try to protest, he turns to the base, stating to every other merc, “LISTEN UP! IT IS Y/N’S BIRTHDAY AND WE WILL CELEBRATE!” 

He makes it his personal mission to decorate for a party that very evening, even gets a cake and everything. He makes every other merc sing happy birthday with him. Maybe this isn’t so bad.

You give him a big hug, and he is surprised at first, but proceeds to give a gentle laugh and hug back.

Pyro

You see Pyro colouring with crayons and coloured pencils on their break, and you sit by them. You don’t really understand what they’re saying a lot of the time, but you enjoy hanging out with them. It’s a long period of silence before you join them in colouring. Regardless of your artistic skills, they’re impressed and encourage you, and are very happy when you show them what you’ve been working on. 

After a little while you get kind of bored and sad. You’ve tried to enjoy this day but it’s another bittersweet birthday. You’re happy to hang out with Pyro though, even though they don’t know what day it is.

Pyro notices that you’ve stopped colouring with them, and that you’re looking at the ground instead, messing with the cracks in the floor.

“Huddah hrmmf mmmrph?” You don’t understand what they’re saying exactly, but you smile at them. They seem to be asking what’s wrong, why you stopped, why you seem so sad.

You hesitate for a moment before finally confessing. They seem to mostly understand what you mean, and they lean back, thinking. 

After a few seconds, they stand up and help pull you off the floor. They point to their room, and you follow them. It’s an odd combination of scorch marks, colourful drawings, weapons, and art supplies. They lead you to a wardrobe and pull out a box. 

Surprisingly, you can see that it's fully wrapped. Did they somehow know it was your birthday? Do they keep these gifts on hand for the mercs?

You won’t get an answer, but they excitedly push it out and offer it to you. “Huddah hmmph!” They sound almost like they are smiling behind the mask. You take the box and open it. It’s got crayons, pencils, and… wow, that’s a drawing of you and them.

You smile, almost ready to tear up, and thank them. You give them a hug, and you notice that they’re hugging you back even harder. Maybe they don’t really understand, but this is sweet.

[severelystrangewriter]

Insecurities (Flufftober 2023 Day 11)

Pairing: shinichiro sano x female reader

WC: 1254

Warnings: light angst? shinichiro is in his feels, hurt/comfort

Summary: shinichiro is feeling insecure about your relationship

Note: i just wanna give this man a hug so bad

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Shinichiro liked you. He liked you so much that he was almost certain that it was love. You were his first serious relationship- actually, you were his first ever relationship. After twenty rejections in a row from other women, he thought it was a miracle that you said yes. You two have been together for a couple of months now and things have been going great. They have been the best months of his life.

Then why did he feel so depressed? Truth be told, he felt like he wasn’t good enough for you. He believed you were so far out of his league and you deserved better. It was something his friends would always joke about and he couldn’t help but begin to believe that they were right.

His thoughts became darker as they started circulating in his brain, making his insecurities grow.

‘You’re so lame.’

‘What a total loser.’

‘She’s only dating you because she feels bad for you.’

That one really bothered him the most because his friends had told you about his past experience (or lack of) with women. At first, people thought Shinichiro had paid you to pretend to be his girlfriend out of desperation, but when they found out there was no such arrangement, they jumped to the conclusion that it was out of pity.

It all came to a head three days ago when you two had gone to a party for one of your friends. Even Shinichiro could see the chemistry between you and your friend was undeniable. It was a huge blow to his ego how you just laughed the guy’s obvious flirting off instead of telling the dude to leave you alone. Like, sure, you informed your friend that you had a boyfriend, but your friend just jokingly said “He doesn’t look like much competition.”

You left pretty shortly after that, apologizing to Shin for your friend’s behavior repeatedly. Logically, Shinichiro knew you wouldn’t cheat on him. He trusted you wholeheartedly. But it still bugged him.

Instead of communicating all of this, however, he started withdrawing himself and spiraled into a depression. His texts with you turned to one-word answers and he used the excuse that he was busy as he locked himself into the shop, drowning himself in work to keep him busy. He was currently there right now, he didn’t know what time it was, he just knew it was late.

When you entered the back where he was fiddling with a motorcycle, he didn’t even light up like he usually did. Instead, his frown deepened.

“What are you doing here?” Shinichiro asked bluntly.

“Mikey told me you haven’t been feeling well,” You explained, “I thought I would check in. I brought takeout, it’s in the office.”

“M’fine. Not hungry.” He mumbled, continuing to work on the bike. You continued to observe him, picking up on his tense demeanor right away.

“You don’t have to lie to me. I’m here if you need to talk, ya know,” You pointed out.

Shinichiro sighed, “I know.”

You pulled up a short stool to sit on and you nudged his shoulder. “Come on, if you keep your feelings bottled up it’ll fester and make everything worse.”

He sighed again and stood up from his seat to move away from you. You watched him go over to his tool cabinet and put away his tools. Your boyfriend stood there for a moment, and you could tell he was fighting himself over something.

“Why are you with me?” He finally asked. His voice was so quiet you almost missed it.

“Because I love you,” You responded immediately.

Shinichiro turned to you looking upset. “But why? You’re so pretty and smart… and I’m just a loser.”

“Don’t talk about the love of my life like that,” You interrupted, “Don’t let your brain lie to you.”

“But it’s true,” He argued, “Everyone says it.”

Silence fell over you both as you tried to think of something to say. You were just so surprised that he felt that way. Couldn’t you see how much you adored him?

“If it’s any consolation, I think you’re pretty great,” You told him with a gentle tone, hoping to make him feel a little better.

Normally Shinichiro would be over the moon at this revelation, but his mind was just being so loud. So instead he scoffed bitterly and muttered, “You’re just saying that.”

A look of hurt crossed your face and you stood up, coming closer until you were standing right in front of him.

“I’m not lying, Shin. I think you’re awesome!” You insisted. Then you lifted your hand and started counting on your fingers, “You’re charismatic, handsome, funny, super caring, and passionate. I mean, what’s not to love? I’m really lucky that I get to call you my boyfriend, I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Tears started to well up in Shinichiro’s eyes. He wanted to believe you, he really did. He could see the sincerity in your eyes and you’ve never lied to him before. So why couldn’t he believe it?

Your gaze softened as the first teardrop slid down his cheek. His lip quivered and he dropped his head as he hastily rubbed his eyes to stop the waterworks, but the tears kept falling. It made him beyond frustrated, he felt like such a loser crying in front of you like this. 

But you didn’t think any less of him. Watching him cry and look so broken made your own eyes water. You wished he could see himself the way you did. Shinichiro truly was an amazing guy to you. He was a genius when it came to motorbikes and the way he genuinely cared about his siblings and friends always warmed your heart. You loved every single thing about him and wouldn’t change him for the world. 

In a flurry of emotions, you surged forward and flung your arms around him, causing him to pause. You squeezed him tighter, hoping you could convey how much you loved him with such a simple gesture.

“I love you so much, Shin. You’re so special to me and I’ll remind you every single day if I have to,” You promised, burying your head in his chest.

His eyes widened and he was certain you could hear his heart hammering in his chest. After the shock wore off, he quickly returned the hug. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, feeling more relaxed as your embrace released endorphins in his brain. God he really loved you.

“Thank you,” Shinichiro said quietly, “I love you too.”

You pulled away slightly to look at him, “I mean it, I’ll always be here for you. Just talk to me and I’ll help. We’re partners and partners communicate with each other; we work through it together. Promise you’ll start doing that?”

“I promise,” His lips tilted up in a soft smile.

You then held up your pinky to him, “Pinky promise?”

It was so childish, but he found it endearing, so he linked his pinky with yours and nodded in determination. With pinkies still intertwined, you leaned in for a soft kiss which he happily responded to.

You kept your promise and stayed by his side, beating back his insecurities with a stick. You quite literally reminded him every single day how much he meant to you, and he was sure to put in just as much effort. It didn’t matter what anyone else said, Shinichiro loved you and you loved him.

[narumi-gens]

Cupid's Arrow - The Set Up

Miya Osamu x f!Reader

summary: There’s no such thing as Cupid’s arrow. But fortunately for you and Osamu, you both have Atsumu. (OR: how Atsumu decided to play matchmaker for you and Osamu.)

warnings: minors/ageless/blank blogs dni, pure fluff, bad dating stories, best friend!tsumu, reader is really going through it — what a champ, reader is really just trying their best, but it's ok bc you and osamu are destined for happiness and marital bliss, atsumu for best wingman 2023 (but like a sneaky little wingman who uses underhanded tricks)

notes: wanted to start a little drabble series about platonic!reader and osamu's relationship but told from atsumu's POV so here we are. this can definitely be read on its own though.

words: 1.6k

part of the Meet the Miyas series

Atsumu would find your misfortune in dating funny if there wasn’t so much of it. Actually, that’s not true. He still finds it funny. How could he not?

“Atsumu! That guy I went on a date with? He sneezed in my face and didn’t even apologize!”

“You know that guy I just started seeing? It turns out he has a wife and a girlfriend! They found out about each other and confronted him while we were on a date. Didn’t you see the video I posted on TikTok? It's going viral!”

“So I thought it was a date, but actually he was trying to recruit me to his pyramid scheme.”

“Oh my god. This guy was so annoying. He wouldn’t stop fooling around with the ball at mini-golf and I ended up getting hit. Anyway, long story short the doctor said I have a scratch on my cornea and have to use these eye drops for the next few days.”

While the stories never get old, he does feel bad for you. You’re his best friend after all. These scrubs that you’ve been going out with don’t even deserve a second glance from you, let alone an entire date. 

And so finally, after hearing about your latest misadventure in single life (“Oh, can you cover dinner? That guy I went out for drinks with yesterday stole my wallet.”), Atsumu decides it’s not just his duty to step in as your closest friend, but his duty as a decent person. 

“Samu, when’s the last time ya went out on a date?” he asks his brother the next time that he sees him, only to receive the most uninterested look in response.

“Don’t get involved in my love life,” he firmly warns the setter with narrowed eyes and Atsumu scoffs with a roll of his eyes.

“What love life? Yer married to onigiri!” he cries as he points an accusatory finger directly at said onigiri in Osamu’s hand. 

He’s honestly surprised that Osamu doesn’t throw it in his face with how annoyed he now looks, but he also knows the chef would never waste Kita’s rice like that. 

“I could get a date if I wanted. I don’t need yer help,” he insists.

“Duh, you have my face even if yer missin’ my amazing hair and personality.” When his cocky grin is met with a flat look, Atsumu realizes he might need to go for a different approach — the caring, earnest, brotherly approach. “Look, I know someone I think ya’d really like.”

“Oh, yeah? Who?” The question is asked with mocking disbelief, as if there’s no universe where Atsumu could successfully play matchmaker for his brother. 

He’s only too happy to prove him wrong, so when says your name, it’s with smug pride. He prepares himself for the bounty of gratitude that Osamu is about to shower him with.

Only, that doesn’t happen. His brother scoffs and turns his attention fully back to his onigiri, dismissing the idea of going on a date with you entirely. Atsumu can’t help but feel a prickle of offense on your behalf (and his own). 

“Hey! She’s a real catch, y’know!” he cries out. And it’s true. 

You’re smart, you’re successful, you’re funny, and you both always have the best time when you hang out together. And while he’s reluctant to admit it because he never likes to think of you in that way, you’re also attractive. He knows his brother isn’t blind to it either. 

The two of you have only met a few times in passing since he’s known you, but Atsumu’s eyes are too sharp from years of volleyball to have missed how Osamu’s gaze tends to linger on your ass just a bit longer than is polite. He knows pointing that out would not go well.

“She’s the one doin’ me the favor by agreein’ to go out with a scrub like you,” he continues to argue. But, it’s that part that isn’t entirely true. 

You actually have no idea that Atsumu is trying to meddle in your dating life. However, that’s something he can easily deal with once he’s convinced Osamu to take you out. While he would never call you desperate, at least not to your face, at this point you’ll go out on a date with anyone. It’s his brother that’s the real hurdle in this scheme.

“Ya want me to date yer best friend?” Osamu asks slowly. 

“Yeah, what’s so crazy about that?” he frowns.

“First, I’d never get ya out of my life if that happened,” he says blandly and continues over Atsumu’s squawk of protest. “Besides, there’s gotta be somethin’ wrong with her if she willingly chooses to spend so much time with ya.”

“Look, would it kill ya to go on just one date?” He doesn’t mention that if things go according to plan, it won’t be just one date. It’ll be a lifetime of happiness for the two most important people in his life. But that’s something that he doesn’t think Osamu would find as compelling as he does. 

“The restaurant ain’t gonna burn down or anything just cause ya spend a couple of hours outside of it. All yer rice’ll still be here when ya get back.”

Osamu gives him the dirtiest look, but then, after a long moment, he sighs heavily and Atsumu knows that he’s cleared the first hurdle. All he has to do is clear the next one. Thankfully it’s much lower.  

“Hey, I got someone I wanna set ya up with.”

“Who?” Just as he expected, you immediately sound interested and willing. 

“Samu.”

There’s a long pause and he begins to worry that the low hurdle that he needs to clear is actually higher than he anticipated. 

“Your brother?” you finally ask, your expression wrinkling with confusion.

“Yeah. Why? What’s the big deal?” Now he’s the one confused as he watches your small frown begin to grow a little deeper.

“I don’t know. Isn’t it kind of…weird?” Your hesitancy towards going out with Osamu is a least a lot more gentle than Osamu’s was towards you. “You guys are identical twins. You have the same face and everything. Wouldn’t it be like dating you?”

There’s a hint of disgust in your tone and he would be offended if he didn’t feel the same way about the notion of dating you.

“You could only be so lucky,” he says with a snort before deciding that he’ll have to pull out the caring, earnest, brotherly approach once again. “Please? I’m worried if he doesn’t go out with someone soon then he’s just gonna spend the rest of his life alone with his onigiri.” 

This is yet another half-truth that he has to tell in this scheme. Because while he does sometimes think that Osamu’s on the path to becoming a hermit, he’s way more concerned about you. With the way things are going for you, one day he’s going to get a call about how some scumbag that you’re in love with emptied your bank account and ran off in the middle of the night. 

But the half-truth seems to work because pity momentarily flashes across your face. He just needs to push a little bit more.

“I’m not supposed to say anything, but he asked if he thought he had a shot with ya,” he sighs, trying to sound reluctant, like he’s had no choice but to reveal this made-up secret. And what can it hurt? It’s just another white lie.

“He did?” You sound baffled rather than flattered and he hopes you can’t see the spike of panic that he feels. “What brought that on? I haven’t even seen him in forever.”

“He saw yer thirst trap on Instagram,” he blurts out to distract you and he breathes a sigh of relief when you gasp at the accusation.

“I told you! It wasn’t a thirst trap! I genuinely wanted to know if that outfit was appropriate for a work event!” you whine pathetically.

“Okay, yeah. Sure,” he scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Nothing says business like a shirt unbuttoned so low that your hot-pink bra peeks out.”

You open your mouth to protest your innocence but Atsumu cuts you off before the argument can really get started. The mission here is to ensure yours and Osamu’s eternal happiness and he intends to see success.

“Look, you deserve someone who treats ya right,” he offers, sincerity shining through in his words and expression. “Samu’s a good guy. I trust him with ya.”

“I don’t know…” you trail off, sounding much less firm in your reservations than only a few minutes before.

“Remind me what happened on yer last date?” 

You look away from him with a petulant frown.

“…he ordered his food to go and then left me at the restaurant,” you mutter under your breath.

He raises an eyebrow as if that says it all — which it does. You just roll your eyes with a huff.

“Fine!” you relent, throwing your hands up in the air before pointing a firm finger in his direction. “But if it gets weird then I’m blaming you.”

He just grins triumphantly and pulls out his phone so that he can send your number to Osamu. But then he sees you suddenly pout and groans at your dramatics.

“What’s wrong now?” he asks impatiently and your pout grows deeper.

“Y’know he could at least have liked my thirst trap,” you mumble and Atsumu’s eyes light up.

“So you admit it! It was a thirst trap!” he crows, even as he hopes that it doesn’t come out until you guys are married that Osamu only ever uses Instagram to post on Onigiri Miya’s business account.

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

weee another fantasy au snippet <3 a little shorter than usual cause that's what the scene is <3 shorter <3

~

Something is wrong with Wally. 

It’s not serious, or at least Barnaby doesn’t think it is. If he didn’t pay such close attention to his buddy, he’d never know that anything was amiss at all - Wally has an excellent straight face. But not so excellent that Barnaby can’t read him.

There’s a different curve to his smile these days. It’s sort of pinched, sort of sad. It matches a look in his eyes that puts Barnaby on edge, if only because that deep, dark pensiveness is so wildly out of place on Wally’s soft face. 

It scares him. Something is off.

What is it?

Barnaby taps his claws on his middle as he stares at the tent roof, thin enough that firelight from outside bleeds through. Despite the late hour, his eyelids feel magicked open. The other side of the tent yawns empty, and that is precisely the source of Barnaby’s insomnia. 

Everyone is asleep except for two - and Barnaby is only awake because of one.

With a deep sigh through the nose, Barnaby sits up and clambers out of the tent. He shivers as he stands up and crosses his arms, rubbing at his fur. The night sky is clear, but the breeze cuts him through to the bone. It isn’t even winter yet, sheesh…

The campfire casts a fuzzy outline of red-orange around Wally. He doesn’t turn away from the embers as Barnaby shuffles behind him, and Barnaby doesn’t have to look to know that he’s staring directly into the low flames. He tweaks Wally’s raised hood as he passes, just to make sure Wally knows he isn’t alone anymore. He spaces out, sometimes. 

“Can’t sleep?” Barnaby asks as he takes the log next to Wally’s rock of choice. Wally just hums, and Barnaby frowns.

There’s that look again.

With how Wally is perched, his legs drawn up and arms folded on his knees, his smile is hidden. It’s unsettling. Barnaby scans Wally from the corner of his eye, taking in the tension in his shoulders and the nearly invisible pinch of his nonexistent brows. 

“Yeah, me neither,” Barnaby says. Another breeze, another shudder, and a quick glare at the stars. 

Should he press? The obvious answer is absolutely not, but… Barnaby isn’t sure how much of this - thisness he can take. He has no idea what to call it. A mood? It’s too serious to be considered a mood. All Barnaby knows is that when Wally is like this, something itches under his skin. 

Tonight would be a perfect opportunity to ask. Everyone else is fast asleep. Wally isn’t putting up the fronts he usually does. The knowledge that this Wally, the Wally all covered up and curled in on himself, is as vulnerable as anyone will never see - it makes Barnaby want to reach.

“Hey,” he murmurs, nudging his knee against Wally’s boot, “I’m starting to worry for the fire with how you’re glarin’ at the thing. What, did it emberass ya? Give ya the coal shoulder?”

Wally doesn't laugh, but his gaze softens. Barnaby curses himself.

“Not that there’s anything wrong with glarin' - I’m sure the fire deserves it,” Barnaby is quick to add. “But really… is everything alright, kid?”

“Yes,” Wally says, but it rings like an untruth. It's just something he’s saying because it’s what he always says. Everything is always fine with Wally. 

“You know you don’t gotta pretend with me. There’s somethin’ bothering you, I can tell.” Too far, too much, Barnaby is sure. He shouldn’t be so pushy.

But instead of clamming up, Wally’s eyes flicker down and away, guilty. The bloodhound in Barnaby perks up its ears. It’s all he can do not to point and shout AHA!, because that would assure that Wally would put up the same masks around him that he does with everything else. Vindication wars with his concern, as if he thought he might have been imagining the funks Wally has been slipping into.

Those too-long periods of silence that no one notices because Wally isn’t much of a talker. Moments of utter stillness that no one notices because Wally is always so stationary. The way he doesn’t drink in every new thing with a hunger like he usually does, as if Wally has been starving his whole life.

Those passing glances where his pupils seem too big, the blackness of them infinitely deep as if someone could fall into them. Maybe Wally is. Barnaby doesn’t want him to.

“You don’t gotta say a word,” Barnaby says, wishing the campfire log was just a smidge closer to the rock. “I just want ya to know that I see you, and I’m here. Whatever’s goin’ on in that pretty head ‘a yours, I’ll be right there for whatever you need. I got your back, Walls.”

Wally’s smile peeks over his arms for a moment - he always has liked being called pretty, or handsome, you name it. Barnaby preens over being able to coax him even the slightest bit out of the pit he’s slowly spiraling into. He’s winning big at the whole ‘best friend’ thing, Barnaby thinks - a complete natural.

For a long while, Barnaby doesn’t care to keep track, they sit in companionable silence. The fire cracks and pops when Barnaby adds a chunk of wood to it, coaxing it into a flame that actually takes the bite out of the breeze. Crickets chirp in the forest around them - something howls far away. 

The tension doesn’t leave Wally. In fact the longer they sit, the worse it gets. Barnaby keeps his mouth shut and eyes on the fire, the woods, the stars - anywhere except Wally. It’s the kind of tension that makes him suspect that Wally is gearing up to speak. Sometimes it feels like there’s a sinkhole of silence that opens up whenever Wally has something of his own to say. 

Reviving the fire was either a smart move, or a dumb one. It depends on how quickly Wally thinks of how to share. Without the brisk chill of night keeping Barnaby fresh-faced, sleep is finally starting to sink into him with the fire’s warmth. He briefly considers sneaking into Howdy and Sally’s tent to sneak an energy potion from Howdy’s pack. Pros, he’ll certainly be awake for Wally. Cons, he’ll be awake long past Wally’s spiel, Howdy will have a fit over missing an item, and Sally will have a bigger fit over Barnaby sneaking into her tent when he inevitably comes clean. Also, the potions don’t taste great. Or maybe he should fetch his pipe-

“I think. I don’t…”

For a second, Barnaby misses that Wally spoke at all. He double-takes when the half sentence registers, casting a quick look to Wally. Okay, no, don’t do that. Focus on the fire. Be casual - give him space. Barnaby nonchalantly pokes the coals with the fire stick.

Wally sighs - such a small sound that the crickets almost drown it out. But Barnaby has big ears, and they perk up. When does Wally ever sound frustrated? Curse him, but Barnaby finds it novel. Wally shifts on the rock, curling up impossibly tighter and turning his head away. Barnaby watches the back of his hood. 

“I don’t think I’m a good person,” Wally admits in the smallest, deadest voice Barnaby has ever heard. 

“What?” Barnaby says, or he means to. The air in his throat doesn’t quite form sound. He turns to Wally and clenches his paws on his knees to keep from reaching, floundering for words. 

How could he - why would he - who told him that he - 

“What do you mean?” Barnaby says, a disbelieving chuckle slipping out. “Wally, kid - you’re the best guy I know. You’re my best guy. Out of all the ways I could describe you, a bad person isn’t one of ‘em.”

Wally whips his head around, his eyes flashing - Barnaby tenses his entire body to keep from recoiling, though he can’t keep his eyes from widening.

For a second there he thought… he thought he saw… it must have been the firelight reflecting in Wally’s dark eyes.

Wally’s intense gaze pierces straight into Barnaby’s soul. He feels flayed raw and seen in a way that makes him want to run. But there’s something else. Something scared. Wally is searching for something, and Barnaby doesn’t know what or how to give it to him. His claws splinter bark.

As soon as it appeared, the look fades. Barnaby can take deep breaths again, and he lets go of the log. Wally blinks slowly and lets his sleepy gaze slide back to the fire. “I don’t know… maybe.”

Barnaby carefully lays a paw on Wally’s back. “You’re a good person, Wally. I don’t know who told you otherwise, but don’t listen to ‘em. You’re a fantastic friend, an even better best friend, and I gotta say - you make a pretty bang-up wizard. You’re the most.”

“I’m the most?” Wally murmurs, sounding surprised. He makes a sound that might be a laugh, might be a scoff. “No… you’re the most.”

“Tell ya what- we’re both the most.”

Wally casts him a sideways look, but doesn’t protest further. He hums.

“C’mon, lil’ wizard,” Barnaby says with a pat to his back, “let’s give the fire a break and turn in for the night.”

Just as he was starting to relax, Wally shies away from his touch, curling up like one of those shelled bugs Frank likes so much. “I think I’ll stay up a little longer.”

Barnaby swallows down the hurt and pulls away. “Alrighty. Don’t stay up too late - we got a day tomorrow.” 

“Ha. I know.”

With that, Barnaby stands. He gently squeezes Wally’s nape through the hood as he passes, and breathes a silent sigh of relief at how Wally leans into the touch.

All’s forgiven. Though he isn’t sure what for… whatever Barnaby said or did wrong, he’s just glad Wally doesn't mind.

Barnaby clambers into the tent and another shiver ripples through his fur. All the darn heat leeched out of it... He wraps himself in his thin, too-small blanket and shivers as hard as he can manage to generate some kind of warmth. It’ll heat up soon, he just has to wait. Wally usually casts a little sun spell on cold nights, but Barnaby can do without. Even if the tent gets comfortably warm, Barnaby isn’t sure if he’ll sleep.

Wally didn’t believe him. 

And Barnaby doesn’t know how to make him believe.

How could he think that he isn’t a good person? Barnaby meant what he said - Wally is the best person he knows. Wally is kind, patient, and just - just - him. There isn’t a single bad thing about him. Barnaby is so proud to call him his best friend. 

There has to be something that started this. A moment that made Wally doubt himself. Did someone say something? Not anyone in the Neighborhood, they all love Wally to pieces. He’s their wizard! He’s saved their lives and countless others, and their group simply wouldn’t be complete without him. He rounds them off with an artsy flourish.

So. There’s no reason that Wally should be feeling like this. But that look in his eyes… the guilt… there’s something else going on. Something deeper than just ‘I’m scared I’m a bad person.’ 

Something is wrong. 

Firelight flickers outside the tent, and Barnaby watches it until it goes dark.

[lovable-liar]

Fic idea in case you need a fic idea for a rainy day (only approach if you’re in the mood to write an entire fic and need an idea):

You and lunch club!schlatt break up after years of being in a semi-toxic relationship. Schlatt realizes how much he fucked up and how important you are to his life this after a week or two post-breakup and decides to try to get you back. This doesn’t work obviously… but the way he was so genuine, sincere, and vulnerable did make your already broken heart sting a lot and make you wanna almost get back with him right then and there (what can I say? he has a way with words 🤷) but you reject his advances nonetheless because the mistakes he made of neglect and drunkenness are too much to bare. So he promises you that he’ll become a better man and the person you deserve, you’re flattered but you obviously don’t believe him, but he promises you that he’ll change for the better.

And he does just that, even pulling a Mr. Darcy of writing all of his wrongs; he drinks less, he goes to therapy to manage his shit, he spends more time with his loved ones, he gets cats, etc. etc.

Meanwhile, you start dating again but almost every relationship post-schlatt don’t really feel right and you break up within a week. The ones who do don’t really go past a month due to problems on their side and eventually you give up on relationships all together, opting to just focus on you, your hobbies, your pets, and your friends.

Those same friends are what made you and schlatt meet for the first time in two-three years and boy seeing him again is like night and day.

He clearly has gotten more wiser (and handsomer) over the years and just he seems more calmer, more content with himself. You watch him as he interacts with his friends and coworkers alike and he is still just as (if not more) charming and funny as he was all those years ago. You couldn’t help but feel a familiar warm tingly feeling inside as his brown eyes stare softly at you, he’s clearly still in love with you.

You went outside and watched the stars ‘cause the party you were in was starting to get a lil’ crazy ngl, but as you felt the summer night wind blowing onto your skin and hair… you felt a hand on your shoulder.

You jump as you look behind you, only to see your ex behind.

“Hey doll.”

“h-hi…”

“Long time, no see.”

You notice as you two started conversing how his voice and accent has gotten deeper over the years, with the rumble and preciseness of his voice making you feel things inside *wink wink* ;)

That isn’t the only thing that changed ether, his larger frame and his features are reflected beautifully in the moonlight, his chops and stache highlighting his perfectly round face.

He chuckled.

“Like what ya see?”

You blush, clearly he still has an effect on you, and it’s only gotten stronger after seeing him and his changes.

But as he gets closer to you, you couldn’t help but move away from him cause at the end of the day, no matter how perfectly handsome he’s gotten, to you he’s still that same drunk coward that you’ve broken up with…

He backs off after seeing your tense response.

“Shit! ‘M sorry toots, ‘s shoulda asked before approaching you like that…”

“It’s fine…”

“No.”

“Wh… wha-“

“NO ITS NOT FUCKING ‘FINE’ TOOTS! I SHOULDA ASKED FOR YA FUCKIN’ BOUNDARIES BEFORE APPROACHING YOU LIKE THAT, ‘SPECIALLY AFTER BEING SUCH A SHIT BOYFRIEND T’ YOU!!”

This was the moment you saw that maybe… just maybe… he may’ve kept his promise from all those years ago…

And after awhile of you guys being emotional and vulnerable (and you guys making out at one point) you decide to try this whole relationship thing again.

But this time, you guys are taking things slow.

-🍰

@lvrj4mie

Listen to 'Abstract (Psychopomp)' by Hozier while reading.

"𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘀"

Time had marched on, and the years witnessed the gradual unwinding of your life with Schlatt, bringing it to a bittersweet conclusion. The relationship had been a tumultuous journey, a roller coaster of emotions and experiences that had taken you both to highs and lows. It had been marked by moments of laughter and love, but also by the darker shades of neglect, intoxication, and emotional turmoil.

It wasn't an easy decision, but you found the courage to walk away from what had once been so familiar. Deep down, you knew it was the right choice, even though it meant saying goodbye to a significant part of your life. The weight of emotional turbulence, nights filled with drunken turmoil, and the ever-present sense of neglect had become too much for you to bear.

The relationship, once a source of companionship and affection, had turned into a source of distress and unease. You had outgrown the toxic patterns that had defined your connection with Schlatt, and the desire for a healthier, more stable life had led you to this pivotal moment. The decision to part ways was painful, but it was a step towards personal growth and the pursuit of happiness and well-being.

Schlatt, however, was not one to immediately recognize his shortcomings. It took him a week or two of partying and hookups post-breakup to realize just how much he had messed up, how important you were to his life. He decided to make amends and try to win you back, showing a level of vulnerability and sincerity that tugged at your already broken heart.

His genuine words and the deep remorse he expressed made you waver for a moment. He had a way with words, and it stung to see him so vulnerable, so willing to change for you. But the memories of the pain you'd endured throughout your previous relationship and the way his eyes remained on the floor during his apology (which was expressed with a voice not unlike that of a child's) were too fresh, and felt too artificial, you knew that trust needed to be rebuilt from the ground up.

Schlatt's earnest promise was one that stirred both flattery and caution in your heart. As he professed his desire to transform into a better man, one worthy of the person you deserved, you couldn't help but be touched by his sincerity. But you were wise enough to be cautious, not entirely convinced that change would come easy.

He was persistent in his efforts to win back your trust and affection, vowing to change for you. However, you knew that this kind of transformation wasn't something that could happen overnight. Schlatt's eagerness to mend his ways was admirable, but you recognized that it would be a journey filled with its own set of challenges and hurdles.

Your hesitation was grounded in the understanding that true change required time, patience, and dedication, and you knew that Schlatt's optimism might not fully grasp the depth of the commitment required. Nevertheless, you remained open to the possibility of growth and healing, cautiously watching as he began to take those first steps towards becoming a better man for your sake.

After several months of Schlatt's persistent inquiries, where he repeatedly asked if he had become good enough for you yet, you would respond with a simple, "What do you think?" It was an open-ended question that left him in the realm of uncertainty, and while he longed for a definitive answer, you were still grappling with your own reservations.

The back-and-forth exchange weighed heavily on both of you, leaving Schlatt's hopes in limbo and your heart in a state of indecision. It was a tug of war between the past and the uncertain future.

Eventually, after much contemplation and the realization that Schlatt's persistence wasn't enough to change the past, you made the difficult decision to block his number. It was an act of self-preservation, a step towards emotional healing, and a way to protect your boundaries and find the clarity you needed to move forward.

You ventured back into the dating world, hoping to discover the connection and happiness you once shared with Schlatt. However, it seemed that every relationship post-Schlatt left a void, as if the depth of connection you were searching for had been lost. Some relationships fizzled out within a week, failing to ignite the sparks of passion and understanding you sought. Others stumbled upon various issues, leading to their untimely demise after a mere month.

The accumulating frustration and disappointment began to overshadow the hope of finding something meaningful. In light of these experiences, you eventually decided to give up on relationships altogether. It was time to redirect your focus toward the aspects of life that brought you joy and fulfillment. You embraced your hobbies with a newfound intensity, dived deeper into your passions, and cherished the companionship of your pets.

Your friends continued to be pillars of support, and you treasured the bonds you had cultivated over the years. This chapter of your life was defined by personal growth, self-discovery, and the pursuit of a life filled with purpose and contentment. In the absence of romantic relationships, you found that you had everything you needed to flourish, with a future that held the promise of happiness on your own terms.

This chapter of your life was marked by personal growth, self-discovery, and the pursuit of a life that resonated with your own desires and aspirations. Without the turbulence and complications of romantic relationships, you found the space and freedom to focus on yourself, your needs, and your passions.

You delved deeper into your hobbies, dedicating time to your creative outlets, whether it was through painting, cooking, or any other creative endeavor that brought you joy and fulfillment. Your artistic pursuits became not only a form of self-expression but also a source of solace and purpose.

Your pets remained cherished companions, and you nurtured your relationships with them, finding comfort and unwavering companionship in their presence. Their loyalty and unconditional love were a source of solace during moments of solitude. And when they died, you knew that they had fulfilled their purpose of comforting you during a dark time and that the light at the end of the tunnel was getting ever closer. But that didn't mean it didn't hurt.

Your friends provided a solid foundation for you to lean on and a shoulder to cry on, and you reveled in the warmth and comfort of their company. They celebrated your achievements with you and provided a supportive network that enriched your life and helped you find a sense of belonging and purpose.

As you immersed yourself in these experiences, felt and recognized the pain that came along with being alive, and surrounded yourself with the people and activities that brought you joy, you discovered that you had everything you needed to flourish and lead a fulfilling life. The absence of romantic relationships did not diminish your happiness; instead, it allowed you to focus on creating a future that was defined by your own terms, where contentment and purpose were the guiding stars of your journey.

It was during a casual get-together with those very friends that you and Schlatt met again, two or three years after the breakup. Seeing him once more was like night and day. He had grown wiser and more handsome, radiating a newfound calm and contentment. Watching him interact with friends and coworkers, his charm and humor remained as strong, if not stronger, than before. He looked happier. You noted he also looked well-fed, it wasn't due to alcohol but actually healthy food.

He looked so happy, and you were happy. And you were happy for him. The depths of his brown eyes held a soft, lingering gaze that seemed to unravel the layers of time. In that intimate moment of catching his eye, it was undeniably clear that he was still in love with you, and the embers of affection that had once blazed so brightly still glowed warmly within him. His unspoken emotions resonated through his gaze, a testament to the depth of his feelings, which time had not diminished.

You stole a quiet moment outside, beneath the velvety expanse of the star-studded night sky. The gentle breeze of the summer night caressed your skin and tousled your hair, offering a serene backdrop to your contemplation.

As you gazed at the shimmering constellations above, a hand, light and tender, came to rest upon your shoulder, causing you to jump ever so slightly. The unexpected touch sent a jolt of surprise through your body. Slowly, you turned around to discover Schlatt standing there, his presence a sudden and unforeseen interruption to your solitary reverie.

"Hey, doll,"

You turned to face him, meeting his gaze with a mix of surprise and uncertainty. "Hi..."

"Long time, no see," he continued, a touch of nostalgia in his voice. His words held the weight of the years that had passed, a reminder of the time that had slipped away since your last encounter.

You couldn't help but notice the deepening timbre of his voice, a resonant cadence that had matured over the years. The rumble and precision of his words held a captivating allure, sending a subtle shiver down your spine, one you couldn't quite ignore.

A mischievous grin spread across Schlatt's face, mischief dancing in his eyes. "Like what ya see?" he teased, his tone laced with the familiarity of an old flame, and a subtle challenge, as if inviting you to explore the undeniable chemistry that still lingered between you.

As your cheeks grew hot, you couldn't help but acknowledge the profound effect Schlatt still had on you. The years had not diminished the magnetic pull he seemed to exert over your heart. His presence had only grown more potent with time, and your undeniable attraction to him remained an unspoken truth.

But, as much as his changed appearance and charismatic demeanor tempted you, you couldn't simply dismiss the past. The shadows of the previous relationship still loomed large in your memory. Despite the transformation in his physicality and personality, you found it challenging to erase the image of the same drunkard who had once caused you pain. The scars of those memories ran deep, and they served as a poignant reminder of the reasons you had chosen to walk away.

Instinctively, your body tensed, and you took an involuntary step back as Schlatt's sudden approach caught you off guard. It was as if the echoes of your past relationship were still etched in your subconscious, prompting an automatic response of caution.

Schlatt, ever perceptive, noticed your discomfort immediately. His face softened, and his eyes conveyed a deep sense of understanding. "Shit! I'm sorry, toots," he admitted, his voice tinged with genuine remorse. "I should've asked before approaching you like that..."

His heartfelt apology hinted at the progress he had made in acknowledging his past behavior and recognizing the need for boundaries and respect. It was a moment of genuine reflection, a gesture that left you considering the possibility of a different future.

Your response was cautious, a hesitant, "It's fine," escaping your lips as you tried to manage the mix of emotions within you.

Schlatt, however, was unyielding in his apology. He shook his head, a firm resolve in his eyes. "No," he insisted, refusing to accept your concession.

Confusion took hold, and you stammered, searching for words, "Wha—"

"NO, IT'S NOT FUCKING 'FINE,' TOOTS!" Schlatt's voice carried the weight of years of regret and the raw emotions of his past actions. "I SHOULD HAVE ASKED IF YOU WERE COMFORTABLE WITH ME BEIN' CLOSE TO YOU AFTER ALL I'VE DONE TO YOU!"

His words were laced with an intensity that seemed to surge from deep within him, an outpouring of remorse, like an immensely heavy ball and chain that he had been dragging along all these years. The guttural emotion in his voice resonated with the profound sincerity of his feelings, and it was impossible to ignore the depth of his regret and the promise of change.

In that poignant moment, something in Schlatt's demeanor reached deep within you, sparking a glimmer of hope that he had indeed kept the promise he made years ago. The genuine remorse in his eyes and his readiness to make amends spoke volumes. It was a turning point, a moment of reckoning that held the potential for healing and forgiveness.

After a heartfelt and emotional conversation where both of you bared your souls and acknowledged the pain of the past, there was an unexpected, passionate moment when your lips met his as rain began pouring from the night sky. It was a raw and unscripted exchange of emotions, a rediscovery of the connection that had once drawn you together.

With your newfound understanding and the burning desire to rebuild the bridge that you had burned and road-blocked, you decided to give your relationship with Schlatt another chance. However, this time, you both agreed to take things slowly, savoring each moment and giving your hearts the time they needed to mend and reconnect.

As you observed Schlatt's transformation and maturation over the years, it became increasingly evident that he had become a changed man. His dedication to personal growth, his commitment to healing past wounds, and his maturing understanding of what it meant to be a better partner painted a promising future. With each step forward, you were willing to explore this new beginning, guided by caution, but also by the belief that love and change were possible. Together, you embarked on a journey to rebuild the trust and connection that had once seemed irretrievably lost.

And, deep in your heart, you knew this chapter would be your favorite.

[everlasting-rainfall]

Hi💖, I have an idea for pages au What if the reader was born much earlier and the story was written at a time when Figarland Garling was still young and like Crocodile was not attached to any character, but he admired MC and decided that he was the only one who deserved her, so he kidnapped her and locked her in a room away from any kind of interaction. With anyone but him and can I get Stockholm Syndrome and maybe a little smut (there's no way I can resist falling in love with him🫠🫠)

Excuse me… Excuse me, dear… I think you dropped something… Here it is! 🥇, it’s your best request that I think I’ve ever received medal! Like this one is one of the best!

Thank you so very much for sending it in as I didn’t ever think that I would ever in a million years get a request for this crescent moon man and would simply have to write my own shit for him, ya know?

But I am so happy that you sent this in, I love this guy! Like I hate his actions but everything else is just 🥵… You get me?

Anyways before I start absolutely just losing myself, let’s get into it! Shall we?

Keep in mind though! MANGA SPOILERS!!

!-MINORS DO NOT INTERACT AT ALL-!

!-POTENTIAL TRIGGER WARNINGS-!

Celestial Dragon Bullshit, Slavery, Delusions, Kidnapping, Stockholm Syndrome, Severe Isolation, Impregnation, Pregnancy, MANGA SPOILERS

!-POTENTIAL TRIGGER WARNINGS-!

!-MINORS DO NOT INTERACT AT ALL-!

Okay so I’m not entirely sure how Garling would go about getting his hands on one of your books because you know… Technical Celestial Dragon Man with a book from a lowly peasant person? How scandalous!!

But at the end of the day, he seems like someone who doesn’t really give too much of a shit as he doesn’t wear those stupid ass spacesuits or have that dumbass hairstyle so he probably does pick up one of the books at some point

Maybe it’s one day while he’s bored with absolutely nothing to do that he decides to pick up the book, he flips through the pages and although it does help pass the time. It probably bores him even more to be honest

He thinks the love interests are both annoying and the story is okay at most but there is one thing that is keeping him reading and it’s the MC, he didn’t like the MC either at first but he started to like them after a chapter where he saw that they did something that he honestly considered impressive

He kept reading simply for the MC and he steadily began to like them more and more eventually deciding that neither love interest was good enough for the MC and honestly you know how like when you watch a show or play a game, you can’t help but imagine yourself or a character of yours in the story too?

I feel like that’s what he would do like he would start imagining himself in the story when he would read, he would imagine scenes between himself and the MC where they would spend time together until he was considered the only one good enough for them

Eventually though, all good scenarios have to come to an end and he reads the last book finding out that the MC got with the more annoying of the two love interests in the end but not only that, the MC was pregnant too?

This was absolutely unacceptable, they didn’t deserve the MC at all! No one did! No one was good enough for them except for him and a relationship with him was the only thing that he would accept…

Alas though, the MC was simply a fictional character and even he knew that so there was nothing he could do…

Everyone probably was scared shitless of Garling for a few days like bitchass Celestial Dragons were probably scrambling to get out of his way as he’s someone with the power to judge even the Celestial Dragons so him being angry is something that no one wants to be on the receiving end of

However soon enough, his anger comes to an end when he finds a picture while looking at the book covers and this picture just so happens to be of you but you’re dressed up as the MC of your book while giving a happy smile to the camera as the text underneath thanks the buyer of the book for reading the story

Garling could only stare at your face, he was frozen there just standing in front of his bookcase while staring. He couldn’t believe that he hadn’t seen it before, you were the MC and the MC did exist in real life because you were them!

He needed to have you… He would have you…

Imagine your shock when about a week later, you got a knock on your door from some men who looked incredibly prestigious and honestly very intimidating like to the point where you just wanted to shut the door and lock it tight

You could probably try but it wouldn’t work and these people would tell you that someone in the holy land is requesting your presence immediately and you should feel honored which was the very last thing that you were feeling

Maybe you tried to request to pack your bags only to attempt an escape out of like a window but you aren’t going anywhere, you’ll get captured and dragged off without any of your things so it’s best to just pack if you ask for that

The entire way there, you’re terrified as you’re likely going to wind up as the slave to some horrible and disgusting celestial dragon that makes you want to puke just by looking at him and these fears probably only get worse the closer you get to your destination

Once you’re finally there, you’re greeted by Figarland Garling who you assume that you’ll become the slave of but instead he tells you that you’re his spouse now and that you should devote yourself to him now that you’re with someone whose truly good enough for you

It’s confusing as all hell because he’s talking like he knows you when you have never met before today but despite that, he takes you back to what is now your home and lets you get settled into your shared bedroom before he tells you that you are never leaving the house ever again and that you are never to interact with a person who isn’t him

I’d say that you try to argue but do you really think that’s a good idea trying to argue with a man like this? I’d suggest simply listening and hoping that he’ll let you go after a while even though he probably won’t

Things aren’t the worst that they could possibly be when living with Garling as he is a bit distant and doesn’t allow anyone to interact with you but at least there’s a lot of things to keep you busy and he does allow you to continue writing

Even when Garling has company over, you aren’t allowed to meet them even if they’re another holy knight or a slave as Garling keeps you locked in a room so no one unworthy (aka anyone that isn’t him) can lay eyes on you

Really truly, Garling would only make an exception to who could see you if you had a medical emergency or required medical attention of any kind but even then they’re on thin ice and better not touch you more than he deems necessary

Seeing as you are still a writer as well, you are allowed to have your books published but there is to be no letters from fans coming in and you aren’t allowed to head out to do things like book signings or meet ups because that would require leaving the house and interacting with other people

You definitely grew to hate this arrangement and tried to plead with Garling to let you leave your home at least once in a while as you want to go outside and just breathe some fresh air away from the home for once

He would of course refuse anything that isn’t going out into the backyard for a bit though and even then, it feels suffocating because of how closely he monitors you during this time

The situation is becoming unbearable for you even when he tells you that this is all for your own good and that he does this because he loves you and wants you to be safe, you can only just cry as the feelings of being trapped weigh on you

This man can likely see the way that it weighs on you and that’s probably when he starts to become more affectionate with you like he starts bringing you things when he leaves for long periods of time and lovingly embraces you in longer kisses whenever he kisses you

He even starts to talk with you more than he used to and often reminds you of just how much he loves and adores you, no one else is good enough for you except him and now that you’re starting to become vulnerable. He’s sure that he can make you see it

As time passes with his new more affectionate behavior, you start to have thoughts. You start to think in the back of your head that this is truly good for you, this life with Garling is the best one that you could live like you still know that this life isn’t the best especially with all the horrible shit that comes with being in the holy land

But some part of you starts to love Garling back even though he’s a dangerous man who kidnapped you and forced you into being his spouse, you start to think that he really is just doing what’s best for you as what’s best for you is being kept only with him

He’s your loving husband and he would never let a single bad thing happen to you after all, how could you ever think about wanting to leave him when he loves you oh so very much? That’s what you think to yourself

Your life is here with Garling now as his loving spouse where you’ll never leave him and you’ll be sure to show him just how much you love him in exchange

When you truly and genuinely kiss him back for the first time with your arms wrapped around his neck, he knows that you’re his and that you’re never leaving him

You don’t even bat an eye when he starts to refer to you by the name of the MC now instead of by your name, your brain rationalizes it to you that your husband loves you so much that he perceives you and the MC of your story that he adores as the same person

Stockholm Syndrome and Delusions have started to set into place for you causing you to start to believe that you are the MC of the story and Garling is the only one who deserves you, the love interests are simply too annoying

And when Garling finally has you, he’ll pin you down on the bed underneath him and listen as you cry out his name in pure pleasure and leave scratches down his back while he thrusts into you

It’s the most beautiful sight that he could ever see, his love writhing underneath him from the pleasure that he’s providing them but not only that. They’re giving themselves completely to him and devoting themselves to him just like he has done for them

There’s simply one last thing that he needs to do to you and he knows exactly what it is as when he finally finishes, he makes sure to do it inside of you

And a few months later when you’re sitting a belly large and full with his baby, he comes up and kisses you deeply before moving you to sit on his lap while he sits on the chair

Not a day goes by where he ever regrets reading those books and when he looks at your face only to see just how absolutely in love with him you are…

He knows for a fact that you don’t regret making them…

[sixosix]

𝐊𝐈𝐓𝐀 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐄: 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐈𝐓

# fem!reader, 4+1, fluff, no-chill!reader and super-chill!shinsuke the trope, wc 1k

one.

kita shinsuke first met you when you kicked someone’s sandcastle and made them bawl so loud that his ears started to ring.

he never understood why you did that, glancing back and forth between your scowl and the pile of sand now wet with tears. with how angry you looked at that moment, shinsuke was almost convinced that the roles were reversed, and decided right there that he wants to find out why.

all the kids ran away at the mere sight of you (“shh! she’s near!” like you’re some kind of boogeyman), but kita shinsuke has never been one to let first impressions affect him—and naturally, this led to empty seats around you and kita being the one to take them.

at first, shinsuke was worried that you would cry, too, with everyone avoiding you with their tails between their legs (he found out that he doesn’t like it when his ears ring, thank you); but you didn’t seem troubled, even a little bit.

“why did you kick his sandcastle?” shinsuke asked. some kids who heard gasped and glared at him as if scolding him for not wording it properly—but, well, how else can he say it any better?

“he was making fun of this girl—a grade below us,” you explained, simple and straight to the point. “he made her cry. he deserved to have his stupid sandcastle ruined.”

shinsuke didn’t hear about that part; he doesn’t understand why people didn’t ask the same question, too.

“do you know her?”

the look you give him is sharp, daring him to make a mistake. “do i need to?”

ah. what’s this feeling?

shinsuke shakes his head. “no, i was just curious.” and a: “thanks” because he’s polite. satisfied with the answer—and to himself for thinking right about not steering clear—he turned back to the board.

he felt your eyes on him the entire class, and he found himself feeling funny.

two.

because teachers realized that they could never find a way to make the class get along, they made shinsuke the one to sit next to you. always. and in group projects, he’s consistently present in the list of members—sometimes, it’s a little unnerving. but he didn’t really mind, he supposes.

rumors are just rumors. shinsuke respects you, after your first interaction.

you seemed to notice it, too, because day by day, you started showing parts of yourself he never thought would be there.

“hey, kita, look!”

like the gleam in your eyes when you tease him, asking him if he did today’s homework, and if he said yes, you’d ask him to let him help you—pretty please with a cherry on top, kita-kun? and if he said no (it was once where he tried for an out where you wouldn’t shoot him that round-eyed look), you’d gasp and tell him you’re rubbing off on him.

shinsuke, obediently, turns his gaze to see you pointing at a tv screen. it’s a volleyball tournament.

“volleyball seems pretty fun, don’cha think?” you ask him, elbowing his arm slightly.

kita finds himself asking, “do ya wanna play?”

“how the fuck did you get so good already!?”

“it’s… easy?”

three.

you’ve matured over the years the same time shinsuke began learning new things by joining the volleyball club.

you still are known for being the rowdiest in the class, but shinsuke has instilled manners and obedience into you just by existing.

at the same time, shinsuke finds himself longing for something more. he doesn’t know what it is, and doesn’t know if it’s even about volleyball—he’s concluded that your impulsiveness is also getting to him.

during official matches, shinsuke was on the court for little to no time. and it was fine. he supposed that his flashier teammates would assure their win anyway.

a little repetitive, but shinsuke likes it that way for things like this.

he didn’t know how, but volleyball became a part of his routine.

after school, he’d walk side by side with you as you take him to the club, shinsuke would say thank you for the company, and you’d somehow find a way to make him agree to let you come over his house to play some rounds—and shinsuke always said yes, because you’re the reason why he found love in this sport anyway.

he wonders when you became a part of his life this much.

“shinsuke!” and, oh yeah, you two are on a first-name basis now; and kita still doesn’t understand how natural and right it’s become, “your coach talked to me earlier.”

shinsuke hopes he’s not frowning. and hopes his coach didn’t talk into stopping you from walking him to the club anymore. he likes your refreshing presence before he gets his head in the game.

you’re never repetitive, always a burst of something new before shinsuke falls back into the routine. and shinsuke likes that.

“he asked me if i want to be your club’s manager.”

shinsuke’s heart leaps to his throat, but he keeps his expression carefully poised. “what did you say?”

you grin at him, sliding open the doors yourself as his teammates gawked. “i said yes. we’ll be walking here together now, too, huh?”

he doesn’t mind.

four.

it’s third year; kita doesn’t often join the matches unless absolutely necessary, and he understands his role very well.

yet even when knowing that, you’re standing and leaning over from the seat, eyes trained on him while you cheer his name over the rumbling of the music and the squealing of his teammates’ names.

“captain, isn’t that yer jersey?” atsumu points at you, as you beam and wave at shinsuke excitedly.

shinsuke feels…funny. like he’s just finished the warmest meal of his life and he feels it on his entire body; like his relatives just praise him for the littlest thing and his heart is bursting with pride; like the time when you first met.

like he just realized how much it means to him that you chose him, of all people.

even now.

he doesn’t know what face is making, but it made all of his teammates gape at him with genuine surprise.

“it is,” shinsuke agrees, smiling at you.

“i knew the manager an’ captain were too buddy-buddy!”

“eehh, really? just when i was thinkin’ of wooing ‘em.”

shinsuke laughs, “we’re not together.” he lowers his head on purpose to keep his gaze sharper. “but don’t try, because i’m doin’ it first.”

before any of them can squawk at their captain’s tone, the whistle shrieks—and the match starts.

he makes you wear his jersey more, despite the coach lecturing them about favoritism.

+1

he has his routine; sticks to it with the fervor you’d only ever see on shinsuke’s face when he was announced captain of his team. he’s happy with his “ritual”, because to him, things like this will never grow old.

he doesn’t know how, but somehow you wormed your way into it and stuck stubbornly as if you’d been superglued to him.

he also doesn’t know how, but even with your volatility—explosiveness, coming from all directions and you can never guess where to next—he found himself liking you too much to be bothered about it.

you crashed into his life, where it was perfect and planned, and knocked his castles over to make a home for yourself in it. and he let you.

and, well, he’ll make a new one with you too.

shinsuke studies the silver band on his finger and wonders if this is what they meant when they said his efforts would be rewarding him someday—because it sure as hell feels like it.

haikyuu taglist [ @crystal-lilac @jaepann @bun-ina ]

[itsliyahhbih]

Ambivalent Love Pt 2.

Sum: You and Hobie are both Spider people who met at HQ, always tend to go on missions together and have been friends with benefits for 6 years. After a victory celebration you’ve started to realize you want more out of him, but Hobie doesn’t necessarily get it till you stood business.

Warnings: None for this part, hope you enjoy ☺️

“...I don’t know Hobie..” Hobie feels as though his heart just sank to his ass and kinda looks at her shocked. “Alright..My bad, have a good rest of ya day luv’.” He goes to kiss her cheek but he stops and just walks out the door. Y/n closes it behind him simultaneously and lets out the biggest gasp for air ever, as if she held her breath the entire time, but really she was just fighting back tears. Soon as she let that gasp go she broke down crying and leaning on her front door. Y/n sits there wallowing in her tears, the numb feeling , the feeling of regret and heartbreak for hours after that.

Five days passed by and no one really got her to move. Not her best friends, not even her mom or dad whom she was really close to...So eventually her sister stopped by too when she finally got the time from her busy lifestyle and after getting so many messages from the others about Y/n.

“Y/n honey, I know you wanted him to make the choice you were hoping he was gonna make..but he didn’t okay?” She rubs her sisters back softly as Y/n laid on her. “And I hate to be so blunt with you during this time of need, but at this point maybe it’s what you need..Y/n you’re an amazing girl. You’re so talented, smart..beautiful inside and out.” She smiles and sits her sister up wiping away her tears. She gets up from the bed and goes to the bathroom to start her little sister a shower and picks out an outfit for her. “My whole point is behind this, if he wanted to he would , okay? And he would’ve by now I can assure you of that! I mean maybeee ! Just mother fucking maybee he is misunderstood and there’s some underlying issue behind this, who knows!” Her sister throws her hands up looking at Y/N then walks over pulling her up. “But he isn’t communicating that with you and fulfilling your needs emotionally and mentally. Are you really gonna keep sulking around over this man who isn’t doing the same about you?” She pulls up Y/n from out of her bed. “Your New York needs you honey, you have a job and a life to live..So start living it for me okay? ” She smiles sweetly at her sister and finally, Y/n cracks a smile back and speaks “you’re right Sis...I think I just, I don’t know. I needed the time to process and sulk. To have that crybaby era. I don’t get it much as Spider woman. ” She stands up “Y/B/F is definitely going to get on my ass once she sees I’m up and functioning again because I let myself be so down” she lets out a heavy sigh with a bit of a laugh “But I deserve it after all the crying and venting she had to hear these past five days

,and here you come, only taking 45 minutes.” Her sister smirks and shrugs looking very proud of herself. “Yeah what can I say, I got the older sister touch.” Y/n looks at her sister unamused , about to give that actual attention and reply, but she doesn’t. “Mmmhm I bet you do!” Y/n speaks sarcastically and takes her stuff heading to the bathroom. “Give me like an hour to get ready!” Her sister blinks rapidly and looks at the time “An hour?! Y/n we’re just gonna go work on the Atom adjuster !” She waits for a reply back , seeing she doesn’t get one she does a silent scream and stomps towards the bathroom door when it closed, then goes to sit in Y/n’s living room to wait. “Fucking hour..who says I got an hour? What the fuck you gotta look good for in a lab..” H/S/N rambles on and turns on the tv sitting in wait.

Later on that day what turned into what was supposed to be a few hours of working on this turned into Y/N deciding to stay in the lab overnight to work. H/S/N hesitated to leave her alone, but she knew this was a bit of a better coping mechanism than what Y/N was doing previously. Couple hours into her work night she starts to yawn a bit “I think ima need more coffee and a snack this time.” She glances up at the time seeing it read ‘3:42’ “Yeahh I’ll ignore that” She walks to the kitchen area, placing her mug under the Keurig and popping in a new K-cup to refill her cup. She sits at the table inside the small kitchen and scrolls through her phone waiting , then suddenly she hears some small bangs in the distance. “Great and I didn’t even have my 5th cup of coffee…” She rolls her eyes and walks out the kitchen down the hall towards the noise. “Alright IF , you’re Y/B/F and I just didn’t notice you asleep in your lab that’s my fault ,but you better speak now or forever be webbed !” She calls out in a sing-song tone, then her spidey senses tingle.

She slightly jumps as she turns her body around and moves back to web the intruder down. As she does so she shoots a web to turn on the hallway light “Hobie..” He looks up and smiles weakly “hey there beautiful, mind putting me down..I just came here to talk, Luv’..please just let me talk.” Y/N crosses her arms and leaves him in the webs. “You have the floor..” Hobie looks at his placement on the wall then looks down at the ground to see his feet aren’t touching the floor “Yeahh, I don’t know bout that one love” She rolls her eyes and walks over using a laser outta her suit cutting him down. “Hobie, start talking before I throw you outta here..” she turns away from him, her arms back to being crossed, trying her best to remain cold with him.

Hobie watches her for a minute and bites at his lip piercing a bit “Lover.. I’m sorry, okay? I’m ah pure idiot and as thick as a brick when It comes to you. Our friendship, our relationship..It means the world to me Doll, you..you mean the world to me darling.” She still doesn’t turn around and hobie looks a bit shocked “Y/n, please could you just fuckin’ look at me mate!” His tone raises and he walks over turning her around “I’m not the one to beg and you know this, but I will sit here and beg for you. I fucked up. I made you feel gross , I’m sure of it.. like you’re just a lump of ass , and you’re not ! You’re gorgeous, I miss your nerdy comments over physics, I miss the fangirling at my concerts...I just miss having you at my side.” His eyes wander around thinking of what to say to her “You’re so optimistic and smart Y/N , I admire you for who you are, and I want you to know.. I was a bloody coward for not being able to say this to you sooner. I miss you at my concerts , I miss seeing you in the morning in my boat! Swallowed in my t-shirt as you make food! " Hobie groans and walks up to her grabbing her face “I’ll break any rule for you, I’ll sound like a gushing idiot right now if I have to, but love I need you back…” She tries not to make much eye to eye contact with Hobie. She’s never seen him like this, so vulnerable and actually expressing his emotions to her..It’s making her insides flutter, her knees go weak. Hobie’s her weakness..She tries to remain cold but she can’t help but muzzle her face into his large warm hands becoming putty in his hands..”Go on..say what you really want to say Hobs..” Hobie rolls his eyes slightly and chuckles “Oh you’re getting ah’ kick outta this aren’t cha’…” A smirk grows on her face and a smile grows on his..

A/N: To be continued…🖤 Pt.3 is the last part and fair warning, there will be Smut. Thank you for all the love, support and your patience! 🫶🏼

Link to part 3 🫶🏼

[judyfromfinance]

Nymphology

The Homelander/Reader

Nymphology by Melanie Martinez

Summary: He was fucked in the head. You knew that.

You were fucked in the head. He knew that now.

God, you were perfect for each other.

Warnings: Homelander being kinda outta character, he’s more “I’ll kill for you” Yandere than a “I’ll kill you” Yandere. So the reader will not get hurt in this, at least not by Homelander. Violence, Shouting, Swearing. Death. Lying. Manipulation. NSFW themes. (If there’s anything I’m missing please let me know and I’ll add it, thank you)

Look, imma be straight up… I’ve never seen the show. Nor have I read the comics. I don’t know what’s happening or going on. I don’t really know the plot. Everything I know is second hand that I’ve read through the 20 fics I’ve read so far of this man. So take that into consideration when reading my fic. Out of character moments and plot points being misused, forgotten or just totally made up in my mind will happen. And if that’s something you don’t like that’s ok and I understand.

I blame tumblr for suggesting a fic by @blindmagdalena This man wasn’t even on my radar and then I read her fic Say It, chapters 1,2 and 3. Boy howdy, did that fic change my psyche forever. Like I don’t plan to watch the show at all, yet here I am consuming (and now producing) content for this man that truly doesn’t deserve it because he’s awful.

Also, the lyrics from the song I am using will not be in order. I cherry picked the ones I wanted to use for this fic. Now with everything off my chest. Let’s go.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Everything was different now. You were different now. Moving to New York from California was a risky move. But you wanted to take that risk. You wanted a better life. No more fear. No more anguish. Well, the universe had other plans and gave it all right back to you and then some. And it was packaged in bright patriotic colors. He flew into your life the same way he flew through the air, elegantly but fast.

You were never one to blindly idolize supes. You didn’t hate them either. You just… you treated them like you treated every other celebrity in your radar. You thanked them for their service of either saving you or entertaining you and then you went on your merry way. That’s how you met. That’s what got his attention. You being so normal. So unremarkable, it made you remarkable in his eyes. How that works, you’ll never know. But it’s not like you can question it now. You’re trapped within his prickly vines. You move an inch out of place and you’ll get stabbed by his thorns. And he does it all while he looks at you with the utmost love in his oceanic eyes. The rose. The National flower of the USA. Symbolizing love and devotion. Beauty and eternity. But for you, it only symbolized death and destruction. But you must’ve forgotten that death can also mean change. A new beginning. Were you changing for the better?

Or for the worst?

~Damaged oddity, bought by Sotheby’s

Auctioned to a selfish man who thinks that he’s the prophecy~

“You can’t wear that.” John said, his back to you as you hear him fix his gloves. The squeak of the leather irritating to your ears.

“Why not?” You asked as he turns around. You smooth out the black expanse of your dress. You don’t understand why he wouldn’t like it. He’s the one that bought it.

“Because it doesn’t match my suit.” He said it so matter factly that it almost made you feel stupid for not putting on something else. Almost. You shook your head in disbelief.

“Nothing really goes with your suit.” You back track. “Because it’s so unique, ya know? How am I supposed to find a dress that matches?” He smiles that pearly white smile. Every time he opens his mouth you’re shocked to not find blood staining his teeth. He lifts a glove up before pointing towards you.

“You should have just asked me hun? I have just the thing.” He then briskly turns to his side of the closet and pulls out a black box you haven’t seen before. His cape bristles behind him, almost as if it’s trying to escape. You tried that before. It didn’t end well. You feel for the cape, you truly do. He hands you the box before ushering you to the bathroom.

“Go on. It was specially made by Vought’s finest tailors. Obviously to complement yours truly.” Ah, Vought. What wouldn’t those selfish pricks do for their golden goose? You nod along as you enter the bathroom. You know he’s watching you through the walls. You don’t care anymore. He’s seen everything there is to see when it comes to you. Inside and out. He likes to pretend you guys are a normal couple. When he tells you to change in the bathroom, like he’s a gentleman. When in fact he’s everything but. You lift the dress out of the box. It’s the same shade of navy blue as his suit with slight red highlights on the v-neck of the dress. It’s a mix of sexy and modest. Showcasing just a bit of your chest but a lot of your back. The heels were a matching red. Same as his boots. And underneath it all were golden accessories. Earrings, a necklace and a bracelet. To match his golden eagle shoulder applications. You put everything on as you fixed your slightly tousled hair from changing. You turned in the mirror and examined yourself. You didn’t look half bad. You run your hands over your body before finally leaving the bathroom.

“Is this better?” Before he could even ask you did a slow twirl in front of him so he could see it all. His shark like smile softens as he sees you parading around in his colors. And no, the colors didn’t belong to America. They belonged to him. He opened his palm towards you and you took it. He brought you in as close as he could, his breath brushing past your ear.

“You look perfect.” You can feel yourself start to flush at the compliment. Little tiny butterflies banging around your stomach. Threatening to eat you from the inside out. You don’t know when a bug laid eggs in your brain or when those said eggs hatched into the destructive, carnivorous butterflies that they were. But you don’t seem to mind it much. In fact, it feels kind of nice.

“Now everyone will be able to see that you belong to me.”

~Call me your muse

A sprite or an elf you cry to, then use~

Bright lights. Bright people. Shining words that mean nothing to the speaker but everything to the audience. False hope. False promises. Spilled from the lips of the people that you were supposed to trust with your life, like milk from a toddlers lips. Messy. Uncouth. But only behind the scenes. In front of the cameras, they were nothing but America’s little darlings. And if they weren’t, if they happened to slip? Vought would clean up their mess like the good mother it was.

You sat on the sidelines as each Supe went up to say something into the mic that’ll help boost their image. You sat quietly. You sat gracefully. The man next to you however, wasn’t supposed to be there. But you didn’t know that. Your back was to the table, eyes on Starlight as she spun golden promises to the media hounds. Your drink sat quietly behind you. Your drink sat gracefully as it bubbled with whatever drug that the man sitting next you put into it, before finally stilling. Appearing as nothing more than normal champagne. You turned to grab your drink. A quite excuse me leaving your lips before taking a few sips. Homelander would be coming up next.

He said he had planned his entire speech around you. It was his idea but one that Vought approved of. Telling people of his beautiful none-supe girlfriend. Spinning a tale similar to that of Superman and Louis Lane. You were his muse. You were his everything. Plainly and simply, you were his. And the world needed to know. Because the world was also his. He wanted you there for his speech because after all was said and done, he’d pull you up on the stage with him and show you off as his one and only darling.

You started to feel queasy. At first you thought it might be stage fright. The fear of so many eyes on you. Always watching. Watching you forever and ever until the day that you die. If you die. If he lets you die. You’re not sure if he’s capable of letting you go. But then your heart rate picked up. Pounding in your ears to the point that you didn’t hear the familiar clack of boots that you know oh so well. Sweat started to pour from your face as you started to shake. What the hell was wrong with you? You tried to get up to go to the restroom but your legs gave out before you could fully stand up. Luckily you were caught by arms that held the strength of a god within them. Your eyesight started to blur as your hearing came back tenfold. You could hear every minuscule little sound in the room. It brought on a terrible headache.

Homelander’s eyes scanned your vitals and can see what was wrong with you immediately. You begged him to take you home as you cried. You apologized for ruining his speech. For ruining his night. As you sputtered out apology after apology you didn’t notice the blood that started to ooze from your nose and your mouth. He grabbed you face as he told you to kindly “Shut up.” He noticed some of your organs on the brink of starting to fail as he rushed you behind the curtains. He barked for Vought security to take you back to the tower. His penthouse as he called some of the best Vought paid physicians. He warned them that if they weren’t there before you were they’d have to answer to him. Sadly he couldn’t go with you. This was an important event and if he left now, not only would it damage his numbers but it would make the company look bad. Honestly, he was going to be angry at you for being stupid enough to be drugged at an event filled to the brim with Superhero’s and high level security. He would have gripped your face till you offered up a real apology. He would have, if it wasn’t for the fact that you finally… finally referred to his penthouse as your home.

Your home. He immediately felt a surge of pride fill his entire being. His penthouse was an extension of himself. It was home. He was home. He immediately felt himself stiffen in his pants as he almost creamed them. But he held it off. His cum was only for you. Plus, you were dying, so he supposed he could wait to fuck your brains out till you weren’t. And once the doctors gave him the all clear, you’re fucked. But until then he can play the thoughtful boyfriend, only caring about his girl’s safety.

~You’re in a spell and it worked, and I’m returning the hurt

Cut you off, watch you die, just a fairy with a knife~

As you were rushed into an all black car your vision returned. Your hearing also went back to normal but you can still feel your body dying. Everything in you was twisting and turning in ways that it shouldn’t. Or at least that’s what it felt like. Your mind was going, going, then gone. Paranoia started to creep in on the sides. It’s shriveled hands gripping your heart and refusing to let go. Who did this to you? Were they trying to kill you to get to Homelander? And why… why did you care? Why was one of your first thoughts about him and not about yourself? The car came to an abrupt stop as 2 men and 1 woman immediately pulled you out. They shoved you onto a cot as they made a beeline for the elevator. You assumed they were doctors despite them not wearing anything remotely professional. They talked back and forth as they poked and prodded at you. The elevator ticked closer, up and up. You tried to answer their questions to the best of your abilities.

Sadly they were limited on what they could do since they didn’t dare take you to the medical ward in the tower. Homelander gave them specific instructions and they will follow them to the letter. One doctor was constantly making trips back and forth, bringing all of their materials to them. They eventually made a makeshift hospital room in the living area. They flushed the drugs out of your system as well as they could. The EKG hooked up to you was showcasing good results. You could be better but you weren’t going to die. Which is what they were tasked to do. An air of relief resided in the atmosphere amongst the doctors. They asked if you needed anything before making their leave. John probably didn’t want them in here longer than they needed to be.

Your body felt sluggish. Like every time you tried to move you felt like you were in water. So cold and dark. Your mind was at war. You knew you were safe now but you felt in your heart that you weren’t. What kind of drugs were pumped into you? It was having a field day with your mind and you body. Like a caged animal finally let loose. You guessed that the only thing you could do was fall asleep, let your mind and body rest and heal while you wait for John to get back home. Hopefully he wasn’t upset. You close your eyes and try to even your breathing. In. Out. You shift to get more comfortable. In. Out. In. Out. Your breathing became slower and slower until you heard footsteps come from the bedroom. You opened your eyes and stared at the hallway waiting for the hero to walk in. He never did. Was this a test? Was he mad?

“John? John is that you?” You got up out of the bed, still in your dress minus the shoes and accessories. You grabbed the IV drip connected to your arm as you continue to walk forward. Maybe he was waiting on you to get to him. You try to call his name once more before your cut off by a hand around your mouth and an arm around your throat. You swing the heavy duty pole around in hopes to dissuade your attacker. This wasn’t John. There was no squeaky obnoxious leather. No smell of iron that permeated from the palm of his hand. This was not your John. You hit him and he lets go of you with a small yelp.

“You fucking bitch.” He grips the IV pole and you struggle to keep a hold on it. Your weak as he jostles it out of your grip and you tumble to the floor. The needles in your arms being pulled out by the force of it all. You stumble to your feet as you head to kitchen through the living room. The heavy footsteps follow you as the unknown man tackles you to the floor. Your nose banging against the cool tile of the kitchen. A sharp pang radiates from your nose as blood gushes down and out. The irony taste in your mouth is spat back out as you scream in terror and in anger. The burly man flips you over and you finally get a good look at him. He’s heavy set. Unruly scruff covering his chin and cheeks. Brown eyes stared at you in anger as he held you down with his body weight. You don’t know him. But you’ve seen him before.

Yeah. You’ve seen him before. That day you tried to leave. It didn’t end well. And not just for you but for a lot of others as well. You remember holding onto John for dear life as he forced you to watch first hand as he lasered the building down that you were hiding in. Including everyone in it. Their screams of pain and terror. Begging for someone, anyone… for Homelander to save them. No one would come. You saw as people tried to drag their loved ones out of the debris. They looked like tiny ants scattering away as a mean kid knocked down their hill. You thought you’d remember those cries of agony forever but they’ve gotten quieter over the past few months. Why is that? You’re brought back to the present as you’re slapped harshly across the face. The blood from your nose spreading droplets across the bottom of the kitchen counters.

“You useless fucking bitch.” His spit flying everywhere as he tried to contain all the hatred in his body. He was shaking as badly as you were earlier last night. But unlike you, he was shaking from pure unadulterated anger.

“You think you’re above everyone else? Huh?! Even if you aren’t a fucking supe! You’re just like them. Helping them cover up their fucking crimes!” You tried to wiggle out of his grip but he kneed you in the gut. You gasped for air as you tried not spill your stomach contents onto the floor.

“Stop squirming. You deserve everything that’s gonna happen tonight.” He straddles your legs to keep them from moving as he sits up. He looks down at you in disgust.

“He took something from me. So I’ll take something from him. This is for Marie.” Before he could say or do anything else you use your entire body weight to knock him off balance. His head ricocheted off the marble counter as you scrambled away to the knife block. You grab the biggest one you could find before turning around. He was gone. You spin around and try to locate the intruder. You walk around the center island, your breath coming out short and staggered.

“Where the fuck are you?” You mumble to yourself. The question wasn’t only meant for the man in your home. But the man you were waiting on to come home. The Gala should be over by now. How has no one heard you struggling yet? Was the building really that empty? Or maybe it was John’s penthouse specifically that was sound proof? You could believe that. You walk closer to your makeshift hospital bed as you keep your eyes wide open. The scruffy man pops up out of nowhere as he pushes your cot over and knocks you down, your knife skittering away. He hops on top of you and you see blood pouring from a cut on his head. His hands are around your throat as he presses down.

“I hope you know just how much I’m enjoying this.” He squeezes tighter as you arms start to flail.

“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna kill you just yet. I need you in order to get to him. You’re my leverage.” What a fucking dumb piece of shit. Did he really think he could take on Homelander. Your fucking John. He could see the questioning look in your eyes. He kept one hand around your throat threateningly as his other found it’s way into his coat pocket. A syringe was pulled out. You struggled but all he did was click his tongue.

“It’s not for you dumbass. It’s for me. A few buddies of mine helped me get this uh, this shit called Compound V. Heard it’s very useful.” He smiles down at you. A sickly deranged smile. And although you knew that there was no one like Homelander. No one that could even think of beating him. Your heart started to race in fear. Not just for your safety but for his as well. Why? He pinched your broken nose as you screamed in pain.

“Don’t fucking move this time.” He rolls up his sleeve as he gets ready to inject himself. With all the strength that’s left in your body, which isn’t much, you grab at the handle of the knife and aim straight for his head. The wet squelch of flesh and the sick crunch of bone was all you could hear. The man above you gasped as he slowly brought his hands up to his head. The syringe laying forgotten on the ground. You push him onto his back as you grab the knife out of his head. Blood pooling on the pristine rug. You lift the blade up as you plunged it back down into his chest. Over and over and over and over and over and… you didn’t stop. You kept going. His chest. His face. You were covered in blood. As red as the roses that John gave you on your supposed first date. If he could see you now, he’d think you were beautiful. You just know it. You eventually slowed down. Leaving the man underneath you nothing more than ground meat. You dropped the knife in shock as you stood on shaky legs. You threw up all over the decimated body before you. A mixture of the drugs leaving your system and just pure utter disgust at what you’ve just done. You ran out onto the balcony as you screamed into the night, begging for him to get home.

“John!!!”

~Call me your nymph

Praise me for martyr, praise me for sin~

Homelander was finally flying home to his girl. The doctors called him a couple of hours ago telling him everything in detail about what was wrong with you and how they fixed it. You were doing fine now. Safe and secure in your shared home. He didn’t thank them as he hung up the phone, he sadly had some more shmoozing to do amongst the fucking filthy pigsty that they called a ballroom. But that was all behind him now. He could head home. Maybe get a few kisses from you for saving your life. He’s not even halfway towards the tower before he hears a blood curdling scream in the night. If it was just a random person, he wouldn’t have stopped. Well… maybe, just to satiate his curiosity before he up and left. But he could tell by the sweet lilt in their voice that it wasn’t some fucking rando on the street. It was you. You were screaming his name.

In just a few seconds flat he was back in his penthouse. Everything was fucking destroyed. He stepped in a pool of blood before he quietly listened for your heartbeat. He let out a sigh of relief as he heard your distinctive heart. Beating only for him.

“(Y/n). Where are you? Come on out, I’m here now.” He rounded the corner of his couch and stood over a disgusting mangled corpse. Did you do all that? Wow. Who knew you had that in you? He stood in the blood and guts and waited for you to come to him.

You opened the terrace doors. John’s voice a soothing balm for your wounded mind. You entered the bloody crime scene but refused to look at anything other than his smile. So devastatingly handsome. You ignored to the best of you abilities the blood and flesh on the floor as ran to him for comfort. He wrapped his arms around you and squeezed, a small gesture to let you know that he’s here now. Your hero is here. You sobbed as you told him about the dumb cocksucker that you killed. He just nodded his head and rubbed your back. He picked you up and cradled you in his arms, not caring about the blood smearing all over his suit. You finally open your eyes to notice that you were in the bathroom. John starts to get a bath going.

“Come on. Strip. You reek of blood.” You do as he says.

“Will you stay with me?” He looks towards you and chuckles.

“You’re covered in blood hun. You want me to stay in the bathroom and watch you wash up?” He shakes his head before he checks the temperature of the water. You don’t understand where this confidence came from but you don’t question it as you walk closer to him and start to help him undress as well. He looks down towards you in confusion.

“You’re staying with me. You’re not leaving me.” You stare back up into his eyes and he can tell that there’s no room for questioning you. So he doesn’t. He undressed and hops into the tub first. It was huge, so it was perfect for this. You follow after him. He helps wash the blood and brain matter out of your hair as you just gaze a hole into the wall. Usually he’d be complaining that you should be doing this for him, but he’ll let it slide. After all, you were such a good girl today. As he finishes washing out your hair he moves onto your body. He turns you around towards him, wash cloth in hand as he gently swipes the blood off your face. The water around you two growing murkier and murkier.

“You know it’s fine right? You’re not gonna get into any trouble.” You look up into his eyes as he continues.

“That fucker was going to kill you. You had no other choice.” You slowly start to shake your head as your eyebrows furrow.

“No.”

“No?” He questions.

“No. He wasn’t. He was gonna keep me alive till you got home. He wanted to get to you through me. And I…” you look down at your hands. The ones you used to kill for him. The man you’re sitting in the lap of.

“I know that he had no chance of even touching you.” You brought your hand up, scrubbing at your eye in desperation. You look back up towards John. A fire in your eyes he hasn’t seen before.

“I know you’re stronger than anything on this fucking planet but I just got so…” you clench and unclench your fists. Heavy, laden breaths escaping you.

“I just got so fucking angry. You know? I didn’t… I just… All I was thinking about was you.” You laugh a little. Feeling hysteria building within you. You wanted to cry. You wanted to laugh. You wanted to scream. And you wanted to do it all for the man in front of you. John just looked at you as he felt a wave a pure love wash over him. You did that for him. You killed the piece of shit for him. And he wanted to prove that he’d do the same for you. A whole block of civilians meant nothing to him. He sits up straighter as he grabs your sides and pulls you closer. His lips hovering over yours. Petal soft lips brush his.

“I fucking love you.” And for the first time in this tumultuous relationship that you both had, you finally said the words that he’s wanted to hear his whole goddamn life.

“I love you too.” You both kiss as the moonlight filters in through the window. Groping and touching as you rip your souls out of each other, as if to say yours is mine and mine is yours. Your mind briefly flickers to the syringe of Compound V that was hidden underneath the couch before the love of your life enters you and your whole world shatters away, and all you can think about is him. But don’t worry, all he’s thinking about is you too.

~I won’t be ashamed, yeah

For lovin’ you so honestly~

[farfromstrange]

Chaos Theory | Michael Kinsella x Reader

Chapter 15: Stop, You're Losing Me

Masterlist ° Chapter List

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Reader (she/her)

Summary: Michael needs a stapler, but you realize too late that you told him to check all the drawers on your desk, and he finds something you never wanted him to see.

Warnings: ANGST, mentions of child death, protective Michael

Word Count: 5.7k

A/n: I wanted to wait with finishing posting this, but I had a really shit day and I probably won’t get to write for this series for a while now, anyway, so this might be the only Mikey snippet you get to see for a while :( My life’s all over the place and once I pass my last final (which I’m counting on) there is a lot more stress coming toward me. Mikey is gonna move to the background a bit. But it also gives everyone time to catch up with the updates. That being said though, the angst train has arrived. Hop on!

You settle in at home later that night, pizza cartons in front of you both as you indulge in the dinner you agreed on that you would have. 

You’re happily chewing on your breadsticks and sipping your wine while Michael is having a glass of water (when he told you he doesn’t drink, you reminded him that he did when he came to visit you at the café the night you were both having a bad time, and he told you that he decided not to drink anymore after that, so you let him be). 

Work wasn’t as exhausting with him there. You had fun. And when you saw him and Sarah talking about your little spider incident, you found yourself smiling because you could tell she was trying to accept him, and Michael was kind enough to respect her boundaries.

Whatever happened between them while you were getting milk, you’re not sure, but you’re glad they found common ground. Whatever that ground might be. She doesn’t know everything about you, so she couldn’t have shared truths about you that you don’t want him to know. Whatever they talked about, it doesn’t matter because you’re happy now. 

You watch Michael as he eats, his hair standing in all possible directions; he ran his hand through it a few times before, trying to ease the tension in his scalp. He did a lot of heavy work before prison, in prison, and with Amanda, but today has been exhausting in a much different way–positively so. His bones ache, but he feels good about it, and that makes the soreness and the exhaustion so much more rewarding. 

He looks endearing like this. Even though he’s slightly sweaty, disheveled, and tired, he is still so endlessly beautiful to you. Like an antique vase adorned ihr paintings not many understand; that’s what his scars are too you, and everything else he might hate about himself.

He looks content–happy, almost–and you want nothing more than to lean in and kiss him. He deserves to feel this way more than anyone else in this godforsaken world, you think. He deserves to be loved and happy, and he deserves to move on the way he wants to.

You reach for one of the breadsticks and point it in his direction. “Breadstick?” you ask. 

He snaps out of his thoughts, smiling tiredly at you as he leans on his hand. “That’s the last one,” he says. 

“Yeah, that’s why I’m offering.”

“They’re yours.”

“You want it or not?”

“You’re still hungry–”

“Want me to feed it to you?” You get up. “You know I will.”

Michael chuckles. You approach him with the breadstick, your lips curled up into a smile. His eyes meet yours. “Ya really gonna feed me?” he asks, leaning back in his chair. 

You shrug. “You look a bit tired, I'm just trying to help.”

“I’m not a child.”

“Then why do you act like one?”

With a playful huff, he opens his mouth slightly. You hold the breadstick in front of him, pretending to contemplate for a moment before bringing it closer, closer, and just as it reaches his lips, you swiftly pull it back. “Hmm, or maybe I changed my mind,” you say.

He raises an eyebrow. “Oh? Playin' hard to get with a breadstick now, are we?” he retorts. “Tha’s low, love, even for you.”

You giggle and give in, bringing the breadstick back to his waiting lips. He takes a bite, savoring the flavor, and you can't help but feel a surge of affection for the man sitting in front of you.

“Taste good?” you ask.

Nodding, he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you into his lap. You chuckle. As soon as he has successfully swallowed, you lean down to press a kiss to his lips that are still oily from the grease of the pizza, and you both taste like garlic and onions, but he’s still too sweet to resist.

You hold his head up with your finger under his chin, tugging a little at his beard, and he deepens the kiss. Your finger moves from his chin to his cheek now, and you pull him flush against you. His hand strokes leisurely over your back, and you sigh happily into his mouth. 

Breaking the kiss for a quick breath, you rest your forehead against his. His hand is tangled in your hair now, gently massaging your scalp. It’s an instant snooze button for you. You could fall asleep like this in his arms and it wouldn’t matter, but you’re sweaty and your mouth tastes like pizza, so you eventually need to clean up. For now, though, you can rest together at the table, and share some more kisses until one of you starts getting drowsy enough to cut it short. 

“I love you,” you whisper against his lips. 

He nuzzles his nose against yours. “I love ya too,” Michael murmurs. 

You press your lips on his cheek. “I love you,” – you kiss his other cheek – “I love you,” and you continue pressing your lips all over his face until his nose scrunches and he giggles when it tickles.

“You know what I do?” you ask.

He buries his head in the crook of your neck. “Let me guess,” he says, “ya love me?”

“Mhm, I love you.” 

“Yeah, me too.”

Michael lets out a soft sigh when you start stroking his hair, and another confession slips past your lips, followed by the same three words as many times as you can say them, and he returns them every single time. 

Eventually, you start yawning. “We should get washed up,” you tell him. 

He kisses your collarbone. “Yeah, we should.”

“Did you fill out all the insurance forms?”

“Yeah.”

“And your forms for the solicitor; got them, too? I don’t remember what they’re called.”

He nods again. 

He got an appointment with his solicitor fairly quickly after he begged the secretary to put him through. He feels good about his chances in the case with Anna–a case that isn’t even a real case yet–he just needs a professional to tell him if he’s right. He needs to hear that he’s not getting his hopes up but that he actually has a chance.

The past few meetings had been awful, but he feels more positive this time around because he has proof of his efforts to be better now, and you promised you would vouch for him if someone required proof that he is in a relationship–you promised you would provide all he needs you to provide and more, and he’s thankful for that.

Michael offers you a soft smile. The forms are on the living room table; he left them there after filling them out while you were waiting on your food and you decided it would be a good idea to clean your cupboards–he wasn’t allowed to help.

“Yeah, I just need to staple ‘em,” he says. “I’ll take care of it when I’m home.”

You rub your eyes. “Or you could use mine,” you say.

“Or I could do tha. That’d be grand.”

You get off his lap and make your way to the living room with Michael in tow. “It’s in one of the drawers on my desk. Knock yourself out.”

You’re not conscious, you can’t be because if you had been in your right mind, you wouldn’t have offered him to check your desk for a stapler, let alone your drawers, instead of doing it yourself.  

Michael moves over to your desk. There is no stapler on the top, so he pulls open the first drawer. The one with the lock. He doesn’t think about it at the moment because it opens, but then he feels the lock on the outside and he remembers all the times he watched you lock it in the morning before you left for work.

Your eyes widen. “Not that drawer!” you call out, but it’s too late.

You made a mistake and now his eyes are focused right on the newspaper clippings and brown paper file you are so careful to keep locked away at all times.

You forgot to lock it and it’s your fault he‘a seeing them now, but you still find yourself feeling so violated. This is your privacy and he is staring directly at it, not moving an inch away from it. He doesn’t pretend he didn’t see them; he stares at the contents as if he has every right to.

It starts slowly breaking your frozen heart. It doesn’t thaw, it breaks, and ice is a vulnerable state of consistency. Either it melts or it breaks, and when it breaks, it hurts. You’re fragile. This is hurting you–he is hurting you–and the glass shards start digging into your soul as they nick artery after artery.

Michael’s eyes fall inside the drawer, and it’s then that he realizes that your secrets run even deeper than the phone call he overheard–they run deeper than anything he could have expected and more. It’s earth-shattering, to say the least. 

He takes the papers out of the drawer, his fingers tracing over the brittle newspaper clippings. But there is more where it came from. 

“Love,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper, “What is this?”

He doesn’t want to accuse you of anything. He wants to give you a moment to explain, to tell him what you’re hiding and who hurt you, but when his eyes fall on you, he is met with a brick wall. 

‘3-year-old killed in a car crash’

‘Car accident leaves 3-year-old dead, two more injured and police baffled’

‘What really happened on December 13th?’

And the file he’s holding carries your last name. The first name, he doesn’t recognize, but the surname is undoubtedly yours. There is a post-it on one of the pictures; a little girl next to a bigger yet still little girl. Eleanor, it reads, with the year 2015 written underneath it. He was still in jail back then.

Six years ago. 

Your eyes are glued on the papers he’s holding, and his shock mixes with yours. 

“You weren’t supposed to find this,” you whisper. 

“What the hell happened?” Michael asks. His eyebrows furrow and his hazel eyes fill with the purest form of concern, and when you look into them, your heart tears open a little more. “Why– who is Eleanor?” He asks out of genuine curiosity, which is precisely the problem. 

You snap out of your daze, and the trap snaps shut around your ankle as the steel curtain closes, trying to keep the smoldering fire out.

You tear the file from his hands, hugging it tightly to your chest. The wolves are circling in on you and you have nowhere to run. The walls of your apartment start caving in. The ticking of the clock sounds deafeningly loud in your ear, the voices screaming out of every corner of your mind, and you just want to scream.

You want to scream because it hurts so much, and yet you can’t ask for help or talk about it because there is still a part of you inevitably holding you back. You’ve been forced to shoulder it alone from the beginning, and now that Michael caught a glimpse of the truth, you feel like he has torn the bandaid off your scars, but they weren’t fully healed yet, so you’re bleeding out internally all over again until you die a slow and agonizing death. 

His eyes soften and he takes a step forward. He knows he crossed a line, but he couldn’t help it. It was instinct to grab the documents. He had hoped you would tell him, but he should have known that you would start feeling cornered by him. You’re not the most open person out there; you remind him of a frightened deer, almost, and he is supposed to protect you from heartbreak rather than cause it. But here you are, close to crying, and you curl in on yourself. 

“I didn't mean to–” he whispers. “God, I’m so sorry, love. I wasn’t thinkin’…”

You shake your head, hugging the files tighter. He knows too much. The more he knows, the more danger he is in. The more he knows, the more vulnerable you grow. And the more he knows, the more real the truth becomes and it starts eating you alive the same way it did four years ago. You wanted nothing more than to be happy. You were happy for a moment, but it was torn from you in an instant.

A few seconds is all it took for everything to change. 

“But–“ he takes a deep breath, finding some composure left in him. “If you talked to me, I could help ya.” Michael’s hazel eyes hold a hopeful glint that hits you like a knife. “I know ya’ve been hidin’ some things from me and I get it, but… if yer in danger,” he says, “I need to know. Ya don’t have to carry everythin’ alone. You told me tha.”

You bite your lip. “You shouldn’t have opened that drawer,” you say. 

Silent anger. He knows your defensive response all too well. 

“I was just lookin’ for a stapler,” he reminds you softly. “Ya told me to, remember? For my documents. I didn’t mean ta– I would never invade yer privacy on purpose.”

Not on purpose and especially not out of malicious intent.

He thought about it, but thinking and doing are two entirely different things. He’s not that type of person. You’re supposed to know that. You know him better than he knows himself, but right now, neither of you seems to have really known the other. Or so it feels like, anyway.

Michael is defeated, and now he is the one cornered because curiosity got the better of him. He should have ignored it.

“It wasn’t your place,” you repeat. “You weren’t supposed to find it.”

“I’m sorry, okay?” He takes another step forward, his hand reaching for you as he tries to pull you back from the edge, but you recoil. “I didn’t mean to invade your privacy,” he says. “If you don’t wanna talk, that’s alright, but… but this seems serious, love. Please, talk t’me. At least tell me that yer safe or- or that I’m overreactin’, and I promise, I’ll drop it. Just please…Give me somethin’, anythin’, to know yer alright and this isn’t as serious as I think it is.”

Your jaw tightens. You’re being unfair, and you know that before you even open your mouth, but you’re raging inside, you curse yourself and the world and your father, and you think about Maya and all that you could lose, and you can’t do this to him. He was never meant to find out, especially not like this; that’s on you and you alone. 

If you had put in just a little more effort, or if you hadn’t let him in in the first place…

“You know you shouldn’t have seen that,” you say, your tone growing a lot more stern. “You know you shouldn’t have seen it and yet you took it out. I told you, I struggle with commitment, with trust, and you abused it! Michael–”

“Hey,” he interrupts you. He doesn’t raise his voice, but he matches your tone. “I was worried,” he repeats. “I was worried ‘bout ya, that’s all. You can’t blame me for wantin’ the woman I love to be safe. That’s not fair.”

“It wasn’t your place!” your broken voice roars across the room. “You violated my trust. You could have just let it be. You–” You break off to take a deep breath. The lump in your throat gets stuck.

You want nothing more than to step forward, fall into his arms and cry, but you’re stuck. You are physically unable to move, and it is all your fault. 

“I could tell somethin’ was off,” Michael takes another step toward you, “and I’m sorry for lettin’ my curiosity get the better o’ me. I know this is your life and your privacy–believe me, I do–but… somethin’ isn’t right here. Something’s botherin’ you. I told ya, I’d do anythin’ to protect ya. I wasn’t jokin’ when I said tha, pet.“

Something about the look in his eyes tells you that he was honest then and he is just as honest now. Deadly serious.

But you’re too caught up in whatever poison is infecting your bloodstream with its ideology to see things clearly. “No,” you whisper. “This fucks up everything.”

“What does it fuck up? Tell me.”

“This wasn’t supposed to happen. It wasn’t… you weren’t supposed to happen, but you did anyway, and so I tried keeping it from you, but I failed again, and now everything’s so fucking fucked up. Fuck!”

“Yer not makin’ any sense right now. What’s goin’ on? Talk t’me, please. I can see yer hurtin’ and it breaks my heart–“

You take a step back when he comes even closer. “No,” you say.

“Does it have anythin’ to do with your sister?” he asks, and by now, he’s not even trying to hide what he did anymore. “When she called ya this mornin’ and you went to your bedroom to talk. Does tha have anything to do with it?”

“What?” You look up to meet his eyes.

He didn’t… did he? You were being careful. You went into a different room. You whispered. You made sure he wouldn’t hear. 

Did he hear you? If he did, you’re beyond fucked, and the worst part would be that he kept it to himself the whole day without admitting it to you. 

Liar, a voice in your head calls, and your defenses become stronger, the alarm blaring and you want nothing more than to run. 

Michael takes a deep breath. The guilt in his eyes is answering enough for you, but you are too stiff to move anywhere, and he is coming closer by the second.

“I wanted to check on ya ‘cause ya didn’t look alright, and I overheard the phone call with your sister,” he admits. “I didn’t mean ta, but… I did.”

“Oh, my God!” Your breath gets stuck in your throat and you swear you can feel your heart stop. 

So he knows. He doesn’t know everything, but he knows enough to draw conclusions, and now that he’s found the file, he knows even more, and your whole life suddenly crumbles at your feet like paper that has burned to ashes. It hurts, but the pain isn’t good or pleasurable this time; you’re in emotional peril with nowhere to go and nowhere to hide. You’re Jesus nailed to the cross. You’re stuck in a maze full of thorns. You can’t get out. 

He’s right in front of you now. “Someone’s hurt ya,” he says, “In more ways than one. I can tell. They’re still hurtin’ ya. And… I think I know who it is, I just need ya to tell me so I can help. I promise, I won’t let anyone come near ya. I love you so much,” he says your name, and his hand lifts in the air to cradle your cheek. “Just tell me and I’ll raise fuckin’ hell.”

The touch that made you feel safe before feels like a deadly brush of wind now.

You recoil, and Michael’s heart joins yours on the floor. “Don’t… don’t touch me,” you say. It’s not just words, you’re pleading him to get his hands off, and you have never done that before.

Your voice breaks. Tears start welling up in your eyes, but your body is so wound up, they won’t fall. 

You know you can’t be close to him. Even the thought of his touch hurts you. You need to be anywhere but here, and he needs to be somewhere far away from you, too. 

Michael pulls his hand away. God, you hate yourself. He looks like you just reached into his chest, grabbed his heart, and squeezed it in front of his eyes. The blood coats the floor along with the frozen pieces of your own heart, but it is his essence that paints the saddest picture. Maroon spills on the carpet, but this time there is nothing and no one to clean it up and pour it back into the glass. 

“Please,” he begs. 

You take a deep breath. “Maybe you should go.”

“No,” he doesn’t move, “I’m not goin’ anywhere. I can’t leave you like this.”

“Michael…”

He shakes his head. “Not before you let me in.”

“Stop,” your voice breaks again, and you can merely hold back the treacherous tears. 

He reaches out but stops himself this time. You look so broken and he can’t help you because you won’t let him, and he has never felt so torn inside. Being burned alive is nothing compared to how you’re making him feel now, and he should probably pull away for his own sake, but you wouldn’t be like this if you didn’t need help. 

“I love you,” he breathes, “So let me love ya. Please. You just have to tell me what’s goin’ on and I promise I can fix it.”

You swallow. “You don’t get to decide what I should or should not tell you,” you say. “And you had no right to pull those papers out and confront me as if I owe you an explanation.”

He wants nothing more than to scream. “I would never do tha.”

“But you did.”

“That’s not what happened and ya know it!”

You flinch a little at the sound of his voice, and he curses himself for losing his temper.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m just scared and- and worried. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean ta yell–“

It hurts that you won’t talk to him.

Your warmth disappears completely. Centimeters turn into a meter, and soon you’re standing right by the front door, your back turned to him as your hand hovers above the handle. 

“You should go,” you repeat.

“You can’t mean tha,” his voice is barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry I yelled, but please–“

“It’s not because of that.”

“Jesus, I know! I– What happened? Everythin’ was fine five minutes ago, we had dinner, we kissed, and now– why can’t ya just talk to me? I thought we trusted each other well enough by now ta know that there is no judgment. Ya know there isn’t, love. Whatever it is, we can talk about it. Don’t push me away–”

Your voice cuts through the air like a knife, and it lands right in his chest. “I want you to leave,” you keep on insisting. 

He shakes his head. Standing behind you, he turns you around and grabs your face with his hands. You whimper. It hurts. He isn’t being harsh; his fingertips just hurt because they’re so gentle, so careful, and you can’t stand it. 

“Please,” he presses his forehead against yours, “don’t do this. Not over a fuckin’ stapler.”

But it’s more than a stapler, and he knows it.

Your nails dig into his wrists. “You have to go,” you say. “Please, you have to. I can’t…”

Michael clutches onto you, refusing to let go. “No. I love ya, and I'm terrified that if I leave, it's over for us. Just tell me we can survive this and tha... tha you still want us and I’ll go and give ya space, but I need to know that you won’t leave me.”

Your heart aches at his words, but you can't offer him any reassurance. “I don't know–”

“I can’t live without you anymore. I need ya, love. Just think about this.”

“Please, Michael,” it is your turn to beg. “Right now, I need you to go. I need… I need you to leave. So please just do me a favor and go.”

In a moment of desperation, Michael leans in and kisses you. Even his lips burn.

You find yourself moving against him, but only for a brief moment before you gently push him away. “Stop it!” you snap. “This isn’t– I told you to leave.”

“I’m so sorry–” He lets go of you. 

You open the door.

Michael's gaze lingers on you for a moment, his eyes pleading with you to change your mind. But he knows, deep down, that you're right. Reluctantly, he turns away. His emotions wear heavy on his shoulders, dragging them down to his feet. But he doesn't want to fight with you. So he grabs his coat and the unstapled documents on your living room table and walks through the open door into the hallway. You're standing there, across from him, but you're still so far away. You're unreachable. 

He glances back at you. “Are ya sendin' me away forever or just fer now?” The question is a hard one to ask, and the answer, he knows, is going to be a bitter pill to swallow no matter what you tell him. 

You shift from one foot to the other, too ashamed to meet his eyes. “I don’t know,” you whisper. 

He was right; it is a very bitter pill to swallow. 

He got you not so long ago and now he is losing you, and he doesn’t even understand why. 

“Just answer me one more thing,” he says. “Did I just lose ya?”

You look down, unable to answer. You lost yourself, but there is no way you can explain it to him in a way that would make sense.

Without another word, he nods and wipes his nose, and then he heads toward the stairs. Your eyes linger on him, but when he turns around to look at you, the door falls shut and you’re gone. Just like that.

Michael is tied to the ground, the roots of his pain keeping him tethered there. He hears you slide down your door and then you’re sobbing loud enough to fill the hallway with your sad symphony. 

He wants to turn around, run back to you, and kick the door down to take you into his arms, but he’s hurt too, and he knows that if he runs back to you, you will only push back harder, and so he straightens his shoulders and leaves. 

He loved and he lost you, just like everything in his life, and he can’t help but feel like this is his fault all over again. He wasn’t made to be loved. 

In a moment of desperation, he pulls out his phone and sends a text, ‘Need a ride.’

Only a few seconds later, Jimmy’s name shows up on the screen, asking for the address, and he lets out a shuddering sigh of relief. 

The road to your apartment isn’t long, and with Jimmy’s driving style, the black car pulls onto your street in less than thirty minutes. His brother lets down the window, eyeing him and the tears in his eyes. 

“Hey,” he says. 

Michael opens the door to the passenger side and gets in, foregoing the greetings. He’s still mad at him, but Jimmy is his brother and there has never not been a time he called him when he was in trouble. Tonight is no different. 

Jimmy looks at him. “Ya wanna tell me why ya told me ta pick you up here?” he asks. 

Shaking his head, Michael looks out the window as the landscapes start passing by. He bites down on his thumb, trying hard to keep the leftover tears at bay when he thinks about you broken on your apartment floor, crying as if you’re in excruciating pain, and he is nowhere near to help. 

But you don’t want his help, he needs to accept that. He can’t fix everything or everyone. And he can’t help you if you don’t want him to. It’s sad and it hurts, but it’s true.

“What happened?” Jimmy once again asks. “Was it yer girlfriend? Did she hurt ya?”

Michael shakes his head again. 

“Then why do you look like yer about to drown this car in tears?”

“I just needed a getaway car,” he answers. 

“Getaway car from wha?”

He’s not sure. Your relationship, maybe, but he would never run away from that if it wasn’t necessary. You made the choice, not him. He needed to get away before his heart could break anymore, that’s why he called Jimmy. He needs to go home, whether he likes it or not. And his brother is still family, despite how many times they argue. 

“Michael,” Jimmy urges him. “If she hurt ya, tell me and I’ll make sure that little girl knows she messed with the wrong family.”

“No,” Michael says, and this time his tone takes a dangerous tone. “You don’t get to touch her. Stay out of it. It doesn’t fuckin’ matter.”

“Then tell me the truth!”

“She lied.”

“About?”

“She lied,” he repeats, his eyes once again trailing over the landscapes and city lights. “She lied and kept secrets and then she told me to leave, but she didn’t hurt me on purpose. Shit happens. We’re over. That enough for ya?”

Jimmy sighs, patting him on the shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he says. 

But Michael doesn’t really hear him. The cotton engulfs him and with it, your sobs fade into the distance and the loneliness makes its home in his heart all over again. Gone is the happiness and the butterfly effect; it’s just him now, and he figures that maybe, this is exactly how he is supposed to be–lonely and alone. 

You’re not sure how long you have been lying there on the floor. It could have been hours, it could have been minutes, you don’t know. Your eyes are burning from the tears you shed and your voice is hoarse from sobbing. The door is locked, but you somehow still wish Michael might come floating through it.

You’re such an idiot, but you can’t take back what you said. You shouldn’t. It was the right choice. Maybe pushing him away the way you did wasn’t the best idea, but the choice itself was the right one. 

If it was the right choice though, why does it hurt so much?

You manage to lift your aching body off the cold floor and into the kitchen where you find the wine bottle from dinner. You’ve only had a glass and it was still full when you got it. There’s enough to get rid of the pain, and yet not enough to make you forget. You don’t want to forget. You deserve the despair that comes with remembering, but you need some balm for your soul, and wine seems like the best choice to knock yourself out.

Michael didn’t deserve any of the things you said, and you should have never developed that crush on him in the first place. If you hadn’t, you couldn’t have hurt him so shortly after declaring your love for him. You tore his heart out, twisted the dagger deeper inside, and then impaled his heart and soul, too. You saw him slowly dying inside when he left, and you feel so guilty for making him go through so much shit again simply because you can’t face your own feelings. 

You loathe yourself. 

The papers he retrieved from the drawer land on your coffee table with a thud. The bottle of wine is already at your lips as you take a big swig, and then some more. You stare down at the articles and the file, and your eyes turn from sad to dead. You shut them off, all these unwanted emotions, because you fucked up now anyway and everything else is fucked, so shutting it off and focusing on fixing what you can fix is what you would do.

You’re angry, and it’s not just the wine that makes it feel so much stronger. The feeling consumes you. You have a fire inside of you that turns into an inferno and is ready to burn every hurdle in your path to the ground. You never had that before, and it makes you more determined now than ever. 

It’s three in the morning when the cellphone in London rings and tears Maya out of her sleep. 

“Jesus–“ her sleepy voice sounds from the other end. “Do you know what time it is?”

You take another swig of wine, and the bottle is almost empty now. The papers are splattered everywhere. Chaos has ensued around you. You are nowhere near closer to discovering the truth, but at least you’ve found a bottle of tequila and some lime juice. The wine isn’t empty yet, but you’re almost there and then you will focus on the harder stuff.

You thought you would find something, but you’re still empty-handed and angry, and your finger pressed that call button without your permission. 

“Hello?” Maya asks again. She calls your name. “Are you there? Are you alright? You know I have to somehow find a way to hide that 3am call from Dad, right? It’s not funny if you’re not gonna talk to me.” 

“You know,” you finally speak up, your speech slurring, “he said they were on their way to dance rehearsals.”

“What?”

“The M25 was not the way to her dance studio, especially not the turn they took off of it.” 

You kick the picture in front of you aside. You’ve had enough. You should burn them. You should burn him. 

Maya hesitates before she asks, “Are you talking about Ellie?” 

“There were no other cars. He wasn’t speeding. He just stood there with the passenger side toward where the truck was coming from, and…” You trail off.

She says your name again, and this time tears are audible in your little sister’s voice. “Stop,” she begs you. 

“He wanted it to look like an accident by speeding before,” you say, a pained scoff leaving your lips, “but he can’t fool me.”

“You promised–“ Maya cuts off to take a deep breath. “You promised you wouldn’t dig. Why are you digging?” 

You empty the wine bottle with another large gulp. Your features don’t contort. You barely taste the alcohol anymore. It reminds you of water. You grab the tequila next, but it’s hard to open the bottle with one hand. You go for it with your teeth. It works. The taste is more potent, sharper, and more bitter, and it adds to the buzz in your head that makes everything seem less bad.

Oh, but the anger burns brighter than ever because everyone knows what happens when you pour alcohol or gasoline into the fire–the flame is only going to grow, and eventually it’s going to end up out of control. You can’t put it out without putting your life at risk, so you need a firefighter, but with a fire as large as the one inside of you, even a fire truck would come too late. 

The same way they came too late to save your sister.

You swallow. “It should have been me in that fucking car with her,” you say, your voice void of emotions yet so loaded at the same time. “Or with him, and then he could have killed me instead of her, but it wasn’t… it wasn’t supposed to happen like this.”

You’re so empty, you can feel the tears in your chest, but they won’t fall. You have nothing left to give. You’ve bled out.

Taking a deep breath, you take another sip of liquor. “I’m gonna get you back,” you state as a matter of fact. “It’s what I should have fought harder for in the beginning.”

“By snooping around what happened six years ago?” Maya shoots back. “Are you out of your goddamn mind?”

“Oh, yeah. That’s gonna be the title of my biography.”

“Are you drunk?”

“Slightly buzzed. Doesn’t fucking matter. He killed her–“ you put the bottle back to your lips, “And he’s gonna suffer for it. You shouldn’t have to stay with him or Mom or anyone else. You belong with me.”

“I know he hurt you–“

“He abused me. He never touched you, but he touched me all the time and I am sick and tired of letting him control me. All of us. I’m gonna tie that accident to him,” you say, “and then I’m gonna watch as he burns. I’m gonna hurt him the same way he hurt me, and then I’m gonna get you back.”

Maya shakes her head against the phone. “He’s going to kill you,” she pleads, trying to somehow emphasize her words, but you’re too drunk and too angry to see clearly. 

You chuckle. “I’d like to see him try.” 

“I don’t want to lose you, why don’t you get that?”

“Oh, I get it. Why do you think I’m doing this? It’s not because I find some perverted enjoyment in reliving all of this shit, I do it because I love you. I’m doing this for you.”

“Please,” she calls out for you, “Think this through! Don’t do it. There has to be another way.”

As you put the bottle of tequila down, your eyes focused on the empty wall before you, and you sigh. “Take care of yourself. We’ll talk soon,” and with that, you hang up on her. 

You turn back to the files on the floor. The message with ‘I just threw up, can’t come to work tomorrow’ is quickly sent to Ava, and then you toss your phone aside. What’s left are you, your liquor, and the papers, and as you stare at the picture of the happy child and her little sister as they’re sitting in the garden together, your fist tightens around the neck of the bottle.

He might think he won, but you’re determined to cut his lucky streak short. He made you suffer twenty years, and you’re going to make sure he gets much more than that. 

Tagging: (let me know if you want to be tagged, too!) @bellaxgiornata @mattmurdocksscars @ms-murdockswift @your-not-invisible-to-me @shouldbestudying41 @glowstick-lesbian @acharliecoxedfan @roseallisonparker @norestfortheshelbywicked @1988-fiend @loveroftoomanyfandoms @mattkinsella @schneeflocky

[pleathewrites]

bellow the fire into my deadened lungs

chapter 2 excerpt — mother/son reunion read full story here

After 3 weeks of playing house with Keigo, Shouto asks, “Touya-nii. I have the day off today, and I want to take you somewhere. Will you come?”

Touya’s arm suspends in the air as he looks at Shouto like he’s lost his mind, mid-bite of his lunch, “I’m... literally a wanted criminal?”

Shouto studies his face for a moment, blank mismatched eyes not giving away a thought, before he says, “Your hair has grown and you've washed most of the dye out. ‘Dabi-the-Villain’ isn't known for an inverted balayage. The rest can be covered with a face mask and sunglasses. Wear one of Hawks-san’s hoodies.”

Touya hums, suspicious at the adamancy that his brother is showing, “Where are you trynna take me, Shou?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“Fuck off,” Touya barks a laugh, biting into the sandwich he’s halfway done with. 

“Touya,” Shouto steps in front of him, and his eyes narrow, “I know you just got better, but don’t make me knock you out.”

“Not very heroic of ya, baby bro,” Touya stuffs the last remaining bite in his mouth, the stretch straining his staples a bit, but nothing he can’t usually handle.

“Yes, well,” Shouto smirks, evilly, “I’d argue it’s actually pretty on-point with the current state of hero society today. Wouldn’t you think?”

Touya just pinches the bridge of his nose with two fingers. He can’t believe his brother grew up like this — he reminds him of himself. 

‘He’s a little asshole.’ 

“Fine.” 

They successfully manage to get into a taxi without raising any suspicions, probably because their taxi driver keeps raving how his brother, “Really saved my ass the other day, kid, you’re going to be a great hero! Your friend, though, he’s a bit… abrasive, but he seems like he has the potential to be a good guy. Saves people with a frown on his face, but doesn’t make too much of a mess. The green-guy, though — ‘Deku’, I think? Don’t get me wrong, he’s very strong! But the crying is a bit… Well, you’re all still kids.” 

However, when the car stops and Touya sees exactly where his brother has taken him, his flight-or-set-himself-on-fire instincts start to kick in.

“Shou, what the fuck.” 

Shouto grabs his hand and hauls him out of the cab, his strength non-comparable to Touya’s, and he is not going to burn his brother again — not after seeing the healed over mess Shouto’s stupidly heroic actions cost him.  

“We’re going.” 

Touya digs his feet into the concrete, “What the fuck — No, she’s going to — ”  

“ — She deserves to know. You deserve to see her.”

Touya deflates. 

Before he knows it, they’re both standing in front of a white door with his mother’s name engraved across a gold plaque.

“She’s gonna hate me.”

Shouto shakes his head, “She talks about you all the time, Touya-nii. She mourns you, all the time.”

Touya pinches his nose in frustration, “I’m not the son she mourns, anymore. Don’t you get that?”

“Yeah,” Shouto says stubbornly, “The son she mourns doesn’t exist because he’s literally not dead,” his brother knocks on the door before Touya even has a chance to change his mind. 

A slightly muffled, painfully familiar, high-toned, “It’s open,” comes from the other side, and Shouto slides the door open and pushes Touya inside. 

Touya freezes. 

His mother doesn’t look a day older than when he’d last seen her, over a decade ago, but at the same time, she doesn’t look like his mother at all. 

This woman sits on a slightly messy bed with her feet propped up and ankles crossed, reading some brightly colored book, wearing oversized clothing with her white hair twisted in some kind of clip. 

This woman is relaxed. She’s content, happy, and comfortable. 

Her shoulders have sloped down, no longer carrying a burdened fear. 

“Oh?” She puts down her book and starts to lift herself off her bed, “Shouto, you brought a new friend?”

“Sort of.”

Touya can’t take this. His hands are sweating in the pockets of his hoodie and his heart is beating so loud in his ears, every sound dulling into an underwater muffle.

“Are you alright, dear?” His mother’s face is suddenly so close to his. Her eyebrows are tilted up in concern — such fucking familiar concern — and Touya notices the small gathering of crows-feet at the end of her eyes she’s accumulated this past decade.

His hands are moving, one pulling the face mask down and the other taking the sunglasses off. He clutches the items in his hands, needing something to hold onto as his mother’s grey eyes widen at the sight of his face. 

Her mouth gapes and something inside Touya’s chest absolutely breaks, ‘I knew it, I fucking knew it, she’s horrified, disgusted, I’m disgusting, I knew it, no, I knew it —’ 

Cool and soft pressure on his cheeks interrupts his thoughts, a thumb trembling across the staples under his eyes, “Touya?” his mother’s voice is a breath in disbelief, that same thumb traveling to the side of his nose.

Touya had never put his nose studs back in.

He doesn’t even register the clatter of sunglasses dropping to the floor as his own scarred hands encircle his mother’s wrists, his throat feeling so fucking dry as he cracks out, “Hey, Mama.”

His mother wails in absolute glee, “Touya!” and engulfs him in the coolest hug that ever warmed his core.

Peals of laughter ring in his ear, and the side of a wide smile presses against the healthy skin of his cheek, his mother praising the gods — "thank you, thank you, oh, Gods, thank you for bringing him back to me, my baby!"  — and tears drip onto his neckline.

When his mother pulls back, her hands return to cup the scarred skin of his face, and her broken heart reflects so clearly in her expression, “Oh, Gods, what has he done to you? What... have I let this world turn you into?”

Touya’s mouth gapes at the admission. 

He has never outwardly blamed his mother for any of Enji’s actions, for what this world has twisted him into, but the smallest and ugliest parts of him would hate his mother in the dead of the night for the slightest second, his inner child pleading, ‘Why didn’t she protect me? Why does no one care enough?’ 

He’s older now. He knows exactly what constant abuse does to the mind, knows that escape is never so black and white, and usually feels downright impossible, but that part of him — the part of him that was abandoned by his mother, ignored and told to keep quiet, it latches to his heart like a parasite in the worst of moments. 

“Mama,” He starts, “It’s not your fault.” 

His mother smiles at him sadly, so fucking sadly, “Whose fault is it, if not the ones that were supposed to dedicate their lives to your protection?”

His mouth wobbles in the telltale sign of his body trying to cry, but his melted tear ducts only allow the seams under his eyes to stretch and split over his staples, and he feels the drops of wet and hot blood trail down his face, “Ma…”

Delicate and cold fingers try to wipe away the blood that drips down her son’s face, ending in translucent smears across pinked and purpled flesh.

“I should have left. I should have kicked up a fuss and gone to every police and news station and demanded  help.”

Touya only shakes his head, “They wouldn’t have listened.”

“Well, I should have tried, Touya!” His mother cries and grabs his shoulders, her head hanging in shame, “Words… There aren’t enough to describe how sorry I am,” When she looks back up at him, Touya’s throat constricts at the look of desperation that’s etched into his mother’s face, “I will carry my failed responsibility till the day I die. I will be sorry to my grave, and even beyond that.”

The mention of ‘failure’ triggers something in Touya, something that urges him to fix this mood, tend to his mother’s sadness, soothe her, “I don’t blame you, Ma,” He lies, “I forgive you, alrigh’?” Anything to ease that agonized expression off his mother’s face. 

His mother starts to violently shake her head, “Don’t ever burden yourself with forgiving me, my son — my precious, wonderful boy.” Even against the deadened skin of his neck, he feels his mother’s cool touch, “I will love you anyway. I will be here for you, always.” 

Hearing his mother tell him that she still loves him, after all this time, after failing, after murder and villainy, revives a part of his heart he thought long-dead, “I love you, too,” And this time he means it. 

His mother smiles, “You can love me and not forgive me.” 

“Well, I decide if I forgive you, and I want to.”

She brings him into another hug, “There’s no rush,” and uses all her strength to squeeze his middle, pouring all the love she has through this decade-late touch. 

She asks so many questions — ‘How did this happen? Where have you been? Who helped you? Why have you returned? Who else knows?’ 

“Just a few people. Pro-Hero Hawks, Natsou, Shou.”

His mother’s hand never left his own since they sat down on her bed, “Not Fuyumi?”

Shouto sits on the other side of her, “No. We aren’t sure how she’ll react, if she’ll tell Father. Her intentions are always good, but she’s foolishly naive.”

“Geeze, Shou — a lil’ harsh, don’tcha think?” Not that Touya doesn’t agree but things were different for Fuyumi.

His mother sighs heavily and shakes her head in shame, “I raised Fuyumi all wrong, gave her the worst role model. I’m afraid I’ve turned her into a fixer, and women who try to fix things all the time end up in horrible situations,” She squeezes her sons’ hands and moves her head to look at both of them, “Please, don’t let that mentality consume her. Otherwise, she’ll end up here, same as me and all the other women.”

Touya’s eyebrows furrow, “Other women?”

His mouth lets out a bitter laugh, “Half of the women in here are like me. Wives told they’re hysterical. Women pushed to their breaking point, locked away and not allowed to leave until their husbands sign for their release,” and the way she says the word 'husband’  sounds like poison. 

Shouto and Touya share a horrified look, anger kindling within their hearts.

A few hours later, a nurse knocks on the door to remind them that visiting hours are almost over. 

Touya puts on his facemask and is about to slip the sunglasses back on when his mother cradles his face again and gently tugs him to bow his head before she presses a hard kiss to his forehead, “Survive. Do what you must. Don’t let them lock you up.”

And even though Touya nods, he’s lying again because he doesn’t know if he can see a way around it anymore, doesn’t know if he’ll ever be allowed freedom for what he’s going to do.

He’s made his decision.

read full story here

my other works

[faterpresources]

A ᴄᴏʟʟᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ғʀᴏᴍ ʀᴀɴᴅᴏᴍ ᴠɪsᴜᴀʟ ɴᴏᴠᴇʟs

A collection of random lines compiled from many visual novel games including Fate/Stay Night, Danganronpa series, Code : Realize , Paranormasight, Somnium Files and many others. Feel free to change the pronouns in order to better suit the parts involved. Warning: some crude language

❝ Out of my way, plankton. ❞

❝ -- I want to punch him/her. ❞

❝ So whose ass do I need to kick!? ❞

❝ B stand for brute force! Ya like? ❞

❝ Shush. The adults are talking now. ❞

❝ I can’t say I need a cat right now. ❞

❝ Well, let’s just say sleep is overrated. ❞

❝ Watching a fire like this is greatly relaxing. ❞

❝ Oh, I’m just through a little… self-loathing. ❞

❝ I don’t think love has anything to do with it… ❞

❝ Tell me, where did your typical rudeness go to? ❞

❝ This is evil. I deserve to be hated and resented. ❞

❝ I’m shocked. Hypotheticals really do happen, huh? ❞

❝ Do you think I even care enough about you to rebel ? ❞

❝ O god of donuts! I’m praying for a wonderful encounter! ❞

❝ I think… I just got persuaded to do this without realizing it… ❞

❝ I’ve grown out of my brooding, pretentious teenager phase. ❞

❝ If you were a fictional character, I bet you’d have a lot of fans. ❞

❝ I’ve been teaching myself, though I’m not very good at it yet. ❞

❝ Loving someone you shouldn’t only brings about misfortune. ❞

❝ Damn. I’m gonna be having nightmares about this for a while. ❞

❝ It’s the lack of something between your ears that’s dangerous. ❞

❝ You’re being really loud… I know you’re doing that on purpose… ❞

❝ It was just his/her pants. Not like his/her socks or something… ❞

❝ Hey, please don’t insult my Sherlock Holmesian detective skills. ❞

❝ You sound pretty scared for something that matters little to you. ❞

❝ My only strong point is that I’m a little more gong-ho than others. ❞

❝ I only hugged you because you were standing right in front of me. ❞

❝ Hey! You weren’t thinking something bad about me just now, were you? ❞

❝ Dah! Come, now, you look like an abandoned puppy with a face like that! ❞

❝ If that was your last resort, I’d say you didn’t think this through very well…❞

❝This is the part where ya fall in love with me and obey my every command! ❞

❝ I know I am not the most intelligent person, but you really are just hopeless. ❞

❝ I’m like a magnet for all things strange. There’s nothing I can do about that. ❞

❝ No-one makes a compliment sound like an insult quite like you, my dear friend. ❞

❝ Just so you know, I’m saying this for your own good: your logic isn’t logical yet. ❞

❝ Fairytales mislead humans into believing they can have things they do not deserve. ❞

❝ As usual, you look like you’re carrying all the misery of the world on your shoulders. ❞

❝ Thing is, I might be a brat, but I’m not a kid. Okay, doesn’t make me an adult, either. ❞

❝ Maybe there’s something hidden under his/her bed. It’s a usual place for hiding things. ❞

❝ Well, I know you are unfortunately lacking in mental faculties, so I’ll fill you in myself.❞

❝ Aaah, he/she was so cute and innocent back then, how did he/she end up such a twisted kid? ❞

❝ Well then, let’s pretend this conversation never happened. For our mutual benefit, for once.❞

❝ A friendly word of warning – someday that attitude is going to come back and bite you. Hard. ❞

❝ Of course that was a joke. Duh! You don’t really think I’m some kind of evil spirit, do you? ❞

❝ I don’t need to go inside a haunted house to feel afraid since I already feel fear in my daily life! ❞

❝ You could have told me you were being attacked by Martians and I still would have believed you. ❞

❝ If you’re going to make another appearance, the least you can do is have some of a…villainous entrance, you know. ❞

❝ I never expected someone as good-looking and cool as you would get embarrassed about liking cute things. ❞

❝ Huh? … Sorry, I don’t remember. I guess it just seemed like something you would say, so I didn’t pay it any attention. ❞

[shankschewtoy]

hi! ive been reading your works for a little while now and i was actually wondering if you could do this idea: what about roles swapped au? to clarify; what if we, the readers, turn into anime characters and the one piece charcters (specifically the worst gen trio tho) would do when they're a huge simp for the reader?

I could also see this as them being set in the modern world and us being in the world of one piece ig. reader is a really great scythe wielder as well! maybe even some blood manipulation? your choice really.

btw, this ask is inspired by another ask i saw! i think they said that thsy were inspired by an obey me shall we date swapped au thing? anyway, i really love your works btw! keep going, darlin'!

— eustass kid simp anon ♥️

a/n - YES :0 I love this idea sm I’ve only seen it the other way around :3 awww tysm anon!! I appreciate the support 💜\(//∇//)\💜 I’ll try not to bully kid just for you <3

Warnings ⚠️ - g/n reader, reader’s a badass as usual 🫡, reader has “chi chi no mi” blood blood fruit (inspired by this), modern au/one piece world kinda?

Law

- he’s kind of a silent simp ya know??

- NO ONE and absolutely NO ONE knows about his fictional crush

- he secretly has his wallpaper set to a picture of you 👀

- But he changes it when he goes to school 💀

- man is such. A . Loyal. Simp.

- like he won’t simp for anyone else but you

- he’s a y/n simp all the way 😭💜

- with other simps he’s like: no?? They’re fictional??

- But we all know he literally worships you 🙄

- whenever he watches one piece, he saves the episodes with you in them and it’ll always brighten his day to see you get the screen time you deserve ✨

- You’re such a badass and you’re literally gorgeous/handsome af so lot of other people simp over you too

- secretly gets jealous 💀

- like he’s the only one allowed to simp over you ok?? 🙄

- he’s such a nerd he knows exactly how your abilities work

- He’s memorized every single move you can make with your devil fruit

- He also goes into like certain phases where he analyzes every single strong point of your abilities 😭

- He’ll make full on graphs and charts of your powers it’s kind of a lot-

- He wishes he could tell someone about it but then that’d ruin his “I’m emo go away” vibe 💀

- I think he’d do anything just to be able to meet you at least once 🥺

- Like yeah- you’re fictional but it doesn’t matter

- You’re still his #1 fav character

- he once gave a person death glares every single time he saw him because he heard that he simps over you as well :0

- Man got sooooo irritated with that guy

- he kinda has a superiority complex when it comes to these things

- his insults are just so fucking mean

- “Dumbass.”

- “He has the mental capacity of a piece of shit.”

- “I bet his socks smell like ass.”

- law that doesn’t mean he’s a bad person 💀

- Man’s your number one fan and you might never know it 😭💜

Luffy

- HE IS OBSESSED WITH YOU

- he’s got those like- stickers on his water bottle of you

- not afraid to rant about how fucking amazing you are to non-anime fans

- doesn’t matter, people need to hear how gorgeous/handsome and how powerful you are

- on discord his pfp is u 🥺

- His abt me matches one of your quotes

- If he’s feeling down? He watches one piece episodes with you in them :)

- you literally make him so happy and hyped up

- Whenever you fight someone, he’s literally jumping up and down, mimicking your movements (pls I’m abt to die ok 😭)

- You use one of your moves?? *Tries to do the same move*

- *Breaks the window*

- “Oops- hehe-“ 💀

- He aspires to be as strong as you

- That’s his main motivation for working out!!!

- 😭💜 pls he’s such a fanboy-

- he started one piece because of you

- If he’s feeling down? He’ll just watch some clips of you and instantly go back to his extremely meat motivated hyper self

- he can’t even think of any other character except for you

- He’s always like: when’s y/n gonna come back :(

- then when you come on screen: HI Y/N AAAAAAAAA

- he eats meat as he’s watching op btw lmao 😭

- lowkey he doesn’t mind if someone else simps for you

- He knows that you’re so fucking awesome so other people will simp for u as well 🗿

- still tho. Obviously he’s the best choice out of your whole simp fan club 🙄

- man might drop his meat if he meets you sometime

- he wants to fight you so bad to show you how strong he’s gotten 🥺

- pls fight him

- you’ll make his world 10x better 🥹✨

Kid

- he’s all like: they’re fucking fictional why would I simp for the-

- … *looks at you*

- “fuck.” -kid 2022

- man just got a crush in 2 seconds within seeing you 💀

- you literally manipulate blood and use a badass scythe

- who tf wouldn’t love you 🙄

- bro like, your nickname is literally ‘the crimson reaper’

- … (yes I made that up and yes I know that it’s kinda cheesy just go with it pls 😭)

- man loves you bec you manipulate red blood (hehe color of his hair)

- wow I’m corny today

- whenever you win a fight (you always do 🫡) he gets up and just starts like throwing his fists up (kid you’re not at a sports game 💀)

- “LET’S FUCKING GO! FUCKIN DUMBASS THOUGHT YOU COULD BEAT Y/N! FUCKIN’-“

- prepare for everyone to hear random cussing at his tv or phone

- killer is concerned af

- kid tried to get Killer to simp for you too but it didn’t go that well

- Kid then realized he wanted you all to himself so then he stopped talking bout you in front of killer

- no one at school knows that he has the biggest fucking fictional crush in the history of anime crushes

- like he’ll literally turn red everytime he thinks abt you 😭

- He’s like tryna go to sleep at 2am and then gets hit with a shower thought

- “If y/n was left handed would that change the fighting style?!”

- kid. go to sleep 🗿

- man spent all night thinking about that

- HE MADE YOUR SCYTHE FROM SCRATCH AND SHOWED IT OFF TO EVERYONE

- yes it’s made out of real metal ✨

- he made your outfit, scythe, weapons, you name it

- you wear it? He’s made it

- I mean he doesn’t wear it- but he threatens his neighbors with his scythe if they don’t leave him alone

- “Uh is this Eustass Kid’s home? I was just here to inform you about these new solar panel types that are 10x more efficient than the ones you have right now-“

- *holds scythe menacingly* “get the fuck out of here I’m fuckin busy.”

- man hates these solicitors 🙄 (as do I- I had to tell one off today 🗿)

- the poor marketer sprinted as fast as he could 😭

- if someone interrupts his one piece watching time, especially if you’re on screen..

- hell nah they’re dead in literal seconds

- He will literally- yeah Idek what atrocious ways he’ll use to kill them

- moral: don’t solicit at kid’s house. Don’t interrupt y/n one piece screen time. do not simp for y/n only Kid’s allowed to 🙄

- man. kid you’re high maintenance ngl

- he loves you tho 💜

a/n - pls. why did that stupid solar panel guy have to stay and talk to me for 20 minutes 💀

<3