#& then his chipped nail polish will be our second

[reallyromealone]

Okay so hear me out.

Sanzu x reader but it's an arranged marriage for connections between Bonten and another Yakuza. But the entire time reader is just kinda forced to dress as a girl because his dad didn't have a daughter to shuffle off to Bonten, so when Sanzu gets time alone with reader and actually gets to talk to him and hug him - he finds out reader is a guy and is just like "WTF- Wait I actually like this better" or something.

Absolutely uwu

🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐

(name) was uncomfortable as he was dressed and polished, makeup making his face look more feminine than it was.

He hated that he looked like this.

He was going to his "engagement party" with Bonten higher ups, he was being married off to bontens second, he didn't even know who he was. He just hoped it wouldn't go south.

He didnt know who he was, what to do as he walked into the venue, both Bonten and (Yakuza) were guarding the grounds as (name)s father left him by the arm as if he were a daughter and (name) wanted to claw his eyes out with his manicured nails "behave, fail and I will /kill/ you" (name) wasn't even a spare, third born and just a chip for his father so he knew he was serious. The venue was impressive, many people from various organizations there along with political leaders, it was quite the event.

He was never celebrated this much.

Cremes and pinks, gold silverware and expensive plates along the white tables and the marble reflected the expensive chandeliers.

It was all too much.

"Your fiance saved no expense for you" his father said and practically threw him to the wolves to get a drink.

He just wanted to scream.

He was greeted and congratulated by everyone before he even got to meet his future husband, everyone commenting about how lucky Sanzu was to get with such a beautiful girl, all of them pretending like it was love at first sight, not knowing (name)s secret. He didn't even know who this "Sanzu" was, the entire time being chatted up by others and talks about future children being wed for stronger bonds, (name) wanted to puke.

"So you're the little bird our Sanzu is marrying" a white haired man with a tattoo on the side of his head commented and glanced at "her" up and down almost judgingly but made a sound of approval "he wouldn't shut up about you, he's absolutely smitten from a photo" he said passively before smirking if you grow bored of him let me know"

Gross.

(Name) concluded he did not like the one he learned was named Koko who mentioned Sanzu was off assisting their boss with something of importance, (name) wasn't sure what and he didn't know if he wanted to know.

He stood at the window, the venue being at the top floor of a luxury hotel, the city looking tiny from this high and the lights of Tokyo lit up (name) in a way that made him look ethereal, the city reflecting off his eyes.

"I was looking for you" a voice said calmly and a man walked beside him and stared at the city below with his fiance "beautiful" he said no longer looking at the city lights but at the painting of a "woman" before him, never let it be said that Sanzu wasn't romantic, he only was when he chose to be.

Like now, the man pulling (name) close from behind to look at the city and kissing his hand gently "you truly are a sight" he whispered in his ear and kissed gently and (name) yelped at the sound and Sanzu halted, he wasn't as easily fooled "are...are.. you a man?" He asked pinning (name) to the glass and looking at him fully, taking in the features.

"M-my father... He didn't have a daughter so he used me instead... I'm sorry for lying to you but I wasn't exactly given choice... I understand if you want to leave" Sanzu was pissed yes, he was lied to and given a man instead of a woman...but he was still that beauty he fell hopelessly in love with.

His pretty little doll.

"I'll keep you, it's better honestly that youre a man" Sanzu looked critical as he looked over at (name) "everyone will be looking for a helpless bride when in reality it's a pretty little husband" he pulled (name) close and his lips ghosted the poorly huffed Adams apple "I mean how could one miss this?" He huffed out a laugh as his piercing eyes stared into (name)s entire being "letting go of such a beauty would be fucking stupid after all"

(Name) let Sanzu kiss him as they hid from their own party "you're coming back with me, I'll have people collect your shit" he said simply and bit into (name)s shoulder possessively "get used to me baby, because you're /never/ getting rid of me"

And (name) in his heart of hearts... Didn't want to get rid of him, the man who despite it all looked at him like he hung the moon.

#tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x male reader #tokyo revengers fluff #male reader #bonten x reader #haruchiyo sanzu x reader #sanzu haruchiyo #sanzu x male reader #anime x male reader #anime x reader

[tipsyleaf]

Emo leon likes to record himself because he thinks it makes things hotter, one day he recorded him fucking your thighs and kept it... 👛anon

(I imagined the Redfield Reads AU to take place in 1999 so I'm gonna be referencing some old shit that people might not know wtf it is and I'll be really dating myself here...)

NSFW Under the Cut

CW: Mention of chocking, bruising, and piercings.

I'd imagine Emo Leon taking old polaroids and disposable camera shots of your naked body after you two just fucked. (He has a fascination with photography) Getting your pretty worn out post orgasm face and the mess he made across your stomach in frame as you lay on his couch. He leans over you, giving you a kiss before he grabs a rag to clean you up. Dropping the specially labeled camera and polaroid on the coffee table as he got up.

He'd curl up, wiping your stomach clean, pulling you into his chest as you two look over the polaroid he took. Kissing your shoulder as you tangle your limbs together.

"You always look so sweet after you cum, like the bitchy side of you just evaporates." He chuckles, tilting the picture towards you. You whine, pushing your face into his neck. He rubs his hand up and down your side. His rings making a cold line up your skin.

"You're so mean to me..." He scoffs, biting his bottom lip, making his piercings shift on his mouth.

"I'm mean to you? Wasn't this you just five minutes ago?" His head rolls back over the arm of the couch, a fake an overly exaggerated moan leaving his lips which quickly turned real. You're delicate fingers squeezing one of his pierced nipples with a smirk as he looks back at you. Leaning in, you start kissing down his chest with a soft giggle.

"Sweetheart..." His hand goes down, lifting your chin up to look at him. Thumb with black chipped nail polish runs over your puffy lips as he cheekily grins. His hand slides from your chin to your neck. His thumb brushing over old hickey bruises as he snuggly fits against your neck.

"You're insatiable."

The next morning he's running late for class. Grabbing his bag from the floor and leaves behind his key for you to lock up on your way out to work after he kisses your head goodbye. On his way out he notices the few disposable cameras on the coffee table and grabs all of them without thinking and turns them into the local photo hut on his way.

After class he has work at the bookstore so he stops by the photo hut to grab his pictures and the guy can't even look him while he's paying and getting his pictures back. Leon has no idea what this guy's issue is but whatever. Not his problem. Making his way to his car he notices one of the envelopes is taped.

They never tape these things...

But he shrugs it off, driving to work. He parks his car, killing the engine, grabbing his cellphone from his pocket and presses the circle button to turn it on. Seeing he has 1 new voicemail. He puts the phone to his ear as he listens.

"Hey babe," it's you, must have called to say good morning since you slept through him leaving, "sorry I didn't say goodbye. I was just wiped out. Hope class is going well... But um..."

He hears you shuffle for a second, sounding like you're sitting on the couch.

"I can't find our special camera?" His eyes go immediately to the small yellow photo hut bag in his passenger seat. Not paying attention as you said i love you through voicemail and hung up.

He pulled out the taped pictures, dropping his phone on his lap as he stares at the tape with a little x in red sharpie on it.

The special label...

"She's gonna fucking kill me..."

#leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x fem reader #♠️ emo leon s kennedy #🎒 preppy reader #resident evil x reader #🌿 ivy writes #🌿 ivy replies #leon s kennedy

[cabotwife]

Hi!!! I missed your writing, I’m so glad you’re back 🖤 can I request Johanna x fem!reader where reader helps Johanna dye her bangs because omg I love her hair so fucking much

Like Blood

Johanna Mason x Fem!Reader

warnings: mentions of blood/killing, not proofread

word count: 1369

--

the room is silent, with a sense of understanding filling the walls.

“you could try a different color, y’know,” you say, breaking the silence as you glance up at the brunette from your seat on the floor.

you’re mixing together a batch of bleach while she’s seated on the toilet, watching you like a hawk.

Johanna simply shakes her head, “i like red. it’s-”

“like blood, i know i know.” you cut her off, chuckling as you finish putting the developer into your concoction.

the other girl goes silent again, taking to just observing you.

you grin up at her when you finish mixing the bleach, “all done, you ready, Jo?”

Johanna nods, shuffling on the toilet lid as she watches you stand up. the brunette is twisting and pulling at her fingers while you position yourself.

you straddle Johanna’s lap, seating yourself there. “hold.” you hum, lifting her arm up to hold the bowl of bleach for you. the taller girl does as you say without thought.

she’s silent as you slowly layer the bleach onto her bangs, “you should wash your hair more often, it’s greasy.” you say nonchalantly,

Johanna huffs and rolls her eyes, causing you to squint your eyes at her. you grip her cheeks and she makes eye contact with you. “i’m serious, Jo, when you get back i’ma make sure you wash your hair every other day.” you mutter, letting go of her face to continue bleaching her strands of hair.

Johanna’s eyes are soft as she watches you, but your eyes never leave her hair. you make sure not to look at her, you know what this could turn into.

silence fills the room again, the only sound is the squishing noise of the brush dipping into the bowl of bleach.

“you’re going to come back, i know you are.” you mumble, setting the brush in the bowl and the bowl on the sink. you look down into Johanna’s eyes, who’s never left yours. the rubber gloves are peeled off of your hands and tossed into the trash can next to the toilet.

you falter for a second before reaching forwards to cup the brunette’s cheeks. “we have so much to do, Johanna. our entire lives ahead of us.” you say softly, brushing your thumb over her cheekbone softly. “you’ll come back to me, because i know you want to, and the Johanna i know always finds a way to get what she wants.” a small smile forms on your lips as you finish your sentence.

the other girl chuckles, “i know i’ll come back, just.. i don’t wanna leave in the first place.” she mumbles, her soft eyes bore into you. “i thought that when i won my games they’d leave me alone-”

“they said they would.” you mutter, cutting her off.

Johanna hums before continuing, “he’s proving that i’m never out of his grasp.” she whispers.

your eyebrows furrow, “he? Snow?”

Johanna nods.

you shake your head, “you’re not his pawn, Johanna, you’re just doing what you have to do to survive.” you say gently.

“he wants the district 12 rebels dead. that’s why he’s doing this.” she mumbles, her eyes leaving yours to look down at her chipped nail polish. “he’s using us to do his dirty work.”

you frown, looking down at her nails with her. “you’re no killer, Jo.”

that makes her laugh, she looks up at you through her greasy, bleached bangs, “then what am i? i killed to be here, with you. and now i’m going to have to do it again because god knows i wouldn’t leave you here alone.”

you stay quiet, your eyes meeting her brown ones once more.

“time to rinse.” you mumble, getting off of her lap and walking over to the metal bathtub. you turn the tap. “come on,” you motion her over as you put on a new pair of rubber gloves.

Johanna is silent as she walks over. she sits on the floor, letting you tip her head back.

your hands are gentle as you rinse the bleach from her now discolored bangs. “there we go..” you hum, grabbing a towel.

you pull Johanna’s head up, rubbing the towel over her hair to dry it. when you're finished drying the brunette’s hair you set the towel over the side of the tub. “now we wait for it to dry so we can add the red, okay?”

the taller girl nods, “okay,” she replies.

you’re silent once more as you take care of the trash from the bleach.

“i don’t like it when you’re quiet.” Johanna says, looking up at you from her position on the floor. her eyebrows are furrowed and her fingers are twisting and pulling at each other.

you sigh, glancing down at her, “i don’t know what to say anymore.”

“you don’t have to talk about what’s happening, i just..” she mumbles, her eyes quickly averting themselves from you and back down to her hands. “i like hearing your voice.”

you stand there for a moment, quiet, as you stare down at her.

this isn’t the Johanna you knew, this Johanna is soft, fragile, afraid. but what is she afraid of? you know she’s not afraid of the games, she knows she can and will dominate them.

“okay.” you whisper, sitting next to her on the floor, your side pressed to hers. “what do you want to talk about then?”

maybe she’s afraid of being used by Snow to get the rebels under control. but she wouldn’t be acting like this if that was the case.

“tell me what we’re gonna do when i win these games,” the brunette responds, moving her hand to rest on your thigh as she looks over to you.

that’s when it hit, you know what she’s afraid of.

your eyes soften as you look back at her, “well, we could get a cat..”

Johanna scoffs immediately, “we are not getting a cat.”

you pout your lip at her, “a puppy then?”

the taller girl rolls her eyes, a small grin on her lips, “we could get a dog.”

Johanna Mason is afraid of losing you.

—

it takes a little while for Johanna’s hair to dry, but the two of you don’t really mind. the time was filled with chatter and light banter.

so you find yourself in the same position as before, the taller girl sitting on the toilet and you seated in her lap.

the both of you are smiling as you apply the red hair dye to Johanna’s bangs. “i love your hair,” you say absentmindedly.

“i thought my hair was greasy and gross?” the brunette chuckles, raising an eyebrow.

you roll your eyes, “doesn’t mean i can’t love it.” you huff.

red beads of dye roll down the girl’s forehead as she looks up at you.

your eyes meet as you finish with the last strand of bleached hair.

your heart rate quickens slightly, as a soft breath escapes your slightly parted lips. you find yourself slowly leaning down, your eyes half-closed in anticipation. as you make your descent towards the brunette, you can practically feel the electricity in the air.

Johanna’s eyes never leave yours as she leans forward.

when your lips finally meet hers, it's as if a burst of energy passes between you.

without breaking the kiss, your hands reach forward, fingers splayed as you gently cup her cheeks. the soft skin beneath your fingertips serves to ground you in the moment. as the kiss deepens, the passion between you both palpable as you lose yourselves in the kiss.

when the two of you pull away you’re both breathing heavily.

you smile gently down at her, “i’m going to be right here, waiting for you.” you whisper, leaning down to peck her lips again before pulling away.

“you’re gonna win those games ‘n come back here to me,” you hum, “and we’re gonna get a cat-”

“we are-” Johanna cuts you off, squinting her eyes at you.

you push your hand over her mouth, “-we’re gonna get a cat, and a dog.” you huff.

the brunette rolls her eyes, pushing your hand away from her face, “maybe.”

you smile, “i’ll take it.”

#johanna mason x reader #johanna mason #the hunger games #catching fire #finnick odair #peeta mellark #katniss everdeen #finnick odair x reader #peeta mellark x reader #katniss everdeen x reader #josh hutcherson

[joshfuckingkiszka]

𝔇𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔰 - 𝔍𝔗𝔎

jtk x f!reader

I love this song SO much UGH

warnings: alcohol usage, mentions of fwb situation, hickeys, lil angst

THIS BLOG IS 18+ MINORS DNI

taylor's version masterpost

reputation masterpost

☮

Our secret moments in your crowded room They got no idea about me and you

Even though your own gaze had found purchase on the chip in your big toe’s nail polish through your open toed heels, another’s scorched your cheek. His stare was reminiscent of the ones he gave you in the bedroom, and you blushed at the thought. In his deep brown eyes, lay memories of the previous night, which could be found in the left side of your bed, where his shape had stayed because you couldn’t find it in yourself to make it and destroy whatever he had left. 

You found that if you stared for too long, the craving for him would become abhorrently intense. By the smirk on his gorgeous face, you knew that he could see how shaky your champagne-filled hand and your deep breaths had become. 

In your attempt to make it seem like you weren’t staring for too long - don’t attract too much attention - you realized you had lost him in the crowd. That being, before his long finger was tapping you on the shoulder and for a second, your heart stopped. The fear did not cause the abnormal beat, but his presence did, and everything seemed to halt in that moment. 

Say my name and everything just stops I don't want you like a best friend

“Enjoying yourself, sweetheart?” You rolled your eyes at his saccharine tone. 

Caving in, you answered, “I would be more if there weren’t … such a crowd.” Subtle. 

“I can see how that would bother you.” 

When he offered no explanation, you countered, “How so?” 

“Well those bruises peeking out from under all that makeup on your chest looks like they hurt.” You blushed, covering what only he knew was there. 

“I told you not to be so … obvious with your … affection,” you lightly scolded him, even though you had practically begged him for them. The same way you would probably beg him later on. 

He hummed as a first response, pausing then asking, “New dress?” 

“Mhm.” You took a sip of your champagne, your head swimming despite how little you had drunk. “New other things too.” 

He couldn’t even reply before Josh was pulling him away, apologizing but insisting his presence was required. You scoffed when you saw Jake clearly playing wingman for Josh, some girl hanging off of his arm, and you downed your drink, heading for another. 

At the end of the night, Jake ended up at your apartment once more. The tipsiness was affecting both of you but your drunken kissing was so much more intoxicating. 

Everyone thinks that they know us But they know nothing about

“You’re all mine, you know that?” It wasn’t in the normal dominating tone he donned in the bedroom. There was a softness to him in that moment, and he caressed your jaw as he spoke and even after. 

You looked at him in earnest, wondering how anyone could ever deserve him. “I know Jakey.” 

“I don’t think you do.” He smiled and went back in for another sparkling kiss. He was yours but Jake Kiszka belonged to everyone around him: his brothers, his friends, his fans. 

You needed him like you needed the air around you to fill your lungs, and some part of you hoped he needed you in the same way. It was a selfish thought, of course, but you had given up the most needed parts of yourself to him. Your affection was his, your hope was his, your heart, well, I think you know. 

When your “relationship,” or whatever it was, first started, you had the generic friends-with-benefits rules: no mouth kissing, no staying the night, no feelings etc. However, as time passed, the rules felt arbitrary, and you had both come to ignore them no matter the personal cost. Jake loved the taste of your lips after a night out with your friends. You loved curling up next to him, and, even more, waking up with him. The feelings were there, yet unspoken. The last rite of passage before it became an official relationship, and neither of you were sure when to take that step. You needed him to confirm what you already held as fact. So much that you were willing to almost ruin it. 

Carve your name into my bedpost 'Cause I don't want you like a best friend

“Danny asked me out.” He was silent, and you watched his eyes harden. 

“Well,” he cleared his throat, “what did you say?” You scoffed. 

He could be so dumb when he wanted to be. “Of course, I said no.” Like it was the most obvious thing in the world, and it was. 

“Why?” The obvious answer would be that you loved Jake, but that wasn’t even the obvious question. Jake wasn’t asking why you turned his friend down, he was asking why you told him. Truthfully, you weren’t really sure. 

Your throat tightened a bit as you spoke, “I just wanted you to know.”

“Know what, exactly?” He asked with a hum and a sharp inquiry of your name. 

“I-I don’t know, know that he asked. Know that other people are interested. Know that I feel like I’m losing every sense of self the longer I tell myself that one day you’ll man up and tell me that you love me so I don’t have to keep telling myself!” 

Even in my worst lies You saw the truth in me

He softened. “I never meant for that to happen, baby.” Tears had nearly breached the edge of your eye and you wanted them to, to make him feel worse, to know that he made you cry. 

“I don’t want to keep pretending that our relationship is strictly professional, or god, friendly! If it’s a conflict of interest, I-I’ll fucking resign and find something else, but I don’t want to find anyone else to share my heart with, Jacob, I can’t.” I already gave it all to you - went unspoken. 

“Okay,” he spoke calmly as he reached to hold you in his embrace, and you welcomed him. 

“I’m not good at coming up with words on the spot, but I want you to know that every fiber of my being belongs to you, that my soul is yours to keep and cherish for as long as you want. I love you.”

Only bought this dress so you could take it off

〚taglist〛

gvf: @doodle417, @brokenbellz, @gretavanfleas, @pyrojoshy, @greta-van-chaos, @xserenax-13, @hayley1623, @kdarling1, @autumns30, @keighoe, @chalametpwk, @sammysvanfeet, @shawnsthighs, @gretavanbitches, @sammiejane22, @gretavanbestie, @jordierama, @alexxavicry, @spark-my-nature, @rainy-darling

jokey: @loofypoofy, @livkiszka

#josh kiszka #jake kiszka #danny wagner #sam kiskza #josh gvf #jake gvf #danny gvf #sam gvf #greta van fleet #gvf imagine #gvf fic #jake kiska fic #jake kiszka smut #jake kiskza x reader #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van fic

[wroteclassicaly]

Summary: Two years. You never drive far anymore, you don’t linger outside of your new city limits. Because how can you drive into the desolate life you once had? Then again, Hawkins and its story book tragedies have a way of bringing you back for more. A mangled marriage, an abandoned two story, and a loved one in turmoil, it finally brings you back home.

Parings: Eddie Munson x Female Reader

Warnings: Language, shitloads of angst, mentions of major health trauma (it’s heart related, so be warned before reading, as I don’t want to trigger anyone), that angsty angst, but with a happy ending, & obvious smut/nsfw content that will appear later in the story!

A/N: Sneak peek/teaser into my new series, and the first one I’m publishing for this fandom — That House In Indiana (inspired by Ethel Cain’s ‘A House In Nebraska’. Lyrics below that I obviously don’t own) There will be a happy ending, so don’t worry! I’ve also drawn off myself for the situation with Wayne, based off what happened to my own dad. It’s pretty rough, but Wayne will be okay — I promise! He has a health crisis in this that might trigger some people, so please DON’T read if you know it’ll upset you! And let me know what y’all think if you do read, please and thank you? ❤️💘❤️💘

February 1st, 1990

~*~

Labored breaths and bed sores, sing it to me all day long

When the aching sound of silence used to be our favorite song

You and me against the world, you were my man and I your girl

We had nothing except each other, you were my whole world

Then the day came and you were up and gone

And I still call home that house in Nebraska

Where we found each other on a dirty mattress on the second floor

Where the world was empty, save you and I

Where you came and I laughed, and you left and I cried

Where you told me even if we died tonight, that I'd die yours

~*~

Shaking hands with chipped polish of a once fresh manicure, now worried down from alternating chewed grinds between chattering teeth and trembling lips, stained with overflowing salt — switch to a tight grip around a faded leather steering wheel, the cracking leather mingling with that of rustling denim. Scattered neon pink chips spray nail beds, making you twitch with the need to placate that urgency in your guts that pummels the muscles, seizing those in your eyes to force you to glance at where the gold band used to sit, used to distract you so perfectly. You were sure that you’d gotten over that. Funny what delusions the mind can bank on to get you through destruction and pain. You sniffle upon a jagged exhale, breath coming out choppy and overused.

Your body feels stuck to the seats, melted into a frozen statue. You really don’t want to be you, to think. Hell, your thoughts border on everything they shouldn’t, all the what-ifs, the blames, past tragedies, and your wishes that if this was the end result — maybe it would’ve been better if you died that night in the Spring of 1986. Long drives that aren’t in line with the simplicity of five minutes, you’d avoided for the last two years. Four hours from your one bedroom townhouse in Illinois to a hotel room in your hometown of Hawkins, Indiana — you’re a prisoner to your psyche.

You’ll see your crumbling dream in the form of white plaster, broken wood planks, and rotten rose bushes, frosted across shattered glass windows — ones you had stewed over for days on what color would look the best for curb appeal, and a large for sale sign in the front yard that was once littered with the cars of friends and loved ones. That very same home, the one you had shaped with your partner, that curly haired, doe eyed boy that you first met when he gave you money to pay for the groceries you couldn’t quite afford when you were fifteen, unbeknownst to you that it was his last five dollars, but he gave it to you because he knew you needed it more. He’d be fine as long as you were. You don’t have to try to embrace every whisper his hands had gifted your skin with. Your walls are gone, body ripped open and bare for the entire town you’d left behind two years ago.

The scenery is starting to fill in, barren trees near bloom. Maybe an early Spring, you can’t be sure? Your tires click against wet asphalt when you turn, splashing water on the chrome body of your car as you head into the embankment of treetops that glow, entwined into an arch that blankets the road in charcoal shadows. You manage to raise your hand to hit your windshield wipers, crystal clearing in a thick smear. Your sclera, however, floods over, lashes sticking to raw under eyes, puffy and exerted. You swallow harshly around a raw and wet throat, foot accelerating the gas pedal. You have to get there.

You haven’t slept since you heard his voice, your ears floating into a familiar peak, a swell of overwhelming longing stealing every ounce of breath from your lungs, trapping your diaphragm beneath whimpers not cried. You knew right away that something wasn’t okay. He called for the first time in years, he was in the place of his uncle, your confusion palpable as you hadn’t expected the youth for the familiarity of your weekly calls with his own family. You could hear his deep voice, raspy and shrouded in painful storms unmatched. Your body was like a dead weight, fingers struggling to hold onto the receiver, tone a mere whisper, one that felt like broken glass being dragged out through your windpipes.

“What’s wrong, Eds?”

“He… I, Y/N—“ Like a plea that was too silent to fully find its vessel, his voice became caked with an ocean of tears, thick like the swamps of isolating despair.

You’d almost resorted to begging, but you had known, even then, Eddie always took his own path to processing grief. Resisting an instinctual soothe towards him was like rejecting the air that earth offered you.

Your fingers prickled in an uncomfortable heat, numb and dulled, tongue heavy and choking you. The same as that night you awaited to hear whatever horror Hawkins had dropped into your lives once more.

“It’s Wayne.” There was an eerie quietness as Eddie had caught up with himself and moved forward enough to inform you. You couldn’t have stopped the gasping cry that left your mouth if you’d taped it shut.

He’d wanted nothing more than to reach through the phone and take you into his arms, needing to remember what the heartbeat of another human felt like, more specifically — his human. But you weren’t, you hadn’t been, and he wasn’t calling you to tell you that. You loved his uncle like a father. Having to break this news, to lay a layer of pavement over your spirit and let it dry, driving over it to forget, Eddie guiding your heart into another turmoil — it made him want to attempt to dislocate his own jaw.

“What about Wayne? Please tell me what’s going on?” You lost every piece you’d mangled together, helpless to their violent disappearance.

Eddie had trembled as he sighed, shaky and worn. “He had a heart attack a few hours ago.”

Your organ had begun to lose traction, beating sporadically that you were sure some of your bones had been reduced to ash beneath the forceful erratic rhythm. Leaving behind everything but your shoes, coat, keys, and purse, you were already at your front door, phone cord stretching with you. “I’m coming home. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Yeah. Kay. I’ll be here.” Eddie sounded lost, that light he’d accumulated in his lifetime, part of it was dimming. He couldn’t lose the one person that had been with him his whole life. You were already gone. This would devour him whole.

You sit up straight in your seat, the action causing your back to crack. You take a few deep breaths, engrossed in the glossy branches in your sky view, thunder roaring in the distance, your vehicle approaching the clearing and ready to hit that final road that will take you home.

~*~

#kristenwrites #eddie munson #my work #my writing #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #stranger things 4 #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things 4 fic #stranger things 4 fanfiction #stranger things 4 fanfic

[intercoursefluids]

Where Do I Belong Chapter 7

Jon couldn’t sit still.

He had been pacing the hotel room since they got the place, constantly moving except for the few seconds he would take to check on his sister every time he passed the bed.

Which was only every now and then (excessively often).

He hadn’t been paying attention to the conversation happening near him, too focused on all of the noise.

It was so loud in Paris.

There were car horns and heartbeats and so much talking.

Jon put his hands to his ears, feebly trying to block out the noise but it wasn’t working.

Why wouldn’t it work!?

He started rubbing his arms as he paced, trying to focus on the feeling of that rather than the noise surrounding him.

He was biting his lip, rubbing his eyes and temples. Constantly trying to focus on a sense that didn’t involve his ears.

“-on. Jon, look at me. Take a breath and look at me, you’re spiraling.” Damian said, grabbing hold of Jon’s wrists and forcing him to stop moving.

He wasn’t really forcing him, they both knew he couldn’t, but he was helping Jon focus.

Which was helping.

“Good, take another breath.”

He did.

Damian nodded, moving his hands to Jon’s shoulders and pushing him down, having him sit on the edge of the bed.

Oh, he was by the bed again.

Jon turned to check on his sister again when Damian stopped him, shoving a pillow into his chest and pushing his shoulders until he was laying down.

“No, Marinette is fine. Lay down, go through your breathing exercises. Focus on yourself.” Damian ordered, refusing to let him get up.

Jon looked at him confused, slowly forcing air into his lungs barely realizing how he had been hyperventilating.

“M-m-” He closed his eyes, trying to force the word out. “M- Marinette?” He asked, confused.

Damian nodded grabbing Jon’s arms and physically wrapping them around the pillow for him.

Jon clutched onto the pillow like a lifeline, trying to register and categorize all of the textures on it.

“Yes, Marinette. That is your sister’s name, her friends told me. Close your eyes, take a break. When you feel better you can join our conversation, our father’s are on their way.” Damian told him, sitting down on the bed beside him so he didn’t try to sit up.

Tears flooded Jon’s eyes, much to Damian’s apparent horror.

Normally, Jon would take a second to reassure him that it wasn’t his fault he was crying…

He was too upset to even think of explaining his tears.

He hadn’t known.

He had an entire sister and he hadn’t even known her name.

Jon sniffled, ducking his face face into the pillow as Damian weakly pat his back.

He was the worst brother ever.

A cold hand smacked his arm, a grunt following it as something shifted the bed behind him.

Jon looked, over blearily registering the small hand with chipped, pink nail polish on the fingers.

The hand was attached to an arm, attached to a body, which belonged to his sister.

His sister was behind him on the bed and hand flung her arm out in her sleep.

Jon started crying harder.

He hadn’t known her name and he forgot where she was!

Damian’s awkward back pats slightly increased in pressure, his best friend completely at a loss for what to do.

Jon rolled completely over, grabbing onto Marinette and pulling her to him.

He wrapped himself around her, dimly aware that it probably wasn’t the best idea to hug an unconscious girl but was too distraught to care.

She was his sister and he had never had one of those but he was already doing a really bad job at being a brother but hugs were good. He and Con hugged all the time and they were siblings so a hug was probably a good idea or at least it wasn’t a bad idea. Probably. Hopefully.

“-He okay?” Nino asked Damian, Jon barely caught it.

“I’m sure he will be?” Damian hesitantly replied.

The bed dipped again and Jon looked up to see the girl with red hair, Alya, climbing into bed behind Marinette.

“Listen, I get that your having a crisis right now, which is the only reason I haven’t dragged you out of this room by your throat, but you need to relax. Okay? Listen to your friend and take a break, focus on yourself, not Marinette.” She told him.

“I’ve got her, okay? My girl is just fine, so you can let go of her now okay? You can ask for a hug when she wakes up.” It was a gentle order but an order none the less.

Jon ripped himself away, reality hitting him like a freight train and leaving him feeling distinctly creepy.

“Sorry.” He told the room, whipping his nose with one hand.

Alya looked like she was about to respond when Marinette’s arm flung out, smacking Jon in the chest before falling down and grabbing hold of his hand in a death grip.

When she didn’t let go, Jon looked to Alya, not sure what he should do.

“Alright, she did that herself, so you can hold her hand. But that is it, okay? You may be her brother, but to us you are still a stranger.” She told him sternly, making sure her point gt across.

Jon nodded, feeling slightly better because, technically, she didn’t reject him.

So she might be okay with being his sister when she woke up.

Jon pursed his lips, squeezing his eyes shut and laying back down on the bed, painfully aware of how strange a sentence that was.

This was going horribly…

Tag List:

@Toodaloo-kangaroo

@Ev-cupcake

@animegirlweeb

@Vroomtaka

@rosesandsailboats

@depressed-bitchy-demon

Join The Maribat Discord!

#maribat #ml x dc #dc x mlb #mlb x dc #marinette x damian #maridami #siblings jonette

[futuremrsdrcullen]

Hi! Here is an idea I have for the blurb 😊.

So the reader is over at the Cullens and Jasper or Edward witnesses a really cute/fluffy moment between her and Carlisle and it just makes him to happy to see Carlisle like that again, since Esme has passed. Maybe Carlisle gets a call he has to take an excuses himself and when he leaves Jasper or Edward says thank you to the reader, and she asks for what, and either Jasper or Edward say something like making him whole again, it’s been (however many years or centuries it’s been since Esme’s death) since they have seen him this happy, maybe even happier with her than Esme…and Carlisle walks back in. 😇😇😇

Oh my God! I love it! Sorry it took my so long to answer this, I may have dropped my phone in a lake lol.

Also I wanna keep doing this, so if anyone has more ideas let me know

Blurb title: Thank You

Masterlist

Word count: 917

No warnings just fluff

As always I do not own Twilight or its characters. Rights go to S.meyer.

~ Claire❤️

This was his idea. He watched as I struggled to do it myself more times than I'd like to admit. This time when I mentioned how chipped my nail polish had gotten he offered to paint them before I said anything more. 

I let him pick out the color and everything. He sided with a rich navy that I wouldn't have chosen for myself but I had to admit the color was very pretty. I sat sideways on his couch directly across from him. He held my hand in one of his and painted it with the other. 

"You're really good at this." I couldn't hide my smile. I had a smile since he had suggested it in the first place.

He smiled back at me, "It makes sense, considering how steady my hands are."

"I would hope your hands are steady, since you're a doctor." I joked and then thought about it for a second. "Wait, are you implying my hands aren't steady?" 

"No, of course not." His voice was heavy with sarcasm and I could tell from the laugh behind his words that that is exactly what he meant. 

I let my mouth fall open in mock surprise, "Carlisle! My hands are very steady!" I couldn't stop the giggles. He didn't say anything, he just laughed and continued painting my nails. I pretend to pout. He raised an eyebrow at me. "Okay, okay. My hands aren't vampire doctor level steady, but that's what I have you for!"

"They call me the resident nail painter for a reason." He smirked and I wanted to kiss it off his face but I didn't want to smudge the paint.

Just as he finished my first hand his pager beeped from the coffee table. Both of our heads turned to the sound and he put down the polish to check the message. He sighed and "I'll have to call the hospital. Give me just a moment and I'll finish the other hand." I nodded and he set my hand down. He kissed the top of my head as he moved out onto the back porch.

I took a deep breath and blew on the already painted set. I was slightly worried that they'd need him to actually come in to work rather than just try to explain things over the phone. It wasn't often that he was actually called in when he was on-call- since not much happened in this town- but there was always the possibility.

I was too distracted by my nails to notice Jasper walk into the room. My heart nearly stopped when he spoke.

"Y/n, sorry. I didn't mean to startle you." I noticed the soft smile on his lips though. I smiled back at him and his shoulders eased a bit. "I just thought, while Carlisles on the phone, I should probably thank you." He kept his distance, like always, opting to lean casually on the door frame rather than get closer.

"Thank me? Why‐" 

"I haven't known Carlisle as long as the others but I did know him while he was with Esme, and after…" he paused briefly, clearly trying to assess any changes in my mood. Deciding I was fine, he continued, "When he was with her, he was happy, sure, but not like this. It definitely feels like it's been way more than 30 years since he was this happy. Everything about him seems so much lighter since he met you. He's not walkin' on eggshells all the time, ya know?

"I think, because of you, he finally feels like he's allowed to be truly happy. I just wanted to thank you, for making him whole again." I was speechless for a moment, not really sure what to say but wanting to tell him he didn't have to thank me, but I knew he knew that.

I just nodded and delicately added, "He saved me too. I'm glad I can give him some of the happiness he gives me."

His lips lifted to a soft, crooked smile. "You have no idea…" turned to look behind him as Carlisle came back inside. "How exactly did she convince you to paint her nails?"

"He offered!" I tried.

"Only because you end up painting half of your hand every time you do it on your own." Carlisle added. I laughed as I scanned his features, trying to judge if he had to leave or not. His smile didn't falter and he shook his head softly, wordlessly letting me know that he could stay home.

"I don't know old man, they look a little crooked to me." Jasper pushed.

In challenge, Carlisle raised an eyebrow, "Think you could do better?" I covered my mouth with my hand to try to hide some of the laughter.

"Hell yeah I can." He floated out of the room, saying "Alice! Let me paint your nails" as he went.

Carlisle rejoined me on the couch and for a second we just giggled together. I noticed then what Jasper was talking about. Obviously I'd never know what he was like before he met me, but I could see how much lighter he was. Even just compared to when we first met. 

Once our laughter died down I scooted closer to him and placed my hand on his cheek; he leaned into my touch. I whispered "I love you."

"I love you, Cara." He kissed me softly and sat back grabbing my hand and picking up the nail polish again. 

Taglist:

@jakanddexter67 @a-not-so-poetic-poet @bridge597 @cestlavie03 @gaymazinglula @short-potato

#twilight #twilight fanfiction #carlisle cullen #carlisle cullen x reader #twilight x reader #im always in this twilight #iaitt #blurb #jasper hale

[frogs11]

Jon Davis x fem! reader smut

desc: smoking with Jon Davis & fem receiving oral.

“Y/N I got the za!” you look up from your sketch book and see your best friend running at you with a bong and a bag of weed. “fuck yeah!” you closed the sketch book and you moved yourself over to allow room for Jonathan to sit on the bed with you, he sits down and grabs the grinder.

you watch as he grinds the nugs, you catch yourself staring at his hands, he has really beautiful hands. long, thin fingers, black nail polish, lightly chipped. you stand up and turn on your stereo to play some music, metal of course. Jonathan begins packing the bowl on the glass piece. he passes it to you and hands you a lighter. “you can have green” your hand lingers in his for a second longer than usual when accepting the lighter. you take your hit blowing out a cloud of smoke and then passing back to Jon.

after two bowls of complete silence, Jonathan pipes up and says “you know, i’ve kinda always wanted my own band, i just don’t know if i’d be any good at it” I look over to him, half lidded. “what do you think you’d do? like what part of a band?” I grab my bottle of water and take a small drink. “I dunno. Shit, I can play the fuckin bagpipes, but how in the hell is that metal” he laughs and looks down at his nails. “I’m sure you could come up with something. what about singing? can you do that?” I look over to him.

“I’ve never really tried to. I mean, I sing along to songs and no one’s ever told me I sound bad, I’ve gotten compliments a few times actually, I just don’t sing in front of people.” I sit up from my position and look at him. “you should sing me something, if you know the next song that comes on. In all my years of knowing you, Ive never heard you sing and i’m jealous others have” we laughed it off and he agreed.

One by Metallica comes on the radio, I look over to Jon with a smile “cmon, you got this, I know you love this song” he rolls his eyes and sings along once it starts. I looked at him with wide eyes, his voice was really unique, it didn’t have a perfect technique to it, but there was potential. I started feeling my face warm up, I looked away for a second to recollect myself.

“you have such a pretty voice, what the fuck” I blinked at him, his eyes widened and his mouth opened, but quickly closed and he looked down to the ground with a smile and his face warmed up. “thank you” I leaned into him a little closer, not really having a care in the world, looking into his dark eyes. “Y/N” he starts to talk but stops. “what?” I reply smiling. He starts to talk but quits and instead crashes his lips onto mine. I lean into it, kissing him back.

We made out for a few minutes before pulling away and instantly going red, looking away from each other. “um I’m sorry if that was too much” Jon starts to ramble, twisting his hair between his fingers and looking away. I grab his hand and kiss his finger tips. “I never knew how bad I needed that until now” I look up at him, his mouth slightly agape with a look of pure shock.

I push him back, positioning myself on top of him. I look down at him for a second before leaning in and kissing him. One arm wraps around my lower back, the other grabs a fistful of hair. I moan into the kiss when he tugs my hair slightly. He breaks free from the kiss to mutter a “holy fuck” before immediately kissing me again.

I roll my hips down on him earning a low moan of neediness. I smile into the kiss before breaking away. “how far are you wanting this to go?” I look down at him, tucking hair behind my ear. “as far as you want it to go” he relaxes. I blush, “I’ve never actually gone that far…” he smiles, “me neither, we can be each others first?” I nod.

Jonathan and I are now sat in front of each other on our knees, he helps me take my shirt off, leaving me in my bra. His eyes wander down, leaving him red before he looks back up into your eyes. He pulls his own t-shirt over his head, discarding it. I look at him, he was quite thin, a bit of hair on his chest… further down, a happy trail. I bit my lip at the sight before looking back up and smiling. I reach my arms behind my back and unclasp my bra, slowly sliding the straps down my arms. Jonathan’s breathing hitched when the bra finally dropped.

Jon instantly lunges forward, pushing me back onto the bed, he’s swiftly on top of me, lower half between my legs. “I’ve always thought you were beautiful but damn, I was wrong, you’re gorgeous” he connects his lips with mine again, I smile into the kiss, feeling loved. This was a new feeling, I’d never had luck with relationships, I’d never felt anything like this before. His right hand travels to my waist and traces my side up to my ribs. He breaks the kiss and looks at me “can i?” he asks, lightly tracing underneath my right tit. “please” I closed my eyes, waiting for his hand to connect, and that it did. He gently cupped me, lightly squeezing. I opened my eyes looking at him, the look of pure admiration on his face was enough to make my legs close around him. He moves down leaving kisses on my chest, he kisses my nipple before taking it into his mouth.

I moan his name quietly, arching my back. He disconnects and positions himself lower, his head is now between my legs. My eyes open wide “oh my god” I blush looking away. “is it okay?” he looks at me for confirmation. I cover my face but nod, he reaches forward and uncovers my face, he moves back down, pulling my shorts down over my ankles, underwear following. I squeezed my legs closed, embarrassed. He grabs one of my hands and holds it, resting at my side. his free hand opens my legs from my knees. His eyes break contact with mine and goes straight between my legs, the look on his face was enough to leave me soaked.

He leans in closer, leaving kisses on my inner thighs and on my clit, I close my eyes and squeeze his hand tighter, he licks a stripe between my folds making my back arch. I whined at this new feeling, he instantly became infatuated with this activity, he began licking and sucking on my clit harder, slowly learning a technique and forming a consistent pattern, he listened to my body’s reactions and continued doing whatever made my body ache for more.

His free hand snakes between my legs as well, his middle finger teases my entrance, I throw my head back in pleasure when his digit enters, he slowly adds a second and begins pumping in and out slowly. The sound of my wetness was embarrassing but he seemed to love it, he quickly went back to work on me with his tongue, now with his added fingers, it was pure ecstasy. “my god Jon” I panted chasing my high. I felt a pressure build in my stomach, my breathing became quicker, my moans became more whiny and eager. “Jon I think i’m gonna..” I was cut off by my orgasm. I covered my mouth with my hand tightly, muffling my noises as I thrashed a little, my legs shaking as Jonathan watched, his fingers still at work making sure I got the best of my high.

Once it died down and I was able to speak again i lifted my head to look at him, his face was bright red and had a little side smile. I smiled at him, he immediately pulled me in to cuddle for a minute, he held me close and stroked my hair. “you’re seriously perfect to me, I think i’m in love with you” he kissed the top of my head. “I think I love you too Jon.”

part 2?

#jonathandavis #korn band

[kirakiwiwrites]

This one was kind of tough, not going to lie! Not sure if the word was right of not, but we still had fun writing this. Thanks for all the nice comments on our first one! For this entry, we are going back to before Kurt and Blaine had children. This one is slightly longer. Enjoy!

Thanks @klaine-word-scramble for the fun!

Don’t Know Whether It’s Morning Or Night:

(Aug 3 entry - 2151 words)

“Rachel Barbara Berry. Do you know what time it is?”

“I’m sorry Kurt! I need you!”

“Well, I need sleep. I have an early dress rehearsal in the morning and the rest of my day is packed.”

“And I don’t need sleep? You think it’s easy for me to function like this?” She shrilly continued to rant as Kurt pulled his phone away from his face, nose wrinkling. He knew he wouldn’t get a word in edgewise until she tired herself out. Plus, there was all the background noise. Crying and screaming rang in his ears, causing him to want to end the call.

His husband stirred in the bed beside him, blinking owlishly and rubbing his eyes as he groaned at what time it was. “Who is that?” Blaine asked, his voice raspy from sleep.

“Guess,” Kurt replied grumpily as he smacked his forehead repeatedly with his phone. Rachel’s tinny voice squawked from it.

Blaine huffed and fell back into his pillow. His breath blew his loose curls from his forehead. “Does she know what time it is?”

“Mhm.”

“You should never have done it in the first place,” Blaine said ruefully. He got really grumpy when he didn’t get sleep.

Kurt sighed and slipped from their warm bed and trudged into his living room, knowing if he lingered he would keep Blaine awake. One of them should get to sleep. He stared at the rain that pattered on the windows as he got comfortable on his couch. She was still going. “Rachel! Shut up!”

“Kurt! Pleeeeeease! Just do it one time! I won’t call for the rest of the night! I’m desperate here!” She sounded on the verge of tears, but to be fair she could cry on command so he wasn’t really moved.

“This is your crotch goblin,” Kurt snapped. “We are not co-parenting! Why should my sleep be interrupted?” Now, he truly loved Rachel’s son like he was his own blood, but two weeks of having his sleep disrupted made him a little grouchy.

“Hey! You love Brice! This is just the tiredness talking,” she soothed. “Now, I’m going to do a voice call and if you reject it, so help me Kurt Hummel, I will come over there.”

Kurt rolled his eyes, wishing she could see him do so already. “Where is the child’s father?”

“It’s okay. Shush, now my angel. Uncle Kurt is going to make everything better,” she said to the wailing baby on the other end. Little Brice didn’t even acknowledge her as he screamed again. “Jesse is working on that movie and won’t be back until next week. Now pick up!”

Kurt stabbed the answer button on his screen when it showed up. His screen was immediately filled with a harried Rachel, dark patches heavy under her eyes and hair a rumpled mess twisted up into a lopsided bun. Her nail polish was chipped and unkempt, unusual for her. She looked worse than she had that time in high school when she had gotten sick and depressed because she thought she would never sing again. His sour mood softened at the way her lip quivered as if she was seconds from crying and then he melted at the scrunched face of her four month old. Brice’s chubby cheeks were red and slick with tears and snot from all the crying. Rachel bounced him fruitlessly as he wailed, his little fists balled up and his feet kicking in his footed pajamas. Kurt smiled despite the late hour and ignored how terrible his own hair looked in the corner of the screen.

“Brice? Hey buddy.”

At the sound of his name, Brice immediately ceased his screaming and stared at Kurt on the screen. He hiccuped pitifully and reached for him.

“Hi. What’s the big deal?” Kurt asked softly as he wiggled a finger at the boy. He blinked big, shining brown eyes and babbled something they were convinced was Kurt’s name. “Why are you so upset? Mommy needs sleep and so do you, sweetie. And Uncle Kurt reeeally needs sleep.”

Rachel looked relived the crying had stopped. She kissed his head tiredly and began to wipe off his face with a soft cloth. Brice screeched and tried to twist his head away. “I’m telling you, it’s all the time we spent together when I was pregnant. He learned your voice and now you are the only one he wants.”

Kurt grinned. “Look at you, taking after your mommy and daddy and being the most stubborn, dramatic boy in the world! Yes you are!” He used a light tone and Brice smiled.

“He likes you better than me,” Rachel replied, her voice wobbly. Then she started crying into the cloth she had just used to wiped Brice’s face. He giggled and clapped his hands at her sobs.

Kurt tried not to laugh. “Rachel, that’s not true! Hey, don’t cry! Listen, you’re just tired and alone. It won’t be for much longer. How about I come over tomorrow evening and let you get a nap?”

She sniffled into the cloth and wiped at her face. “If I last that long.”

“You will.” He yawned suddenly and covered his mouth. Brice found this hilarious and cackled, seemingly at how he was making all the grownups in his life miserable. “I’m going to bed, Rach. I’ll check with you on my lunch tomorrow, okay?”

“Wait! You have to sing!” Rachel said desperately. Her voice was still croaky from crying. “Please, Kurt! He won’t sleep otherwise!”

“I thought you could sing?” Kurt asked with a superior look down his nose. “You never skipped an opportunity to tell me you were better.”

Her eyes started to fill like she was about to cry again. Kurt instantly felt bad. “He likes it when you sing. Please?”

He had been planning on making her beg and say he was better than her, but she was about to break and he knew he couldn’t do that to her. So he nodded much to her immense relief and gave Brice a stern look. (But not too stern. He was kind of a sucker for the kid.) “I’ll sing one song and you will go to sleep and stop giving Mommy a hard time. Got it, Brice?”

The baby just smiled at him like he wasn’t being given a talking-to and squealed happily. This was definitely the child of Jesse St. James and Rachel Berry. He did what he pleased.

Kurt cleared his throat and opened his mouth to sing. “‘Bout—“

“Wait!” Rachel interrupted. “You have to do the dance too! He loves the dance.”

“Rachel, it’s too early for choreography,” Kurt replied, exasperated.

“Please?” She gave him a dazzling smile and cuddled her tyrant of a baby who garbled his agreement. “You have to commit to it!”

“Fine,” Kurt hissed out through gritted teeth. “But I’m billing you when my back needs to be realigned from over use.” He stood, his muscles protesting greatly and positioned the phone so that his whole body was in the frame. He grumbled about how Rachel better not say anything negative or else and got into position. He remembered most of the choreography from back in glee club, but he didn’t worry about making it look good this early in the morning. “'Bout twenty years ago, way down in New Orleans. A group of fellows found a new kind of music. And they decided to call it... JAZZ.”

Brice giggled madly and clapped his little hands before wrapping his small arms around Rachel’s neck and snuggling into her neck. Rachel smiled and rested her cheek on top of his downy soft head. As Kurt went through the whole of Le Jazz Hot, the baby’s eyes glazed over and slid closed. By the end, he was fast asleep and Rachel snuggled him close. She looked as if she had started to doze off herself.

“Thank you so much, Kurt,” she whispered. “I have no idea why he won’t do that when I sing it. I even dance for goodness sake.”

Kurt smiled and his heart flipped with fondness for the sleeping boy in her arms. “The boy knows talent, what can I say?” He chuckled at her answering glare. It was a testament to how exhausted she was that she didn’t even argue. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

She nodded and started to say goodbye, but a violent yawn consumed her as his screen went dark.

He really did feel for her, even if it was ruining his own sleep. He had no idea why him performing that particular number put the child to sleep, but it did. He did it one time a few weeks ago and nothing else since had worked quite as well.

Rubbing his face tiredly, Kurt shuffled back to bed and was happy to slip back under the covers next to his snoring husband so warm and comfy. He tried not to wake him, but Blaine was a light sleeper. He snuggled up closer to Kurt and sleepily smacked his lips. Kurt got into his favorite position, Blaine’s head tucked under his chin with his arms around his shoulders and a leg hooked around Blaine’s. He closed his eyes, willing sleep to swallow him up again when he heard Blaine’s quiet murmur.

“Le Jazz Hot?”

“Yes. Le Jazz Hot.”

“Why don’t you just record it?”

“We tried that. Rachel says he knows it’s not authentic and starts crying again as soon as it’s over.”

Blaine puffed a soft laugh against his collar bone. “That kid is too smart for his own good.”

“Mhmm.”

Kurt had nearly drifted off again when Blaine wiggled a little.

“What do you think about us losing more sleep?”

Kurt kept his eyes closed, but scratched lightly at Blaine’s back. “Honey, normally I would be right there with you, but I’m so damn tired. Wake me up thirty minutes early and I’ll blow you in the shower.”

“Well, now I’m a little turned on, thanks. But I meant like… what if we had our own little Brice to make us lose sleep?”

At this, Kurt’s eyes popped open and he looked down at Blaine who was smiling up at him from his chest. “Seriously? You want a baby?”

Blaine laughed with way too much sunshine for whatever beastly hour it was. “Yes I do. We’ve talked about it before. We both have good jobs now and I don’t know… seeing how you take care of Brice just makes me fall more in love with you.” He toyed with the collar of Kurt’s silk pajama shirt. “You are just so good with him, I know you’d be such a good dad to our own. What do you think?” He smiled up at him hopefully.

“I don’t know…”

Blaine’s smile began to fade away.

“What if they sleep even less than Brice?”

Blaine’s sad frown twisted into annoyance and he playfully poked Kurt’s chest. “Don’t scare me like that. Seriously, what do you think?”

“I think you will be a great dad too and I would love to have a baby with you.”

The sunshine was back full force as Blaine crawled up and kissed Kurt’s lips softly and deeply. Kurt caught his face in his hands and held him there. Even when they pulled back, Blaine stayed close to Kurt’s lips. “I’m so excited I don’t know if I can go back to sleep.” Kurt adored how happy he looked and was certain he was going to approach fatherhood with as much love, enthusiasm, and care as he did everything else in his life. Kurt couldn’t wait.

“Well, why don’t you come up with some names you like and I’m going back to sleep.” He shut his eyes again, intent on doing just that.

“Kurt! Stay awake and dream with me!” He bounced the bed a little so that Kurt bounced with it. “Should we name our child after our favorite musical like Rachel? Hmm. I suppose Moulin Rouge isn’t a great name for a baby. Elphaba is too much, isn’t it? I don’t know about Glinda. It’s not a bad name, but is it our baby? There’s always Fiyero. Eh. No. What about—“

“Blaine, dearest, when I said come up with names, I meant in your head,” Kurt mumbled, eyes still closed.

He heard Blaine sigh and felt him burrow into his chest again. He was quiet for approximately thirty seconds before he whined and fiddled with Kurt’s top button. “Kurrrrt. Kissing you and talking about our future and you telling me you’ll give me a blowjob made me kind of horny…”

“Blaine.”

“Ugh. Fine. But don’t think I’m not waking you up like you said.”

Kurt didn’t reply since he fell asleep in the middle of what Blaine was saying. Blaine just grinned fondly at him and closed his own eyes, dreaming about what the close future would hold. He couldn’t wait!

Words used:

Angel

Rain

Linger (lingered)

Glare

Nail

Rang

Realign (Realigned)

#klaine-word-scramble #klaine word scramble #klaine #klaine fanfiction #fanfic #kirakiwi #blaine anderson #kurt hummel #oneshot

[seacee16]

when petals fall | bangchan

bang chan x original female character

warnings: mention of a panic attack

prev chapter // next chapter

!! FULL STORY ON AO3 !!

ch. 18 ~ when panic hits

To say she was confused by the flurry of knocks at her door the next morning was an understatement. Lilli was four hours into a long shift at the hospital, and Soo-yun should have been in the middle of a class – both of which knew the code to get in.

Sakura pulled herself up from the couch, where she had been watching a series of animated movies to occupy her mind until it was time for her friends to get back. She shivered as her blanket fell from around her, making a mental reminder to turn up the heating on her way back. Nothing but an empty hallway could be seen through the peephole, so she pulled on the handle and let the door swing open. Thus came her second round of confusion.

“Hi.”

Hyunjin looked tired. His grey attire blended in with the dull paint of the building’s corridor, hands hidden in his pockets and hair tucked beneath a hood. Guilt filled her chest at the sight of his sad smile. The worry in his eyes preventing his smile from reaching them. He stepped into the apartment, setting his shoes to one side before venturing deeper, the girl hot on his heels, but quiet the entire time. With a big ‘oof’, he dropped himself onto the thick velvet-covered couch cushions, allowing his strained body to sink into it. He sighed.

“How are you?” She almost laughed at the question. He frowned.

“I’m…managing. I guess.”

“You guess?”

“I think.”

“You think?”

Sakura glared at him, seeing the idol grin back at her. “How are you even here right now? There’s no way this is allowed.”

“What? Of course, it is. We’re allowed to visit non-idol friends, you know, noona,” he said with a shrug, as if company rules were common knowledge to everyone. Even so, it seemed wrong.

The girl folded her arms over her chest, an eyebrow raised as she asked, “Even when said ‘non-idol friend’ is currently involved in a dating scandal with your group leader?”

“What they don’t know won’t hurt them.”

“Hyunjin-“

“Noona, relax. It’s okay, I swear. Two weeks is pretty much over. They can’t keep us locked up forever.” Sakura pulled on the chain around her neck anxiously, an action that easily caught the other’s attention. The playful shine in his eyes dimmed, immediately replaced with worry. Hyunjin motioned for her to sit down, scooting over so that she could drop to the cushion next to him. When she did, he observed her. Properly observed her. There were dark bags under her eyes, the shadow dulling the golden hue of her eyes. Half her hair was clipped back messily, while the rest grazed her shoulders in slightly knotted waves. The freckles across the bridge of her nose were more prominent, contrasting with the pale of her skin after hiding indoors for days on end. She looked tired and stressed, and, in her, he saw a reflection of his leader. “You can talk to me, Sakura. What’s on your mind?”

“Do you want something to drink? Water? Tea? Anything?” He knew what she was doing, but he wouldn’t push. It was hard to open up to people, Hyunjin knew that. So, he opted for a drink and watched the girl busy herself in the kitchen a few steps away.

The whistle of the kettle grew softly as the water boiled; two mugs laid out on the counter in front of Sakura. Her eyes fell to her chipped nail polish. What was on her mind? Or more accurately, what wasn’t? Her mind had been swimming for days, every cognitive thought drowned out by the negatives. Every scenario worse than the last. It was impossible to focus on just one. But she tried. Once the water was warm and the drinks were steaming, she carried them to the lounge with shaky hands. Hyunjin thanked her, taking the darker blue mug into his cold hands as she sat down next to him. Staring down at the liquid held within glass walls, she saw her thoughts align into a string of words.

“I care about him, Hyun. Way more than I probably should. But how can I not? He is the embodiment of sunshine and hope and I’ve been stuck in this cloud of grief and self-doubt for so long. He is warm and welcoming and his smile feels like home. Ever since otōsan left, I’ve been trying to find that feeling. In family. In friends. Everything just felt so hollow and fake and I couldn’t stand it. Then I saw him smile with those damn dimples and it’s like every hollow part of me was filled with life again.” She didn’t realize the depth of her emotions until she felt the first tear slip down her face, dripping onto the hands clasped around her mug. Carefully, she set it down on the coffee table. “I care. I want him to know that. But I don’t know what to do. He still hasn’t shown any indication that he’s read my texts.”

Hyunjin sighed, mimicking her actions. “If it makes you feel any better, he only replies to us when necessary. Chan-hyung tends to bury himself head-first in his work when something like this happens. It keeps his mind busy. He’ll throw every ounce of his energy into the comeback to distract himself from what he’s feeling.”

“He’s closing himself off again,” she stated, needing no confirmation from the male. After everything, he was still pushing them away. His heart was finally becoming visible over the top of his broken-down walls, and now he was rebuilding them.

“It’s not your fault, noona. He does that. It’s how he processes things.”

“He shouldn’t be alone,” she whispers sadly, watching Hyunjin nod in agreement.

“We feel the same way, but it’s all we can do for him right now. We trust him. If he needs us, he’ll come to us, the same way he does when the roles are reversed and we’re the ones who needs him. Chan-hyung just needs time.” Hyunjin paused, debating over his next words. Eventually, he adds, “He misses you, you know?”

Sakura pulled in a painful breath.

“You may not believe me when I say it, but he does. It’s impossible not to notice. He keeps glancing at his phone throughout our schedule, even when there’s no indication of any new messages. He just stares at the blank screen. Like he’s counting down the minutes until he can talk to you again.”

“Am I terrible for thinking that maybe this is for the best? That we end things as they are?”

“Do you really believe that?”

A hollow laugh fell from parted lips. “I don’t,” she admitted, “but if I see him, I don’t know if I’ll be able to let go.”

“Who said you have to let go?” He asked. “Aren’t you happy?”

“Of course, I am, Hyunjin. I’d be lying to myself if I said that Chan didn’t make me smile. Hell, he makes me so happy that it scared me to my wits to think about what would happen if he left. If I left. If I ever lost him, would I ever be able to feel that kind of raw happiness again? Would I have to live the rest of my life with melancholy moods and mediocre smiles that never reach my eyes? Do I even deserve to be that happy?”

A frown formed on Hyunjin’s face as he listened to her. He turned in his seat, his body facing her fully now. Her eyes remained on her clenched hands, tears threatening to spill over her lower lashes and onto freckled cheeks. She looked torn.

“You deserve nothing but happiness, noona. Words will never be able to describe how much we all care about Chan-hyung – how thankful we are to him for everything he has done. He has put everything and everyone before himself for so long, not even batting an eye at his own wants and needs. He was happy as long as we were. But we want him to be happy for himself. His happiness shouldn’t come from helping us. And recently, he’s been happier. Brighter. Lighter. Like the weight of the last five years were lifted completely. Sure, we were a little skeptical when we found out that he was running around in the dead of night with someone we’ve never met or heard of before. I mean, who wouldn’t be? You can’t trust just anyone when your life is laid out in the spotlight. But then we saw how wide he smiled when you texted him, how relaxed and fluid he seemed during dance practice. Then Jeju happened, and we got to know the amazing person responsible for these changes.” The small lashes did nothing to hold back the tears as they slipped down her face. Sincere brown eyes stared into her own as Hyunjin continued, “I know you wanted to go alone. Not because you didn’t need him there, but because you didn’t want to cause him, or us, any trouble. But that night that Felix called you, you dropped everything and came to help Chan-hyung. Did you really think he wouldn’t do the same?”

“Hyun-“

The male grabbed her hands in his, his thumbs wiping the stray tears that had fallen onto her fists. He held her tightly. With a pure smile on his face, Hyunjin said, “You’re just like him, Sakura. You make a few small mistakes and suddenly you believe that you don’t deserve love or happiness or anything good that this world has to offer, when in reality, it’s the exact opposite. You deserve love. You deserve happiness. And you deserve the love and happiness that you feel with Chan. Don’t let anyone try to convince you otherwise.”

She couldn’t help it. Sakura leaned forward and buried her face in the shoulder of the dancer, hidden in time for a sob to be heard. Hyunjin wrapped his arms around her shoulders and gently rubbed a hand up and down her back as she cried. He could feel her hands grab at the thick material of his hoodie, as if to keep herself grounded.

“It’ll be okay, noona. I promise. You’ll both be okay.”

There they stayed, until there were no sad tears left to cry and her breathing had returned to a relatively even pattern. When Sakura pulled out of his embrace, she frantically wiped her face with her sleeves, hearing the boy chuckled besides her. She felt his hand on her head, ruffling her already messy hair in a brotherly manner.

“Thanks,” she told him, her voice soft.

Hyunjin smiled widely, happy to have helped. “What are friends for?”

The shrill ringing of a phone cut through the air. The idol rummaged through his pockets until he pulled out the device, wincing at the name that flashed across the screen. He mumbled a quick apology before answering. The conversation was quick, Hyunjin telling the person on the other end that he would be back soon before hanging up and setting his phone down.

Before he could say anything, Sakura told him, “Go. I’ll be fine.”

“You sure?”

A nod was all the confirmation he had time for. She walked with him to the door, watching as he pulled on his shoes. No words were needed as he departed. With a final hug, Hyunjin was gone. Sakura sighed deeply as she made her way back to the couch, ready to busy her mind with something else once again. That never happened. Right as she sat down, her own phone was felt vibrating in her pocket. Too tired to check, she answered the call.

“Wow,” a sarcastic voice answers on the other end. Sakura tensed at the sound of her sister’s voice. “She actually knows how to pick up.”

“Why should I when I’m immediately greeted by your sarcasm whenever I do?” she shot back, listening for the scoff that always followed.

Her sister ignored her comment, and said, “I see you’re really enjoying yourself over there, hey, nee-chan. Must be nice to go frolicking around an island with your famous boyfriend without a single thought of home on your mind.”

“Nari, otōsan-“

“No! You don’t get to talk about him like you miss him. You left!”

“And I told you why I had to! Nariko, you saw what his death did to me. I was suffocating, drowning. I had to leave. But…”

Tell her you’re coming home. Just tell her!

But she couldn’t bring herself to tell her. Instead, Sakura asked, “H-How’s okaasan?”

A deep breath was heard on the other end, as if her sister were trying to restrain herself from saying something sarcastic. This time, she gave a civil response to Sakura’s question.

“She’s okay, managing. She misses you. Wants you home.” She felt her heart squeeze painfully tight beneath her ribs.

“I’ll come home soon. I promise.”

There was some mumbling on the other end, with few words coming through. A faint ‘that’s what you said last time’ was heard.

“Nari, I’m sorry-“

“No,” her sister laughed, poison dripping off the word like rain. “No. You’re not sorry. If you were, you would have come back when you said you would. You’d be doing something to fix your wrongs. Instead, you’re off fucking some singer. You said you left to mourn everything. I find it very hard to believe that the grieving process requires getting a boyfriend. So don’t even try to throw out your half-arsed apologies when we both know you’re not really sorry. But do you know what you are, nee-chan? Selfish. You left me. You left okaasan. Left us to grieve on our own without anyone there.”

“That’s not fair, and you know it. I tried to be there, for both of you. I was there every time okaasan cried, every time okaasan couldn’t sleep, and I tried to be there for you too, but you went cold. You didn’t speak or cry or react after that night at the hospital. I was hurting too, Nari, but as the oldest I was expected to be a pillar. That expectation of having to constantly be the strong one – it broke me, Nari. I’d just turned 21, I-“

“And I’m fucking 18!”

The call went silent, nothing but Nariko’s heavy breathing coming through from her end of the line. Sakura tried to speak, but she couldn’t. Her sister was right…

When she tried again, she was cut off. “Forget it. Stay in Seoul for as long as you want. Maybe you’ll be away long enough to not be suffocated when okaasan gets old and dies with only me at her side. Bye, nee-chan.”

“Nari-“

Just like that, the line cut, and Sakura was left in complete silence.

But then came the noise. A growing mix of vibration and ringing that filled her ears until she could hear nothing else; focus on nothing else. The grip on her phone tightened as her hands began to tremble, a dull throb forming in her wrist.

“No,” she whispered to herself. She shook her head, trying to get her hearing to clear. “Stop. You’re fine.”

Nothing happened. It only got worse. A numbness spread to her fingertips as her knees went weak. Sakura pressed her back against the nearest wall and allowed gravity to pull her down, feet sliding out from beneath her. The ringing got louder, the sound just barely masking the ragged breaths she was taking; each one deeper than the last, but never enough. Either the air was less or her lungs had shrunk or she was drowning, but she couldn’t seem to inhale a sufficient amount. Her heart hammered painfully against her ribs, begging to be freed before it burst.

“Stop. Please.”

Her pleads fell on ringing ears, the attack worsening by the second. Shaky fingers were scrambling to find her contacts before she even realized it. Once she did, she noticed the familiar number only one click away. But then it dawned on her. She couldn’t call him. He wouldn’t pick up. He couldn’t pick up.

The device slipped from her grasp, landing on the floor with a light ‘thud’. Instead, Sakura pressed both palms against the smooth wood under her, trying to focus on the cold as her head fell back against the corridor wall.

Through the haze of her disorientation, she heard a faint knock, much like the one she had heard earlier that day. There was no energy to spare. Her mouth opened and closed without any sound, exhaustion seeping into her bones. Surely, they’d leave if she didn’t respond.

The knock came again, a little harder this time. She winced at the noise. On limp limbs, Sakura forced herself to crawl towards the door. Using her weight to pull down on the handle, the door opened.

“Sorry, I left-“

Hyunjin had expected to see a tired Sakura standing before him once the door had fully opened. Instead, he saw her crumpled on the floor, barely strong enough to keep her body upright against the nearest wall. Her head hung forward limply, and he could see her hands trembling in against her thighs. Her shoulders shook as well. She was falling apart.

“Sakura!”

Without removing his shoes, the male stepped into the apartment, closing the door behind him before crouching down besides his friend. He sat down beside her and carefully pulled her into his chest, wrapping both arms around her shoulders. He cradled her, allowing her to lean on him fully. He could feel her hands fist his clothing as she took shaking breaths, each one shakier than the last.

“You’re okay. It’s okay,” Hyunjin whispered into the dark corridor as he held her, rocking them gently.

“I keep hurting them, Hyunjin,” she sobbed into his chest, choking on her words as they tumbled from her quaking lips. “Chan. Nariko. Okaasan. They’re all hurting and it’s my fault.”

“You didn’t hurt him, noona. Chan has a lot of responsibilities, and that gets in the way of his personal life. You didn’t hurt him. If anything, knowing Chan-hyung, he’s probably worried that he hurt you.” Hyunjin rubbed one hand up and down her back as he spoke, his chin resting on top of her head. “As for your family? Everyone grieves differently. They might not understand your way of grieving yet. I think they just miss you.”

Feeling her tremble in his embrace, he frowned. “C’mon, let’s get you off the floor, okay?” Getting nothing more than a weak nod against his collarbone as a response, Hyunjin slid one arm behind her and the other under her knees, lifting her from the ground with little struggle. She tiredly mumbled which room was her and it was a miracle that her words could be deciphered, but he understood. He walked to the instructed room, using his back to lightly nudge open the door before entering. Stepping around scattered clothing and balled-up sketch paper, Hyunjin took extra caution in placing her on the bed at the far end of the room, encouraging her to lay down. She did, barely registering the feeling of the boy pulling a blanket over her shivering frame.

With a small huff, he dropped into the desk chair next to her bed, eyes helplessly drifting to the bits of art all around her room. The mess of pens and papers covering the table top, little catching his eye. A short list of groceries, a slim rectangular ticket, and rough sketches for a new piece. The wall above her desk was covered in lead drawings, some more detailed and inked. Scenery and abstracts. Rough ideas and industrial drawings of random objects. She had been telling the truth in Jeju. Most of her work were inanimate objects. However, he couldn’t help but spot the one mismatched piece in the mosaic. A face. The only face among flowers and famous architecture and old cars. A familiar face.

“I’m sorry,” he heard Sakura whisper. He turned to look at her, but her eyes were focused on something far away. Something that wasn’t there.

“What for?”

“You’re always around when I’m crashing,” she told him honestly. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve never seen me smile.”

Hyunjin knew that she was joking, but that didn’t stop him from brushing a slender hand over her hair and saying, “I have. When you’re with Chan-hyung.”

The words that followed caused his heart to fracture.

“Does he hate me?” She had fresh tears in her eyes, ready to be shed at any moment. And they do fall, despite Hyunjin shaking his head at her claim. How could she think that when he had witnessed the way Chan spoke about her as if Sakura herself had hung the stars in the night sky.

“I don’t think that’s possible, noona,” he admitted. “Give him time. He’ll come back to you.”

<3        <3        <3

Hyunjin had been reluctant to leave. The last thing he wanted was for Sakura to be alone when she was feeling so low, but his ban wasn’t over yet and he couldn’t get into more trouble. So, once she was on the edge of slumber, he showed himself out – double checking to make sure that her apartment door was closed properly before heading back to the dorms.

Walking through the front door, Hyunjin wasn’t surprised to see that he wasn’t the only one still awake. The leader had shuffled into the main area right as he entered.

“You were out quite late,” Chan stated bluntly as he walked towards the kitchen area, no emotion to his tone. On any other day, he would have been on the kid’s case about letting him know where they were in case anything happened. The publicity of their lives made everyday things like leaving the dorm challenging, dangerous even in some cases. But today, the elder’s words seemed empty. Robotic.

“Yeah.” Hyunjin followed him with caution, watching as he filled a mug with water. “I was with Sakura-noona.”

Chan’s hands froze in place, mug only an inch away from his parted lips. The name caused his throat to tighten, his heart clenching in his chest. A small ‘oh’ fell from his mouth as he lowered the ceramics to the table. He wanted to ask about her. How she was, and if she was okay. If he had caused the weight of her sky to grow heavier when he wanted nothing more than to make it weightless.

“I wanted to check up on her, to see if she was okay.”

“That’s nice of you, Hyunjin. I’m sure she appreciated it.”

“I forgot my phone, so I had to go back and get it…hyung, she was crying when I got there.”

This got Chan’s attention. His gaze met Hyunjin’s for the first time that night, worry flooding his eyes. “Is-Is she okay?” Nothing could have stopped his heart from plummeting when he saw the younger shake his head ‘no’.

Without an ounce of hesitation, as if finally awake to what was going on, Chan sat down at the table and said, “Tell me.”

And that’s exactly what Hyunjin did.

#angst #bang chan #changbin #comfort #fluff #han jisung #hyunjin #lee felix #i.n #lee know #christopher bang #seo changbin #kim seungmin #seungmin #lee minho #hwang hyunjin #you make stray kids stay #skz stay #stray kids #fanfic #Spotify

[nightwingshero]

WIP I’m Always Late To These Things

I was tagged by @simonxriley @detectivelokis @aceghosts @sstewyhosseini thank you lovelies!!! 

Tagging: @playstationmademe @jinfromyarikawa @marivenah @direwombat @ghastlyrider @voidika @shegetsburned @socially-awkward-skeleton @minilev @fadedjacket @vampireninjabunnies-blog @strafethesesinners @cobb-vanthss @glowwormsmith and anyone else who would like to share!

I don’t know how but I managed to skip right over writing for RDR2 to writing for Resident Evil. I don’t know what happened yes I do, I just don’t want to admit that I’m in the merciless grip of Leon Kennedy. I also want to point out that this is very rough, I’m probably going to rewrite this because I’m just throwing words down to get the scene out of my head. Don’t @ me. 

My heart was pounding almost as loud as my boots were against the wet concrete, making me wince with each step I had to take. Everything in me was begging me to turn around, but I couldn’t. Sitting ducks meant that I was just a trapped animal waiting for slaughter and I refused to be helpless as the world around me went to shit—if I was going to die, I’d do it with a shotgun and my middle finger in the air, chipped black nail polish and all.

But it wasn’t that drastic urge to fight like some heroine in a sci-fi movie that had me leaving the odd comforts of the tattoo shop I was holed up in once shit hit the fan. No, I wasn’t some alien-slaying badass like in the movies, I was scared shitless and the only thing that had me stepping outside was the crash I had heard. Close enough for me to tell it was a semi and enough to make me almost piss myself from the jump scare it caused. But I sucked it up and held the cool metal and wood in my hands as the rain poured, making my hold tighten even more. The black tears began to run clear hours ago, the rain and constant need to wipe my face with shaky hands forcing any remaining eyeliner off. In a city full of zombies, it was nice to know that I looked less like a psycho clown and more like a drowned rockstar with a shotgun.

I wasn’t sure which was worse if I were being honest.

The rain just continued to seep into my clothes, my oversized flannel no longer protecting me from the elements as it clung to my skin, the tank top underneath wasn’t much better off. It was the skinny jeans that were the most irritating. Wet jeans were annoying at best, hard to move in at worst, but I was sure that it was the least of my issues as I came to an abrupt stop, my breath catching in my throat. I took a step closer to the brick building, ducking down only slightly from behind a taxi that had crashed off the street, as I watched silently. There were two of them, one next to a pile of cars as they burned, the other standing in the middle of the road as it shuffled aimlessly. They both mumbled, groaning things that were too low for me to hear over the rain as it splattered against the yellow metal of the car. Letting out a slow, unsteady breath, I began to make my way around the car just as it turned and walked back towards its friend.

Once the way was clear, I made a mad dash to the alleyway and made a quick turn at the end.

It was a mistake. Mostly because I didn’t look before bolting down the secluded area or that I didn’t take a second to hear the horrid noises coming from it. All it took was a couple of seconds. In the first, we had both rounded the corner at the same time. The next had us lifting our weapons simultaneously as my heart hammered so hard I thought I would suffer from cardiac arrest in the filthy alley of Raccoon fucking City. My hands shook at the thought. I was terrified and I couldn’t quite bring myself to care if he saw it or not, not as my shotgun was aimed right at his chest as I took the next second to take him in.

He was calmer than me, not by much, but the way he pulled his gun and held it told me enough that he was comfortable enough to handle himself. I had a bad feeling about the implications as he shifted his weight on his feet just slightly. The rain was making his brown hair dark, his blue eyes clear as he watched me, though it made me feel as if he was seeing way more than I had. I couldn’t help but wonder how I looked to him, beanie sogging wet and stuck to the long black hair that was long plastered to my cold skin. I hoped it wasn’t how my hands shook slightly.

“Whoa, easy now. Put the gun down.” he ordered softly, as if he knew the words to say but hadn’t had them leave his tongue often enough for them to feel quite right.

“Fuck you.”

#oc: wren blake #leon kennedy #x: my little dark age #resident evil #my ocs drawing #my writing #tag game #listen #i love them #and i just wanna write them dammit #it just happens that this is really shitty #because I'm still figuring shit out #and its super late for me on a work night #imma sleep now

[jublian]

Marauder Headcanons

(Wolfstar, Dorlene, Everyone is Queer)

Sirius (he/ him) tries to sit in a new seat every class. It annoys everyone. The girls think he’d be good in bed, but he’s never even kissed anyone (before Remus, obvs). He has a sharp memory, quick wit. One day he wonders why the girls can wear skirts or trousers, arrives to breakfast in a skirt. “It’s a crime to cover these knees”.

Remus (he/him) writes erotica and never wakes up early. He’s interested in men, but Lily confuses him. Unstoppable crush on Sirius Black. In fifth year, he goes to Nocturn alley and finds a second-hand book about a werewolf. He tracks down the previous author, who also has lycanthropy. It’s an old lady in Hogsmede. They have tea together every fortnight.

Lily (she/ her) applied to write for the school paper, was refused bc pureblood corruption. She starts an underground school magazine, called The Grunt, instead (which Remus submits erotica to). When in need of a confidence boost, she wears her fancy lingerie set under her school uniform

James (he/they) walks everywhere fast. He’s a picky eater (wont touch spinach). His party trick is balancing with one leg on an dustpan and brush, then enchanting it to fly. After becoming head boy, he schedules weekly prank-dates with Sirius. Doesn’t realise he’s bisexual until Sirius says that, yes, thinking about men while wanking ‘counts’

Peter (he/him) laughs easily, makes friends easily. The marauders are the one group he was desperate to be a part of. Reads true crime novels in bed while eating sour lollies. People are surprised by how good he smells.

Marlene (she/they) is tall and gangly. Bleached blonde rock n roll mullet. The boys think she’d be prettier if she didn’t walk so weird. They do the artwork for Lily’s paper- black ink caricatures that swim around the page and pull faces. She wears colourful nail polish, which is always chipped

Dorcas (they/ them) has long braids and glasses. A dry sense of humour, a sweet personality. A movie buff, a good sibling, a comics nerd. Duelling club leader. Sirius once challenged them to a staring match, which they won. He’s been kinda scared of them since, because he cheated for it. Bonded with Marlene over movies. They started dating in sixth year.

I wrote a marauders fic! It’s a collection of short scenes, with a wolfstar focus. WIP. Check it out here:

#marauders #marauders fanfiction #remus lupin #remus x sirius #sirius black #wolf star #wolfstar #lily evans #james potter #peter pettigrew #headcanon #marauder headcanons #hogwarts #harry potter #jily #dorlene #queer romance #marlene mckinnon #dorcas meadowes #regulus black #hp text post #lqbtqia

[asmochic]

I had an interview with the biggest fashion magazine in the Devildom a little while back. The issue is coming out tomorrow, so be sure to get it if you want to learn my dirtiest secrets! Ehehe. ❤

...

Hm.

You know, the interview went well, but they did ask me one question that tripped me up. It was about my fondest memory. All of the questions before that were about fashion and the like, so I wasn't really expecting that.

I ended up making something up about my fondest memory being my first sponsorship or whatever, but I don't think that's true. (Though, it is up there!)

If I had to choose one, I think it would be the time Satan let me paint his nails of his own accord. Before that, I would have to do his nails while he was sleeping. I didn't want him to feel left out, even though he would sometimes wake up in the middle of it and attack me. Eek!

But, one day, Satan went up to me and stuck his hands in my face. I was really confused at first, and he refused to tell me anything, so I had no idea what he wanted.

After a few seconds, Satan mumbled something, and I looked down and saw that his nails were chipped. He was asking me to do his nails. ❤

I really, really wanted to tease him for being so shy and cute about it. His face was sooo red, and he kept pouting, too. Aw, it was so precious. I felt like Satan was my younger brother in that moment.

...To be honest, I think I was too elated to do anything other than get a vial of nail polish and paint his nails like he wanted. I had been trying so hard to let Satan feel as though he truly belonged with our family, and it was the first time that he had reached out to make a connection with us.

It was a really nice moment.

#asmodeus #satan #obey me #text #roleplay

[monpetitchattriste]

Merry Christmas @ladybugs-and-black-cats ! Sorry I am a little late, this story kinda got out of hand. I hope you enjoy it.

Thank you @mlsecretsanta for hosting!

Rating: Teen

Chapters: 1/2

Relationship: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug

Tags: Post-Magic Reveal, Pre-Relationship, Romance, Flirting, Dancing, Hurt/Comfort ,Angst,Fluff

Summary: Between finding out Adrien is Chat Noir, denying feelings, and the formal winter dancing coming up, everything is 'completely fine' in Marinette's life. Nothing can go wrong at all, right?

Marinette was used to a noisy room between the kwamis and Alya; there was always some type of ruckus.

Since she lost the Miraculous, her room had been painfully silent. She knew she would get them back. Until then, she had someone new to fill her room with annoying sounds.

The quiet hum of the sewing machine filled the room, a pleasant, comforting sound that she enjoyed. But the constant random thumping coming from the other side of the room was anything but enjoyable.

Glancing over her shoulder, she watched as he threw the ball for yarn, letting it hit her wall and then bounce on the floor before he finally caught it.

Pulling the sheer fabric tighter, Marinette tried her hardest to focus on her project, but the repetitive sound was going to drive her insane. She finished up her last section before turning around to face the person causing the noise.

Adrien was laying on her chaise, head hanging off the edge, feet propped up on the back. Snatching the ball of yarn, he threw it against the wall again.

Seizing the moment, she stopped and studied him. With her small window open, the evening sun caught the glass. Hues of colors from the mix-match window washed over him.

As he caught the soft yarn, she watched his hands - that still had chipped nail polish from a few weeks back. She could let herself spiral thinking about the whole thing. There were other things that she needed to focus on.

Marinette shook the thoughts from her mind. Standing up from her chair, she reached up and tried to stretch out the stiffness in her back.

“You are being really distracting, minou.”

As he caught the ball, he turned around in the chair to sit upright. His hair fell into his eyes. It was a wonder how she never realized he was Chat.

“Paw'don me, my lady. But I am pawsitively bored. And there is nothing fur this cat to do." While he loved watching her work the whole evening, he also wanted to spend more time with her.

His whole world had changed even since he learned that she was Ladybug. His once isolated, bleak life was now filled with light and warmth. And he wanted to do everything in his power to be by the person who brought that to him.

"That was not your best pun. The dance is this weekend. I need to get this dress done." She shook her head at him. Walking over to him, she grabbed the ball of yarn from him.

“You could go to the dance in a paper bag and still look beautiful.”

“And you are just a huge flirt. I bet you say that to all the girls.”

“You are the only girl I flirt with.” Adrien grabbed her hand and placed a small kiss on her knuckles.

“With a face like yours, I find that really hard to believe.” If he had been transformed, she would have flicked his bell, but sadly he wasn’t.

“Oh, so you think my face is nice.”

“I didn’t say that. You are just mildly attractive. Not that I am attracted to you! But from a designer’s perspective, you are handsome! But not in a way that I am attracted to!”

Adrien chuckled, “So…” He stood up and leaned closer to her, “did anyone ask you to the dance?”He was going to ask, but then Alya and Nino made plans for them to go as a group.

She could feel the slight warmth creeping up into her cheeks. “You are practically with me every second of the day. You would have known if someone asked me." Marinette rolled her eyes as she shoved him away playfully.

There was one person who Marinette had hoped would have asked. But he didn’t, and she wouldn’t blame him, even if it hurt slightly.

But things had been weird and different since their identities had been revealed. They spent almost every waking minute together. But neither of them knew quite how to act around the other. Marinette regularly noticed Adrien looking in her direction with a longing gaze. But they still acted as if they were more than best friends, denying all of their feelings for each other.

Marinette knew Chat was in love with Ladybug but did that mean Adrien was also in love with her? It was so confusing sometimes with all these unspoken words that neither dared to say.

"That is true, and sometimes I even spend the night." And did he cherish those nights. Between the family dinners and game nights, Marinette’s home was as much his as it was hers. Going back to his cold house got harder each time.

If Marinette wasn't blushing, she was now. Sometimes it was too late and cold to send him home, so it was easier for him to stay. And with the bonus of a better night's sleep, Marinette preferred it when he stayed over.

"You don't have to go announcing it to the world. People might get the wrong idea about us."

"It's just us. And what idea might that be my lady." His face was dangerously close to hers. He

wanted her to say it. That they were more than just friends? He saw the way that she glanced at him when she thought he wasn’t paying attention. But where Marinette was concerned, he was always paying attention.

"That we are more than friends," Marinette answered as she stepped back.

"Oh, now we don't want that." His voice was a mix of sultry and hurt. She was going to be the death of him. He wanted nothing more than to be more than just friends with her. But did she? Marinette loved Adrien, not Chat Noir. And since they were the same person, maybe her feelings had changed. Or they were just overcomplicating things like they always did.

Marinette was confused by the slightly hurt tone in his voice, but she decided to ignore it. Because reading too much into it might end up hurting someone's feelings. And that was the last thing she wanted.

"No, we don't." She whispered more to herself than him. "Anyways, I need to get back to my dress."

"What if we watched a movie together instead? I purr-omise to be a good cat and let you finish the dress afterward." Adrien looked at her with pleading eyes, knowing she wouldn’t say no to him.

Marinette rolled her eyes. "Fine. One movie." She couldn't say no to that face. "But I get to pick. Otherwise, we will end up watching Tangled for the billionth time."

"It's a great movie." Adrien shrugged his shoulders.

She hummed in response as she began to set up her computer. After searching for a few minutes she decided on Another Cinderella Story- the one with Hillary Duff, of course.

Adrien had moved the chaise to face the computer and piled several blankets. Shifting the blankets around, he made a spot for her.

Once she finished setting up the movie, she laid down next to him. Instinctively he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close. He could feel how tense her body was against his. Slowly he traced small circles on her arm, hoping it would help her relax.

He wanted nothing more than just to make her feel comfortable around him. Even after a month of knowing their identities, he could still feel how tense she would sometimes become. He noticed it the most when she started stumbling over her words-one of the many quirks he loved about her.

And because of how tense she would be around him, he didn’t ask her to the winter dance. He didn’t want to cause her any distress. Plus, it was already unspoken that they were going together.

Even so, he made sure that his suit matched her dress perfectly. They would look like they were together. Because at the end of the night, he would tell her how he felt. He was tired of this dance between them. He wanted her to be his.

About halfway through the movie Marinette fell asleep. And Adrien didn’t dare disturb her until the movie was over. Knowing she was going to need sleep. He knew she would spend the next week forgetting all the essentials trying to get this dress done.

Adrien placed a small kiss on her forehead before slipping out from behind her to turn off her computer.

Carefully he picked her up and took her to her bed. The last thing she needed was to wake up with a sore neck.

He tucked her in and was about to leave when he felt her grab his wrist.

“Please stay.” She groggily asked him.

Her half-open drowsy eyes and messy hair were all it took to convince him to stay.

“Okay.” Adrien knew he would hear about this in the morning when he didn’t return home, but he didn’t care.

He moved the covers and settled down beside her. Within seconds she had turned over and rested her head on his chest. He began threading the ends of her hair through his fingers, letting the motion pull him into a peaceful sleep.

#miraculous ladybug #ml secret santa

[blackbird0blog]

Naruto Fanfic Recs

An amazing OC-insert that needs more love. The characterisation is great, and I'm really looking forward to seeing where the author will take us!

Summary: Itachi and Kisame pick up a strange boy from a primitive tribe who accidentally transported himself to the elemental nations... from another universe. These guys may call themselves ninja, but Mirya's pretty sure they're ultra badass gods, whom he has happily apprenticed himself to.

Preview:

The lonely crossroad inn is peaceful beneath the paling stars, the air cool and damp but holding the promise of another hot day once the sun rises. Itachi hesitates, staring up at the one lit window on the second floor. He’s trying to figure out why Kisame isn’t alone. 

There’s a second person there, on the opposite side of the room from Kisame, both of them holding still. The Sharingan can’t see chakra through walls very well; all he can tell of this second signature is that it’s child-sized and quiescent. That doesn’t guarantee it’s not a threat. He knows, much better than he wants to, how young killers can be. But considering Kisame’s love of battle, he supposes if there was going to be a fight it would already have happened. Try as he might, he can’t think of any reason why Kisame would’ve picked up a child. It’s too soon to collect jinchuuriki. Kisame isn’t the charitable type, nor is he a pervert. They haven’t taken any kidnapping missions. They’re not recruiting at the moment, not that he knows of. What can this possibly be about?

While paranoia has always served him well, at this point he’s just getting eaten by mosquitoes for no reason. He leaps lightly to the narrow balcony and slips in the window. 

His first glance tells him Kisame is genuinely relaxed, lounging at the low table with a nail clipper and a bottle of umeshu, so he can take his time studying the other person in the room: a skinny red-haired boy sprawled starfish-like on a futon, covers shoved aside and pillow soaked in drool, wearing nothing but — “Is that my underwear?”

“Well, mine would be too big,” Kisame says reasonably. “No need to whisper, he’s dead to the world.”

“Mine should be too big as well.” He’s fourteen, not… whatever this boy is, eight or nine.

“Safety pins.”

“Why do you have my underwear? What happened to his?” It’s a silly thing to get stuck on, but he can’t seem to let it go. His relationship with Kisame is not one that admits to underwear. There’s a professional distance. This is outside his comfort zone.

“It was in my laundry, no idea how long it’s been there. Have you eaten? I saved you nimono and a couple rice balls.”

Itachi doesn’t sigh, because he isn’t expressive like that, but the impression is there in the slow way he turns to the table. Still, he’s not angry, only confused, and Kisame is the most tolerable of his new colleagues. “Thank you, Kisame-san,” he says politely, and doesn’t speak again until he’s finished the cold stewed vegetables and rice. Kisame returns to his manicure, trimming rough callus and hangnails that might catch on clothing or be a distraction, touching up the lacquer. When he finishes eating, Itachi takes the bottle of remover and gets to scrubbing off the chipped black stuff he has on. “May I borrow your lacquer? I’ve run out of mine.”

“Are you sure you want to match?” the swordsman rumbles with gentle humor. “What if the other missing-nin make fun of us?” Itachi’s flat look only makes his smile wider, but he hands over the bottle of purple.

When he first joined Akatsuki, Itachi thought the nail polish part of the uniform was rather silly, but it actually does help keep his nails from peeling or splitting after exposure to harsh weather, fire jutsu, and so on. Even Konan can’t make him care what color he uses, though.

After fifteen minutes of silence, Kisame finally gets tired of waiting for him to ask, and says, “He walked up to me in the road and asked if I’m a god. He thinks he’s dead and this is the afterlife.”

“Why is he in our room?” That’s the thing that most needs explanation, in Itachi’s opinion.

Kisame ignores that. “Wait until you see what he was wearing. As far as I can gather — which isn’t very far, because he was drugged out of his tiny mind — his clan decked him in gold and drowned him in a bog. He was supposed to ask the gods to save them. He’s declared himself my servant in exchange for sending them good fishing.”

“Kisame.”

“If I hadn’t let Samehada have a snack, his chakra would be announcing us to the world right now. He’s got tons of it and no control at all. Didn’t seem to understand what I was talking about when I mentioned it, and his calluses look like boat work, not weapons, so I’m guessing he was raised civilian. He must have pulled some kind of instinctive teleportation jutsu on the verge of death.” 

“Kisame, are you saying a civilian child invented something like Senju Tobirama’s Hiraishin while drowning?”

“Why not? Red hair, blue eyes, outrageous chakra, sealing tattoos, comes from a lost clan starving by the sea somewhere? I honestly think ‘ignorant remnant of the Uzu diaspora instinctively teleports somewhere warm’ is more likely than — I don’t even know — someone dunking a kid in ice water and shoving him at us for kicks.” He finally turns to Itachi. Looks him in the eye, unafraid of the Sharingan, which Itachi has always appreciated. “He was hypothermic. Do you know how hot it was today?”

“I’m wearing the same thing you are,” Itachi says dryly.

“Exactly. He was wearing a fur coat, fur-lined boots, and thick wool clothes. Samehada says his chakra tastes like whale. They eat whale in Snow Country, don’t they?”

Itachi studies the boy again. Pale as paper, and thin in a way that says famine rather than growth spurt. There are blue-green geometric shapes tattooed around his bony wrists, and a series of dots, spaced in triangles, on top of one foot. It obviously means something, but the pattern is completely alien. Itachi supposes they could be primitive seals. Sections of his hair are kinked as if they were recently in braids. Itachi blinks at Kisame. “Did you brush his hair?”

Kisame shrugs. “Kid fell asleep in the bath,” he says, as if that’s an explanation.

Itachi is beginning to suspect that Hoshigaki ‘Sharks Eat Each Other In The Womb’ Kisame is not as heartless as he claims to be. Although maybe he just likes being called a god.

#self insert #comedic #original character #kisame #itachi #comedy #naruto fanfiction #fanfic rec

[viv-fonseca]

@khalilhassan​

VIV’S APARTMENT

Viv had enjoyed every moment with Khalil, wine drunk and sugared up. She may have flirted more than she already was, slipped her hand in his when he took her home in a gesture she didn't spend too long picking a part until she fell into a dessert wine slumber. It felt good to see him again. Each time was like a warm embrace from the past, one of the few parts of her youth that wasn't sharp edges and biting words. Khalil was good, kind- she kicked herself for letting time get between them. But Viv was learning more and more as of late that she was shit at keeping in touch and easily fell into the woes of her life and the distractions that followed. And in all the wonderful distractions Khalil had been offering her, she'd yet to tell him the news of Ivan. The first time she could chalk it up to the alcohol. The second, the night was too full of laughter to bring up something terrible, and even now, pressing her shoulder fondly against his, Viv couldn't bring herself to form the words. It almost felt cruel both to tell him and both to have not told him sooner. Pushing her shoulder against his to get his attention, Viv lifted her eyes up at him, a far-off smile on her lips, "So..." She started, "in all our catching up, I've been unsure of how to tell you something." Viv pulled her eyes away, her fingers tangling together in her laps, picking at old nail polish chipped due to how rough she was on her hands. She didn't talk about Ivan, most people didn't have the knowledge of him to ask, and whenever anyone in her family did speak of him, Vivienne found a way to cut the conversation short before their blame could slip into their tone. But Khalil was different, and she wondered when or if he and Ivan had fallen out of touch. Exhaling, she blinked away unshed tears and found the courage to look at him as she spoke with her voice low and controlled. "In September -" She paused, "I should have told you sooner." She continued, her knuckles stretched thin and white, "We were going to dinner, walking a few blocks Ivan and I." She explained finding it more difficult than she imagined to retell a story ten months gone. Her chin quivered, and Viv swatted at her, preemptively slid the side of her palm under her eyes, her fingers catching tears before they fell over her cheeks. "Some man tried to take our things. Money, watch- jewelry." Viv said, her fingers intuitively wrapping around her bare neck to feel for a necklace she hadn't worn in almost a year. Sniffling, Viv shook her head. He should be spared the details, "Ivan was hurt." She managed to get it out, hoping he could fill in the blanks she couldn't speak aloud. Viv pressed her palms together, shuddering, "He didn't make it, and after, I couldn't stand being there anymore. It's why I left." Finally, she admitted, her tone heavy with all her unspoken shame, "I couldn't face any part of it anymore. I handled it all so poorly." She was still handling it poorly, more so not handling it at all. "I should have told you so much sooner, Khalil. I wasn't sure how. I knew I needed to. You deserved to know...I'm sorry." She ended her palm open for his hand if he needed the comfort, or perhaps it was for herself, looking for something substantial to anchor her in the now.

#death tw #tw death #violence tw #tw violence #mugging tw #tw mugging #tw murder #murder tw #chat. khalil #don't feel the need to match this length its a lot of internal thoughts and feelings