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amistytown · 3 years

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The Brothers Comfort MC During a Panic Attack

This is my first attempt at writing down my headcanons for the brothers, so I apologize if anything is out of character. I meant it to be short and sweet, but it grew out of my control after a while. I’m a perfectionist and wanted to rewrite everything. I made minor edits and am posting it anyway or it’ll sit in my drafts forever; I admit I put the most effort into Lucifer’s, forgive me. Also sorry for the repetitiveness and any typos you may find. I decided to write how the brothers would comfort MC during a panic attack, especially as someone who suffers from anxiety and panic attacks themselves. Honestly, I wrote this as a way to comfort myself since I’ve been dealing with terrible anxiety lately. Of course, everyone experiences anxiety differently, so I can only speak from my own experiences. I didn’t go into detail when it comes to the symptoms themselves because it’s from the point of view of the brothers and only so many are visible to the eye. Trigger warning for depictions of anxiety and panic attacks. Thank you for reading!

LUCIFER

Lucifer is troubled. Following lunch, you disappeared, currently absent from class. This is unlike you, his worry intensifying every minute you’re out of his sight. Yet he maintains his composure, resigning himself to scouring the academy grounds. Time passes at a torturous pace, his thoughts beginning to take a turn for the worst. He contemplates whether to involve his brothers and Lord Diavolo himself at this rate, however the sound of his D.D.D diverts his attention. A wave of relief washes over him at the sight of your name lighting up his screen, chased by frustration at you, your silence, and himself for losing track of you so easily; he couldn’t bear living if anything happened to you under his watch. He expects this behavior from his brothers, not you. Though his heart sinks, the Avatar of Pride uncharacteristically overcome with guilt while he reads your message. Of course, you are not his brothers. He should not have doubted you.

Your texts are apprehensive, a weighty pause between them as you hesitate to lay bare the darkest depths of your soul. He approaches you cautiously, to avoid upsetting you further. Your words alone convey the sheer panic taking possession of you, the last of your strength used to press send. Outside he discovers you, huddled miserably in an isolated corner of the building, swathed in shadow. The desire to shelter you from the world burns within him, but your eyes widen fearfully in his presence, wounding his pride. Immediately, you apologize. Sorry you’re missing class, that you left without telling anyone, and upset him—especially when you’re aware of his busy schedule. You’re sorry for not having the courage to pull yourself together, succumbing to your anxiety, your shame palpable. The hand clutching your D.D.D is trembling, your chest heaving as you struggle to breathe. He aches for you, each tear shed hurting more than the last, your pain managing to touch the very core of his being and set him alight.

If anyone is sorry, it’s him, pride be damned. Kneeling in front of you, he assures you an apology isn’t necessary—your wellbeing of great importance to him. He wants you to rely on him, grateful you confided in him despite your doubts. Hopefully, he can eventually put your mind at ease. His voice low, soothing, he continues to console you, making sure you’re aware he’s not upset, and your feelings are valid. Although he’s not familiar with the inner workings of anxiety itself, he’s willing to listen, learning how to support you to the best of his ability—starting today, providing you’re comfortable accepting his offer. Initially, he prioritized your safety for the sake of the exchange program and Lord Diavolo’s wish to unite the three realms, now it’s merely out of adoration for you, his beloved. Once you’re ready, he’ll let you know you’re not alone. He’s never too busy on your behalf.

Offering you his hand, a smile graces his features as you accept. Slowly, he helps you to your feet, steadying you against him. He notes the way you relax at his touch, shoulders sagging and head coming to rest on his chest. Only you exist in this moment, his gaze not leaving you, not even for a second. Standing in silence until your breathing settles and you regain your balance, he sees you through the height of your attack before escorting you back to the House of Lamentation. He’ll personally excuse you from the remainder of your classes, understanding you need a quiet place to recover. Classical music plays softly in the background of his room, and he’s content to have you in his embrace, drawing you onto his lap after you finish the tea he brewed to calm your nerves. Lucifer pays you special attention, massaging your tired body and kissing you tenderly, his breath fanning across your lips as he reminds you how special you truly are—brave, compassionate, and incredibly loved.

MAMMON

Mammon mourns his loss, wondering how he let them gain the upper hand; admittedly, a foolish mistake on his part. He dreads breaking the news to Lucifer, and the resentment that shows on his brothers’ faces once he confesses does little to ease his mind. Still, he worries about your reaction most of all, knowing his stupidity has put you in a precarious position. In that moment he believes their words—only a greedy scumbag like himself dares to place his human’s happiness on the line. Although certain of his win at the time, he should consider how his actions affect you more often; otherwise, how can he claim he’s the Great Mammon? His confidence is his downfall in the end. Now you’ll suffer along with him. Yet you feign optimism, attempting to soothe everything over despite your innocence. His guilt only grows, a heavy weight on his shoulders. One he deserves.

Three days of waiting on and performing for large crowds at The Fall proves hectic for everyone. He can tell you’re struggling beneath the façade of a composed and hospitable server, going above and beyond to ensure the patrons leave satisfied. Furthermore, you lend him and his brothers a hand, coming to their rescue; it should be him making it as easy on you as possible. His concern for you runs deep, no matter how hard he tries to maintain his usual air of indifference, but you have the nerve to reassure him—it’s meant to be the opposite, dammit. Each night he goes out of his way to check on you, frustrated that you continue to dance around the subject. He can see the exhaustion on your face, hear the slight tremor in your voice, the toll his stupid decision is taking on you, and it stung. You comfort him, even when he’s undeserving, so why won’t you allow him to hold you and kiss the pain away? Not that he’s asked. You should realize by now you can rely on him, right?

Watching you suffer in silence tortures him. He can’t deny it regardless of his best effort to make light of the situation. You barely eat or spend time outside your room, saying you’re tired, which isn’t a lie—working is exhausting, no doubt about it—but he understands you well enough to notice the subtle signs of your anxiety, your smile unable to trick him into believing otherwise. Perhaps you find him as insufferable as his brothers do, or worse, and don’t want to see his face after what he’s done. That doesn’t stop him from showing up at your door, hoping he can offer some form of comfort. However, you keep up appearances, supporting the seven of them during the longest weekend of their lives. You work hard too, his chest swelling with pride as he watches you care for his brothers and customers alike. How can you like an idiot like him? You’re selfless and loving, looking past his flaws to see what lay beneath his sin. His human. His angel. He wants—no needs—you to be okay.

The last day comes and goes in a blur. Finally, he can toss these ridiculous clothes and rabbit ears in the trash and never perform that dance again. Better yet, you’re free of his burden, though the guilt remains. He can’t relax until he’s positive you’re okay, knowing he’s genuinely sorry. Standing outside your room, he tries to muster up the courage to open his heart to you—apologies not his strong suit—when he hears you crying. They’re small, muffled sobs that manage to shake him to his core, blood running cold. Yeah, he should knock, but he can’t control himself, throwing the door open without hesitation and rushing to your side. The sight of your tears is almost too much to bear, and he draws you into his embrace, face heating up at his own moment of vulnerability, but this is about you, not him. He can be strong for you too, telling you everything’s going to be okay, that the Great Mammon is here to help.

After his stupidity, you tell him you were afraid to bother him? He can hardly suppress the shock at your confession, the sadness in your eyes breaking his heart. You wanted to make sure it went smoothly for his sake? You suffer through Hell alone because you chose to put his feelings first? Crazy. Though he thanks you, not completely ashamed to admit he’s touched. However, he tells you that you don’t have to put aside your feelings for his benefit; he prefers to be by your side then know you’re having a rough time on your own. He is your first. Taking the initiative, he asks what he can do to make it up to you, no matter how big or small the request is because he’ll do it in a heartbeat. You opt to stay in his arms, burying your face into his chest, and he wipes away your remaining tears, being as gentle as he possibly can. He can feel how tense your body is, your skin unnaturally warm, and it takes a while until you stop shaking. It’s moments like these he’ll tell you how much you mean to him—that he loves you, okay—and he wants you to come to him for everything. He’ll hold you, taking your hand in his, and kiss you with all the adoration in the world because you’re incredibly important to him. Mammon can attest to that.

LEVIATHAN

Leviathan invites you to his room to play video games, a daily routine the two of you have comfortably fallen into. He loves gaming with you, though on occasion you opt to watch instead, thoroughly enthralled by whatever is on the screen. Miraculously, you enjoy listening to him ramble—whether it’s about the game he’s playing, anime he’s watching, or TSL among other things—genuinely showing interest in his passions; he’s incapable of expressing how truly grateful he is for your company. His heart nearly bursts whenever you compliment him on his gaming prowess, encourage him during a particularly intense battle, or merely tell him how you enjoy hanging out. How in the Devildom did a gross otaku like him get so incredibly lucky? He can hardly believe you love him of all demons. The thought alone sounds crazy lmao.

Unable to contain his excitement, he awaits your arrival that night, ensuring everything is perfect when he hears a knock on the door. However, his smile fades the moment he lays eyes on you, mind beginning to race as he wonders why you look miserable, your gaze trained on your hands. Before he can speak, you apologize, dissolving into tears while you return the game he let you borrow. You’re stuttering, completely winded, and he can barely hear you confess to accidentally corrupting his data in your panic. In fact, he loses track of the number of times you choke out a sorry. He treasures his games, his collection extensive, but he cherishes you most of all. The loss is a minor annoyance, nothing that lessens the feelings he harbors for you. Although difficult, he overcomes his insecurities to show you it’s okay—you’re loved.

Not only are you sad, but you’re also terrified, a part of him wanting to destroy the game itself if it means you never have to experience the pain that torments you now. Regarding you carefully, afraid to make matters worse, he reassures you that he’s not upset—far from it, honestly—and that he cares about you more than any game. No stranger to your panic attacks, he reaches out to take your hand in his, hoping you find comfort in what he has to offer. And when you finally glance up, hope shining in your tear-filled eyes, he can’t help but wrap you in his arms. A warmth spreads across his face, heart pounding in his ears, but he knows you need him, allowing his body to relax around yours.

Holding you against him, he tells you everything’s all right, stuttering out how he loves you and, most importantly, wants to you to feel better. Your arms circle around his waist, causing his heart to jump into his throat, but he only pulls you closer. You’re his Henry, and what friend is he if you can’t rely on him? Leviathan is understanding, wanting you to come to him for support at your most vulnerable. Now he puts his knowledge to the test, easing you into his room with continuous words of affirmation. You always know how to console him at his lowest, and he hopes he can return the favor. If anyone deserves to feel loved it’s you, who brought joy into his otherwise bleak world, and he’ll sit with you every day and night if you need him to.

SATAN

Satan knows he shouldn’t be awake, though he finds it difficult to satiate his curiosity as he peruses the books lining his shelves. He barely registers the sound of his D.D.D, reluctant to put the book aside to see who’s messaging him at this ungodly hour; Asmodeus most likely. His tune changes after he sees your name lighting up his screen, his annoyance replaced with worry. He knows you struggle, especially at night, but he can tell you’re hesitant to reach out. Nevertheless, you gradually begin to confide in him, his patience limitless if you’re concerned, and he feels a sense of relief that you choose to trust him at your most vulnerable instead of suffering on your own. Pouring over every book he can locate on anxiety, he studies it religiously, engraining each page into his memory. Not by giving unsolicited advice—he doesn’t want to make that mistake twice—but by comforting you the best he can, even if it simply means to stay by your side, waiting for the panic to pass.

A second later, he appears at your door, gaze softening as your eyes meet. In the darkness of your room, he can tell how exhausted you are. You apologize for bothering him, particularly this late, but he dismisses you with a shake of his head and a reassuring smile, sitting beside you on the bed. It saddens him that you feel the need to, but he’s familiar enough with anxiety by now that he understands how much of a manipulative monster it truly is; if only he can destroy it with his own two hands, strangling the life out of it so it no longer taints that innocent soul of yours. To watch you struggle fills him with a rage that he forces deep within himself, fully aware anger isn’t the answer no matter how great his desire to protect you is. So, he cups your face in his hands, your skin warm beneath his fingers as he strokes your flushed cheeks and presses your foreheads together.

Focus on him, he tells you, the steady rhythm of his breathing, and his voice while he whispers words of love and encouragement. He never tires of letting you know how beautiful and strong you are, that he’s always here for you and loves you—all of you. You unravel in his arms, opening your heart up to him, and he listens intently, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips the moment you look uncertain. You’re not a burden he promises, hoping one day you’ll believe it yourself, but he’ll remind you every chance he gets; forever if he must. It’s worth it in the end, when you relax against him and smile, kissing him in return. Slowly, the anxiety leaves your body, Satan thankful that the waves of panic have receded enough to let you rest your weary mind. He remains next to you, pulling you down to lay your head on his chest and closing your hand in his, entwining your fingers. He’s content here with you, watching you fall asleep and chasing away the nightmares.

ASMODEUS

Asmodeus loves shopping, but he loves shopping with you most of all. The day is bright with you by his side, and he can’t help but buy you clothes and matching accessories to bring out your inherent charm. Your potential is endless, and he gushes over how gorgeous you are, unable to contain his excitement when your cheeks turn a beautiful shade of pink in return. He can hardly control himself around you, gaze fixated on your every movement and heart racing each time you flash him one of the sweetest smiles he’s ever seen; your very soul seeming to shine through and blind him. Nothing prepares him for the love he feels for you, but he considers it a welcome surprise, his desire to grow closer to you intensifying day after day. You captivate him, the Avatar of Lust of all demons. What an exciting turn of events!

Of course, he attracts attention wherever he goes, posing for pictures with adoring fans and basking in the compliments constantly thrown his way; nothing new, but he enjoys it, nonetheless. Who can resist the allure of his very presence? However, anger wells within him at the sight of you being shoved to the side, falling to the ground and lost to the crowd that has gathered. Their words of flattery fall on deaf ears as he rushes to you, throwing a heated glance at the lowly demon who dares to touch his darling human. He desires nothing more than to punish them for such an injustice, but the fear in your eyes tells him otherwise. By the time he scoops you up into his arms you’re trembling from head to toe, and he can feel your heart pounding against him. A part of him places the blame on himself, an unfamiliar feeling, but he chooses to ignore it for now, focusing on getting you home in your worsening state.

In the peace and quiet of his room, he sits you on the bed, wrapping you in his arms as he affectionately runs his fingers through your hair. He can tell you’re upset—in an absolute state of panic by the looks of it—and all he can do is hold you through it, quietly asking what you need and willing to answer your every beck and call if it means that adorable smile graces your features once more. For a moment he considers seeking out Lucifer, worried something has gone terribly wrong, but thankfully you find your voice, mumbling into his chest about anxiety and panic attacks, that you’ll be fine—eventually—and are sorry for ruining your date. He doesn’t understand completely, though he knows you need him, promising to stay by your side for as long as you want. Kissing your cheek, he assures you there’s no need to apologize to him, your safety more important than anything else; the demon who laid his hands on you won’t go without punishment either.

Admitting a bath helps calm you down, he prepares one for you, steam rising from the surface and the heady scent of roses filling the air. Together you slip into the water, enveloped by its warmth, and he hums in contentment as you lean into him, his arms coming to rest around your waist. He watches you carefully, making sure you’re able to relax and preparing himself in case you call on him; he’ll do anything for you if it brings you the happiness you deserve. Your eyes flutter close, Asmodeus showering you with delicate kisses, comforted by the fact your breathing has levelled out and you appear a lot calmer than before. The day didn’t go as planned, and he hopes to make it up to you, vowing that no one else will hurt you on his watch. He loves himself. He loves his brothers. But loves you most of all.

BEELZEBUB

Beelzebub notices you haven’t touched your dinner and is beyond happy the moment you offer your plate to him. Yet he can’t bring himself to enjoy the food in front of him while you excuse yourself from the table, eyes downcast and voice quiet, the usual smile gone from your face and leaving behind an emptiness that rivals his own hunger. His mouth waters at the thought of seconds, but his concern for you grows, and he decides to follow you without question, disregarding the ravenous growl of his stomach. He catches you in the hallway, calling out your name. You turn to him, his brow furrowing in unease at the sight of your tears and the slight tremble of your lip. It hurts him to see you in obvious distress, and he earnestly offers his support.

The only sound is that of your sobbing. He desperately wishes to hold you tightly and rid you of your pain. However, he falters, studying you. Your gaze is trained on the floor, shoulders stiff with tension, and the color drains from your cheeks. When you speak, he’s surprised by how helpless you sound and the fact you’re trying to reassure him, putting his needs above your own although you’re struggling to hold yourself together. Fear flickers across your features at the echo of the brothers’ voices travelling up the stairs, and he mumbles out an apology as he carefully lifts you into his arms, cradling you to his chest.

Before the others can round the corner, he hurries down the hall and slips into your room, determined to protect his vulnerable human. He notices you relax against him, your fingers curling into his shirt, and he can’t help but want to keep you close, relieved after you lean in closer to wrap your arms around his neck. Stroking your hair, he allows you to cry, his patience and love for you endless. Eventually, you mutter an embarrassed sorry, thanking him profusely, but he’s merely relieved you’re beginning to feel a bit better, reassuring you that you can always depend on him.

Listening to you intently, he never breaks eye contact. You open up to him about your anxiety, his stomach twisting as you describe what you call a panic attack and how it wrecks you both mentally and physically. Beelzebub knows he has a lot to learn, but he expresses interest in understanding anxiety and, most importantly, how he can help you, so you don’t suffer alone. For the rest of the night, he keeps you company and eases you through the remainder of your attack, giving you plenty of hugs and rubbing your back in soothing circles until you no longer shake, and your heartbeat returns to its usual pace.

BELPHEGOR

Belphegor enjoys the time you spend together, especially when the two of you are alone. He asks you to accompany him in the attic, and it’s not long before he curls around you, falling into a peaceful sleep as he listens to the steady beat of your heart. However, when he awakes it’s to the sound of your soft cries in the dark, which fill him with a fear he can’t seem to shake. Without hesitation he’s at your side, sitting up to softly place a hand on your shoulder and ask you what’s wrong. The sadness in your eyes as you glance up at him, tears staining your cheeks, tugs at his heartstrings. He can’t bear to see you upset.

Once he realizes you’re having a panic attack, he’s attentive to your needs, cradling you in his arms as you cry into his chest. You confided in him about your struggles with anxiety after you fell to pieces in front of him months ago. A part of him understands, the loss of Lilith haunting him throughout the years and instilling a similar feeling of unease within him, especially when his nightmares seem to blur the line between reality and the painful memories of his past. You always came to his rescue and now it’s his turn to comfort you in your time of need. Sleep can wait.

With you in his embrace, he brings you down to relax against the pillows, pulling the blanket around your shivering form. You rest your head on his shoulder, and he gently brushes the remaining tears from your face, whispering words of love and reassurance. He listens to you when you’re comfortable to talk, the slight tremble of your voice causing him to draw you closer and press a kiss to your forehead. Belphegor tells you he’s here for you—forever—and although he’s still learning about anxiety and finding the best ways to comfort you during an attack, he wants you to depend on him no matter what. Even if that means you wake him up in the middle of the night. He won’t rest until he knows you’re okay, and you’re peacefully sleeping in his arms.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me mc #obey me reader #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me scenarios #my writing

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hooman4ever · 2 years

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!SFW! ‘Dinner Dates’ Jesse |Chromeskull| x Male Reader

Requested by -badboiTM- on Wattpad

Contains: Restaurant Date, Fluff, He/Him For Reader, Soft Jesse, Lightly Edited

“You look wonderful, [Y/n].” blue light hit the side of [Y/n]’s face where a phone was held up to, the words just spoken reflected on the small screen just out of [Y/n]'s line of sight.

Jesse’s hands rested on [Y/n]’s hips, his head perched on the other male's shoulder as he peered into the full-length mirror in front of the two of them. Hands appeared in front of [Y/n]’s neck, Jesse’s fingers messing with the man’s tie momentarily before smoothing it against [Y/n]’s dress shirt once again.

[Y/n] felt silly, all dressed up per Jesse’s request. Jesse, however, couldn’t be more pleased with his partner and how he looked all dolled up in the nice new suit he had hand-picked for his love. Jesse couldn’t believe how lucky he was to be able to be in [Y/n]’s life. Someone so handsome and kind was all his. The mere thought made Jesse’s heart flutter.

A phone alarm went off, making [Y/n] jump, his attention taken off of his form in the mirror. “Time to go” Jesse signed taking [Y/n]’s hand in his. Kissing the knuckles before pulling [Y/n] through the home, the both of them making their way to the front door.

The car ride was quick and the restaurant Jesse pulled up to was glamorous in all the ways you would expect from a man of such caliber. Arms locked together [Y/n] and Jesse made their way up to the restaurant. Chilly nighttime air making [Y/n] push himself closer to his lover. Jesse took this as an invitation to wrap his arm around [Y/n] pulling him flushed to his side.

Doors swung open dramatically as employees pulled the handles back holding the door open for the customers. The restaurant was empty, the only other bodies being a few waiters that briskly walked around.

One table was set up in the middle of the restaurant. The table was covered with a large bouquet of red, pink, and white flowers– which was thankfully not in the center of the table– and some candles in the middle. Just tall enough to not disrupt Jesse's view of [Y/n].

“Jesse,” [Y/n] started, not completely oblivious as to why the entire restaurant was empty on Valentine “You didn’t need to. Taking me out was enough– you didn’t need to reserve the whole building for just us.”

“I know I didn’t, but if it means you and I get to be alone tonight then it’s more than worth it to me, [Y/n].” without waiting for [Y/n]’s response, Jesse pulled him forward connecting their lips for a split second. Nothing more than a peck on the lips to quell any future complaints from [Y/n] before pulling back and admiring the light flush dusted on the man’s cheeks.

Jesse pulled back [Y/n]’s chair, signaling for his lover to sit before pushing [Y/n] closer to the table like a gentleman. Sitting across from [Y/n], Jesse smiled. Lacing his fingers together with [Y/n]'s.

Everything was perfect. Soft music played in the background as people bustled around. The world seemed to tune out though as Jesse locked eyes with [Y/n], holding his gaze while moving his thumb along the skin of his love's hand.

#jesse cromeans #jesse cromeans x male reader #jesse cromeans x #jesse cromeans x reader #male reader #slasher #slasher x reader #slasher x s/o #slasher x y/n #slasher x male reader #requested #valentine special

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voiceless-terror · 3 years

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I am so completely enamored with Danny as jons ex and I would be forever in your debt if you finished that

i wasn't expecting people to like this idea so much, its definitely one of my weirder ones xD since im not sure when i'll get around to actually finishing it (if ever) you can have a very rough chunk of it instead. you'll have to forgive any mistakes, im not up to editing it.

In a surprising show of athleticism, Jon ducks under Sasha’s chair before the specter of his past manages to see him.

Sasha swears at the action, backing up in her chair and peering down at Jon in bafflement. “What on Earth are you doing, Jon?”

Instead of answering her question, he backs up even further, tucking his feet out of sight. He thinks Sasha’s umbrella must be under here, and judging from the sharp point currently jabbing at his thigh, he probably broke it. “Is he still there?” he hisses, tilting his head to avoid bashing it into the desk.

“Who?”

“That- that man!”

A pause. “Tall, dark and handsome?”

Jon’s turn to pause. “I suppose you might call him that,” he replies stiffly. And it’s true. The man, from Jon’s brief, panicked glimpses, is at least six foot, with thick, dark hair and a bright grin.

And he looks exactly like Jon’s ex, Danny Stoker.

He’d done an almost comical double-take after a cursory glance; at first he’d thought Danny was the new hire, but this man was more angular, like a sharper, leaner version of his ex. So no, it couldn’t be him.

That didn’t stop him from diving under the nearest object, ergo Sasha’s desk. Not the wisest of decisions, considering his throbbing side, but he’s never been known for grace under pressure.

He’s not exactly sure why this fight or flight mode’s been activated- he and Danny had parted on fairly good terms, each recognizing that although they cared about the other, they simply weren’t compatible in the long term. They’d dated for a little over six months when Jon was a freshman, and he’d fallen hard.

Danny had been his first real relationship, and Jon was shocked that someone like him even looked his way. Impossibly handsome, incredibly fit, desired and envied in equal measure, and he dated scrawny, shy, insecure Jonathan Sims; the rumor mill went wild. They’d met at a party, and not even a good one. In a brief moment of liquid courage, Jon managed to insert himself into a group and fit in one snarky joke that sent Danny into stitches, the rest of the partygoers following his lead. For one second, Jon felt like he truly fit in, like he was someone worth knowing.

Danny had a way of making someone feel special. Big, romantic gestures, surprising him after class, taking him on little expeditions beyond campus. Jon didn’t drive, still doesn’t, and Danny wanted to show him the world outside of their privileged little campus.

But, like all of Jon’s relationships, it came to an end. Jon wasn’t ready for such overwhelming affection (didn’t think he deserved it, quite frankly), and Danny needed someone who could handle his fast-paced lifestyle. Jon was not that man. They broke up amicably, even if Jon shed a few tears in private, saw each other on campus a few times. Danny tried to reach out more than once, just as friends, but Jon’s never been able to handle more than one relationship at a time, and by then he’d met Georgie.

But now it seems the past is unavoidable, and standing near the circulation desk. Well, now walking in his direction, if the steady footsteps were any indication. Jon’s heart begins to hammer in his chest as it hits him that he is, in fact, hiding under a desk because a man who sort of looks like his ex is in his general vicinity. Coward.

“‘Lo!” God, even the voice is similar, if not as deep. “Tim Stoker. Reporting for duty.”

Stoker. Tim Stoker. Jon startles, slamming his head against the desk with a yelp.

Somewhere in his spiraling thoughts and throbbing head he remembers- Danny had a brother. An older brother that he adored. This must be the famous Tim- Danny made him out to be a saint, and though Jon never met him, he felt some fondness via Danny’s descriptions. But Tim’s going to have no fondness for him, especially considering Jon’s current position, hiding in pain under his coworkers desk.

“Pleased to meet you!” Sasha chirps, very clearly amused by the situation. “I’m Sasha James. And this-” she tugs at one of Jon’s legs, dragging him a few inches into sight. Jon buries his head in his hands and wishes he were invisible. “-is Jonathan Sims. We’ll be training you.”

“Excellent.” Tim’s voice holds the same good humor Danny’s always did, and sends a pang of nostalgia through his chest. “Er, you alright down there?”

“Yes,” Jon responds robotically, scrambling to his feet and standing behind Sasha’s chair, unwilling to meet the man’s eyes, lest he be drawn in. “I- uh, lost a pen. P-Probably left it in the copy room, I’ll just be going...there.” With that incredible performance, he fled.

And only tripped once on the way out.

________

So Jon’s kind of cute.

Tim doesn’t normally go for tiny disgruntled academics, but Jonathan Sims is an interesting fellow. He’s got a reputation for being the ‘problem child’ of the Research Department, awkward and prickly and always available with a snide word. He wields his books and files like a little suit of armor, and the only person he’s seen him open up to is Sasha. Besides their little conversations, Jon is all work and no play.

Except with Tim.

Sasha says she’s never seen anything like it, with one of her secret little smiles. Jon’s always staring. Usually, the man can’t hold eye contact to save his life, but he’ll spend full minutes looking at Tim when he thinks he can’t see. The first few times, Tim would turn around and smile, but that practically sent the man into convulsions, dropping his papers and jumping out of sight like a spooked cat. It was funny the first few times, but Tim pitied him enough to ignore it now. He hopes Jon enjoys the view.

God forbid he ask the guy a question. Jon will look around the room, as if waiting for someone else to answer, when it’s clearly directed at him. He’ll blush and stammer his way through every explanation, keeping a wide berth of at least two feet between them. Even when Tim wants him to look at his screen, he’ll squint from far away. Tim starting to think he smells bad, or has some sort of communicable disease unbeknownst to him.

“It’s not that,” Sasha assures him, again with that unreadable smile. “Trust me.”

Time to try something else.

He prints out his latest follow up, a rather elaborate statement regarding mistaken identities and absolutely nothing supernatural. He knows Jon prefers to look at things on paper, as screens ‘trigger his migraines’ if Tim understood his mumbles. Maybe if he can engage with him on familiar territory for the both of them, he’ll be able to hold a conversation. Tim specifically requested his help on this one.

“If you could just look it over, make sure everything’s up to snuff, that’d be great,” Tim says to the top of Jon’s head, as the man refuses to lift his own to meet his gaze. “You know how Dr. Walker is. Always-”

“Finding mistakes where there are none? I’m familiar with her methods,” Jon snorts, and Tim feels like he’s getting somewhere. A whole sentence! With classic Jonathan Sims snark! “I-I can give it a look. I’m rather busy, but -”

“Take your time,” Tim says with a dismissive wave of the hand. “I finished a bit early, so I don’t need it for a few days yet. Don’t want to put you out.”

“You’re not.” Jon meets his eyes for about ten seconds before ducking his head back down.

Progress!

#tma #jonathan sims #tim stoker #jontim #jondanny #what a tag i need to use it more often #if people do actually like this i might be tempted to give it another go #i think the outline for it ended up being too long for a week event #so i got lazy and gave up #asks #my writing #danny stoker #jondanny au

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ilballodellavitaa · 3 years

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Måneskin for QX Magasin - translation

The Swedish magazine QX did an interview with Måneskin when they were in Sweden, which they’ve now posted and here it is translated into English! Also a huge shoutout to @bidet-and-legolas for checking spelling and grammar for me!

The Italian Eurovision winners Måneskin have achieved great success during the ummer. No other Eurovision winner, ever, has managed to get new hits immediately after the win of the over 60 years old music competition. ABBA didn’t become an international success until one and a half years after the win of Eurovision 1974. But the unusual thing is that it has gone “worst” for the winning song Zitti e Buoni of all their songs on the top lists. Instead the single Beggin’ from 2017 (!) and I Wanna Be Your Slave, which was released this spring, have been topping the lists all over the world and have been talked about far outside of the classic competition’s borders. Måneskin, who most of us know about at this point, got their name after the Danish word moonshine which came from the bassist Victoria De Angelis with a Danish background. The band had their breakthrough in the Italian X-Factor 2017 and have had success in Italy until they won the San Remo festival earlier this year and thus got the opportunity to represent Italy in Eurovision. They entered as favorites, and took the victory with a lot of support from Europe’s tv-voters.

- We never thought we would win. But when we saw how many points the people gave us we had hope, says Victoria De Angelis.

They are late to their interview in the Upper House suite in Gothia Towers in Gotherburg when Victoria, singer Damiano David, guitarist Thomas Raggi and drummer Ethan Torchio come out from a nearby room styled in black and white. It is Victoria who with her hoarse voice starts talking with the help of Damiano; the other two are listening interestingly, but mostly nod in agreement.

At this moment Beggin', a cover from X-Factor which came out in 2017, is number one on Spotify's global top list. Isn't it weird to have a hit with such an old song?

- Yes, very weird. It is not really typical for how we sound today either. Our sound has developed, Damiano David explains and Victoria continues:

- As soon as the European tour is over we will go back to the studio again and continue writing. We have a few songs but we feel that it's important to find new material. We like to do a lot of songs, so we can pick the favorites later.

At the beginning of the summer the band was on the cover of the Italian Vanity Fair's pride edition, a statement that was very important for the band.

- It was important for us, especially in Italy which is a very closed-minded country when it comes to LGBTQ+ people. They have a conservative way of thinking and many people are against being gay. It is crazy, and it shouldn't be like that. We have a huge audience so we try to spread a positive message. Hopefully people who look up to us can find the courage when we say that everyone should be able to be whoever they want. It has been a taboo subject in the past, but we think it is important to spread that everyone should be able to be who they want and love who they want.

When I ask what it means when Damiano David is mentioned as a "LGBTQ-advocate" on his Wikipedia he blushes and explains:

- We try to not call ourselves that. Because those are such huge words. We do our best, and only because we talk about it we can't call ourselves that. But if we have knowledge on a subject we try to talk about it.

Victoria continues:

- I read an article yesterdy about an 12-year-old boy who likes us and wears makeup to school. He was beaten because of that, it was so sad to hear. When something like that happens we want to spread a message about feelig free to be whoever you want and not let idiots push you down. You are the one who is right and they are wrong.

In an earlier interview it was reported that Thomas is straight, Ethan "sexually free", Victoria bisexual and Damiano David is straight but "curious". Is that true?

- That was reported incorrectly. I am completely straight, but I'm not against anything. I think it was a missunderstading of the answer, says Damiano.

Do you think putting people in boxes acording to their sexuality is an old view of reality?

- Yes, but people are comfortable to put people in boxes. But often that isn't possible. I think there are many different boxes today. People should be more open-minded and stop putting people in boxes. You should only be curious of life and other people, tastes and passions, says Damiano and the others agree.

Victoria talks about when she realized she was attracted to girls and that she then didn't want to put a lable on herself.

- It is so stupid that people create a picture of who you are based on your sexuality. That's when stereotypes are made which some people don't recognize themselves in at all. That you are gay for example says nothing about your personality. The norms say that people are straight, but it limits so many people if they get to hear that at a young age. It takes a lot to break free from it when you figure out your own sexuality.

Måneskin are different from other rockbands with their style, when they mix looks that traditionally are viewed as masculine and feminine. Victoria often wears pants, the boys wear makeup and Damiano David can sometimes be seen in skirts.

The stylist Nicoló "Nick" Cerioni is the man behind many of the looks of the band.

- We like him because he is smart and good. He understands what we want and stand for with our clothes. When he wants to experiment we often say yes, says Damiano David and continues:

- Tonight I will maybe wear a skirt, but I don't feel like that's feminine. It is my skirt. Everyone should wear what they want. If I wear a crop-top, skirt, I should feel free to do so. We don't think masculine and feminine clothes exist...

- But you have to think about enough space for the cock, Victoria butts in.

Everyone laughs before Damiano continues:

- I would say so, but in a little more reserved way (laughs) "Obviosly our bodies have different forms..." but, yes for boobs and cock.

Have you always been experimental with your style?

- Yes as a 6-7-year-old I was very "boyish" in the way I dressed, and I had short hair. I thought girl clothes stopped me and prevented me from having fun. Luckily I had the strength to not care about what others said about me, says Victoria.

Thomas, who has been mostly quiet and listening adds:

- Be yourself and experiment with whatever it is, music, style...

Do you notice that the fans are looking up to you?

- They are writing that they are thankful. That thanks to us they dare to take the step to dye their hair, wear jewelry or wear makeup. We are so greatful, because that means they have understood us. To give the strength to others is one of the most beautiful things in this job, says Damiano David and the others agree.

What does the rock stage look like in Italy?

We ARE the rock stage (laughs). There are many older bands, and there are almost no young ones. We hope our fans can form their own band and strengthen the stage.

Do you have a dream collab?

- Rihanna. Miley Cyrus. Harry Styles. But maybe they are a bit too big?

Not really though? If you as an Eurovision winner reaches number one on the global Spotify chart nothing is impossible.

#damiano david #victoria de angelis #thomas raggi #ethan torchio #måneskin #maneskin

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solarwonux · 2 years

Text

Epitaph | KTH | (5/?)

pairing: Taehyung x f!reader || roommates!au

w.c: 7.9k (this was supposed to be a short one)

Genre: fluff, angst, smut, slow burn, co-parenting!au, fwb!au, non idol!au

Warnings: semi-edited :( slow burn, some angst, cursing, fluff, mentions of drugs, mentions of alcohol, AA meetings, mentions of addiction, mentions panic attacks, mentions of anxiety

Synopsis: In memory of the man Kim Taehyung used to be. Caught up and lost in a continuous cycle searching for something that was already there.

Reeling you into a mess that you never asked for because all you wanted was to feel complete and happy

a/n: i cried while writing this one

m.list || series m.list

prev || next

Jung Hoseok, founder of Hope World, your best friend, and boss glares at you while walking to your desk. His confidence is unmatched, giving off Meryl Streep in The Devil Wears Prada with his red Louis Vuitton suit, matching bag, and sunglasses. He greets his employees with a light nod and kind smile but doesn’t linger too long because he has a mission. A very very very important one that can not wait another second. He needs to give you a piece of his mind for not answering him all night. Countless worried calls and texts left unanswered until this morning when you replied with:

I’m okay, see you soon :)

Sure, he had let out a big sigh of relief when he read it. But that stupid smiley face felt like it was mocking him, because how dare you to run out of Namjoon’s backyard, shaking and crying, with no explanation. Even Taehyung after he had asked nicely (which is a rarity for both parties) had refused and left with Eunbi before he could ask any further. It annoyed him and angered him so much that he spent the entire night tossing and turning. It’s not like he liked to gossip, okay, maybe he did. He owned a famous media company with the top-selling gossip magazine in probably the whole world for crying out loud. But whatever happened between you and Taehyung last night was not gossip. It was serious, a matter of life and death and the one thing Jung Hoseok hated the most was being kept in the dark.

You were his family and up until a few years ago so was Taehyung. He’d go to the end of the world to protect his family.

“My office now!” He spoke as soon as he stopped in front of your desk. His sunglasses perched on the tip of his nose. Giving you a clear view of his pressing stare. It sent a shudder up your spine and before you could answer that you had a lot of work to get to, to avoid the chaos that was going to ensue in a couple of minutes. He turns away and walks straight to his office. Slamming the door behind him blanketing the entire office in utter silence. Shocked pairs of eyes, glued on you.

Fuck.

The minute you enter Hoseok’s office you knew you were fucked. His whole demeanor was off, almost condescending, his eyes glued on you. Almost afraid that if he tore his gaze away you would disappear from his sight.

“Hey, Hobi I really need to get to work so if–”

“You’re fired.” He simply stated, unbothered as he sat on top of his desk, twirling a pen in his hand.

“W-What?” You choke out. This is the last thing you needed today. You hadn’t been able to sleep, still shaken up over Taehyung’s kiss, his words, and Jungkook’s presence. Then dropping Hyeon off at school was an entire nightmare. He didn’t want you out of his sight, his separation anxiety kicking in at all full-time high. Sending months of working with him to overcome it down the drain. Making you feel even more unsettled.

You knew Hoseok was going to be upset with you. You had prepared for it, already knowing what he was going to say. You’ve heard a million times, but you didn’t prepare yourself for this. Did you fuck up that badly?

Hoseok sighs; sets his pen down and jumps off his desk. “Bubs,” he starts, taking tentative steps towards you. This wasn’t how this conversation was supposed to go. The hours he spent practicing on Yoongi went in seconds. It was supposed to go a lot smoother, his wording was chosen carefully but sometimes when he’s angry or anticipating something his mouth works ten times faster. It was one of the things he disliked the most about himself. “You’re fired but only for today.” He attempts, hoping that it will fix his earlier mistake.

It doesn’t. The only thing it does is it makes you angrier than before. In your head, you were already coming to terms with the loss of your job. You were already going through the files of the bills you had to pay for the month. Counting down everything you had in your checking and savings account. To be met with this joke. Furious was an understatement.

“Jung Hoseok, you always tell me that you hate when I joke about serious things. You always hate when I make a tasteless comment about something. And here you are doing the same thing. Do you have any idea how awful the last twenty-four hours–.” You pause, taking a deep breath, shutting your eyes. The post breakdown after your breakdown from last night hadn’t occurred yet, but with how things were going now. You were sure it wasn’t too far away. “No, do you know how awful this entire weekend has been for me?” You whisper, your voice betraying you as a crack sneaks its way through making you sound weaker than you had intended.

Because you are weak, weaker than you liked to admit.

Hoseok nods, bringing you into his arms and resting his head on top of yours. “I know that’s why I’m firing–” he cuts himself off and swallows before correcting himself. “That’s why I’m giving you the day off, maybe the whole week if you need it because no offense honey but you look rough.” He pulls away offering you a small grin, and picking up a strand of your hair, faking disgust. You glare at him, slapping his hand away before crossing your arms in front of you. Not as angry as before but still angry. These privileges were only possible because Hoseok was your boss and best friend.

“Thanks, I feel rough.” You look down at your feet, tears springing in your eyes. You’re really trying to keep them away but your post breakdown; breakdown, was long overdue. “Everything is just so messed up again and I don’t think I can handle it.”

“You want to talk about it?” Hoseok quirks, smoothing his hands down your arms as you nod slowly, letting him guide you to the wine-colored couch he kept on the far side of his office. The outcome wasn’t going to be pretty, especially when he finds out what actually went down in Namjoon’s bathroom. But nothing about your situation was pretty. It never was. Not even in the calmest moments before things took a turn.

You play with your fingers for a few seconds, melting into the soft crushed velvet cushions. Sometimes when you were done with your work early, Hoseok would let you take naps on it before picking Hyeon up from school. You took advantage of some of your best friend privileges. To the point, you had started to feel bad about it, resulting in you avoiding the latter half as much as you could throughout the day. Clearly, that wasn’t the case today and you could already hear the gossip from the employee’s lounge sneak its way throughout the entire building. Building rumors that were either too hard to ignore, ridiculous, or annoying to point that it would send you past your breaking point. But right now you needed this. Needed to get everything you were gripping onto tightly within your chest.

Right now you needed the older brother you never got to have.

“He kissed me.” You blurt out. His hands came to a halt, his eyes wider than you have ever seen. You knew you had rendered him speechless, and honestly, there probably could’ve been a better way to approach the subject. But how else were you supposed to open the can of worms that was larger than life itself? “H-He said some things like always and then I called him a coward and then he kissed me.” You backtrack hoping that providing some kind of background information would help him understand and alleviate his reaction.

It didn’t. Instead, he stood up and yelled, “He kissed you, he fucking kissed you?” He was seething because now he understood why you had run out the way you did. He understood why Taehyung was desperate to get to you because in the last four years he had made a move on you. One Hoseok hadn’t expected. Taehyung’s disinterest or lack of disinterest as it seemed ran deeper than any root. But now he understood everything. It was the twin version, albeit a much older version of the breakdown you had had years ago. The breakdown in which you discovered that your feelings were more than a casual crush. They were love.

Hoseok prided himself in a few things, one of those things was his ability to read you like his favorite novel. He knew you better than you knew yourself sometimes, and he knew for a fact that your heart was well on its way to betray you.

“No, no, no, no, no.” He panics, kneeling in front of you and taking your hands in his. “We are not going to think about him, he basically assaulted you, he’s not a good person.” He says, squeezing your hands in a crushing embrace that you start to lose feeling.

You shake your head fast, “That’s not the problem, I know what you’re thinking. I know you think that my feelings for him have returned and maybe a little teeny tiny spark was ignited when he kissed me but the problem came after.” You explain, trying to reassure him that this wasn’t like before Hyeon was in the picture. The second Taehyung left you behind, failed to show up for you, or show up sober the night of Hyeon’s birth was the second you left him behind too. You weren’t the same person that bent over backward and accepted every single one of his apologies. After all, you now had another life that deepened on you now.

Hoseok tilts his head, cocking an eyebrow. “Oh, then what happened next?” He asks, curiosity seeping through him at lightning speed and he can’t ignore the little pang he feels in the pit of his stomach when he realizes that maybe he doesn’t know you as well as he thought. Or maybe he had failed to realize that you weren’t the same as before. Still, it hurts the same and he’ll spend all day sulking about it because what kind of best friend doesn’t know everything and anything about their best friend? Him, that’s who, but he’ll revisit that thought later when he’s alone.

“Jungkook drove me home and then he helped me tuck Hyeon into bed and now it really sucks because I think I might like him and I can’t because I’m a mom and he’s a dad and our kids are best friends and Taehyung is still messily inserted in the picture and like I don’t know what his family situation is like so it’s stupid Hobi. I’m so stupid.” You ramble, only breathing when you get to the end.

There’s silence. Only for a second before Hoseok is laughing with his head thrown back and you groan in annoyance, slumping back on his couch like a stubborn child. His later worries disappear into nothing because he still knew you better than you knew yourself. Just this time the culprit wasn’t Taehyung but an entirely different person. A person he had been rooting for since Jiwoo talked his ear off about him months ago. Now, he needs to do something about it.

“Bubs,” he says after composing himself, scooting closer to you with his usual bright smile. “This is simple, just go on a date with him and stop overthinking about it too much.”

“But what if he’s married?” You fight back. Stubborn as ever, he’ll never get tired of it.

“He’s not, and it’s not my story to tell but - actually, I don’t know the full story. I just know what Jiwoo told me and that is that his wife passed away years ago.”

You’re crushed. No, you’re absolutely devastated. You had only gotten the privilege to know Jeon Jungkook for less than ten hours and you already knew that he deserved more than what this world had to offer. Knowing that he had suffered such a heartbreaking loss makes you feel like your problems weren’t nearly as bad. Because they weren’t, they were rudimentary next to his situation and now you feel like utter shit for reacting the way you did over a kiss. He probably thinks the worst of you. Shit.

“B-But what if he has a girlfriend or a boyfriend. I mean have you seen him, he’s an absolute wet dream.”

Hoseok rolls his eyes and stands up, letting go of your hands. “Ask him and if he doesn’t then ask him out.” He shrugs like it’s simple. It’s only simple in his mind because he doesn’t have to deal with crushes or insignificant feelings. He’s been married to his soulmate for almost six years now.

You moan in annoyance running your hands over your face, “It’s not that simple, what if he’s totally staying away from dating?”

“Of course, it is,” He chuckles, “You asked Taehyung to inseminate you, why can’t you ask Jungkook out on a date?

You’re shocked because he does this every time. Takes advantage of the situation and brings up your boldness of the first night you slept with Taehyung. It was like clockwork. “I don’t know him, and you know I’ve never been good at rejection.” You mumble, examining your nails to ignore his amused stare. He’s having way too much fun with this.

“What do I always tell you?” He places his hands on his hips, looking at you pointedly.

“To stop thinking so negatively and put myself out there because I am a hot mom and deserve to get laid.” You say robotically because you’ve said it a million times. Every time you put yourself down he has you repeat it a million times until it's stuck in your head.

“Exactly, now you’re going to leave and I’m going to call Tiffanny to give you full makeover nails, hair, and maybe a full body wax.” He raises his eyebrows suggestively, making you roll your eyes before opening your mouth to interject. He raises his hand to stop you, “On me, but take the rest of the day for yourself and Hyeon and think about asking Jungkook out more. You don’t have to but if you do it doesn’t have to lead anywhere. For once think about yourself and your happiness, have fun again.” He finishes, hugging you tightly. “Am I clear?”

You salute jokingly, “Mhm, yes sir.”

You’re five minutes late to pick up Hyeon and you blame both Hoseok and his personal stylist Tiffanny. Your heart is at the base of your throat as you rush down the streets, regretting your decision to walk to work today because you had hoped that it would’ve helped in clearing your head.

It had worked until it hadn’t. Now, you’re worried for an entirely different reason. You’re worried about Hyeon. The gruesome reminder of his meltdown from this morning rings brightly in your mind and you’re praying that he isn’t the only one left to be picked up.

You run up the steps to the quaint daycare, sweat lining your forehead, surely messing up Tiffanny’s hard work reaching out for the door handle, until a hand interjects. Specifically, a tattooed hand and you stop dead in your tracks.

You tear your gaze away and look at the intruder. The man that’s been plaguing your thoughts for the last twenty-four hours and he’s fucking smiling. Like he knows. “Hey there stranger, almost didn’t recognize you.” He winks and pulls the door open, holding it out with one hand for you.

He’s waiting for you.

A few things are going through your head as you walk in after him, creating a safe distance between you too so you can comfortably wallow in your thoughts. The two main ones are at the forefront of your mind. The first one is that you’re entirely relieved that Hyeon isn’t the only one left at school and the second one is that you hate that Jungkook is here. Only because you thought you would have at least another two weeks left before you see him again. But things never went your way and now you’re stuck here next to him, listening to him speak to the lady at the front desk with both Hana and Hyeon’s names falling out of his mouth.

“You’re hair looks good by the way.” He says after he’s done talking to the receptionist. Your hand immediately flies up to pull on the perfectly styled bob, Tiffanny talked you into getting. It’s shorter than your usual length, an entirely different color than your natural hair color, and it made you feel a bit insecure when she was done. Until now. Silently (and you won’t ever admit this out loud) you’re thanking her.

You clear your throat, bringing your hand down to your side. “Do you always come and pick up Hana?” Mentally, you want to slap yourself because what kind of question is that? One that you picked out from the air to counteract the awkwardness that was starting to form between the two of you. That’s the kind of question that it was. A stupid one at that and you want to blame your lack of sleep but you know better.

Jungkook makes you nervous.

He chuckles and shakes his head. “I usually have clients by the time she’s done with school so her uncle picks her up.” He answers and crouches down as soon as he hears the excited squeals of his daughter when she spots him and not her uncle. Truly it warms your heart to see such a sight. It was one you had hoped to share with Taehyung many years ago. But sadly, you were never one to get what you wanted. So, you live vicariously through their interaction until your eyes spot your son, looking smaller than usual and it makes the pit of your stomach twist in the most unpleasant way possible.

“Hyeonie.” You grin, kneeling down in front of him. His bottom lip wobbles and before the first set of tears start to roll down his cheeks you’re pulling him into a hug. “I’m sorry momma was late, but I ran here as fast as I could.” You whisper kissing the side of his face. He hooks his tiny arms around his neck and hides his face in your neck. The wetness of his tears settle upon your skin and all you can do is rub his back to comfort him.

You had hoped taking him to school would’ve made him feel a little better. Surrounded by all his friends to take his mind off things but now you know that all he needed was you. And you feel awful for forcing him to come. “It’s okay Hyeonie, we can spend the entire day together now.” You try to reason as you stand up, his legs wrap around your waist and your purse slides down your arm.

“He was actually in a great mood after you left. Participated in class and even won the most gold stars.” His teacher–Ms. Bun–interjects a small smile playing on her kind face. “I think seeing the kids trickle out slowly just freaked him out a little.” You offer her a welcoming smile as she hands you his back bag only for it to be scooped up by the same tattooed hand as before.

“Thank you and I’m sorry about this morning again. He didn’t get much sleep.”

She waves you off, understanding, before walking back into the hallway full of classrooms. You turn to face Jungkook. A knowing, worried look etched on his face. You know that look. You had seen it many times last night and it had kept you up. You know Jungkook cares, that much you’ve figured by his actions, but you hate to think that he might care more than he leads on. You hate to think that because then you’ll start to let yourself fall again. You had already let Hoseok talk you into asking him out but it was meant to just be a date. Nothing more, but when he looks at you like that. Like he wants to take all of your pain away and harbor it as his own, you begin to fantasize and hope that it leads to more.

You can’t do that. Not again. Not with him. Not with anyone.

Hana stomps her tiny foot and tugs on her dad's hand. He visibly shakes off whatever daze he’s in and glares down at her. She makes a few gestures, eyes wide, silently communicating with her father. If circumstances were better you would’ve laughed at the sight. Seeing a grown, buff, tattooed man with a few piercings crumble underneath the weight of a four-year-olds gaze was easily part of the seven wonders of the world. But Hyeon’s shaking body keeps you from feeling anything other than remorse for your son.

Jungkook shakes his head and clears his throat, hoisting Hyeon’s spider-man back bag on top of his shoulder. “Hana wants to know if you and Hyeon can come get ice cream with us?” He nods, eyes trailing down at his daughter as she gestures for him to continue and Jungkook groans like a child before he’s looking at you again. “She says that since ice cream always makes her feel better when she’s sad, she’s more than positive that it will help Hyeon feel better too.” He finishes, sticking his tongue out at Hana making her giggle before she’s clasping her hands in front of her, wide doe-eyes that resemble her father’s, and pouting. Begging and you can’t help but melt.

Now, you understand Jungkook’s everyday struggle. There was absolutely no way you could say no to a face like that. You couldn’t do it when Hyeon pulled the tortuous move on you and certainly, you wouldn’t be able to resit now. But the only thing that’s stopping you from giving her the obvious yes is the sound of Hyeon’s sniffles.

You have to inquire with the boss man first.

“Baby.” You trail your fingertips down his back. Little shivers trail up his spine and he lifts his head. You frown, wiping away his tears with the back of your hand. “Did you hear, do you want to go get ice cream with Hana?” You tilt your head, taking a hold of his shirt and wiping his nose with it. Something you usually scolded him on whenever he did it, but you were stuck in a predicament. It was your only option, you’ll deal with the consequences later.

Hyeon looks back at the little girl, her smile only gets bigger and she starts bouncing on her feet. He faces you again, places his head against your chest. “Can I get two scoops?” He gently pinches your arm and you only find yourself agreeing because there was nothing in the world that you wouldn’t do to make him feel better.

Even if it meant staying up with him until he crashes from his sugar high. “You can get two scoops and nothing more.”

He mumbles a sign of victory before sliding down your arms and walking towards Hana hugging her tightly as they both rejoice. It leaves both you and Jungkook in shock, staring at one another in complete utter silence. The giggles of your children fill the air. That’s when it becomes clear.

Those two menaces had it all planned out all along.

“I can’t tell if your son or my daughter is the bad influence out of the two.” Jungkook comments, spooning up some of his banana gelato.

You laugh, taking no offense because how could you when you knew it was just a joke. And he was still grumbling about how you had pulled out the same card Hana did on him earlier when it came time to pay.

“Or maybe it’s just you.” He shrugs, offering you his ice cream cup in which you decline. Banana gelato? Only a demon would ask for that willingly, but you’ll look past that it’s something you can work around. “Well more for me then.” He sighs happily as he takes another spoonful, closing his eyes in delight when it melts against his tongue.

Both Hana and Hyeon are trailing in front of you, giggling and racing against time to lick their ice cream cones before it melts all over their hands. You were the only one that had opted out on the ice cream. All three of them looked at you like you had grown a third head when it was your turn to order and you declined, sending them a threatening look that made them all shrink in their spots. Besides, Hyeon had gotten two scoops and you knew for a fact that he wouldn’t be able to finish it all. Therefore you would be the one to finish the job.

“Thank you for paying again.” You bump your shoulder against his, making him roll his eyes.

“I didn’t have much of a choice.” He chuckles in disbelief and suddenly comes to a halt. “Want to come inside.” He points to the window you stopped in front of. Colorful intricate drawings, surround the words ‘Filter’ and ‘Tattoo Shop.’ It all comes together in your head and your mouth falls wide open as he looks at you nervously. Banana gelato, long forgotten.

“You don’t have to,” He quickly says shaking his head. “Not the best place to hang out, but I figured since we’re already here I can just show you around a little and then, umm, we–I mean yeah I can just show you around.”

You bite your bottom lip to keep yourself from laughing and nod your head. “Sure, lead the way.”

His face lights up as he runs to the front door and holds it open. He feels like an idiot for not being able to contain his excitement. Even more so when you’re just visiting his place of work with your son. Not his apartment, alone.

“Uncle Chimmy!” Hana yells as she runs in, you and Hyeon trailing behind shyly. She’s scooped up by a man shorter with silver highlights in his hair and the plumpest lips you have ever seen on a man.

“Hana Nana did you miss me?” He tickles her sides. She doubles over in laughter. A playful grin on his face as he continues to tickle her through her pleas for him to stop. Jungkook comes up behind you. You freeze up. You don’t want to dwell on the fact that his body is so close to you again so you try your best to ignore it and look around.

Filter Tattoo Shop is simple. There’s not much going on and you figure it has to do with the fact that it was opened four months ago. Nevertheless, it’s still fascinating. As soon as you enter you’re met with a huge black and white mural, shapes of different sizes surrounding the words ‘Filter,’ that are written in a traditional style type of font. In the middle, there’s a display counter full of different types of earrings, studs, and gauges. It also doubles over as the reception desk as they’re stacks of sample tattoo binders holding up a makeshift cash register too. It’s also where Jimin is with Hana as she enthusiastically recounts her day. Behind them, some stairs lead to a balcony. You can’t see much from the railing blocking your sight, but from what you can make out there is a miniature table, with chairs and a play kitchen along with a couch. The one thing that you can see is the large and colorful hand painted butterfly mural. A space perfectly built for a little girl. A space perfectly built for Jeon Hana. Finally, as your eyes trail down you spot the tattoo and piercing stations a total of three with one being in the works.

Everything is new. This entire place screams new but it also screams comfort. You can clearly tell that they did everything in their power to make this shop feel like home and comfortable for others too.

This wasn’t fair.

“It’s not much, we’re still adding finishing touches but honestly we didn’t expect the number of clients we’d get.” Jungkook chimes in, taking you out of your admiration. “If Jimin hadn’t convinced me to open up an Instagram I honestly think we’d be handing out flyers at the local grocery store for most of our workday.” He chuckles, awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. His mind is going a million miles an hour. He won’t voice it out loud but he’s dying to know your thoughts because somehow they mattered.

You turn around, threading your fingers through Hyeon’s hair. He’s locked himself against your leg, taking in the new sight with curious eyes. “It’s lovely Jungkook, honestly if you’d been open when I was younger I would’ve come to get my nipples pierced here instead of the skimpy place I went to.” You finish. Jungkook chokes again, just like he did yesterday. He can’t trust himself and thankfully Jimin interrupts before he can say anything to embarrass himself further. Though, he now wishes he hadn’t.

“Oh my god, you’re the one Jungkook hasn’t stopped talking about.” He circles the display counter and makes his way to you. Hana’s ice cream in his hand. “Honestly, I feel like I already know you, he never shuts up.” He extends his hand out to you. “I’m Jimin.”

You’re not sure where you’re at right now. All that you know is that your body is on fire knowing that Jungkook hasn’t stopped thinking about you like you haven’t stopped thinking about him. Yet, you’re not sure if his comments are positive or negative or neutral but you don’t care because he talks about you. That makes your giddy heart flutter with excitement as you shake his hand before introducing yourself and adding, “I hope it’s all been good.”

Jimin scoffs letting go of your hand, placing both hands on his waist. “Are you kidding he’s practically been fu–”

His words die when Jungkook clasps his hand over his mouth, stealing them from him. “Don’t you have somewhere to go Jimin?” He spits out through his clenched teeth. You grip the handle of your purse tightly because anger looked good on him and kids were in the room.

The shorter male pushes his hand away grumbling. “Right, I can’t be late for my AA meeting, thanks for reminding me. It’s not like it’s written on the wall calendar.” He says, sarcastically glaring at his best friend before sending you a charming smile. “I hope to see you come around more often you’re pretty and the shop can always use another pretty girl, right Hana?” He yells the last part.

The little girl beams and nods. “Right Uncle Chimmy.” She agrees shooting him with finger guns that the older male sends back. God, honestly, you could stay here forever.

“Anyway, Jungkook’s right I can’t be late. I’m the one leading them. Their faith lies in my hands.” He says dramatically, plants a wet kiss on Jungkook’s cheek and then yours. “Bye little man.” He says waving at Hyeon who shyly returns it. And just like that Jimin has disappeared out of the shop, leaving the ringing of the entrance bell in his wake.

What the fuck just happened?

“I’m sorry about him. He’s been sober for eight years and now thinks he rules the world.” Jungkook jokes, stepping out from behind you and extending his hand for you to take. This can go one of two ways. You can take it and let him feel how embarrassingly sweaty your hands are. Or you can not take it and walk past him awkwardly. In the end, you decide to take it.

“He should, that’s a big deal.” You add, lacing your fingers with his. Platonically of course, while he leads both you and Hyeon further into the shop.

Jungkook smiles and nods. “It is, I’m proud of him.”

Then you can’t help it. Truthfully you can’t. You weren’t sure what it was about his smile that sent you into a frenzy of impulses. God, you stopped acting upon your impulses years ago after you realized that they never got you anywhere good. Yet, here you are speaking before thinking.

“I know this is weird but do you want to go out on a date sometime?”

Taehyung stands in front of the church, hands stuffed deep into the pocket of his Marc Jacobs coat. He couldn’t sleep last night. Stayed up all night pacing and getting rid of all the alcohol he could find in his house. Then his morning headache came; Eunbi. She showed up at seven on the dot, with a bottle of wine as consolation. And fake tears pooling in her eyes, mascara tracks coating her cheeks. They looked placed, carefully thought out, and planned.

She disgusted him. He took one good look at her, memorizing her, serving as a warning. Then he closed the door in her face. Years of friendship and three months of a relationship went down the drain in seconds.

Taehyung has never felt more free.

He took a deep breath before tearing into his kitchen, mumbling to himself because he knew he put it somewhere. He knew he kept the brochure he snatched off a lamppost on his way home four months ago. He kept it because he knew that one day he would be here. He knew that one day he would be serious about getting better. So, when he found underneath all the take-out menus he started to cry. Cried harder when he read it over and cried once more when he was on his way here. To the church, nervous as hell for his first AA meeting. But he needed this more than anything. Despite wanting to get better for you and Hyeon, for his family. Taehyung desperately wanted to get better for himself more than anything in the world.

He almost talked himself out of it. In fact, he had been walking from the parking lot to the front door for five minutes now. Each minute that passed got a little bit easier because it still terrified him. It was silly. He knew this wasn’t the ultimate cure to his alcoholism, but it was a start. And that’s all that mattered to him right now. The finish line would come later, and one day he’ll finally win the race.

“You can stand here all you want but the party is actually inside.”

A smooth voice sounds next to him. He turns his head locking eyes with a man possibly around his age. He looks younger though and it could possibly be due to the fact that he has fake silver highlights peeking through his long black hair. Then it all clicks in his head, he’s the one that was handing out the brochures in front of the grocery store all those months ago. Though then the man had sported blonde hair with rainbow streaks. But Taehyung could never forget hopeful eyes.

The man chuckles and pats his back. “First times are always awful but they’re not a bad bunch.” He says and walks past him into the church.

Taehyung follows.

Contrary to popular belief. Well, popular belief only according to his friends. Taehyung is not a people person. He’s awkward when he first meets people. It’s a skill he couldn’t possess despite being a big CEO of a well-known company. With shares in all the important places. Including McDonald’s. Yet, Taehyung still can’t overcome the social anxiety that comes with meeting new people. Afraid of being judged, especially here in the basement of the old church where it seemed like everyone already knew one another.

That’s because they did, Taehyung is the only odd one out. So he stands in the corner. While everyone else catches up over cheap coffee and finger foods.

He feels like throwing up, but it could very well be because of the burnt black coffee he picked up as a prop. His way of keeping appearance, the only thing he’s learned from all the company dinners he’s forced to go to. Honestly, Taehyung is so nervous he almost runs out until the same man that talked to him outside claps his hands grabbing everyone’s attention.

“I hope you’re all well acquainted now, but I would like to start now. Got a big date with my favorite girl tonight.” He winks making everyone erupt in laughter.

“Jimin, we know that’s code for you have to babysit.” Someone shouts and he flips them off, earning more chuckles from everyone around him.

It’s stuffy, so stuffy that Taehyung is trying to make it not obvious that he’s hyperventilating. But instead of running out as he had originally planned, he takes a seat, slowly. Nodding his head in acknowledgment to the two people sitting beside him.

The room is filled with a number of characters. There are teenagers, people in their mid-twenties. As well as people in their fifties and seventies. He should feel welcomed, but the thing that’s stopping him, its the fact that he picked his poison. He chose to be here, and now he needs to share his life. His deepest darkest secrets to a crowd he’s never met.

That’s what Taehyung fears the most. It’s the same fear that kept him from you, but it won’t be the same fear that keeps him from getting better. He’s tired of living in a continuous spiral. He just wants to feel okay again.

“So who wants to start, keep in mind that we do have a new face joining us tonight. So I expect you all to be on your best behavior. That is entirely directed towards you Johnny, I’m sure he doesn’t want to know about your inflamed ball sack on the first date.” He says pointedly, making said Johnny groan in annoyance.

Taehyung is quickly learning that no one holds back in these and that this guy was absolutely ruthless. But instead of cowering at the thought, he laughs along with the crowd. It surprises him because he doesn’t remember the last time he’s laughed at anything. His demeanor was stoic for the good latter of his life.

He likes this better.

“I’ll go,” he raises his hand, eyes wide in shock leaving the entire room speechless. Jimin—he’s learned his name now—smiles softly, nodding his head for him to continue. He clears his throat, “I’m not entirely sure what I’m supposed to say in these things, this is my first time.” He swallows, digging his blunt nails into the rim of the styrofoam cup. “Honestly, I’ve only seen these things happen in movies.” He chuckles awkwardly, shrugging.

“That’s alright, start simple, with your name and why you’re here.” The old lady next to him says, placing a comforting hand on his thigh. He appreciates her. Honestly, he appreciates this entire room because none of them are annoyed with him. They haven’t laughed at him or anything he’s said. They’re patient and for the first time in years. He finally feels welcomed.

“Okay, well in that case. I’m Kim Taehyung and I’m an alcoholic.” He admits. It’s out in the open. Out in the void. His secret, the one that’s been lodged painfully inside his chest for as long as he can remember. Is out and he feels like the entire weight of the world has been lifted off his shoulders.

It feels good.

In the past hour, Taehyung has learned a lot. Despite his earlier warning, Johnny rants about his inflamed ball sack. He makes the sad mental note to call Yoongi and see what that is all about. Then he remembers he can’t because Yoongi stopped taking his calls years ago.

Then he learns that Marleen, the old lady sitting next to him. Has been sober for almost forty years, but she still comes to these things because “they’re something to do.” And sometimes she still feels the gnawing itch in the pit of her stomach whenever she’s around alcohol. It scares her because it takes two seconds to throw away years of progress. She comes to these meetings because they help her feel less alone. After all, every individual in the room knows that itch well, like an old friend. Hell, Taehyung is very well acquainted with the itch. Except he’s caved more than once to help numb it out. Knowing that he isn’t the only one anymore, helps. And he hopes that the next time he feels it he doesn’t scratch it but instead lets it fester until it burns like a candle flame.

Then Jimin speaks up with an understanding tone. He’s been sober for eight years—Taehyung has learned—and he’s very big on building tiny healthy habits and coping mechanisms. That makes them all groan in annoyance, knowing very well the lecture that was about to take place. Though this is Taehyung’s first time here and he absorbs everything he says like a sponge. Taking mental notes when he mentions the words painting or drawing, sparking something deep inside of him. Something he thought he lost when his dad didn’t support his dream and forced him to do what he does now. A nameless job he’s sure anyone with a college degree can do and with their eyes closed

His mind reels back to his life in Italy before his broken heart took over. He painted and drew so much to the point that his hands grew numb. He wishes he kept those paintings, brought them home with him when he left, but he left them behind because it was easier. That way he wouldn’t dwell on the what if’s, except now he is, fully understanding that it will always be a regret of his. He ignores it, at least for now, and decides that there’s no harm in trying again. After all, that is why he's here, surrounded by every single type of individual the world has to offer.

He’s trying again.

“If you want you can stay there all night, but I do have to warn you this place is haunted,” Jimin speaks, breaking him apart from his thoughts. Was this going to be a regular occurrence for the two of them?

Taehyung finally looks around and sees that they’re the only two left in the basement. He does briefly remember the meeting ending and saying goodbye to his new acquaintances? Friends? He did it so mindlessly that he wasn’t aware that he was the only one left. All the cocktail parties he’s been forced to attend trained him well.

“Sorry,” he stands up fast, holding his styrofoam cup in his hand. The rim has been picked off, the little pieces sitting at the bottom, mixing in with the remainder of his black coffee. He doesn’t know what to say so he says the first thing that comes to mind. “Thank you.”

Jimin shakes his head, placing a hand on top of his shoulder. “Don’t need to thank me, I do this because I wish I had someone there for me in the beginning stages of my recovery.” He says simply, before handing him a trash bag. “But since you are the last one here you’ll help me pick up.” He smiles brightly, his eyes crinkling and Taehyung can’t help but cave in agreement.

“What made you want to get better?” He asks casually, unsure if he’s even allowed. He busies himself with the leftover trash, dumping it into the bag waiting for his answer.

“My sister and brother-in-law.” He replies, closing the box of leftover donuts. “The day they got married I got absolutely shitfaced and ran through the church naked. My sister was so mad at me and Sol never gets mad. She was always the quiet one out of the two of us, but she was so mad that she gave me an ultimatum. It was either the drugs and the alcohol or being in her life.”

“So you picked being in her life?“ Taehyung answers for him, sounding hopeful and that just makes Jimin laugh, hard.

“No,” he says in between breaths until finally, his laughter dies down to nothing. Surrounding the two of them in silence until he speaks again. “I told her she was crazy and it wasn’t until I found out that she was sick that same year that I decided to get better.”

Taehyung stops in his tracks, “oh I’m sorry.” He offers. He can’t help but feel a tiny bit jealous because why was it so easy for Jimin to open up to him. When it had taken him years to open up to you and even then he couldn’t help himself to tell you everything.

“It’s alright, she’s in a better place now. Besides, she left behind the greatest gift anyone could ask for and the reason why I keep fighting through.” He reaches over and grabs the trash bag from Taehyung’s hands. “My lovely niece.” He grins walking past him and up the stairs. He follows, closely behind.

Something blooms deep in his chest as he exits the church. He wonders if asking for Jimin’s number would be too straightforward. He wants to be his friend so badly. He’s so cool and calm and he hasn’t had a friend in a while.

He hopes Jimin can be that person for him because unlike anyone that’s currently in his life and fading away. Jimin is the only one that understands him and that comforts him on an entirely different level.

“Here,” Jimin says, coming back from throwing the trash bags in the dumpster, handing him a business card. Filter, Tattoo Shop it reads. Then he spots his name and a number underneath in the corner of the card. It makes the admiration deep inside of him grow. Jimin was definitely the coolest human being on Earth to him right now. It makes him feel like a little kid again. Excited, like how Hyeon gets when talking about Spider-Man for the eightieth time. Though, he doesn’t mind. Taehyung’s never had a role model in his life before. Right now Jimin was the closest thing to one.

“That’s where I work and my number. You can call if you ever need anyone to talk to aside from these things.” He stuffs his hands in his front pocket. “Or you can come by. I'll even offer you a free piercing if you do.” He jokes making Taehyung chuckle.

He feels like crying because when was the last time someone offered him a helping hand? This was such a small gesture but it meant the world to Taehyung. No, it meant the entire universe to Taehyung.

“Thank you.” He means it. He means it with his entire being. And as much as he wants to burst into tears right here in front of his new friend? (He hopes) That would just be so uncool. He’ll simply wait until he’s in his car and instead, he grips the business card tightly between his fingers.

“Don’t mention it.” He shrugs, gently bumps his shoulder with his. I’ll see you next Monday or sooner.” He salutes, turns around, and leaves.

Taehyung stands there watching Jimin disappear through the parking lot. Feeling more hopeful than he has in a while.

For the first time in years, he feels like he can overcome himself.

a/n: thoughts ???? tbh i cried while writing this lmaoo. I hope you liked it, lmk if you did or anything honestly.

#bts imagines #bts fanfiction #bts scenarios #bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts angst #taehyung imagines #taehyung fanfic #taehyung fanfiction #taehyung scenarios #taehyung fluff #taehyung angst #taehyung fic #jungkook imagines #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #btshoneyhive #kdiarynet

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vicea · 3 years

Text

dream merch discord recap (june 12, 2021) - disclaimer: i may have missed some things or mistakenly heard other things, apologies in advanced for that!

he has not played the new minecraft update

dream “knows” the date george is coming to florida but he’s not saying it :p

dream doesn’t have anyone muted on twitter

dream guesses his favorite disney princess is belle

sapnap has seen dream’s feet before

he’s not actually connor’s dad in the dsmp lore

dreamnap do not have nicknames for each other D:

dream likes olives but especially black olives

his mother makes homemade pickles

he doesn’t have a phone case

he has dropped his phone from his ear onto concrete in the parking lot before and the screen didn’t crack

dream has six fingers /j

he pours cereal first not milk when making cereal

dream calls sapnap nick most of the time :D

what’s your dream car? “idk the one that gets me to point A to point B consistently”

he finally fixed his sleep schedule, woke up at 8 am today

mrbeast owes dream a tesla because he never sent dream the audio file

dream is a very analytical person - he thinks with numbers/data

creativity is one his strengths that he is the most proud of

3 to 4 years ago, dream used to say george looks like shawn mendes a lot, now he doesn’t resemble him as much

patches is currently sleeping <3

swimming is very relaxing to dream, he swam the other day!

many houses in florida have pools than other places, even the cheapest houses in orlando have pools

dream has merchendise defects (misprints on merch) + milestone merch and he wants to give them away to those who live in orlando (probably to anyone but the event will be held in orlando) though he doesn’t want it to be a covid super-spreader thing so once you pick up your item you gotta dip. just all an idea though

he has been donating them to charity too though :)

dream has likely read Heroes of Olympus before a long time ago

he says that he’ll do a give away of his childhood books with his signature on it

he was obsessed with the series (Percy Jackson)

he really liked the Alex Rider series

has all of Maximum Ride books, 39 clues books

has read the legend series, the twilight series, and the maze runner

has all/read of the harry potter books, divergent, eragon

he would read all the time, to the point he would read more than one book a day (a book worm he says)

dream had a goal to read 200 books in a year and he wind up reading about 150

he doesn’t want to call it a library but- growing up he had something like that that had 600 or 700 or more books in it (privileged he admits it)

he has not read a book since he started youtube (about 2 years)

dream has a folder called Book that has his own writing in it

word count: 76000 words for one of his stories

another one he wrote 5 chapters of

he sounds very excited/embarrassed talking about the stories he wrote he’s so endearing

the very first paragraph of one of his stories (he was young when he wrote this) “What exactly is darkness? is it the lack of light? is it a pit of nothingness? ... your mind is full of darkness...” then he couldn’t continue.

the story is about a kid who wakes up in a cell and has no idea where he is with other people who are in the same situation

dream has a world building document

he has a sequel to the first book he has ever written

he found a query letter that he wrote because he wanted to get his book published- he finds it very funny

he’s calling himself a nerd but idk it’s kind of endearing

“as you can tell i’ve always been incredibly cool and not a nerd at all! ever.”

he cringes at his own old videos

dream took a lot of inspiration from witches and wizards by james patterson for writing

the story is written in a way where the main character is actually writing the story so you’re getting input from the main character during it. there’s a lot of sarcasm in it and it’s making dream laugh

very first person narrator

he feels like it’d be very cool if he were to publish his works he wrote when he was 16 on amazon or something but he probably never would because he’d have to read through all of it and it’s just embarrassing for him

dream used to video call sapnap fairly frequently- even before youtube

he strictly remembers, a very long time (at least 7 to 9 years) ago he was at his old childhood house he video called sapnap. he was wearing a (technically) suit and he remembers specifically that he was giving sap a tour...

“snazzy in a suit”

he had no reason to put on the suit (wow time is a flat circle huh)

drista is pretty close to sapnap’s height, she’s like 5′7″ but sap is still taller than her

dream filmed the whole thing when he and sapnap met but... it’s... gone because when he was clipping that one clip for twitter... it edited the whole video

he’s sure when they meet up with george they will film that too :D

DREAM IS PRETTY SURE THAT HE AND GEORGE WILL MEET THIS YEAR-- HE SAYS A 95% CERTAINTITY the five percent is like either restrictions or visa issues

dream does not play any instruments but he had a guitar hanging on his wall when he was younger...

dream is convinced they’re the same height but also sapnap is probably taller??

they had george compare his height to a door frame and dreamnap were googling for any doorframes to find any possible chance that george is taller than 5′8″ ... nothing came up

there’s a chance they’re both lying about being 5′8″

sap and george will literally just show up in stilts to prove they’re taller than each other /j

dream without shoes is between 6′2″ and 6′3″ with shoes he’s 6′3.5″

dream is talking about awesamdude’s fake height arc again LOL

dreamnap are very private people so they don’t bother each other but george doesn’t care and would just barge into their rooms and start bothering them- they were all joking about that over a voice call

he will visit europe

he thinks that greece would be a cool place to visit because sapnap’s family is from there :) so it’ll be like a nice “treat” to go back with sap :D

dream isn’t entirely sure that the dream team meet up will happen this year but he’s working out the details because he wants to make sure it’s safe

he’s talking to youtube about his face reveal

it’s up to george if he wants to eat healthy when they finally move in

dream just has a lot of meat and vegetables in his house

spinach with chicken is good

not much fruit (only apples and tomatoes)

“DRISTA IS 5″ is trending on twitter LOL (her height got cut off)

dream doesn’t want people flying to different places because he doesn’t want to encourage travel so he wants to do all of the meet ups with a two day heads up at most

he thinks that it’s awesome that ranboo and tubbo are meeting soon !! :D

it’s very cool to dream to see how far everyone’s has come since the beginning of the dsmp. everyone has done so much

dream finalized his youtube plan a couple weeks before he uploaded his video and he was talking to drista about how he was gonna be a big youtuber in a parking lot :”)

she was the first person he really ever talked to about it

dream would love to teach george how to drive it’d be really funny :D (a very good video or a livestream idea)

dream knows how to ride a bike, he used to have to bike to school

he can’t explain dnf.gay he has no clue he is not responsible. sapnap was the one who found it LOL. he is adamantly exclaiming that it was not him

dream doesn’t worry about views/likes/dislikes a lot- mainly views but that’s for the new uploads

he hasn’t uploaded in like a month and a half (*cries*)

he wants to stream at some point but he doesn’t know when

he wants to play geoguessr but not now... he doesn’t want to alt stream rn- maybe tomorrow!

he is insisting that the splash text on his minecraft home screen is by callahan

he asked callahan to send him bunch of text files that are dream team related so that the splash can rotate through it but callahan thought it was funny (it is) to put only dreamnotfound <3 so it doesn’t ever change at all and dream doesn’t even know how to change and he has asked callahan to change it but he said no (even though dream pays him LMAO)

the video referenced in the padilla’s video is still in the works, it might be handed over to sapnap though !

he has no idea if he will be in MCC pride yet

padilla got dream’s input for the video, dream found him to be a very nice guy ! :) it’s the first interview that dream did that wasn’t by a person with a negative opinion of dream

dream felt relaxed doing the interview with padilla

?????? he’s blaming callahan for his “dnfisreal” nickname in bedwars

he’s blaming callahan for a lot of dnf-related stuff

callahan runs the dream fanart account thus the liking of dnf content

he’s so insistent that it was callahan

dream admits that he was lying about the twitter and other stuff but for sure callahan did code the splash text in LOL

dream liking that tweet “the chances of george doing a hot tub stream is the same of dnf dating” was “funny” he wasnt trying to do any commentary...

the inside joke of “oh it’s all just a joke to you” originates from george and sapnap actually always fighting (like them yelling and shouting at each other) and george said something really mean and sapnap was hurt then geroge said “it was just a joke” and sapnap replied with that line and ever since then it’s been a meme LOL

he says that everyone does the hand-on-the-passenger-seat-while-reversing thing

dream is offline raiding with his chat with 6k people

dream appreciates us and will talk to us soon!

#dreamwastaken #dreamblr #long post #really long post xd #summary #not really a summary... literally just everything he said #merch discord

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skiyoosmi · 3 years

Text

post-break up heartaches

⤷ verse 2. in the dreams that we once shared

⤷ miya osamu, bokuto koutarou

⤷ verse 1 | verse 3

⤷ play. sorrow by sleeping at last, wrong direction by hailee steinfield

commissions: open

⇢ OSAMU stays still in his seat, melancholic eyes contrasting your bright ones while you twirl around in the middle of the ballroom. he admits, your dream wedding gown fit your figure perfectly as it flowed so gracefully the more you moved. but no beauty can compare to the happiness on your face as you danced with his previous volleyball teammate; the latter having a small smile on his face, not even having a single care about the funny looks you've been getting from your distant relatives. despite the minimal expression he adorns, to someone who has known him for a long time, it's clear as day just how ecstatic suna rintaro was to declare you as his wife, just as you were to call him your husband.

that could've been us, his mind screams all throughout the time he's been in the wedding ceremony, that could've been him dancing with you. he remembers little by little— how those smiles and laughters used to be solely for him whenever you try out his new recipes, from tasty to funny, how he used to be the one suddenly dragged to dance with you, how you used to dream of being married to him. him and only him.

but time was a cruel thing. he should've known better than to keep you waiting for more than so many years with nothing but empty and broken promises. i'll be done soon, yn, you know how much this means to me, this is my dream we're talking about here. stop being selfish please— he recalls himself telling you. he fails to see the disappointment and hurt that cross your eyes, fails to protect the already fragile relationship as you say your goodbye's to him a few more arguments and weeks later— i'm sorry for holding you back, samu. make sure to reach your dreams, okay?

i'm sorry. no matter how many times he says it, your fate was already done with him. you only needed him and he couldn't even give you that.

"hey there, stranger. wanna dance for a bit?"

he looks up, blinded by your brightness that almost seemed as if it mocked his sappy mood but he nods nevertheless, taking your hands as you pull him to the dance floor. in his peripheral view, he sees suna give him a wholehearted smile.

"you should stop frowning. it doesn't suit your face you know? what did you do to my lively samu?" you huff after a few minutes of nothing but silence and awkwardness while you swayed side to side with him, pouting when he shrugs, "you're such a gloomy ass! are you still in love with me or something?"

you swear it was supposed to be a joke, something to lighten the air between you two. but how were you supposed to laugh when he replied to you in the way you least expected?

"yeah, actually, i still am."

silence engulfed the two of you as you tried to overcome your shock. and for all the years he has been with you, it was painfully obvious that the answer he hopes for will not come. not now, not ever.

"samu... it's been—"

"i know. almost 8 years, is it? i know but i can't help it, yn. how could i when you're literally all i see everywhere i look?"

you fail to give him back a reply and (un)fortunately, he feels a tap on his shoulder and immediately, he knew it was time. he lets go of your waist and turns around, heart ready to get drowned by the bitter wine he's planning to drink all throughout the night, accompanied by the tears he won't be able to let out until he comes back to his hotel room.

"congratulations on your wedding, yn."

he ignores the hollowness inside him brought about by the unfinished conversation and goes back to his seat and repeats it like a mantra: not all fairytales get their happy ending.

and much to his dismay, his was one of those that don't.

⇢ BOKUTO was a star, luminous and blinding yet always longing to be part of the galaxy that held the awe of many other people. he was a child with dreams that wander all over the world and with confidence, he wants hear it, see that same world cheer for him.

he was an enormous star but his dreams were even bigger— and as he reaches out his hand to take more of what the universe can give him, he unknowingly lets go of yours.

"you look like you've dropped a huge shit on your underwear with the way you're staring down the court," konoha comments as he takes the seat he reserved beside you, hands deep in his pocket while he does so.

you glare at him, scoffing at his vulgar choice of words, "and you look like that shit, asshole. we haven't seen each other for so long and that's how you greet me?"

he laughs out loud, opening his arms and shoving you in them, "here! is this what you wanted instead? so adorable, yn! i knew you loved me at some point!"

you let out a series of groans, struggling to get out of his hold, "no! you're so annoying, get off me!"

he cackles, releasing you as the buzz rings out throughout the whole court, signaling the beginning of the match between msby and schweiden adlers. you shift in your seat, watching the players get introduced one by one, gasping when your ex-boyfriend literally does two cartwheels in his turn. is he... serious?

"where does he think he is... some kind of circus?" konoha snickers, shaking his head in amusement. oddly, you find yourself laughing with your companion. after all, this was typical bokuto, so full of energy and surprises.

"he looks... okay. very much okay," you bitterly state, placing your chin right on your palm as your arms and elbows rested on your lap. envy envelops your whole being as you watch him lively wave to the crowds, a large grin staying on his face. you huff silently, eyes trying to look at the other players but gravity seems to be playing its tricks on you as you find yourself reverting back to his figure. you wonder if time will let you become that happy someday.

"you're not...?" the lad beside you trails off, sighing when you shake your head 'no.'

"of course not yet, aki. it's not that i still love him or anything but he's just... he was everything, you know? he's become part of all my routines and now that he's gone, it... it just feels empty. like the dreams that used to help me sleep at night suddenly went away," he nods, not pushing you to say anything further. you both knew better than to have a shameful breakdown in public.

"god, i keep forgetting that the air conditioning in here is the worst," you grumble under your breath, rubbing your hands together to keep them from freezing out... because bokuto was no longer there to keep them warm, no longer there to offer you his own hands because you both forgot your gloves at home, no longer there to blow on them as if it was effective (it distracted you both at least), no longe—

"here, give me your hand," konoha reaches out to you, palms awaiting for yours to be in contact with his. you blink, surprised by his sudden offer, along with the pink hues that dusted both sides of his cheeks.

"we can't have them becoming numb, can we? i... i want to hold these hands for a very long time, you know?" he stutters as he begins rubbing both of your hands together, successfully getting rid of the cold and providing a new warmth you never expected will come sooner. oh... it's time, huh?

"uhm... yeah... thank you," you felt your face get hot. it seems like something... rather, someone has come to distract from the coldness you've been recently feeling.

"give me your days," he coughs out, still blushing. if anything, he's flushing even more now, "i'll fill the emptiness in them... and... and i can be your dream so you can sleep tight... and you'll be mine."

you gape at him, thousands of scenes flying through your mind but all of them led to one specific scenario.

"i... i have a lot of dreams, yn! i want to become a star player, someone who everyone will look up to and cheer for! and i... i think i want to focu—"

"i get it, bo. i'll get out of your way then. thank you... for everything."

"i-i'll be your dream?"

konoha chokes on his own saliva, "y-yeah! don't make me repeat it though, do you even know how cheesy that sounds? i can't believe i just said that, god... the things you make me do, you...!"

"okay."

it was his turn to blink, "e-eh?"

"i guess this is day one then?"

"eh?! wait... we... we're dating now, right?!"

"shut up now, aki."

as his golden eyes observe the two figures sitting by the stands, bokuto wishes he could've seen sooner that you were the one he had always been dreaming of, yearning for; wishes it could be him that was holding your hands again and he swears to whoever god there is, he won't let go of them anymore.

but then again, it seems like you were finally ready to wander with someone that wasn't him— who was he to stop you from doing so?

he was just a star;

you were the whole universe,

his universe.

#haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu x reader #osamu x reader #bokuto x reader #osamu headcanons #bokuto headcanons #haikyuu writings #haikyuu angst #miya osamu #bokuto kotaro #haikyuu fics #hq x reader #haikyuu hcs #post break-up heartaches

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ramzawrites · 3 years

Text

Familial Love - Dad!Badboyhalo and Reader Part 1

Pairings: none

Characters included: Philza, Wilbur, Technoblade, Tommy, Badboyhalo

Warnings: n/a

Series: only a two parter

Summary: Having mischievious kids who were interested about the nether, Philza thought it would be the smartest thing to bring his whole family togther into the other world, so he could keep his eyes on them and satisfy their curiosity. Besides, they all could collect some resources while being there, though once in the nether they find more than they bargained for. Bringing in BadBoyHalo who might be able to help with this delicate matter.

Words count: 2684

Authors Note: It was a request ages ago but I sadly lost it, now I’m using it to slowly get back into writing and I know I’m horrible when it comes to multiple chapter fics but I am already almost done with the second part though I have to heavily edit it since I forgot something important. I can’t promise I’m turning back into an upload every week but I’m going to slowly inch my way back to it. I would appreciate some feedback on this one since it’s been a while :)

Philza was fanning some air towards his face using his hand. This wasn’t really helping, of course. The air in the Nether was way too hot for that but he had no better way to deal with the heat that he was currently experiencing. He used to be better at that but he has been spending way more time in the Overworld as of late due to personal projects and having to raise three kids, hence why it took him a bit by surprise with how much trouble he seemed to have to adapt to this environment.

This was also mirrored by his oldest kid Wilbur, which made sense seeing how he only spend minimal time in the Nether, meanwhile Technoblade did fine and interestingly enough, while Tommy was obviously also uncomfortable in this heat, he seemed to be doing better than Philza and Wilbur. Techno was born in the Nether so while it might take a moment he had no problem getting used to this, but Tommy? It was his first time in the Nether so it was a bit surprising. Philza just chalked it up to him being younger and able to adapt faster.

“You sure you guys want to help find the materials?” Philza was looking at both Wilbur and Tommy, though his attention was primarily on Wilbur who was once again wiping away the sweat on his brow.

Both nodded but only Wilbur spoke “Yeah! It’s usually just you and Techno, we want to help out for once as well.”

Philza squinted his eyes, staring his son down “This is bullshit but I’ll take the help nonetheless. I’m sure you will also find the things you both are looking for, would be easier if you would just tell me outright what though.”

“You knew?”

Wilbur clasped his hand around Tommy’s mouth and pulled him closer “It’s fine, dad! We’ll be fine! We’re gonna get that blackstone and the wood in no time!”

He then proceeded to drag Tommy off who begun to angrily yell at Wilbur.

“Remember to stay close!” Phil tried to throw after them but it seemed to go unnoticed, which meant he needed to stay close to them and not the other way around.

“They’ll be fine.” Techno suddenly appeared next to him. An iron axe in his hands.

Philza sighed “ I hope. It’s Tommy’s first time in the Nether and Wilbur doesn’t spend a lot of time here. We have to make sure to stay close.”

Techno nodded, he too was worried about his brothers as well after all “They have some Enderpearls should anything happen and Wilbur will make sure to look out for Tommy.”

He was correct. Philza went over this with all of his sons a ton of times. Teaching them how to enderpearl away while falling and training their aim. He also made sure to tell them all of all the dangers that would await them here. Giving them enchanted bows that could one hit a Ghast.

There was no sense in dwelling on that for now though, hence why Philza hesitantly approached a red tree. His diamond axe soon burrying itself deep into the surprisingly soft wood. Not only is this wood beautiful if used correctly but this wood was also fire resistant which could be helpful for some of his other builds.

Techno was also already on it. He was younger than Wilbur and yet he already showed greater strength than him. Though this wasn’t surprising seeing how Techno was a Piglin Hybrid. They usually grow up pretty fast and were known for their brute strength.

With one swing of his axe he was already pretty deep into the tree. He was just a kid and yet he could keep up with Philza’s rate of cutting down these trees pretty well.

All the while Philza would make sure to run after Wilbur and Tommy. Cutting down the trees close to them. Always making sure that all of his three kids were in his peripheral view. They were still clumsy young children and every time they would even just stumble for a small second his heart would drop.

At times Wilbur and Tommy would try to coax Techno over to show off a cool looking mushroom. At first he was unsure, just wanting to help gather the few recourses that Philza needed but the more his brothers asked the bigger his curiosity got. It didn’t take long for him to join his brothers to look at all the interesting plants and other things they found. Philza just gave him a nod as a sign he is allowed to go after them.

Of course, as a worried father, Philza would still keep his eyes on them.

Honestly this was probably a horrible idea to bring them all with him. The Nether is just too dangerous for kids but also they were so curious! And mischievous kids who are curious about something specific especially when their father doesn’t allow them to approach it? That seems to spell disaster, so, in his infinite wisdom Philza thought it would be a good idea to bring them in with him for a really small outing. Nothing special. He even made sure the portal was in a good place and made it as safe as possible before he took his whole family in.

So when he suddenly heard a scream his heart figuratively stopped. He was so preoccupied with his worry that he didn’t notice how the kids left his view. Without hesitating Philza dropped the heavy axe and instead opened up his wings. With just a few beats of his wings he flew up into the air. Frantically looking around for his sons, hoping they haven’t gone further underground. It calmed him down that there weren’t more screams which could mean one of them just got scared for a second, or they are all already dead not having a chance to yell out again.

Realizing that thinking about this would only make it worse he begun to fully concentrate on the environment, calling out to his sons in the progress. Sweat rolled down the side of his face, this time not only due to the heat but also due to the fear that seemed to fester deep down in his heart and bones with every second he couldn’t find his family.

Then suddenly he saw something blonde. Thank the End Tommy had such an easy to spot hair color. And next to him were Wilbur and Techno, all three of them seemed to look at something laying on the floor. Philza couldn’t make it out from up in the air since the kids put all of their heads together above the item of interest. Either way they seemed to be alright.

As Philza landed close to them he put his hand against his heart “By Ender you guys scared me. Are you alright? I heard one of you scream and I couldn’t see you. Didn’t I tell you guys to stay close to me for that exact reason?”

He kept on rambling along, more out of nervousness and guilt but was stopped as Wilbur looked up, turned around and just stared at his father with a confused expression. In this confusion was a worry there that made Philza almost cautious. Something was wrong after all.

Techno and Tommy followed suit, all of them finally forming an opening so he could see what they were staring at.

On the hot nether ground there was a bundle. A bundle that slowly moved around.

Philza slowly approached it, soon noticing two horns poking out of this bundle. Wrapped in this dirty brown cloth was a baby. A baby with two horns on their forehead and shimmering skin. It looked like there was shimmering ink buried beneath the skin that was now happily dancing across. There was no glow to it and yet he couldn’t describe it differently. There was a shimmer.

This was a demon baby.

His eyes widened as he realized this, fatherly instincts kicking in as he scrambled to get that child off the ground. It was most likely fine seeing how they are a demon but in his mind right now he needed to get the child off the hot netherrack.

“Dad, whose is it?” Tommy stepped closer, pulling on his fathers long sleeve. While young he seemed to understand the implications of a frail small baby just lying around on the ground, understanding that this isn’t how it’s supposed to be.

And he was correct. In Philza’s life he has met demons only a couple of times but has already read a lot of texts on them. While they can live in either the Overworld or the Nether most get born inside the Nether and just like humans, they usually grow up with parents at their side. Parents that taught them how the world works and showed them how to control their magical prowess.

They got the name demon by their unnatural ability and affinity for magic. Being able to control the magic of an enchanting table like no other, able to read the enchantments and crafting new ones. Some even showed outside of enchanting abilities like summoning forth fire for example.

This child was orphaned. Maybe the parents died? He has never heard stories of demons abandoning their own kin, though only because he hasn’t heard it, this doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. He just knew that they took their kin seriously and it was in their eyes one of the strongest bonds that you can have. If a demon called you their kin? That is something special and honoring.

Philza looked the child over one more time. No wounds, no jewelry not anything that could tell him what has happened here or whose baby it is.

As his hand came across the cloth, trying to see if there might be anything embroidered on there the baby instinctively grabbed for his hand. Holding on to his pinky for dear life. Accompanied by a few babbling baby noises. Melting his heart in the process but it also pulled him out of his frantic thoughts.

The next few minutes he ordered his boys to scour the place a bit. Trying to look for any hints of the baby’s parents but there was nothing.

“So, what do we do with them?” Wilbur asked, standing on the tips of his toes as he tried to get a good look at the baby again. The dark horns was what really piqued his interest. Realistically he knew things like this were possible, seeing how his father hand black wings, but it still seemed so magical and impossible.

“Do we have, uh, a new sibling?” Techno asked. His cheeks turning into a soft shade of red as he asked. His eyes darting to the ground. He still wasn’t used to this even though he was adopted and a Piglin Hybrid he was very much a part of the family.

With wide and hopeful eyes Tommy looked up at Philza “I can be a big brother?”

Oh.

Philza wanted to agree. Wanted to tell them, to greet the new member to their family but he couldn’t. Not in good consciousness when he knew there was a better option. An option that would teach the kid what they needed. He couldn’t teach them anything about magic beyond enchanting tools with an enchantment table.

Besides he did know a demon. He met him only a couple of time, so they weren’t particular close but he knew how to reach him and this seemed to be by far the best and most fair option for this baby.

So, he shook his head. All three kids almost seemed shocked at that.

“Why?” Wilbur asked, his hand now holding onto the cloth that the child was wrapped in.

“Because I couldn’t give the child what they needed but I know someone else who can give the child a proper chance at life. Listen, you don’t need to understand yet but trust me as a father. Besides I’m sure we can visit them!”

This wasn’t enough for the children obviously. Asking more questions, trying to get a specific answer. Just repeating the questions.

“That’s enough! This is my decision and as your father and as the resident adult who actually has to take care of all of you, this is my decision. You’ll understand when you get older, I promise.”

Of course there was still some groaning and mumbling but the kids noticed that this was not something they could change Philza’s mind on. Didn’t mean they have to like that though.

With that Philza guided his family back into the overworld as fast as possible. Once back out the nether he made sure to see if the baby was dealing well with the sudden environmental change but they just kept on smiling and babbling which he interpreted as a good sign.

With the help of a long range communicator Philza managed to send of a message to said demon who in return managed to visit Philza after a day using the nether as a hub to travel faster. Seeing how he needed a full day to travel using the nether roof just showcased how far he actually was.

It was Wilbur who opened up the door to him. A tall demon clad in black clothes that had grey and red accents. Two horns grew out of his forehead similar to that of the babies, his skin being a deep black vortex that seemed to swirl but whenever you tried to really concentrate on it , it seemed to disappear and move to the corner of your eye.

Wilbur rubbed his eyes “Um, hello?”

A bright and happy smile appeared on the demons face, a thin tail moving happily around in the back “Hello! Nice to meet you! I’m BadBoyHalo! Your father messaged me, can I talk to him? Is he here?”

“Dad! Someone is here at the door! Is it that guy that is gonna steal our sibling?”

It only took Philza a short moment until he arrived at the front door with the baby in his arms, washed and taken care of to the best of his abilities “Wilbur! We talked about it, he is not stealing them! I’m sorry, Bad but I appreciate you coming over.”

Both Techno and Tommy walked in behind him, obviously having caught on to what was happening. Their expressions sad and almost dark. Still thinking that this was unfair.

Bad curiously pointed at the child in Philza’s arms “That’s them? Can I take a closer look?”

He didn’t hesitate to give Bad the child. Bad might have only been an acquaintance but he knows for a fact that he is a peaceful person. Someone who only fights to protect but don’t let that fool you. He was still powerful and dangerous.

It didn’t surprise him at all when Bad poked lovingly one of the chubby cheeks of the baby and cooed “Aw, look at you! Aren’t you adorable!”

This seemed to confuse Wilbur though who saw Bad as a mighty demon, not as a demon that just melted at one look of a baby.

“What can you tell me about them?”

Bad’s happy, scrunched up face returned to normal, now looking with a serious expression towards Philza “They already have their horns which isn’t unusual but more rare. It’s close to how mine are formed so if we Demons weren’t spread thin all around the place I would say they would technically be in the same clan as me. It’s the typical form of pyromancers but that doesn’t have to be it. I can’t feel any spells on them not even any protective spells which is weird. Even if parents abandon their kids they still apply a few protective spells, hoping it will give them enough time for other Demons to find them.”

“So, you think their parents died?”

“I-“ Bad begun only to scrunch up his eyebrows, an air of sadness seemed to sweep through the room “We are so wide spread and don’t live only in the nether anymore, so, abandoning a baby hoping that another demon finds them is… rare at best. We stick together. Our kin is important to us. I don’t think this was planned. No, they would have given over their child to people they trusted. This feels wrong. Very wrong.”

His voice wavered a bit at the end. The sadness of the situation seemed to have hit him.

Philza crossed his arms as he listened, the kids now almost hiding behind him but still peeking at the strange man “That’s- I have hoped for something better somehow but I figured it would be something like this. Can you help? Will you think about my proposal?”

“I’m not sure-“ but he got interrupted by the cries of the baby but Bad reacted immediately. Slowly swaddling them and carefully wiping away their tears. Lulling them slowly to calm them down again.

“What was it you wanted to say?” Philza tried to get back on topic.

“I’m- I’m taking them home. I’ll be their father.”

A huge smile spread across Philza’s face “Well, congratulations and thank you. Do you already have a name for them in mind?”

It shocked him when Bad immediately answered “Y/N. Their name is Y/N.”

#dream smp x reader #mcyt x reader #dsmp x reader #dsmp reader insert #mcyt reader insert #dream smp reader insert #badboyhalo x reader #mcyt x Y/N #dsmp x Y/N #dream smp x Y/N #badboyhalo reader insert #badboyhalo x Y/N #sbi x reader #sbi reader insert #sbi x Y/N #Ramza writes

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une-femme-de-lettres · 3 years

Text

Build A Home

Summary: In order to give a good image of the Marines to the people, the world government wanted to promote family values within the military forces. The admirals were each offered a woman to marry. You were one of these women.

Characters: Sakazuki, Female!Reader (technically could be gender neutral if you forgo the context/plot)

Parings: Sakazuki x Female!Reader

Word count: 2440

Warnings: Arranged marriage, nsfw towards the end, size difference, size kink

A/N: Rewatching the War of Marineford episodes and watching the admirals made me think… and then I started measuring… and calculating and my brain did a thing… and that is the thing… It’s all over the place, it started as a mere idea, then turned to headcanons then a full story for some reason…? Enjoy!

(edit: I turned everything to past tense cause it was bothering me for some reason…)

In order to give a good image of the Marines to the people, the world government wanted to promote family values within the military forces. The admirals were each offered a woman to marry, chosen from the upper middle class, amongst the best suitors.

You were one of these women, you were to marry Sakazuki. They said it was your duty to your government. At first, you were not against it, you were just not really sure what to expect. From the little of him you had seen or heard, he was a very stern man, obsessed with absolute justice and quite taken by his place and duty in the Marines.

The marriages were made a public affair, of course. The government and the Marines wanted to show as much of them as possible. So in addition to not knowing what your future held for you, you weren’t even granted privacy around such a life changing event. Even with your mind weary of all the cameras and flashes aimed at you by reporters during the ceremony, you could not overlook his massive presence. Yet, you didn’t dare look at him for more than a second at a time.

You were given a home to occupy with your now husband. You were offered services such as housekeeping so you could continue to work your previous job if you wished to. Sakazuki was very distant at first, he didn’t really interact with you except for bidding you good morning when you woke up and wishing you a good night when you went to bed.

You got more privacy as your married life went on, although you were still exposed to media, especially when you went to work at the hospital every other day. You had dismissed your housekeeping help to do it yourself on your spare time, and also to accommodate the ideal family model the government wanted to promote.

You’d grown used to having him around the house in the evening and on his days off duty. He’d become more involved with you and started asking how your days went. Sometimes, he would thank you for taking care of the housework and keeping your house clean and feeding him good meals.

You got to tell him about patients you’d seen at the hospital and he listened to you. You could tell, later into the evening, that he was half listening and half falling asleep. Although you talked a lot about yourself, he didn’t tell you much about himself or his work. You guessed most of it was classified information anyways.

You’d always shared a bed together, but you’d been sleeping closer and closer to each other lately. At first, your remembered feeling very lonely on your side of the bed. In addition to the distance, you felt very small in that bed made to fit him and his unusual size. But then you started to move towards him slowly, and he towards you.

You now usually slept with some part of your bodies touching and even, on the better nights, he would pull you closer in a spooning position and fall asleep like that. These nights were your favorite, you got to feel him engulf you in his warmth and protection. You slept best when he was close to you.

His height and build were what frightened you the most when you first met him. Now, it was the thing that made you the most comfortable. He’d started kissing you on the forehead when he would go to work and when he would come back. He usually came to you, hands in the pockets of his red suit, bent over slightly to reach you and planted a gentle kiss on your forehead or on the top of your head.

You appreciated greatly that gesture. You’d never thought such a man could have shown such gentleness and care. But then again, Sakazuki was very gentle towards you from the beginning, even with the awkwardness of the first days.

As for “marital duty” he had always assured you that there wasn’t such a thing in your marriage. This relationship was more of an agreement to please the world government than anything else. It was nice if this could both gain you a friend, it was nice if this could both gain you a lover, but you were never forced to do anything.

You never questioned if he wanted to be intimate with you in that way. You assumed he didn’t but you were never sure. In any case, you never pressed the issue, it would come if and when it was meant to happen.

Living with him full time, you were bound to see each other in different states and different clothing as what was usually appropriate. First, you would both dress privately, away from each other. You would always make sure you wore proper clothing around each other, except maybe for sleeping, when you were the most naked in front of each other, although still technically wearing clothes.

As the time went, you grew closer and more comfortable around each other. He didn’t mind being shirtless in front of you. Then you grew more comfortable dressing around each other, seeing each other in your underwear at most. Then you sometimes ended up seeing each other practically naked, especially when you switched to take turns in the bath, with only towels covering your bodies.

But then again, there was no underlying sexual interest, so you were both comfortable with this. Your couple and your day to day life in this house were functioning smoothly. You dared to think you had finally become friends, maybe even close friends with him.

He only got one day off a week and he usually spent that day reading and gardening. You often left him alone with his gardening tasks, to offer him some needed time alone. Sometimes, he invited you to read with him, you pulled out one of your romance or fantasy novels and sit curled up on the couch, opposite to where he was. You both remained silent, purely enjoying each other’s presence.

Sometimes he was curious of what you were reading. You usually took some time to lay out the plot of the book you were reading for him. He was not used to reading fantasy and it amused him to watch you excitedly talk about your favorites. He was more into philosophy, history and essays. You sometimes asked him about his book in turn.

He was glad you were willing and capable to keep up with his reads. You were actually quite interested by what he read. You grew more and more comfortable with asking him about them as you noticed him liking having discussions with you. At first, even in everyday life, you practically didn’t dare addressing him for fear of being a bother, but you grew bolder.

You didn’t always share his views on things and sometimes, your discussions would lead to a debate. You could converse for hours at a time, calmly exposing each argument and sharing views. When you were in agreement, it led to a productive sharing of information. When you were in disagreement, you might not resolve the issue but it always allowed you to share your points of views.

You always listened carefully to each other in these moments. He never cut you off and you did the same. These moments were probably the most constructive of your relationship. There was no bad blood held after arguments. Each of you was entitled to their own views.

On these days off, when came evening, he usually liked to take a relaxing bath. Either himself or you warmed the bath water and prepared the items needed. He never failed to thank you when you did it, with one of his kisses. You liked to be helpful to him, not only for the kisses, but because you’d grown to like, dare you say love, the man.

One day, he asked you if you wanted to join him in the bath. With him inside the tub, you didn’t even need to maintain the heat like you were used to doing. Because of his powers, he simply warmed it up with the presence of his body. That day, you spent hours in the bath, in a peaceful silence most of the time. He pulled you closer until you rested against him, your back to his chest and you let your head fall back onto his torso with a delighted sigh.

He held you more intimately this time, and he spoke. He told you many things, about his feelings for you mainly. You were delighted by this open-hearted confession and responded to it positively. He asked if he could kiss you and you leaned into him.

The kiss was the start of your romantic relationship. The progression was slow and steady, you grew physically closer to each other in every day life, needing to feel the other’s touch. The gestures that were kept to the sheets and the dead of the night were now becoming more presents in your daily routine.

You slowly moved towards being fully intimate. He was always weary of the striking difference between his body and yours. He had to care for you with the outmost attention. When came the time you wanted to be with him fully, he couldn’t hide his concern.

Everything on him was proportionate, and with that in mind, he moved very carefully. You had to talk about it openly for some time before he agreed to it. When the time came you were in bed, still exploring each other’s body. He made sure you were as prepared as you could be and he still advanced with the most care.

“Don’t hold anything from me, understand?” His order resonated in you, although he kept his full composure, you’d known him enough time to know he was not at rest.

“I won’t, I promise.” You assured him, giving his arm a light squeeze to let your words sink in. Over the past weeks, he’d taken the time to know you and your body and you his. Today you’d decided to take it slowly. By the time you were in this position, he had brought you to climax several times already and you were ready and eager for him.

Although he would have wanted to have you face him when he penetrated you for the first time, he wanted to minimize the chances of you getting uncomfortable of even hurt and got you on your hands and knees. He was pressed against your back, his height allowing him to completely cover you with his body that he made warmer on purpose.

His mouth breathed against your neck, he tried his best to offer you intimacy despite not being able to look at your face. He kept caressing you and you moaned out your pleasure and desire. You pressed back into him and felt his parts against yours. He was ready to go, heart beating loudly in his chest and he moved forward slowly, gently.

He entered you carefully and even the hours of preparation, the ideal position and the unconditional desire hadn’t prepared you for this. The stretch was not yet painful but very uncomfortable. You let out a cry as you could not formulate words. Your arms buckled under your weight, muscles tired of constant tightening.

“Relax, let me hold you,” he whispered in your ear, fully aware of the strain your body was enduring.

He wrapped a strong arm around your waist and held you close to him. You felt the entirety of his heat invade your body and relax your muscles. The sweat on your skins made your bodies stick together in the most obscene way. You moves your hands to rest on the arm that was holding you up. You felt so small in his embrace, you squeezed his flesh in your hands as if to feel more of him, all of him.

Once you’d relaxed he moved into you more. It was less and less painful to you. You tried to keep your lower muscles as relaxed a possible and it came to you naturally. You took deep breaths until he filled you completely. He didn’t fit all of him into you but this was already overwhelming for both of you.

He stopped there for a few minutes and started kissing your neck. His arm was still strongly wrapped around you and you had nowhere to go. You wanted to stay like this forever, feeling his hot tongue and lips on the skin of your neck. But you wanted to see him, you wanted to kiss him.

You turned your head to meet your lips to his. He captured you into a deep kiss. You pulled away and moaned as the tiniest movements of your body stimulated your sensitive parts.

“Move…” you blurted out, “you can move… please.” He groaned softly in return. Your pleading voice suddenly the only music he ever wanted to listen to.

He started moving with care, keeping his rhythm as steady as possible through the overwhelming sensation your body procured him. The friction was delightful for the both of you. You mindlessly moved your hand to your core and caressed yourself in rhythm. Your hand sometimes touched the part where your bodies connected, letting you feel with your digits how big he was and how much he stretches you.

You felt a tight coil quickly form in your belly and it was only minutes before you cried out in pure pleasure. The orgasm piercing through your body made your walls tighten and pulse around him. His cry of pleasure was almost filled with pain, his own orgasm so powerful his arms trembled. He struggled to hold you as his body betrayed him. Yet he couldn’t let go of you, wanting every last drop of his seed to spill inside you.

You remained motionless for a moment, both completely spent but not wanting this to end. He moved right when he felt his body would give in, he fell onto his side, with you still pressed tightly to his body. You both fell asleep then, your bodies unable to function properly and your minds still floating in ecstasy.

From then on, you were more intimate than ever. You grew bolder and bolder in the bedroom. Being with him was easier and easier each time, having slowly learned how to make it work. Your routine continued as it was, only some things changed. And the passion of your first moments together slowly but surely turned into a deep, faithful love.

#one piece #one piece fanfiction #one piece x reader #akainu x reader #sakazuki x reader #smut #arranged marriage #a bit of fluff #happy marriage #size difference #akainu #sakazuki #reader #ufdlanime

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kyuuppi · 3 years

Text

vegetable stew

Pairing: Kenma x Reader (f)

Contents: hurt/comfort; angst and fluff; body dysmorphia; eating disorder (negative thoughts, fat shaming, insecurity, mentions of starvation)

Word Count: 2.1k

Kenma has always been observant.

It was a large part of his success as a setter and even now his keen observational skills contribute to his career as a professional gamer. He tends to notice things others don’t and lately that means noticing how you’ve changed.

The more he thinks about it the more difficult it is to pinpoint the exact starting point of your behavior. Haven’t you always preferred baggy clothing?

He remembers the pretty blue sweater you used to treasure back in high school, wearing it every chance you got as soon as the weather report hinted at anything lower than 10°C. He loved that sweater too—not just because of the cute sweater paws it gave you or how it almost completely covered the shorts you wore beneath, offering an unobstructed view of your shapely thighs—but instead he relished in the way it seemed to make you feel. The confidence and joy in your expression was clear as day when you wore your favorite outfits and early on in your relationship he had quickly learned that somehow your happiness was synonymous to his own.

Hence Kenma’s current frustrations in seeing that spark of joy and self-confidence gradually diminishing in the past several weeks.

Although that particular sweater had long since left your wardrobe within the first few years of university, as well-loved and worn out as it was, the more recent favorites of yours have also seemed to have gone lately. It had been a while since you had worn the short yellow polka dot dress you had been so eager to show Kenma the first day you got back from the mall with your roommates. Every pair of shorts and colorful tennis skirts had also left your weekly rotation, leaving behind only dull sweatshirts with childhood cartoon characters and baggy joggers.

Objectively, Kenma hardly cared about what you wore. If fastening a potato sack around your form made you happy, Kenma wouldn’t bat an eye—the problem stemmed from the fact these clothes didn’t make you happy. Moreover, the bland clothing brought with them their own slew of behavioral changes.

You no longer wished to go out and you avoided taking pictures of yourself, your social media suffering from an obvious lack of cheeky selfies or “outfit of the day” posts as of late. However, the most concerning change of all was your refusal to eat.

Kenma had a habit of forgetting to eat himself. He rarely felt the mild twinges of hunger, his attention generally hyper-focused on something else whether it was a game, a video needing editing, or a class project he had pushed off for far too long. It was only when his own stomach growling would startle him or the hunger pains got unbearable that he would acknowledge the human requirement of sustenance (not that the instant ramen in his cabinets provided much nutrients anyhow).

You were much more in tune with your body and, unlike him, you looked forward to eating; scheduled your days around it, even.

Your mornings began with a balanced breakfast—a meal Kenma was rarely even awake in time for—followed by a generous lunch break in which you would intentionally put everything on pause. Regardless of how much work you had to do you always made time to put everything down and have a decent lunch. It was good for your soul, you would say. A time to live in the moment and relieve yourself of stress.

For dinner you often made it a point to eat with others, whether it was going to a rowdy Korean BBQ with some friends or a dinner date at home with just him, you enjoyed sharing a meal surrounded by the people you love. On top of it all, you frequently had snacks: small bags of crackers, slices of fruit, or a few cookies you made yourself.

You loved cooking almost as much as you loved eating; most of the times he invited you over you brought a large bag with you filled to the brim with ingredients he wouldn’t have a clue what to do with. You would chastise him about his awful eating habits, grimacing at the ramen and chip wrappers overflowing in the kitchen trash can before you diligently prepare a meal for you both, healthy and flavorful, full of the vegetables he hadn’t had since the last time he went home to visit his mom.

You made him look forward to meal times too, if only to see the way you light up when he compliments your cooking or the pure bliss when you take the first bite of your favorite side dish. Eating with you became one of his favorite parts of the day.

And so that last time you made him dinner—a steaming plate of curry with shrimp tempura—the normally delicious food suddenly turned sour on his tongue when he realized you had only made him dinner.

“I’m just not very hungry today,” you had assured him with a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

Foolishly, he hadn’t said anything at the time.

Maybe you had a large lunch, maybe you had a stomach ache, maybe you just didn’t want curry today—at that point in time he had no reason to think there was something seriously wrong. He had no reason to think you were starving yourself.

It wasn’t until weeks later when all the evidence stacked up, the many different signs piecing themselves together like a puzzle until it was impossible not to see the picture, even if a few were still missing.

Your baggy clothing, your refusal to eat anything, your off-handed comments about how the female characters in whatever fighting game he was playing had such nice figures—it became crystal clear what you were doing and it made him feel sick.

Kenma doesn’t generally care about others’ looks; he tends to worry more on how he is perceived than how he perceives others but he is confident that he rather likes your body as it is. He would rather die than admit how often he finds his gaze wandering when your legs are bare or how his eyes naturally trace the curve of your waist down to the width of your hips his fingers twitch to touch—he has had many thoughts about your body, none of which have ever been negative.

Even so, he doesn’t mind if you want to change yourself. He isn’t foolish enough to think he has the right to dictate how you decide to present yourself to this world, but he refuses to allow the reason for your change to be one that stems from low self-esteem or insecurity.

When you step into Kenma’s apartment, weary from a long day of classes and the extra hours spent at the gym, the last thing you expect is to be greeted by the scent of some type of stew, warm and hearty. Your stomach clenches longingly but you quickly reprimand yourself—you already reached your tiny caloric limit for the day.

You have hardly made it into the living room when Kenma comes out from the kitchen, dyed hair tied in a low bun but messy, several strands poking out and sticking across his sweaty forehead. A dark blue apron is tied around his waist and his right hand holds a ladle, the perfect image of a frazzled housewife. If you weren’t so shocked by the scene you would have laughed.

“Welcome back,” he greets softly.

“Are you...cooking something?”

Kenma looks slightly embarrassed by your incredulous tone but not offended. In all the years you have known Kenma you have never seen him in the kitchen for longer than the three minutes required to heat up a bowl of noodles. Him slaving away in front of the stove for a bowl of homemade soup is nearly unfathomable to you.

“Vegetable stew...it’s my mom’s recipe,” your boyfriend explains sheepishly.

The mental image of Kenma shyly FaceTiming his mother as she patiently walks him through chopping up carrots and mixing spices makes your lips twitch upwards and you make your way past him to curiously survey his work.

“You didn’t have to go through the effort, I could have cooked you something, y’know,” you comment as you lean over the large pot on the stove.

The contents are a rich brown color with hints of potatoes, carrots, and onions peaking out. You’re gifted another pang of hunger and you quickly step back as if it would prevent you from falling into temptation.

Kenma quietly slips into the kitchen directly behind you, his chest nearly brushing your arm as he speaks.

“It's okay, I wanted to cook for us this time.”

You freeze.

Immediately, you break into a cold sweat, the prospect of eating sending you into a state of anxiety. You can’t eat—you don’t deserve to eat. Not when your arms are so flabby, your waist so undefined, your inner thighs so close to each other—

“I appreciate it,” you start.

Your voice sounds unnaturally high even to your own ears.

“But I’m not hungry—I had a really big lunch.”

Turning, you try to offer him an apologetic smile but his face looks off. His lips are pulled into a slight frown and his eyes seem to be looking through you, as if he knows you’re lying.

“Y/n...I don’t like what you’re doing.”

You attempt to laugh but it comes out hollow.

“I’m not doing anything bad, just dieting a bit.”

“I think you’re being a little extreme.”

You huff, starting to feel defensive. You don’t want to have this conversation, not now, not ever.

“Kenma, I’m totally fine, I promise.”

“I’m worried about you,” he insists.

“I’m telling you there’s nothing to worry about, I’m being safe.”

“Skipping meals isn’t healthy.”

“Kenma, being this fat isn’t healthy!”

The words escape before you can think to stop them and you can already feel the shame pricking at your eyes as you turn away. You don’t want to see your boyfriend’s look of disgust once he realizes you’re right, once he realizes how fat and unattractive his girlfriend is. Kenma is skinny, he deserves a petite girlfriend who is just as tiny, a girl with slender legs that look cute in shorts and a stomach that lays flat regardless of the time of day. He deserves the sexy girls in his video games, in shape from years of training and perfected suited for tight leather bikini tops.

You don’t realize you’re shaking until Kenma wraps his arms around your shoulders, burying his face into the side of your neck. He lets out a shuttered sigh and if you didn’t know any better you’d think he’s crying as well.

“I love you,” he murmurs against your skin, “and I don’t like seeing you hurting yourself. If you want to lose weight, I’ll help you. We can make healthy foods together and eat them together and exercise together—just please stop skipping meals.”

Your throat feels like it's stuffed with cotton so you can only nod in agreement, raising one hand to weakly wipe at the hot tears staining your cheeks.

The two of you stand like that, huddled in the middle of the kitchen, for several long minutes until the last of your tears have gone before Kenma gently pushes you to sit down at the coffee table. He prepares two steaming bowls full of vegetable stew for you both and you silently eat as Kenma tells you how low calorie the broth is and how many nutrients his mom said were in the vegetables he used. He tells you about a new fitness game on the Nintendo Switch that you two can play together. By the time you finish your meals, Kenma has already promised to wake up early to go jogging around the neighborhood together even though you know he absolutely hates waking up early and exercising when he doesn’t have to.

Your chest aches with how much he loves you, how far he’s willing to go just if he thinks it will help you and make you happy.

A small part of your mind begs you not to listen. It insists you’ll be fat forever if you don’t starve yourself; no pain, no gain. But the more rational part of you gazes into those soft golden eyes, filled with concern and love as he rambles on about the best sources of protein—all stuff he had learned from his professional volleyball player friend Hinata—and you know your answer.

Kenma loves you, he would do anything to see you happy and healthy and you would do anything to please him.

You love him more than you hate yourself.

#kozume kenma #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #kenma x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #kenma imagine #kenma scenario #kenma x chubby reader #haikyuu x chubby reader

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