#actually not all that strange and could easily be a reality if I'm not careful

[love-to-love-puppies]

.

#just had a strange dream #actually not all that strange and could easily be a reality if I'm not careful #in the dream my sister was desperately trying to get pregnant and I was desperately praying I wasn't #the dream ended before the test showed if I was or not but dream me was already making plans to get an abortion #I have never had and desire to be pregnant or have a baby #irl my sister has had a hard time getting pregnant. they're not actively trying but her husband doesn't like condoms #so she's gotten pregnant a few times #and miscarried several times #and that's tragic and I feel for her #but if I wound up unwittingly pregnant I would still make sure my family never found out and I'd get rid of it #I know my sister would probably pay me out the ass for the baby #but I don't want to sacrifice my body and potentially my life for her #the idea of being pregnant and giving birth is horrifying to me #besides my sister won't be a good mom especially if it wasn't hers #she's a wannabe influencer and any children she has will be props to make her look good #she and her husband are far too selfish and emotionally immature to give a kid the emotional support they'd need #and I wouldn't put any child of mine through that #I woke up with only one thought: that I need to get an IUD before they wind up banned across the US #I'm afraid of how much it will hurt because I've heard some horror stories but I'm terrified of getting pregnant more #tbh I'd get sterilized if I could

[those-crybaby-tears]

OMG HIII im so excited for a creepypasta writer :3 may i please request you write for hoodie nd masky, reader also being a proxy!!!! it could be general hcs or whatevs, up to you!! if you dont want to do this req, its ok, if u want me to req smthn else u can always pm me

HIII and thank you so much! I hope I complied with your request (sorry if I didn't).

Characters included: Reader (as proxy), Slenderman (named sometimes as Boss), Masky and Hoodie + mention of other proxies.

Small Warnings: mention of kidnapping, mention of dizziness, actions of light bullying, mention of broken bones, deep cuts, bruises, killing and curse words. Proxies are not kind toward newbie at all :(

⚠️Writer's Notices⚠️: I think I expanded the request without intending to? I'm not sure about that. I just like to give a lot of informations about the characters, so I also put a very light backstory of the Reader. I hope this doesn't bother you and, of course, if you wish, you can skip everything and go to the part that interests you the most. I'm not judging. Please enjoy!

𝑀𝐴𝑆𝐾𝑌 𝐴𝑁𝐷 𝐻𝑂𝑂𝐷𝐼𝐸 𝑊𝐼𝑇𝐻 𝐴 𝑃𝑅𝑂𝑋𝑌 𝑅𝐸𝐴𝐷𝐸𝑅

HOW DID YOU BECOME A PROXY?

You are probably in contact with kids/young adults who saw Slenderman;

Maybe a babysitter or a psychiatrist;

The fact is that you will never encounter proxies initially;

It is very important for Slenderman to decide for himself his servants;

Toby had once brought a girl into the mansion unbeknownst to Boss... Let's say she stayed for a short time;

Of course, Toby doesn't remember her anymore;

One day someone tells you about this strange, tall and thin man who appears in their dreams and in the woods;

However, one day you were normally on your way home when you started to feel dizzy;

And... surprise! Shortly afterwards you were in a dark office without any kind of light, forced to listen to a faceless man;

You don't remember much about how you get there but your attention, of course, is not centered on that small detail;

BUT WHY WERE YOU RECRUITED BY SLENDERMAN?

Most likely because you have a very good intellect and you reason efficiently;

The Big Boss really needs proxies like that;

Not an athletic person? DON'T WORRY! Slenderman already knows everything about you and what type of training you need, he already comes up with a training program just for you!

(Be grateful and don't try to run away, this tired old man ain't got no time to come and haunt you) :(

WHAT HAPPENS NEXT?

One surprise after another, apparently! (actually, you could easily imagine what is about to happen);

You are entrusted to some proxies who will take you under their "protective" wing;

These proxies are: Masky, Hoodie, and Toby!

But mainly Masky and Hoodie since they are the only ones who have actually done any training when they arrived at the mansion;

Toby isn't very present because he doesn't care much and would still struggle to have an initial relationship given his Antisocial Personality Disorder;

But don't worry! He'll get used to you soon!

HOW DO MASKY AND HOODIE BEHAVE TOWARDS YOU?

They are slightly heartless bitches :(

(they're actually "somehow" nice to you but not too much);

I mean they would help you with training but make fun of you whenever they can;

This mainly Masky;

Hoodie simply giggles meanly and nods;

DON'T LET THESE "INSTRUCTORS" OF YOURS FIND OUT THAT YOU'RE SENSITIVE OR THAT YOU CRY EASILY!

(This is honestly me);

I say this for your own good, really;

If Masky notices a sniffling or shining eyes from tears that would like to fall... you will find out what hell is;

You will no longer know what dignity is...

"Awwww, don't tell me our little newbie is going to cry, right?" it may be the phrase you'll hear the most;

Masky will basically yell it in the presence of ALL the residents of the mansion just to give you a reason to cry more;

"Come on Masky, can't you see that the frail little thing here is shaking? Give them some personal space."

Another reality revealed, but this time it's Hoodie's fault;

He probably won't yell it like Masky, but he'll still say it in a higher-than-average tone of voice;

BUT WHAT IF YOU'RE ACTUALLY VERY BADASS?

If they notice that you are actually very neutral and don't care about their nasty comments, they will simply stop;

After all, it's no fun if there are no reactions;

Basically, they will just give you the advice you need to improve;

However, you may also have a short fuse!

Maybe you shouldn't point it out, you might unintentionally push yourself further, and since Masky also has a short fuse, you could start a fight with him;

If there's Hoodie nearby he'll stop Masky before killing you (but you'll have some deep cuts, bruises and, at worst, broken bones);

However, in the absence of Hoodie/other proxies, you will be killed without much scruples;

Butttt... consider yourself lucky because usually Hoodie and Masky are together all the time, either for tasks and because they have established a good relationship and don't spend much time with the other residents;

Above all they are good instructors;

They know when you've reached your limit and will stop you if they see you're going too far;

They will give you advice and plan a diet if they see that it is necessary;

It could have been worse, couldn't it?

WHAT DO THEY LOOK LIKE DURING TRAINING?

As said before, they would certainly help you a lot;

Both with advice and by encouraging you to keep going;

(they will become more and more familiar with this as time goes on);

However, I like to imagine that Hoodie does the exercises with you, both to keep fit and to be an example for you;

Masky observes the two of you, smoking his cigarettes;

In some cases he will join you;

(he made a bet on who does the most running laps with Hoodie);

"You know, Y/N, Masky has never been able to beat me in a running challenge", Hoodie usually makes fun of Masky;

"For fuck's sake, just shut up!" and Masky responds in a bad way;

While they may seem quite calm while training you, don't forget that they are professional assassins;

You don't really want to see them when they have to torture/kill someone;

But one day, for sure, you're going to see that because, ops!, from now on you are a proxy;

Good luck with that!

Okay, that's all about our two favorite proxies!

I really have to write headcanons about their backstories because I've honestly always wanted to do that.

I hope you enjoyed this!

♡

#slenderman #creepypasta headcanon #creepy pasta #masky #slender proxy #proxies #marble hornets #hoodie marble hornets #hoodie and masky #hoodie #masky and hoody #Proxy Training #creepypasta #creepypasta x reader

[petrichor-idyllic]

Hi! Could I request a newt x nonbinary!reader where reader is put into the maze without remembering that they’re trans, but then they realise and come out and ask people to use they/them pronouns - especially with newt first but reader is worried that he won’t accept them or like them back but yay feelings are returned in the end

Thank you so much!!

Absolutely I can.

UNDERSTANDING AND ACCEPTANCE

MASTERLIST | NEWT MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: See above. Takes place before the arrival of Thomas.

WARNINGS: Inappropriate language, gender queer distress, struggling to come out to people, one sarcastic sex joke from Minho, I've tried my hardest to figure out how to write this so I'm sorry if this is bad - sorry.

You've always felt out of place in the Glade.

At first, you figured it was just because you're in the middle of a giant changing Maze without any knowledge of who you are - which would make sense.

But as you watched the other Gladers adapt and accept themselves and their situations; you didn't.

You always felt strange in your body, and you hated it when people referred to you in any way, shape or form. A lot of the boys started thinking you were just shy and didn't want to be involved. But, in reality, the internal cringing that takes place whenever anyone ever talks about you is enough to knock you physically sick.

It took you a long time to figure things out, and a slightly awkward drunken conversation with Alby.

Despite Gally's Special Brew making your brain fuzzy, you still remembering the conversation embarrassingly well.

But thank God it was with Alby.

Alby is a harsh leader and keeps his men on a tight leash, but he also deeply cares about you all. So, when he came up to you, asking if you were okay and you immediately burst into tears, he was beyond experienced enough to deal with it.

It did take him back for a second, though.

Alby has dealt with a lot of emotional situations. From Minho's stress-induced mental breakdowns behind closed doors to Newt's gay crisis - he's witnessed it all. He's dealt with it all.

It was a strange realisation, and you didn't expect Alby to be the one to point it out, but you became aware of your gender identity.

It was like something clicked.

Alby was the first person you asked to refer to you as they.

And he was the only person for a while. You became close because if that.

Then he accidentally called you they in front of Minho. You panicked but Minho didn't care.

He shrugged it off but started also referring to you as they.

Slowly, you started to tell more Gladers, and all of them were pretty accepting.

You begin to realise that they just don't care. Everyone has bigger things to care about. Sure, the drunk philosophy conversations around a Bonfire about sex, love and gender are interesting. But they don't actually mean anything to the boys. They have far too much on their plates for that to be at the forefront of their concerns.

Even the less accepting boys don't really care. There's a couple of confusing looks or sparky questions, but that's it. Which sucks, but apart from that, everyone is very accepting.

But that doesn't make you any less scared of someone not being accepting.

And that specific person is Newt.

Which is ridiculous.

And you know it's ridiculous.

Newt is easily one of the most accepting person in the Glade, and it's pretty much an open secret that he doesn't like women. If anything, he's the person to go to for any identity or LGBTQ+ issues.

Which is why it would hurt so much if he didn't accept you.

You're only really out to a few people, but it feels like everyone. But despite people's views, they've all agreed to keep it to themselves until you gain the courage to tell everyone. And the next step is telling Newt.

It really doesn't help that you have a small crush on the boy.

Small.

Oh, so small.

Teeny-weeny, you could say.

You are a liar.

You're borderline infatuated.

Deep down, you know Newt will accept you.

But what if he doesn't?

What if you catch him on a bad day? And he laughs at you or tells you to piss off?

The thought is enough to send waves of anxiety through you.

"It's really not a big deal, dude," Minho hums from next to you in his hammock. You've, for some reason, been hanging around the Keeper since Alby exposed you. He's surprisingly good at being a comfort.

Probably from the traumas of the Maze and dealing with stressed Runners.

"It's a big deal to me," you mumble, legs crossed as you draw lines in the dried dirt in the floor in front of you.

The sticks holding Minho up creak as he turns to lie on his side. The other boys are talking around the main area of the Glade, where they just hang out after a hard day's work. Minho often calls it an early night because he doesn't have time for the petty stuff in the Glade.

Which obviously means he has to deal with you and your problems instead.

"Dude, he's not gonna give a shuck. You're buggin' out for no damn reason. Newt's one cool shank, and you know that. Just tell him. Half of us know anyway, and it's only a matter of time before Alby slips up again."

That is a daunting thought.

"But what if he-?"

"What if he doesn't accept me? What if he doesn't like me back? What if he doesn't want to make sweet, sweet love to me all night long because I changed some funny little words about myself?" You look over your shoulder, glaring at the boy as he mocks you. He grins, sitting up in his hammock and attempting to adjust himself.

He almost slips, which is kind of funny.

"Slim it, shank - I'm tellin' ya. It'll be all good. Just... tell him when you're good and ready, if ever." You let out a huff as Minho tries to drop the sarcasm and attempts to be genuine. "Though, I'm am gettin' shuckin' sick of hearing about it, so if you could do it sooner rather than later; it would be appreciated."

You pull your lips into a thin line, grimacing at the boy. "I hate you, you know?"

"Nah," he flops back down. "You love me, really. Now, either shuck off and get some sleep or go get your man - keep me out of it."

You grumble to yourself, walking away and over to your hammock. Well, you get about halfway there when you slow down to look at Newt.

He's casually leaning against a plot holding up a torch, laughing along with Frypan and another boy whose name you can't place. His golden locks are illuminated by the flame and his cool but casual stance makes your heart melt.

You have to tell him.

You want to tell him.

"Screw it," you change your course of direction and start marching over to him. Your stomach is a bundle of knots and you feel like you've just woken up from a rough night of drinking.

But you keep going.

Until you stop dead in your tracks.

God, he's pretty.

He's pretty and kind, and kind of nihilistic, and he's probably the most level-headed person in this place.

How were you ever meant to stand a chance?

So, obviously, your nerves buckle and you decide better.

Nope. You're not doing this.

"(Y/N)?" Newt's accent stops you mid-escape, forcing you to awkwardly spin back around to face him.

"Hey," the word comes out strained as you offer an awkward wave.

"Hey, haven't really seen you about recently," he stands up straight, causally slipping his hands into his pockets. "You a'ight?"

His voice, his hair, his dark eyes - everything about him makes you melt.

No wonder Minho's sick of hearing about this shit.

"Y-" your voice breaks, and you have to clear your throat to hide it, "Yeah, I'm good."

He gives you a nod before vaguely gesturing towards his companions. "You wanna join? Fry managed to get his hands on an early batch of Gally's mystery recipe."

"Nah, I'm good, thanks," you go to leave again, but stop yourself.

You've got to get this over with.

"Actually," you clearly your throat again, "can I, uh, can I talk to you, for a second?"

Newt's eyebrows raise slightly. "Yeah, sure - 'course."

You nod for him to follow you, and he does. You walk to the edge of the Deadheads, where you stop and look at him.

"So, uh..." You very quickly trail off.

Where to start?

Okay, so, I really like you and also I don't fit the gender-binary. Okay, bye.

Yeah, don't think that'll work.

"Are you okay?" He steps closer to you. "You've been distant for the last few weeks - I'm starting to get worried."

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just have to tell you a couple of things." You glance at the floor before your eyes flickering back up.

"Okay." You hesitate and he continues. "You know you cab tell me anything, right?"

"Yeah, I know... okay, so uh, basically... Okay. I don't identify as male or female, and I go by they/them pronouns - a-and I would appreciate it if you respected... that."

You look him in the eye and he just tilts his head.

"You wanna used they/them?"

"Yep."

"Okay, cool. They/them it is then."

You blink. Once. Twice. And again.

"What?" He asks. "What is it?"

"You're fine with that?"

He smirks, his eyebrows furrowing, amusement written across his face. "Yeah? Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well... I just... sorry, I've been buggin' over it."

"Really? C'mon, (Y/N), you know I ain't gonna judge ya."

"Yeah, I know, I was just being dumb."

"Yeah, you were," he rocks on his heels for a second. "Wait, what was the other thing?"

"Huh?"

"You said you had two things to tell me?"

Honestly, the relief that you'd experienced made you completely forget that you're in love with this man.

"Oh, right, yeah, uh... okay, you might actually judge me for this one." You try to laugh it off but he seems concerned more than anything. "I kinda, maybe... like you?" You didn't mean for it to be a question, but that's what it is now.

His expression falters at this.

"W-what?" He splutters out.

Newt isn't sure if he heard you correctly. He's never told anyone, but he's actually had a crush on you since you showed up in the Box. He likes your work ethic and the way you treat people.

So, you'll have to forgive him when his words catch in his throat.

"Ithinkimaybesortahaveamassivecrushonyou."

He blinks. "Okay, one more time, you said that way too fast."

"I really like you, Newt - I have a crush on you."

You're not sure what you expected, but as Newt starts to smile, that familiar feelings of butterflies fills your stomach.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," he grins.

"Thank God for that," he scoffs, "I thought you were gonna tell me you're dying or some klunk."

You snort at this, shaking your head. "Nope, not dying."

"Good. Couldn't have my partner dying on me, could I?"

Your eyes widen. No... surely not.

"Partner?"

"Yeah, like a couple," he pauses. "That's the right word... right?"

"...You wanna be a couple?"

"Yep," he pops the p, "believe it or not; I like you too."

"You do?"

"Yeah," he steps forward, standing a few inches away from you. "I do." His eyes fall to your lips. "Can I kiss you?"

You nod, leaning in, your noses brush before your lips meet. It's a quick peck, and when you pull apart, he's grinning like an idiot.

"I think we make a pretty good couple, don't you?" He kisses the end of your nose and you roll your eyes.

"Couldn't agree more."

This has taken me embarrassingly long to get through, so I apologise.

Anyway, hope yall enjoyed :))

#🌿 petri writes #🌿 petri tmr newt #🍃 petri tmr #🌿 petri writes tmr #tmr fanfiction #tmr imagines #the maze runner #newt the maze runner #tmr newt #newt tmr

[ambiguousintentions]

4.9.2024 Reflection

Damn. It's been more than a year since I left education and half a year since I ditched my last set of friends (had to; they hurt me bad, and their texts were beginning to trigger anxiety attacks).

Sober for about 3 weeks now for an electrician apprenticeship I applied for. Couldn't do corporate- fuckers wanted to only give me a $1.50/hr raise after I reworked their entire operations system and developed SOPs for them. Making silly YouTube videos in the meanwhile, which is honestly so fun. If only it could be more lucrative though- then I'd truly be living.

Ever since I ditched my friends, I just keep trying to reflect on all the ways I'm shitty. Am I just too sensitive? Was I actually not a good friend? Was I not educated enough? Was I too offensive? Too snobbish? Not proactive enough? What could I have done to make them care about me more?

All of those are probably true to some degree, but it's hard to tell what degree. It's easy to feel like everything's your fault. My fault for getting too upset too easily, for not letting social issues go, for not knowing when to just chill. To be honest, I've kind of stopped trying to make friends. I just feel like I'm wasting everyone's time. Why bother when I know that I'm just 4th choice? I know you're barely enjoying this conversation; I'll release you from it. Sorry.

But today one of my students found the Gen Alpha rant video I made about 3-4 months ago, where I detailed about problems I saw in the education system. When I left education, I left my last high school once fall semester was over; admin had about a month to find a replacement for me, which I thought was reasonable enough time. The student who commented on my video yelled at me for leaving them and asked why I couldn't just suck it up, because they had an apathetic sub for the rest of the year. They said that I shouldn't blame my colleagues (cause I blamed them for playing movies all the time and literally letting the kids literally re-enact squid games instead of actually learning and doing work, which lead to a lot of shitty attitudes and behavior (and of course there were other criticisms but they agreed with those)) since they were probably experiencing the same stress I was experiencing. But they also said that my class was the only class they felt like they learned from.

I feel like crying. I feel strangely validated. Thanks; I didn't know you were actually learning from my class. I'm so happy to hear you learned. You're right though- I am weak. Sorry. I don't know how to fix that. I'm working on it, but I don't know how to do that faster. I don't know what I could possibly do now to fix my mistake of leaving. Am I your deadbeat dad???

I do that often I think. Sometimes people want to get to know me, but I've already decided we've got nothing in common. I don't want to bore them, and I wouldn't want them to bore me. So I give up before I give it an honest effort.

But it just has me thinking... how many times has this probably happened? I leave because I'm failing when in reality I'm not??? I leave because I feel myself getting increasingly bitter and frustrated and know that if I stay in that same place for too long, I'm going to blow up and do or say something I'll regret. It's just... it takes me so long to reflect on things. To figure out how I feel. I mean, fuck, I'm finally at a place where I feel like I COULD potentially have a conversation with one of my old friends without having an anxiety attack, but it's been 6 fucking months.

I feel like a mess. I've been repeatedly transforming myself for the last decade. I looked back on my posts from years ago, and I can't help but feel like I still harbor the same underlying issues. I feel like the wisdom I've gained over the years has helped me control the damage a bit better yet at the same time the collective damage is breaking me. I wonder when I'll be done transforming and finally settle into the form I've made for myself.

And yet. At the same time... when I look back at those posts... and see how upset I was ten years ago- similar to how upset I was in the past year-

I can't help but laugh and smile at the journey I've been on. Such a winding and long journey only to end up in the same psychological spot but in a different physical setting. Did I truly go anywhere? Is the whole point to do another cycle just so you can laugh all over again about the convoluted way you took just to arrive back in your haunted home of a body?

#personal #different day same shit i suppose #like... what happens to adults like me yknow?

[insurrection-if]

If I'm not mistaken, Fyodor has wings right (it wasn't specified on the character page, unless I skimmed over it-)? How often does he groom his wings then? Better yet, how does he react if the MC offers to groom them?

Yep, Fyodor may use his gift to sprout (a) set(s) of wings . . . though he uses them rather sparingly! ¯\_(　´∀｀)_/¯ It’s so rare for them to be seen by the public that most might not be aware he has them at all. (Rumors certainly existed back in his former residence, but few lived past seeing them to affirm what many suspected.)

Unlike Kalyna, they aren’t comprised of any true biological matter and are extremely versatile in their composition. Instead of actual bone and feather, they’re more so a supernatural reflection (perhaps even a manifestation) of his feelings and wants. Typically they take on milky white or pure golden hues with pillowy feathers and expansive reach—angelic in appearance, able to shield and comfort those he cares for. Lately, however, his wings have been noted to be more reminiscent of fire or metal—still able to fly as easily as ever despite the impracticality (impossibility) of their presently chaotic and strange composition. (Reality and logic have little constraint over his gift!) Fyodor has considerable sway over the form his wings take: material, span, movement, amount, etc. Not absolute sway, but considerable sway nonetheless.

When not in use, it’s as though his wings don’t exist at all. No examination could unveil their existence burrowed beneath his skin; no scar can be directly attributed to their point of origin. Though they sprout from his back as though they were always nestled just beneath his surface, the spectacle is no more than an unintended illusion. When Fyodor loses use or want for them it is as though they naturally meld back into the cold night air, passing fog, or daylight rays like they had never been there at all. ¯\_(´・ω・｀)_/¯ A smooth and subtle poof into nonexistence like magic!

Really, Fyodor employs them so hesitantly and rarely that he might not mention their existence unless the sudden need for them arrives or it’s his final possible trump card to impress / win the favor of someone he desires a positive opinion from. Outside of his profession as a useful tool for chasing people down, surveillance, quick / “covert” travel, transportation of others / objects, intimidation, or protection the only (civilian) use he had for them was a resting pillow / blanket / nest for his friends or a (drunk) party trick to earn some praise. Otherwise, his wings are commonly summoned unwittingly / subconsciously by strong bouts of overwhelming emotion. That, or through Mishka’s influence. In those situations, at least in the past, his wings were essentially a (threat) statement to get a particular message across. (；´∀｀)

Mm, I will state that while Fyodor is no angel or nephilim (despite his insistence suspicions otherwise) it’s no coincidence that such a comparison is so common for him. He’s quite capable of numerous physiological changes actually— or he would be, at least, if he had better control over his gift, haha! Ah, though in the original (non-interactive) version of Insurrection one of his children (in the epilogue stage) was a shapeshifter who finally harnessed the potential of versatility that Fyodor so greatly struggles to (consciously) wield! I guess that could be chalked up to a matter of personality . . . （；^ω^）

Due to his wings being more “magical” than “biological” in essence, there isn’t much need to groom them or care for their maintenance. Fyodor does receive sensations of touch through them though, and he would be absolutely elated at the offer to groom them (as unnecessary as the task may be) if only to enjoy the gentle caress and care from the hands of his love. He might be a bit jumpy at first from the particular ticklish sensitivity he would feel from lighter grazes or the alien form of intimacy this curious ritual didn’t have when performed by his friends. For one reason or another, his wings are uniquely this sensitive towards you alone . . . likely due to the profound influence you have over his heart like no other does.

Earlier in the relationship, Fyodor would also be half-distracted with holding up the collar of his backwards shirt / a shielding blanket to cover up as much skin as possible in a nervous attempt to protect his modesty (especially around someone he has romantic intentions towards). He might be self-conscious or quietly worried about unveiling (and thus repulsing) you with the distracting sight of scars on the skin of his back; drowning himself in an odd mixture of sickened concern for how these lingering wounds might change how you look at him and an eager desire to have another part of himself be known by you. His smiles are shaky, his fingers nervously pinch the fabric in his hold to divert the tingled energy that rolls through him. Despite the ferocity of his blush and shifting waves of tension in his shying frame, he cannot mask how pleasurable and soothing an experience it is overall.

Later in a relationship, Fyodor would consider the needless ritual to be cute and precious. He would feel guilty to ask for their grooming when the chore is pointless, but the extended offer alone would be swoon-worthy to him! You’d practically have him purring in heavenly bliss beneath the attention of your hands on his wings—though his pleasure is definitely amplified by the thought behind the act rather than your touch alone. He’d be a bundle of pure joy through the whole process; smiling and laughing and preening while mumbling endless praises towards your generous and loving care. It’s (in so near a “literal” sense) like you’re caressing his soul itself, physically assuaging the intangible ache and mess of his emotions.

Ah, overall though, Fyodor’s wings are much more a spectacle piece and occasional tool rather than a common / ingrained feature of his physique (hence it’s lack of mention on his character page). Uriel views them as a potential boon to his plans for Fyodor and thus will encourage their display, but Fyodor himself prefers to avoid “showing off” with them when there’s no need. After all, with them being so attached to his self-perception and wants, his wings retain a sense of being something personal and intimate to him—something best left to the eyes of those close to them and those that have done him wrong.

Thank you for the ask! (　´∀｀)b

#c: fyodor #ro

[the-missann]

Writing question tag game!

Thanks for tagging me @harleywritesshit. I always love talking about my stories and I'm actually in a bit of physical pain and couldn't write this idea I got, so this is a good replacement!

Original post here.

I'll prob tag my entire following/follower list since they're all fellow writblrs and I always love seeing writers talk about writing 😊

I'll tag @xlciaz @jgmartin @tzipor-feather-blog @lyutenw @snarkelf @ghostswithteeth @kazenokaori @vinylandvalium @risingshards @reysfictionalworlds @arijensineink. Low pressure though, no need to feel pressured to participate!

Rules: Answer the 10 questions if you feel like it ^^

Questions at the bottom!

1. What is your absolute all-time favourite ideas you’ve ever had?

Honestly, all my ideas are my favorite because my brain comes up with whatever and I have to sort through the broken pieces to get a good story. If it makes it out, then I love it. Also, I cherish all my ideas and can't really pick a favorite.

2. Is there a question you’ve been asked in the past that really stands out to you, and you still think about sometimes?

Unfortunately not really. People don't talk to me and on the off change I do engage with someone, my anxiety usually makes me clam up so much they stop talking since they think I'm not interested 😅

3. What is your favourite part of being a writer? What parts could you take or leave?

Adding to my previous question, my favorite part has to be how I can actually express myself, my words, feelings, experiences, etc... in written word. I struggle so much talking to people that writing is the only place where I feel I can say what I really want to.

What I would leave out is how little most people care about writing. I wish we lived in a world where instead of Monday Night Football, we got Writing To Tomorrow or smth idk.

4. What is your greatest motivation to write/create?

The idea that I might one day be the author/owner of a book/character that heavily impacts someone's life for the better.

5. What is the best piece of advice you’ve ever read or been given as a writer?

I think that would be the advice where people say "your favorite author started off with terrible ideas too."

That made me realize I don't have to rush in making a "masterpiece" because it might not even be seen as one. I can just make good enough stories and go from there.

6. What do you wish you knew when you were first starting out writing?

That I can actually write whatever I want lol. When I was younger, I thought that you had to follow strict formulas; like, you could only write women as damsels and men as heroes. Little Miss Ann found out that's definitely not the case 😂

7. What is your favourite story you’ve written to completion? Link it if you’d like and can!

8. What is your favourite out-of-the-box quote?

I'm terrible at endings and even more horrible at actually ending my stories, but the few that I have are normalities because of how easily the story came to me and was written, and A Fourth Dimension Reality: The Strange Beginnings because it's my crack baby that I technically "completed" because it was so long I broke it into separate volumes.

"Don't forget to eat breakfast tomatoes."

I don't know what to even tell you, this is my humor🗿

9. Which of your characters would you say has the most controversial mindset? Why do you say so, and how do you personally feel about their ideals?

Probably them all. So, typically, I tend to have strong opinions and some of them are considered "hot takes." This bleeds into my stories, but I'd say the character who'd rub some the wrong way is one old one, Dia, and one new, Lazarus.

Dia is a demon who believes angels are no different than his species. Considering he was a former angel, he knows angels can be just as "evil" as demons and doesn't have a concept of "good" and "bad"

Lazarus is just an asshole who likes girls who are introverted and shy because he hates how extroverted and loud the rest of the world is.

I actually based Dia's mindset off my own since I have negative experiences with Christians and a similar negative outlook of them. (I'm totally fine with the religion itself, but not some of the crazies who practice it.)

Lazarus, on the other hand, is someone I don't agree with because I don't feel a personality trait can make someone better than anyone else. Still gotta love Lazzy boi tho~

10. If you, when you first started writing, met you now, what would younger you think?

Probably that she was doing less than she expected 😅 see, I had very high and unrealistic expectations of future me. At this point, she was hoping I'd be a well off author sitting in my log cabin in the woods with my husband Aizen 🙉

Questions

1. What is your absolute all-time favourite ideas you’ve ever had?

2. Is there a question you’ve been asked in the past that really stands out to you, and you still think about sometimes?

3. What is your favourite part of being a writer? What parts could you take or leave?

4. What is your greatest motivation to write/create?

5. What is the best piece of advice you’ve ever read or been given as a writer?

6. What do you wish you knew when you were first starting out writing?

7. What is your favourite story you’ve written to completion? Link it if you’d like and can!

8. What is your favourite out-of-the-box quote?

9. Which of your characters would you say has the most controversial mindset? Why do you say so, and how do you personally feel about their ideals?

10. If you, when you first started writing, met you now, what would younger you think?

#creative writing #writing #writing community #writing side of tumblr #writers of tumblr #writeblr #writeblur #original character #ask game #ask

[resmarted]

alright fine, is this what you want? here it is, the weirdly sincere version of me that comes to casually haunt you late into the night, she's right here. did you want me to tell you how i'm scared this is just another trick or too jaded to believe in the niceties of others, that i am beside myself over how pretty you are and that something that once seemed fairly easy to ignore has made its way through the floorboards pounding at my conscience with such ruthless fury? i don't know exactly when this happened, i think it started in very small flickers that i could easily smolder without much thought. i think surely you must interact with everyone this way, that you're just very nice and everyone sees these same shining eyes and has to protect their own hearts accordingly, that perhaps it has been like this since you were a kid and that your mother probably has stories for days about what that was like for all the sweet stupid girls and boys that got overlooked and left behind. i try to make sense of it, water it all down with pure logic, like surely you must feel bad for me or want to put me at ease in some sense of duty as any nice caring person would. surely you knowing me by my government name has hindered your ability to really see me and i can rest easy knowing it's just an extension of grace and generosity with good manners mixed in. i woke up randomly from a dream a few weeks ago where we were talking and could only manage to think huh, that was weird. i didn't want to keep thinking about it. i can't keep doing this to myself, the whole reading too much into things that are not there and overinvesting energy better spent elsewhere. this always happens when i am already stuck on someone else that doesn't give me the time of day, when i am wrapped safely in the cocoon of a delusion so refined that i couldn't possibly make room for anything new. i can never just be normal about things. i need obsessions to keep me going and it usually takes a new one to snap me out of the old, like some strange autistic train hopping from one infatuation to the next, lest i feel dead inside with nothing or no one to aimlessly yearn for and pine over. i can obsess over work and find things to do and people to bide my time with, but i can't unsee you. not lately, anyway. you are invading my thoughts and filling the space in my brain that is usually reserved for dead air and practical affairs. i keep thinking it's still early enough to get a grip, that i can simply meet someone new or find something shiny in the nick of time, that life isn't so bland to the point where i need a constant source of disassociation to mend the wounds of reality - not yet anyway.

jealousy is a disease and everyone around you is dying. you don't even see it. it's a pattern i see in all my favorite people, their humble nature always blocking their sight from all the ways in which people are out to get them, the subtle nonverbal cues and the small minded mentality unbearable to witness by those that actually do care for them. i can't help but suspect people have sabotaged you in similar ways all your life, how envy has wreaked havoc on you in ways you still haven't quite grasped as you're never competing with those determined to beat you at any cost. it's too presumptuous to think someone could be so calculated and vile, and that it only sounds crazy because it is and they are. but what do i know? i've been kept hostage in this cave my whole life while reverend henry kane siphons and harvests my light for personal gain. i've only ever known betrayal and alienation, it's the pure love that is difficult to navigate. it's the unabashed kindness and the rorshach of angelic whimsy all around me all the time, how did that happen? i am trapped in a prism, warm gooey blackberry dreams melting over me and vague memories of summers spent in westerly reading novels that took place in the same towns, wondering how strange it felt to be surrounded by such seemingly normal and decent people. i've lost so many versions of myself over time, so many variations and talents that were suppressed for survival, jumping from timeline to timeline until i can't seem to figure out my age anymore.

people scare me for various reasons, mainly the ones who come too close and want to stake claim, to feed off my energy and hoard it for themselves. i can't deal with anyone else trying to own me, i am still trying to wash the slime off from prior experiences. i am safe in solitude but i can come out to rage and party in these wildly extreme ways before disappearing for lengths of time, and i forget all the time that i'm not a kid anymore. which is weird because i am constantly insisting i have everything handled and i don't need any help! i'm fine i'm fine no really i'm okay it's fine!! it's literally never fine and hasn't been for so long but if i say it out loud then it becomes real and i can laugh off a thousand problems until it eventually becomes funny; a fake it til you make it kind of thing. it is very likely true that i am the evil narcissist monster people love to paint me as, because how dare i like myself, right? how dare i carve a place in this world and defy all odds when it would be easier for everyone if i just crawled back into the hole and stayed put, fall in line and act oh so grateful for anyone to ever possibly give me the time of day, oh my! i didn't survive this life to stay silent and if anything the ones that have tried to keep me in this space for so long had better find a new god to pray to if they know what's good for them. i am not here to bore you with the gory details of a life spent growing up in hospital beds or the disdain with which grown adults would look at me and still do, how people must think it was easy for me to get this far or underestimate all the burning buildings i crawled through on my way here. i hold no resentment about it, nor the desire to relive any of it. i just wanted to tell you i forget i lived through any of it when i look at you and something softens inside of me in a way that is both terrifying and thrilling. i can barely remember the hatred in their voices or the violence or the mockery or the way they thought i never caught on to any of it, how gallantly they cackled like the most pathetic coven of washed up pseudosorcerers as they feigned so poorly a threadbare kinship. all of it washes away when i look at you and for a moment i actually believe in something other than the corruption of tethered souls and the enigmatic greed that only the most clueless pawns in spiritual warfare could succumb to. i look away before i get too lost because i don't really think i can believe it, your charm far too sugary sweet for any of it to be real or reliable, but god do i wish to be fooled.

i hate that i felt my heart drop to my feet or that i even cared enough to let it be more than what it was. i guess if i could go back i wouldn't change anything, and i probably wouldn't go back at all, even if only to look at your face up close once more. i can't handle the obsession, it's not good for my fragile little psyche. i managed to be so good at not caring and then you had to go and fuck it all up and look at me like that. i tell myself you do this shit to all your hoes and that there are likely a dreadful amount, that i am being the exact version of silly according to some sick plan and falling into the trap just as designed. but then you act like a shy idiot and i am into it, i want more even though i hate this stupid game, i hate these little techniques used to reel me in like a beta fish and i want to knock you off a very high horse for daring to get me lured in this far. and i want to stare at you for a while and listen to you talk in that uncontrollable way where you do the thing starting on one topic only to wind up in fifteen other places, and i'm there along for the ride. i am following to every single rest stop, taking every little note, and watching every slightest glimmer in your eyes as you light up like a little kid in emphatic fervor. i can't tell if i want off this ride or if i want to just crash and burn and get it over with already. can't stand not knowing how long this is supposed to last but when i review the omens they seemingly all lead back to you. i was so sure it was someone else back when i wanted so badly for it to be them, and now i can't tell if i'm making it out to be you for the same reason, but the descriptors are eerily accurate and things have already happened as predicted which could not only suggest that this isn't an intricately built snare but perhaps even a safe haven where i am to finally rest my head and sleep soundly without fear for the first time ever. they say there are false twins that will mirror back the things you want them to be, that can mimic the true soul mate and deceive you into falling for the wrong one. i can't help but notice everyone that came before was just a bad imitation of you, terrible actors in a low budget cable movie in hindsight. i don't know if i can handle another fully formed entity posing as all the things i want, i'd rather turn you off completely before anything can even get started. but then what if i throw away the only person that could ever feel like home? all because i'm a superstitious dummy afraid of getting hurt. i am hurt all the time, i suppose there's not much more to be afraid of at this point. but i do know if you were to look away now it might kill me, and even worse, i might enjoy the decay.

#long reads

[honeymoonjin]

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 5.9k || ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut - rated 18+

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ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: cursing, panic attack

A/N: apologies for my tgm crimes here but i gotta keep you on your toes since you have the old plan. also i'm not going to spoil anything but day 25 has one of my fav scenes in the show so far ;;-; so please enjoy this chapter and i will continue to work hard to finish the following one and get back into the posting routine!

DAY TWENTY-FOUR

You’re roused from sleep by the feathered sensation of fingertips on your jaw. Twitching slightly, you try and move away from it, burrowing deeper into the warm, gently rocking pillow your head is propped up on.

Before you can slip back under, however, the fingers give one last attack: a sudden flick to your cheek that echoes with a thwack. You flinch and furrow your brows, grumbling your displeasure since your words haven’t quite found you yet.

“Get up, sleepyhead, unless you’d rather I just piss in the bed.”

That’ll do it. You shoot up so quickly your vision swims, one side of your face feeling cold without the comfort of Yoongi’s chest. “Fuck you, go pee,” you slur, eyes still half-closed, the morning glare peeking through a gap in his curtains.

Yoongi happily but hurriedly trots off to the bathroom, giving you a moment of respite to collect yourself. It takes a few moments to recall the previous night, not just the way Yoongi’s voice had made you cum in your room, but also the way it later lulled you to sleep as he told you hushed stories of his childhood or anecdotes from his days as a sex education teacher.

You can even hear his voice now, just barely slipping under the crack of the door, humming and singing under his breath as he washes his hands.

When he finally exits, you’re propped up by pillows, duvet tucked over your knees and eyes crinkled fondly at his bedhead.

“Oh, no,” he starts with a frown, “you better get that look off of your face.”

Your smile drops. “What?”

Taming his hair with a few flat strokes, he shakes his head. “I need somebody sane in this house to talk to. You aren’t allowed to fall in love with me, it’s conflict of interest.”

Mouth dropping open, it takes you a few minutes to note the subtle curl to his lips. “You dick! I’m certainly not planning on it, don’t flatter yourself.”

“Hey,” he defends in a drawl, no attempt at modesty as he shucks his pyjamas before browsing his chest of drawers, “it’s been done before. You come for the massive dick and stay for the massive heart.” He pauses, shoulder muscles flexing as he reaches in to a drawer, pulling out a pair of dark wash jeans. “Stop looking at my ass, I’m trying to lecture you.”

On the contrary, you lower your gaze and narrow in on it. “You’re starting to develop a little bubble butt, Yoongi. It’s very cute.” Not leaving him time to protest, you barrel on. “Besides, your dick isn’t that big.”

“That’s only because you’re comparing mine to hyung’s. And Namjoon’s. And… And Jungkook’s, I guess. And-” Suddenly he cuts himself off, throwing himself back on the bed with his back hunched in despair. “Fuck, do I have a small dick?”

“Mm, not really,” you dismiss easily, deciding to finally get out of bed and pick out your own clothes - selecting them from Yoongi’s drawers, of course. He makes no protest, still staring blankly at the jeans in his hands. “You just have steep competition here. There’s nothing wrong with small dicks, either. They’re cute.”

Now visible from your angle, Yoongi’s face twists in a grimace. “But my dick isn’t small, right?”

You shrug, slipping on one of his FG shirts and a pair of sweatpants loose enough that you have to knot the drawstrings. “If it helps you sleep at night.”

He spares one somber glance down between his legs before he slips on a pair of underwear, finally stepping into the jeans. There’s a brief period of comfortable silence, before he lets out a small sigh. “Can I… Can I confess something to you?”

Although a quip would be easy enough to say, you sense the joking is over. “Of course, Yoongi,” you assure instead, sitting cross-legged on the unmade bed beside him. He doesn’t meet your eye, busying himself with slipping a shirt over his head. “What’s up?”

Once he’s fully dressed, he still keeps his eyes low. “When you- On Monday, when you voted out Jin-hyung. I was so glad.”

You pause for a moment. “Because you wanted him out of the competition?” you venture, but he shakes his head dully.

“Because I thought he might look at me again if he didn’t have you.”

Something sinks in your stomach, cold enough to make you shiver. The guilt in Yoongi’s voice doesn’t conceal the open vulnerability of his expression as he fiddles with his bitten fingernails. “What do you mean, Yoongi?”

“What him and I had earlier wasn’t healthy, I know that,” he defends to himself, “but… I still miss it. I miss him. But even when I spoke to him after the elimination, all he would talk about was you. And I can’t even be mad, because I get it. And I- If I’m honest,” he murmurs, feet scuffing restlessly on the carpet, “I don’t even know what I’m wanting to achieve by telling you this, but I couldn’t stand not having anybody know about it. I never wanted it to get this messy. I told myself I wouldn’t let my feelings get caught up. But I think a little heartbreak would be worth it, for him. Is that stupid?”

You feel so unanchored, like there’s nothing for you to grab onto to steady yourself. More so, you feel entirely incapable of helping your friend like you so desperately want to. “It’s not stupid,” you begin, reaching out to cup one of his hands snugly between the two of yours, head resting on his shoulder in solidarity, “and I’m so sorry. Does he- does he know you feel this way?”

“I don’t think so,” Yoongi admits in a low voice, leaning into your touch. “If he does, then he must not like me since he’s not acknowledging it. And if he doesn’t, then he must have never even considered me like that. I know I was a distraction at best.”

You knit your brows together, deep in thought to try and find the right words to say. “Or perhaps he knows and he’s respecting your boundaries by letting you initiate, especially since he was the one who took advantage of you last time. And perhaps he doesn’t know, and it’s only because he’s so caught up in his own feelings that he hasn’t considered that you may feel the same. You just don’t know these things, Yoongi. I didn’t know how you felt either until you told me.”

He nods slowly, jerkily. “Yeah,” he says weakly. “Jungkook said almost the exact same thing, actually.”

You pull back slowly, curiosity colouring your tone. “Jungkook?”

Yoongi manages a shy smile, cheeks colouring slightly. “He approached me. We- we talk a lot, way more than hyung and I ever did. I know Kookie has a crush on me, and we said we’d take things slow, but dammit, I can’t help but like the kid.”

You let a surprised laugh bubble up your throat. “That- I was not expecting that, but I’m so glad, Yoongi. Even if you don’t have Jin, I’m glad you’re letting yourself be happy with others.”

His smile falters. “Is it greedy that liking Jungkook doesn’t make me want Jin-hyung any less?”

You go still, thinking of your own blooming feelings for... Well, for most of the people in this house, if not - at least a little bit - all of them. “I don’t know,” you answer honestly. “I’d like to think not.”

Yoongi lifts his gaze to you, carefully studying your face. “Do you ever worry,” he begins, so softly that you have to strain to make the words out, “that our feelings have been set up. By the show, I mean.” His brows furrow deeper. “We’re living in a practical paradise - luxurious house with no real jobs, our food is paid for, we’re literally getting rewarded to have sex. It’s so artificial, you know? So who’s to say that our feelings are artificial, too? I- I’ve been thinking about that a lot,” he admits with a pensive stare.

You can’t lie. You nod. “I’d like to think not,” you repeat hollowly, “but… I mean, yeah, this feels like some alternate reality, and thinking of any of you in normal, mundane, real-life scenarios seems so strange. Like, can you picture Hoseok sitting down and doing his taxes?”

Yoongi snorts, shaking his head in bemusement as a line of tension eases from his shoulders. “I hope he hires an accountant. I certainly wouldn’t trust him with my money.”

You let out a deep sigh and fall backwards onto the duvet, air punched out of you on impact. “The thing is, Yoongi,” you declare in a matter-of-fact tone, “we have no way of knowing what life will be like once all this is wrapped up so why even bother worrying?”

He turns slightly, just enough to watch you warily over his shoulder. “Maybe because I could get my heart broken?”

You pout at him. “Tell me how that’s any different from developing a crush in real life?”

He opens his mouth, furrows his brows, and closes it again. “I- Ugh. Fuck you for being correct.”

Pleased with yourself, you hide your grin as you playfully knock his side with your foot, making him recoil with a groan. “Be as cautious or as impulsive as you want, but even if all this is fake, you could’ve just as easily developed those feelings outside of the show. Like come on, if you saw Jin in the grocery store don’t tell me you wouldn’t fall in love on sight!”

Yoongi shakes his head again, a wry smile playing at his lips. “I see your point… and now I’m picturing Jin getting groceries and looking hot doing it...wow.”

You cackle at the dazed look on Yoongi’s face, using his arm to pull yourself up off the bed, patting him on the shoulder. “Good talk, champ. I’m off to chow down on the leftover pork from last night. Care to join me?”

His eyes glitter, but the doctor declines. “Yoonji said she blackmailed one of the production team to bring her fried chicken from her favourite place. She’s hiding it in the bunk room, but you didn’t hear that from me. She’s selling some to me for a small fortune, the little devil.”

“Less than half a week here and she’s already set up a black market,” you muse, “I think I may be in love with her, Yoongi.”

“Don’t you dare.”

--

While the kitchen is empty when you first arrive, it only takes the sizzle of pork belly in a saucepan to draw your roommates down.

Jin is first, silently rummaging in the pantry and fridge for some side dishes to add to the mix. In return, you begin boiling some hot water, adding instant coffee mix to two mugs.

As the others join, the line of mugs and glasses on the kitchen island grows, until even the two Min twins are hovering in the kitchen, looking suspicously still hungry after their illicit breakfast.

There aren’t enough chairs at the table to seat you all, but luckily Taehyung and Jungkook are happy hunched over the bench in the kitchen, sharing a set of Airpods and snickering at a seemingly endless stream of TikToks.

At the table, Namjoon, Hoseok and Yoongi chow down on their meals, the latter with a considerably smaller portion made up mostly of meat. Yoonji and Jimin are on either side of you, with Jin on one end, chewing slow to savour each bite.

It’s the first time in a while that you’ve all shared breakfast at the same time, and you’re struck with a deep feeling of fondness at this little family-like group you’re living with.  Jimin sneaks extra strips of meat or spoonfuls of rice into your bowl when he thinks you’re not looking; Hoseok listens enthusiastically to Namjoon’s explanation of a summer school course he’s taking, even as he has to ask for clarification just about every second sentence; Yoongi splits his time between checking up on the two maknaes with a soft look, and scowling at his sister’s teasing comments.

“Any plans for the day?” Yoonji asks suddenly, tugging you out of your musings. She’s dressed sleekly in a black velvet mock neck shirt and high waisted denim shorts, her face as stark a resemblance to her brother as ever, with two sharp lines of black on her lids being the only visible makeup. “Except, I suppose, the mandatory fucking.”

You huff with pink cheeks, never growing used to hearing it so openly. “The days kinda blur together a little when you have no real responsibilities,” you admit, “I should probably find a hobby or something.”

Yoonji’s eyes crinkle in faux empathy. “Oh, honey, you’re gonna be so out of it when you return to the real world. You all will,” she adds, before shrugging, “except maybe Namjoon. Seems like academia doesn’t stop for anyone.”

You can’t help but agree. “He has more brain cells in his pinky finger than I do in my own body,” you swear, “he could break an arm and still type a thesis one-handed.”

Halfway through a mouthful of food, you’re rewarded to the ungraceful yet endlessly endearing sound of her snorting, a hand cupped over her mouth. After swallowing, she turns towards you to respond. “I haven’t known him for long, but that seems to check out. He’s quite the character, huh?”

You don’t miss the meaningful lilt to her voice, nor the quirk of a sharp brow. “He’s a good guy,” you reply under your breath, gaze darting down the table to where the man himself is engaged in an intensely enthusiastic discussion (okay, closer to a TedTalk) with Hoseok, now using pieces of meat to create an abstract diagram in his otherwise empty bowl. The latter looks bewildered, but is nonetheless paying deep attention to every word.

It’s impossible not to feel soft inside as you look at the pair of them, all complementary contrast. Hoseok with his slender nose and harsh facial structure and Namjoon with a round, gentle face. One of them dressed in sleek black and the other in oversized earth tones, the typically reserved one animated and the bubbly one focused in. It had taken you barely a month of shared living to become completely fond of these men, not just Namjoon and Hoseok but all of them, and as much as it was nice to have someone new in the Villa for a while, Yoonji’s presence makes you more aware of the fact that you and the seven guys had developed a certain equilibrium that seemed slightly off-balance with the change.

It makes you worry about what other disturbances this delicate system could hold, and if returning to the real world would be a shift large enough to permanently upend it.

Wishing to dispel the pessimistic narrative beginning to form, you focus in on Yoonji again. “Anyways,” you start, “how are you finding the Villa so far?”

“Certainly an interesting look behind the veil, though it’s really not ideal having to-” Yoonji’s cut off by the chirp of an incoming message on her phone. “Sorry, one sec,” she mumbles absentmindedly, but you don’t miss the way her face falls when she reads the message, immediately glancing directly across the table to where her brother sits.

To your growing concern, Yoongi is also reading a message on his phone, and he quietly excuses himself from the table, leaving his bowl half-eaten. He jerks his head towards the front door, and Yoonji manages a quick apology before they’re leaving the room.

All startled out of their separate conversations, the remaining members of the household sit in confused silence, enough that even Taehyung and Jungkook turn around from their phones.

“What’s going on?” Jungkook asks in a worried voice. “Where’s Yoongi-hyung?”

Nobody replies, Jin just shaking his head with a grim frown and leaving the table himself, going after them.

“Guys,” Taehyung says more insistently, eyes not leaving the empty seats at the table.

“They both got a text,” you say with furrowed brows, “Yoongi and Yoonji. Must’ve been bad news, judging by their faces.”

“Jin-hyung’ll find out what’s going on,” Namjoon assures, though it sounds more like he’s trying to convince himself, “let’s just clean up for them and wait for an update. Yeah?”

The two youngest nod solemnly, still with a single Airpod each bobbing in their opposite ears.

For a while, the group of you remaining sit in silence, as if caught up in some spell that would only be broken once Jin returned with some answers. The absence of Yoongi at the table is so much more pronounced, and you can’t help but feel the sickening worry swirl inside you when you look at his bowl, chopsticks strewn carelessly beside it.

Everyone is just waiting for bad news. You’ve felt this looming dread before, and it either came with a swoop of relief or a blow of despair. Your teeth find your thumbnail as you wait helplessly to see which one it’ll be.

It feels like an eternity before the door finally opens, making everyone jump, but only a few minutes have really passed. Jin is panting slightly, like he ran back from wherever Yoongi disappeared to.

“He’s-” he starts quickly, before a tremor passes over his face and he grimaces, jogging over and falling heavily into his chair at the table, face in his hands. “Their dad is in hospital. Heart attack.”

“Oh my god,” Namjoon breathes, brows knit together in sympathy. “Is he okay? Was it serious?”

Jin shrugs, looking up enough to run his hand over his face and take a shaky breath. “He’s alright for now, but apparently they need to make sure it doesn’t repeat anytime soon. If he settles, he’ll be fine, but there’s a chance that he might suffer another attack. Yoongi and Yoonji are going to the hospital now to stay with him until they’re more certain he’s stable. Just in case.”

“When is he coming back? Yoongi-hyung?” Jungkook’s eyes are wide, shiny. He can’t stop fiddling with his fingers, self-soothing.

“Not for a while, I don’t think,” Jin divulges with a pained expression. “He needs to be there for his family right now. That’s all I know, I’m sorry.”

The front door creaks, and all of you instinctively whip your heads towards it, as if Yoongi himself might be returning already, but you’re greeted with the weary face of Producer Sejin, joining you at the table, taking Yoongi’s old spot. Taehyung frowns deeply at the choice, turning his face away.

“What’s going on?” you ask quickly. “What happens to Yoongi? And us?”

“Yoongi is… He was in a rush to get going, understandably, so we didn’t speak in great depth. But he in short stated that he’d return when his father was in better health if the place was still open for him. I’ve got in contact with the higher-ups, and we’ve agreed to put the show on a temporary hold.”

“On hold?” Jungkook asks in a nervous voice. “What does that even mean?”

Sejin clears his throat stiffly and clicks his tongue. “Well. It means we’re putting a stop to the game for now, in short. If Yoongi is able to return by the end of the week, we’ll resume as usual. Otherwise, we’ll consider him to have permanently left the competition, and we’ll be forced to continue the game without him.”

You frown, fighting the urge to cry. This all feels so wrong, like he’s been taken from you with little hope of reunion, and discussing it like administration feels so clinical. “So we’re just sitting here, not knowing if he’s going to come back home, waiting around in limbo?” As soon as you finish, it feels like the word home lingers in the air longer than the rest of them. And perhaps this house doesn’t feel like home to you, but it certainly seems like six of the seven pieces of home are around you right now, and it’s not the same without him away. By the way the others are solemn and red-eyed, you probably aren’t the only one that’s begun feeling that way.

Sejin just shakes his head slowly, as subdued as you all are. “Listen, I know this isn’t ideal. The boss wanted to film it, make a big drama out of it, and then kick him off the show for views. I’m doing the best I can here to compromise and give him some dignity.”

Eyes widening, you stare at the round eyes of the cameras in the living room. “Are you- are you even allowed to say that?”

“I cut the camera feeds,” Sejin says in a defeated tone, “the show is officially off-air for technical difficulties. You can do what you want here while you wait - hell, you can leave if you want, just please be prepared to come back on the Sunday. We’ll have a discussion about whether Yoongi can return, and what we’ll do if he doesn’t. Understood?”

“Understood,” Namjoon offers up for the group, and the producer leaves with another sigh and an attempt at a comforting smile. You can’t help but feel bad for him, working such an emotionally draining job, especially when you’ve heard nothing but bad things about his employer.

Once the room falls into quiet again, Jin stands up, chair legs scraping against the floor. “Okay, I think we should decide as a group what we’re wanting to do. Stay or go?”

You open your mouth to give your two cents, but before you can, Jungkook suddenly chokes on a sob and covers his face with his hands, Jimin immediately scooting his chair closer to wrap an arm around his shaking shoulders.

“Hey, what is it?” Jimin asks quietly, but the room is so silent that you all catch it. “Talk to me, bun. What is it?”

Jungkook takes a few stuttering breaths to compose himself, sniffling. “I don’t want you all to leave too,” he confesses, Jimin’s thumb catching a tear dangling on the tip of his nose, “isn’t Yoongi-hyung enough?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” the elder promises, pressing a kiss into his hairline before looking up at the rest of you, eyes widening intentionally. “We’ll stick together through this until he comes back, yeah? It’s not all bad. The cameras are off, remember? We can have a break now, we don’t need to worry about the show. Isn’t that nice?”

After a moment’s considering, Jungkook nods slowly. “‘t is nice,” he admits begrudgingly. “But only if everyone stays.”

You can’t help but smile fondly, getting up yourself to come behind him, stroking his hair back. “We’ll stay, of course we’ll stay. Let’s spend some time together tonight, we can put on a movie and snuggle, how about that?”

He perks up at the thought of this, glancing around the table as the others nod in affirmation. “I’ll bring down the blankets,” he bargains, cracking a small smile, and the rest of the room relaxes, immediately bursting into sound as everyone arranges the necessary supplies for a good quality movie night, almost back to normal.

Jungkook, as the member of the Villa in most urgent need of a pick-me-up, is given movie choosing privileges, so the seven of you tuck in for a rewatch of his favourite Spiderman movies, perhaps the only thing that can keep him glued to the screen.

At first, the absence feels overwhelming to you. Try as you might through the opening sequence, you can’t shake it. Your mind counts heads without thinking, keeps looking at the space on the couch where Yoongi liked to put his feet up. Even though you know it’s his father who is unwell, not him, there’s the sick swelling in your stomach that makes you feel like his departure is final, and shortly after the title card plays out, you’re quietly excusing yourself and stumbling to the back door, in desperate need of fresh air.

It’s cold outside, a brisk wind cutting through you. You barely make it around the corner out of sight before your legs buckle, and you let yourself fall into a pathetic crouch, your weight propped up against the side of the house as you try to suck the chilled air into your lungs.

The panic creeps up on you in swells, the irrational fear that Yoongi would leave the show and you’d never see him again and everything would fall apart suddenly feeling like a whole tsunami crashing against you. Your fingers claw at the exterior wall as you fall back onto your behind, unable to even keep yourself in a crouch.

More so than the intrusive thoughts, it’s the image of Yoongi’s face falling, of him rushing out of the house in frantic distress that replays in your mind and leaves you suffocating. He looked so scared, your calm, reliable Yoongi. He was like a pillar, but that news was a fell swoop he couldn’t stay strong against. Your heart burns for him, cramping and aching in your chest.

For a moment, you picture yourself staying out here, gasping for breath until the sun goes down. You feel alone, more than ever since coming here, and even as the thought spooks you, there’s no energy in your body to do anything about it.

Just as your breaths start to sound more like death rattles and you curl your face towards the ground, a warmth envelopes your back, arms circling your middle and lifting you up.

“Hey, breathe, breathe with me, Y/n. I’m here.”

You recognise the voice. You recognise the built torso holding you steady, but your mind isn’t putting the pieces together, and so you simply squeeze your eyes shut and allow yourself to be maneuvered around there are hands on your face and a deep voice instructing you to look at me. I’m here; look at me.

You crack your eyes open, body heaving with the effort it takes to get any oxygen in your lungs, but you’re met with the soulful brown eyes of Kim Namjoon, narrowed in concern.

His hands are warm despite the frigid air outside, and you let yourself melt into him, eyes sinking to watch his lips mouth instructions, demonstrating exaggerated breathing for you to follow.

You feel distinctly like you might vomit, but you force yourself to match his breaths. The shuddering in and stilted out aren’t as fluid as his, but slowly your heart doesn’t thud in your ears and your body doesn’t shake as violently.

You feel damp, sweating all over, and your whole body aches, but your hearing begins to properly tune in again, coherence creeping back. “Na-Namjoon,” you gasp, wishing you had the energy to grab his arms or hug him or something other than lying limp against the wall of the house.

“Shh, hey, don’t strain yourself. Take it easy. I’m here.” He’s crouching in front of you, eyes locked onto you as he continues to hold you steady, jaw kept aloft by his hands. “Keep breathing, and it’ll go away. It’s a panic attack, I’ve had my fair share. You’ll come right.”

Trusting him despite the persisting burn in your chest, you let him coach your breathing for several more minutes, the heightened air influx making your head go light and floaty.

Once a counted breath turns into a yawn of exhaustion, you know the worst has passed. It leaves you boneless, not a single ounce of power left in your muscles, but you can breathe again, and it’s all thanks to the man across from you.

“I’ve never had one before,” you manage, voice cracking, “not like that.”

Namjoon’s lips press together in sympathy, and he turns to prop himself against the side of the house beside you, letting you continue breathing independently. “Is it Yoongi-hyung?”

You nod weakly, and the academic hums in confirmation. “I used to get panic attacks a lot in university. I used to hate them, thought they meant I was weak. Like I couldn’t handle the pressure as much as I thought I could. But, you know, these days I just figure I’m only panicking because it means so much to me. And I don’t think that makes me weak at all. It just means I care. Don’t feel ashamed about this, Y/n. All it means is that you care about hyung a lot.”

All the breath in your lungs leaves you in one rush as you prop your head in your hands, knees tucked towards your chest. “Yeah.” You wish you had something more appreciative to say, but your mind is waterlogged, weighed down and not functioning.

Namjoon doesn’t seem to mind the curt response. “I care about him a lot too. He’s like the glue for us, isn’t he? I’m worried to fall apart without him here keeping us in line. But we survived before we knew him and we’ll survive now. What’s better is supporting each other and waiting to see how we can support Yoongi-hyung, too.”

“You’re right,” you admit with a heavy breath, wiggling your toes to will energy back into them. “We’ll be okay.”

Namjoon bends sideways to bump your shoulder warmly. “That’s the spirit. Now; I’m happy to stay out here as long as you need, but Jungkook was the first one to notice you had been gone for a while, and I think he’s probably getting concerned by now. If you’re up to it, I can give you a hand to get inside and join the others again. What do you reckon?”

You lean your head back against the wall, taking a moment to consider. “What movie is he putting on next?”

“He mentioned wanting to check out Paw Patrol on Netflix.”

“Let me die out here,” you plead weakly.

Namjoon laughs, the sound like comfort itself, and stands up, offering you a hand. “Come on, kitten, up we get.”

In the end, the Netflix viewings manage to distract you for the rest of the night. When your limbs are tangled together and snacks are flowing, it’s easy to tune out of reality a bit and focus on the television screen in the comfort of shared company. Jungkook clears space on the couch for you the second you return, and clings to you for hours, his chin on your shoulder. You don’t complain, feeling soothed by the physical closeness. But the hours pass, and when the majority of you can no longer hold in your yawns, Seokjin gets up to turn the lights back on and clean up.

“Let’s get some rest,” he decides, and it’s that return to the real world that immediately dampens the atmosphere again, the group of you turning solemn. You pause to pull out your phone, sending Yoongi a quick message of support, and that you all missed him already, but no reply comes.

Without words being spoken, the seven of you remaining find yourselves flocking together as you make your way up to bed. Jin flanks the maknae as Namjoon and Hoseok lean heavily into each other, the four of them disappearing into Jin’s room. You naturally fall into step with the remaining two men, Taehyung linking his arm into yours and holding you close all the way to Jimin’s room.

Somehow, the house is too quiet. Even though Yoongi wasn’t a particularly noisy housemate, his absence cloaks the air.

You have no energy to shower. Washing your face is as much as you can manage, and Taehyung is even more despairing than you are, slumped on the toilet seat as Jimin cleans his face for him.

The uncertainty is what makes your heart flutter on edge, unable to wind down, and you know from the restrained looks of fear and distress in the guys’ eyes that they feel the same. The show would be undoubtably ruined if Yoongi couldn’t return. But more important than that, Yoongi would be ruined if he lost his father so suddenly.

Knowing Yoongi is hurting makes you ache, and you cling to your lovers like they’re your anchors in a churning sea, tucking your face firmly into Taehyung’s shoulder. It soothes you a little to be pinned between them, but the three of you still lie awake as the minutes blink by agonisingly slow.

At some point, you must fall into a fitful sleep, because when a sudden noise fills the room, it rouses you aggressively, and you almost kick Jimin’s shin in the process. Grunting, the half-asleep man rubs his face and twists around, fumbling on the nightstand for the offending noise.

It’s Taehyung’s phone, vibrating against the wooden table, and once Jimin blinks twice at the glaring screen he gasps and yanks the charger out, sitting up in bed. “It’s hyung,” he declares in a voice more vulnerable than you’d ever heard from him before. “Wake Tae.”

You force yourself to dispel those last few wisps of sleep from your brain, and gently shake Taehyung awake. According to the clock on the nightstand, it’s almost two in the morning, but your heart leaps as Yoongi’s face fills the phone screen, looking right at the three of you.

“I thought you would be together,” he states with a rueful smile, though you can see that it doesn’t quite reach his reddened eyes. “Sorry for calling so late.”

“Don’t apologise, hyung,” Taehyung whines, half of his weight on you as he leans in close, “we were so worried about you. How’s your dad?”

Yoongi’s brows furrow beneath mussed hair. “Not great,” he admits. “A little more stable, at least, but he’s pretty confused right now. Nurses worry that it might have affected his brain.”

Your heart sinks, both at the thought of a relatively young man suffering such awful health complications, but also at how Yoongi was trying to hide his exhaustion and distress. “Oh my god.”

“Mm, we should know soon what the damage is,” Yoongi explains further, rubbing his eyes with the hand not holding his phone aloft, “and if he’s alright I can head back h- head back to the Villa. He’s just been sleeping a lot today so… We don’t really know how he’ll be until he’s conscious for enough time. Yoonji’s with him at the moment, I just wanted to duck out and give you guys an update. Where are the others?”

“Jin-hyung’s room,” Jimin answers, even as he’s throwing back the covers. “They’ll want to hear from you themselves, just hold on a minute.”

You hear Yoongi’s voice echoing from the phone and strain to make out his words as Jimin heads to the door. “No, no, don’t wake them. I actually wanted to ask if you’d like to come visit? Of course none of you know my dad, and he doesn’t know you, but- Well, Yoonji and I could do with some company.”

You jump up, rushing to Jimin’s side. As he naturally accommodates your presence and pulls you flush against him, you lift your face up to the phone. “We’ll be there,” you assure Yoongi, “just please get some rest tonight. It’s been a rough day.”

Yoongi’s pained smile breaks your heart, and Jimin leads the phone back to the bed so that Taehyung can say a final goodbye before the three of you hang up and crawl, exhausted but somewhat relieved, back into bed.

#bts x reader #bts x reader smut #bts fanfic #bts smut #the gentlemen #tgm #yoongi x reader #jin x reader #hoseok x reader #namjoon x reader #jimin x reader #taehyung x reader #jungkook x reader

[gemma-collins-ily]

Hello, I wanted to ask for a request with Jesper? I wanted to see him being very protective of the reader. Maybe he saves her from a fight during a job or something (like, she can handle herself just fine but ended up getting trapped by a lot of guards idk) and he comes and shoots them at last minute and is very worried because she did got hurt. Then later she can be all like "it's nothing, I'm fine" but he insists on patching her up and caring for her wounds (maybe make it a soft moment with him being all gentle and lovey with her), kinda blaming himself for her getting hurt, and maybe then confessions are made? Thank you :D

Fools In Love

a/n - yessss more Jesper appreciation! He needs more credit! It sounds a bit creepy in the beginning I'm sorry 😭 Also Jesper and the pet name lovely ugh my heart! Thanks for the request xoxo💕♥️

Warnings: knives, blood, alcohol (used for cleaning of injuries), brief mentions of nausea and not sure what else!

Partners.

That's all you were. That's what Jesper kept telling himself, at least.

But it was so strange with you - he felt so strange with you. Like he should protect you, admire you, love you, care for you whenever he could.

He felt you should always be in his heart, and you were. Some part of him, yet every part of him, was saved for you.

On the days he was truly tired, had run errand after errand, participated in a heist, anything that exhausted him, he would save just a simple smile or two for you.

Because he felt he couldn't, and shouldn't, leave you without one. He needed you to be in his life and wanted you to need him too. He wanted you to rely on the him as he would you, and most importantly, deeply desired that you could love him the way he did you.

This was not in a warped version of reality, a figment of his mind and imagination as a sick, manipulative goal, he only wanted to be loved.

By someone. Alright, anyone. Any person. Admittedly, one specific person.

He wanted to be loved by you.

Jesper knew he did, in fact, love you. And when he realised, his heart had raced, Nina looking up in alarm before seeing the lovestruck bliss upon his face.

Jesper Fahey was in love with you.

And boy, was he in trouble now.

Chaos.

You were extremely similar to Jesper in that way: the way that meant it followed you wherever you went. There was no escaping the chaos, not when you were apparently born from the very depths of it yourself and had a friend quite the same.

A friend.

That's all you were.

It sent a pang of agony rippling through your chest, possibly enough to send you to your knees, but you swiftly shook the thought away.

Focus was what was needed.

Although, it seemed so tempting to think of him, to picture his face in your mind's eye one last time. One last time before you died.

Because it had been going well. But later, there was a high chance of fatality. But, you decided to do what you did best, instead of giving into the niggling voices that told you to remember every brush of the arm, every smile across a room, every chair he pulled out for you; instead, you decided to give into something else.

You decided, to give in to the chaos.

Your strategy was giving fairly good results, just as you had anticipated, considering it always did. Going with your gut seemed to be the best way of going about it, and it was.

Until it wasn't.

Since you were now improvising and no one appeared to be taking any notice of the shots fired, or grunts of pain heard, when even more men than previously swarmed the alley, you were taken aback.

You had not predicted how much effort the rival gang you were on a heist against would gamble on you, sending out what seemed to be the majority of their forces for just one person.

You supposed that meant whatever Kaz had up his sleeve would work fairly easily now though, the level of guard lowered and their numbers dilapidated.

He better thank me later.

Just as you flipped a man over your back, quickly and efficiently leaning down over him, your shadow looming as your hand reached for your knife that was meant to be in your belt.

"Looking for this?"

You gasped and your eyes boggled as your dagger, that the man beneath you had obviously stolen, plunged into your side, the hilt far from buried in your torso as you recovered from the shock as soon as you could find it in your abilities to.

Another knife was ripped out of a corpse beside you and burrowed in his chest, right above his heart, before he could register what was taking place.

You stood, groaning as you clasped the sore flesh surrounding your wound, not yet having pulled out the weapon to prevent further blood loss.

You spun to face the remaining gang members behind you, grimacing as you felt the bile slip upward in your throat, stubbornly rising no matter how many times you swallowed.

Now you had nothing. Nothing to defend yourself with and nothing to help you in this fight. Nothing and no one.

Dying alone was a nauseating fear, circling through your head and running rampage, sending you into a frenzied panic.

Your back hit the wall, the skin burning as it was grazed against the bricks and your heart racing as you failed to bend to the side, only a grunt sounding from your throat as your hand pressed further against your abdomen.

In that moment, you closed your eyes and prayed. Simply prayed to the Saints you had once ridiculed with Kaz, hoping there was a chance, if even just a miniscule one, that you could be saved.

And maybe Inej had been right all along, that you owed her an overdue apology, because maybe, just maybe, Saints did exist.

And perhaps, Jesper Fahey was yours.

He came barrelling around the corner, your eyes clenched tightly shut as you heard gunshots ring out, believing that moment could be your end, that heist your undoing.

But no, because when you peered through your lashes, swaying precariously on your feet, he was there.

You gaped in shock, confusion and finally, joy. You wanted to jump into his arms, tell him of your gratefulness, all because he hadn't left you alone.

Dying was no incredible feat: it happened in Ketterdam everyday, bodies piled in corners and rotting in the dank, narrow streets. To die with no one to close your eyes, only being forced to gaze glassily into the deep grey sky, or no friend to comfort you in your last seconds or less, even, seemed terrifying.

Although, now you wouldn't have to worry about that. Because he was here.

Jesper rushed to you, nimbly leaping over corpses and stepping around barrels or other obstructions, eyes full of concern that only grew when his line of sight landed upon your side.

You could only weakly smile as his arm was slung over your shoulders and his other was suddenly dipping below your upper leg.

"Jes, I don't need picking up!"

"Hmm... I beg to differ, darling. So do your knees apparently."

That was when you realised just how they had buckled and how much of your weight you were making him support. You sighed and gave a sheepish yet irked nod, giving consent to let him swoop you off your feet, and he did so without hesitance after he observed your approval.

He traipsed through the streets, using his knowledge of shady back alleys to keep away from crowds and even if he had swaggered down the main street, no one would have batted an eye.

Or offered help. Ketterdam was not the place for helpful neighbors or friendly coworkers, and often the inhabitants were cruel, selfish and overall generally appeared to be disappointed with their whole lives.

Go figure.

The capital of Kerch was not an actual hospitable place, but some little nooks and crannies could just squeeze you into a sort of community. You had once known a baker that had given you free whole loafs of bread, shaking you off when you tried to pay.

Your palm was still positioned flat over your wound, digging in uncomfortably and your fingers splayed slightly in the air. You didn't dare move it, not making a sound either, only letting soft whines out when Jesper shifted you in his arms, to which he would respond with an apologetic gaze, no words said.

The scratch was not life threateningly deep, just shocking, and well, frightening; it reminded you anything could happen, just one simple change of plan could kill you.

It mortalised you in a way, made you think of how easily it could all be over. Sometimes, galavanting off with the Crows, searching giddily for trinkets with Nina and Jes made you feel as though you could do anything, stay in that moment forever.

But you were human. And right then, you had a knife in your side. Maybe it would have been better to pull it out, considering now every jostle sourced from your friend's sharp steps, heels tapping forcefully on the stones, could possibly send the dagger closer to your ribcage or organs.

"Jes."

"Yes, love?"

"Pull it. Please."

It was a beg for help, and a desperate one after he had only glanced down at you as he continued walking when answering to his name.

He did as you asked, laying you down to the side for a moment. He always had, providing whatever you needed and doing what you thought was best when it came to you.

"Ready? It'll hurt, lovely."

"You're making me more stressed, just do it already!"

It was true. You had broken a sweat as he had been trying to prepare you, beads of perspiration forming on your hairline.

If you had expected another warning, he certainly surprised you by wrenching the mini sword out of your side without anything else said. You cried out, gasping like a fish out of water and feeling just so, the crusting of the aging blood aiding that.

"I know, I know. Just give me a sec, okay? It'll be fine."

Jesper continued to mutter reassurances as he wrapped your scarf around your lower back and torso. The hardest part was when you had to lift your hips and rotate your body slightly so his slender fingers could grasp the other end of the garment to tie it together fully.

"I know. It's okay, yeah? It's fine."

He was in now way immature but his voice was definitely becoming higher and squeakier in fear: the tell tale lurching of his stomach appeared as he accidentally took a glance at the deep crimson blossoming over the scarf and staining his hands, managing to seep into the creases of his palms, depositing itself under his previously pristine nails and cuticles.

You could tell he was worried as he picked you up once more, yelping out a 'sorry' when his wrist brushed your blazing, sensitive flesh.

It was a troublesome trip to return to the Slat, Jesper aggravating the cut when he shifted to prevent you from slipping downward.

Once you were there however, you were adamant you could treat your injuries yourself, only really having a few minor scrapes and bruises, especially a sort of natural eyeshadow in the form of a black eye that had not fully appeared, yet was still already prominent.

You practically tumbled out of Jesper's arms, limping up the stairs to your room while the Zemeni followed closely behind you, a hand on the small of your back to support you while you found your balance, ticklish tingles spreading from the spot his fingertips made contact with your shoulder blades.

"Jes, I really don't need help, like, at all. Just let me-"

You were cut off as he pulled the alcohol out of your grasp, grinning in that charming way only he could pull off, only serving to irritate you further as he winked.

"Sure you don't. It's just that I can help. And I will, alright? I don't care if you don't agree, it's happening."

With that, the scarf was gently pulled from your skin, a hiss drawn from you as the rag he had tipped the alcohol onto touched your side. You forced yourself to control a flinch, only shying away a little as his unoccupied hand came absentmindedly and immediately to your unharmed side, pushing you back to have the cloth back on your skin, scooting you along the desk you were perched on.

"Just a bit more. I promise, darling."

You nodded, gritting your teeth against the pain until it subsided, choosing to focus on the warm and calloused hand resting on your other side, not yet removed.

"Alright, now it's only the little things."

Your mouth opened to protest, explain you could easily do that yourself, but Jesper only tutted under his breath and used two fingers to close your jaw and tilt your head simultaneously to observe the shiner decorating your eye.

"None of that. Now, all we've got is this, which I can't do much about, and that nasty gash on your arm."

He didn't think about what he was doing, how casually and carefully he was caring for you, as though you were a china doll, porcelain and fractured, broken with any move that was not delicate.

You didn't think about how much you enjoyed someone looking after you for once, taking such a chunk of his time to simply stand between your legs and help.

Suddenly, as you pouted and your bottom lip was drawn between your teeth, withholding a groan while he cleansed your upper forearm, his thumb came up to untuck your lip, barely ghosting over it, although the feeling was still so delicious. Tantalising.

And his arm dropped, cloth soaked with a random drink dropping to the rug as his gaze stayed on your lips. And he leant in, as did you, finally sharing a sweet kiss, tender and loving, all things beautiful and wondrous.

His stare burned into the floor as it drew downward, a murmur heard drifting through the air a few seconds later, "You know, I was so worried about you?" You moved to speak before he hushed you, "No, just let me... I'm saying, I was more concerned than a friend probably should have been. Maybe, I mean I don't know. Actually nevermind..."

But he never had a chance to finish as his locks of chocolate brown were swept away from his forehead, a kiss planted there in replacement.

"I'd love to go out with you, Jes, love. Or, I mean, whatever you want to do..."

Chuckles filled the room pleasantly as you both laughed together, cheeks flushed and lips almost swollen, at your embarrassment and haplessness, plus the lack of tact.

You supposed you were just fools in love. And in that moment, you wanted to be suspended there, floating forever.

With him.

#jesper fahey x reader #jesper fahey x you #jesper fahey x y/n #jesper fahey imagine #jesper fahey fluff #jesper fahey fics #shadow and bone #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone x you #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone fic #grishaverse #grishaverse x reader #grishaverse imagine

[minor-solemnity]

hi omg i love you so much!!!! every time i see you post i get so excited!!!!! if requests are still open can you please write over protective tom! i'm a simp for tom x reader when he is super protective over her! thank you😘😘

Eee, thank you! You’re the sweetest omg <3 I really hope you enjoy this! (We all simp for super protective Tom, don’t we? I definitely do)

Tag List: @naps-and-lemons @jinxqsu @riddles-wifey @cakesarecute @mostlynonsense

The Dark Forest

“Stand up for me, and stay close now.” You follow his instructions, the basket and the flowers lying forgotten at your feet. There is something about the way Tom’s holding himself, his back is a straight line of tension, his shoulders are taught, the grip on his wand rigid. He looks like he’s ready for a fight.

The Forbidden Forest is a strange and remarkable place. From afar, it looks like a solid wall of black that fades into hazy mist regardless of the time of day. You’ve always held a certain fascination with the forest, spending a lot of your free time edging the perimeter and peering in through the thicket, trying to get a glimpse of what lies within. You’d given up Care of Magical Creatures as an elective when you had learnt that Professor Kettleburn had made it quite clear to you that he had no plan to ever lead students inside. It had been one of your favourite things to complain about in fourth year, and your secret hope that you’d one day find an excuse to venture beyond the borders.

You suppose the phrase be careful what you wish for was penned for situations such as the one you find yourself in now.

You trudge along the narrow path, one hand gripping your wand and the other holding onto the wicker basket that Professor Kettleburn had given you to collect the stella syriaca flowers before sending you and Tom off into the forest. The only light source you have is the lumos you’ve cast to guide you through the forest and the pale, white-blue light your wand emits turns the forest into a strange imitation of nature. In this light, at this moment, you can almost convince yourself that the trees and the undergrowth are abstractions of nature, an impressionist’s depiction of what a forest might look like.

This in itself isn’t a problem - you’re not so easily scared that the dark and unfamiliar are frightening in themselves. The problem is that you’re fairly certain that you’re being followed. Not that you’re going to mention this particular concern to Tom. He’s already been dragged out to the Forbidden Forest unnecessarily because of you, you don’t want to annoy him with your paranoid imagination. “Tom, do you have any idea where we are?” You ask, trying to keep your voice and calm. You don’t want him thinking that you’re scared, not when it’s your fault that you’re both in this mess.

“If the directions that Kettleburn gave us are to be trusted, we should be nearly at the clearing,” He responds, and unlike you, he doesn’t sound like he’s pretended not to be scared. He just sounds unbothered by the situation, like this is as normal as a trip to the library or a walk around the lake. He glances down at you and frowns slightly as he takes in your clenched fists and tight expression. In the light of the lumos, his concerned expression turns sinister, strange shadows forming under his eyes and distort his usually beautiful features into something otherworldly and dangerous. When he talks though, his voice is soothing and calm, “Are you alright? I would have thought that you, of all people, would enjoy this particular punishment.” You hum in response, unwilling to voice your current thoughts but unwilling to lie either. Lying never works well with Tom anyway - his talent for spotting lies is as good as his talent for the art itself.

“I’m just sorry that I dragged you into this mess,” You murmur, which isn’t a lie. You are sorry that he’s had to give up his evening to escort you into the forest. “You shouldn’t have to do this just because I was being an idiot.” And the fact that this is essentially all your fault rankles you immensely. The issue is… Well, the issue is that you don’t really have anyone other than yourself to blame. No. No, that’s not entirely true. You can definitely blame the school for your current situation; it’s insane that they would send students out into the Forbidden Forest at night unaided and alone as a punishment. Professor Seprenta’s petty desire to take out her frustrations on her students by sending them into potentially perilous places is nothing to do with you. But the circumstances leading up to your detention?

Well, that’s all you.

You wish you could pass the blame but frustratingly you can’t. You decided all by yourself that it would be a good idea to sneak out after curfew to practise summoning circles. It’s also your fault that you’d (stupidly) chosen an empty classroom that just so happened to be next to Seprenta’s office and had forgotten to cast a silencing charm. She’d found you, chalk dust up to your elbows, scattering bay leaves, lavender, and mandrake roots in the four corners of the room.

Needless to say, she hadn’t been impressed, and you’re still not entirely sure if it’s because she caught you out after curfew or if it’s because Seprenta has a weird grudge against any magic that doesn’t involve the direct use of a wand. Either way, it hardly matters now. What matters is that you had been landed in detention and Tom is the one who volunteered to watch over you, ostensibly to make sure that you didn’t skive off, but in reality, you know that it’s because he doesn’t like the idea of you venturing off into the forest alone and without protection.

Next to you, Tom stills and grabs your shoulder, using his leverage to turn you in place until you’re face to face. “I would appreciate it if you didn’t take responsibility for my own actions, it’s terribly narcissistic of you.” He says and despite the insulting nature of his words, you find yourself reassured. Tom is… not the best at kind words and sweet nothings, not unless he’s employing them to get what he wants that is. When he’s being honest, he has a tendency towards bluntness that borders on rude. It says a lot about his feelings towards you that he is rarely charming and sycophantic. “If I hadn’t wanted to come with you, I wouldn’t have, so please, save your guilt for when you need it.”

With a small, weak laugh you nod, “I’ll keep that in mind… Thank you.” Even in the alien lighting, the small smile that lifts Tom’s lips is pleased and soft and maybe a little surprised. The fact that he so rarely hears honest thanks is more than a little heartbreaking. The pair of you continue forwards, Tom leading the way and you following close behind, ever conscious of the… thing watching from the shadows.

You’d first noticed the thing about twenty or so minutes into your exploration of the forest - a silent shadow, no bigger than a bulldog, that flickered in and out of existence in your peripheral vision. You’d not paid it much attention, to begin with, there were plenty of strange things that lived in the forest, after all, and you’d been confident in your assessment that the professors wouldn’t actually put you in the way of any real harm. That confidence has diminished the further in you’ve gone, even with Tom by your side. Now, when you catch a glimpse of it, the shadow looks bigger - maybe the size of a large sheep and a lot more defined. It melts into the darkness whenever you try to get a better look, but you’re fairly sure that it’s more solid than it had been when you’d first seen it.

You tell yourself you’re being paranoid, that the stories the ghosts like to tell you about what goes on in the forest at night have finally gotten to you, but the longer you walk, the more certain you are that there is something in the shadows. “…Tom? Tom, I think something’s following us.”

“I’d be surprised if there wasn’t, darling. You know as well as I do that these woods are alive with more than just birds and trees.” His words are not at all comforting and you find yourself growing annoyed with his flippancy. What you might lack in foresight, you make up for in common sense and your senses are telling you to pay closer attention to the shadows that encroach and creep and linger all around you.

“Tom, I’m being serious. Something is watching us.” He must pick up on the vaguely panicked edge to your words because he stops again and flicks his wand in a complicated motion and a vibrant flame erupts from the tip, floating just above your heads. You give yourself a moment to marvel at his ability before the matter at hand takes precedence and you cast around to try and catch sight of whatever it is that you’ve been seeing. “It was… It was right behind us,” You say, scanning the trees for any sight of the thing. Whatever it is, it’s nowhere to be found. “I swear it was here.”

He hums in response, and when you look at him, you can tell that he’s sceptical. Still, he sends the ball of flame in the direction that you’re pointing and the light seems to reverberate around the dark forest, revealing leaves and branches and thick patches of undergrowth but no moving shadow. Satisfied, he flics his wand again the flame extinguishes. “Keep an eye out - if you think you see something again, tell me.” You nod and bite your lip, pressing a little closer to his side as you continue your trek. You feel like a small child, huddled under your blankets to hide yourself from the darkest shadows in your bedroom. Fear is a funny thing, it’s an almost tangible emotion, prickling the back of your neck and sticking to you like sand on wet skin. Still, you’re almost at the clearing and then all you need to do is pick the flowers and get out.

The stella syriaca flowers only bloom at night, the tiny flowers growing in spherical clusters. Under the glow of your wand, they blossom pearlescent and delicate, like miniature moons rising from the forest floor. You set the basket down and begin to pick the flowers, careful not to crush the petals as Tom watches over you. “You don’t fancy helping?” You call over your shoulder and somewhere above you, Tom breathes out a huff of laughter.

“I hardly see why I should - this is your punishment, is it not?” He counters, wry humour coating his words and you roll your eyes but laugh nonetheless. Now that you’re in the clearing, you don’t feel so afraid, the knowledge that you’ll soon be out of the forest bolstering your confidence. Silence falls upon you and you get lost in the monotony of plucking the flowers, the repetitive actions lulling you into a daze so much so that you don’t immediately notice the rustling in the trees towards the edge of the clearing or the way that Tom’s posture tenses and his eyes turn to slits.

You startle when his hands brush the top of your head, and you look up at from where you’re kneeling on the ground to see what the problem is. Tom looks… He doesn't look scared, which you think is probably a good thing, but he does look agitated. His expression is shuttered window, no light or levity flickers behind the darks of his eyes, no ironic smile curling his lips. You only ever see this side of him when someone displeases him in a particularly grievous manner and he’s never looked at you with that cold blankness that reminds you of ice storms and black tar. You spare a thought for his enemies because you imagine you’d probably drop down dead in an instant if he were to ever turn this particular expression on you.

When he talks, his voice is tight, “What did you think you saw earlier?”

“A… I don’t really know—” Tom makes a low, irritated sound in the back of his throat and the hand that’s resting on your head tightens slightly. “—It was like a moving shadow out of the corner of my eye. It disappeared whenever I tried to look at it, but I think it was getting bigger the deeper we went.” You can’t keep the nervousness out of your voice as you scan the perimeters of the clearing, trying to get a glimpse of whatever it is that’s got Tom on edge. The darkness of the forest seems to loom and though you can’t see anything, you can feel it watching you, can feel the way it sizes you up the same way your cat sizes up mice in the courtyard before she pounces. You’ve always thought it was cute - the way her eyes would grow large and black and her lithe body would scrunch up before she attacked. You don’t find it cute now, though. Not when you’re the mouse.

Tom hums in response and he almost sounds relieved, though you can’t think of a single reason why. “Stand up for me, and stay close now.” You follow his instructions, the basket and the flowers lying forgotten at your feet. There is something about the way Tom’s holding himself, his back is a straight line of tension, his shoulders are taught, the grip on his wand is rigid. He looks like he’s ready for a fight. “Stop the lumos, darling.” At your noise of protest, he shoots you a quick smile which you think is supposed to be reassuring but in reality, looks vaguely foreboding. “Trust me.”

“Nox. Happy now?”

“Ecstatic.”

“Oh, yeah, you sound really— Merlin, what the fuck?” The shadows in front of you shift, and something big and black and not really there seems to collect in the near pitch black. Vapours in the air that pool and swirl until they coalesce into a shadowy thing the size of a shire horse. For a moment, it just hangs there, waiting and watching and anticipating.

And then it lunges.

In the grand scheme of things, your life is relatively unimportant. You’re not so narcissistic that you believe that the world will be irrevocably changed or diminished if you were to meet an untimely end - sure, your family and friends would be sad for a while, your cat would wonder why you’re no longer around to give them treats and ear scratches, but nothing would fundamentally change if you were to die. You know all of this and still, you’re staring down the proverbial barrel of a gun and the only thing that’s running through your mind is, Dear Gods, why me?

You realise in this instant that you are not made for combat. This shouldn’t be a surprise to you - you’re pretty good at Defence, but you’ve never enjoyed duelling. In contrast to your frozen reaction, Tom responds immediately. The rigidity of his posture melts into something fluid and instinctive, and he’s stepping in front of you in one smooth motion and slashing his wand through the air in the next. Violet light arches through the darkness and the thing rears back, as though wounded before it pushes forward. You scramble backwards, staring in horror at the thing. In the spell-light, you can see now that its body is made up almost entirely of shadows - living, sentient shadows that join and divide around a curling skeleton. The only thing standing between you and the shadows is Tom, who is in his element, a whirl of controlled energy and deft wand movements. You’ve seen him duel before, but only in the relative safety of Defence Against the Dark Arts, and watching him now, in an environment where he doesn’t need to hold himself back, where every ounce of his focus and skill is directed at a real-life foe inspires awe and wonder and fear inside you.

The thing slinks around the two of you and tendrils of shadow and darkness curl out and whip at Tom’s feet. You think it must realise that of the two you, Tom is the more immediate threat. Tom leaps out of the way and advances, seemingly without fear for care for his own safety and you’re dimly aware that you’re yelling for him to get back and away. He either doesn’t hear you over the sound of his own casting or he doesn’t care - he just keeps moving, ducking neatly out of the way of another tendril as he sends a jet of golden light that splinters and pierces the monster’s shadows. You keep a tight grip on your wand, trying to think of any spell that might do something against an incorporeal monster.

The monster lets out a shriek and you’re not sure if it’s in pain or just angry but Tom is already moving again. He reaches for you blindly, not taking his eyes off the thing that is currently writhing on the forest floor. Before it can get a chance to recover, Tom raises his wand a final time and the bright white light of a lumos encompasses the shadow being burning and blinding until all that remains is a charred husk a skeleton that matches no anatomy of any creature you’re familiar with.

“Are you alright? Are you hurt?” In contrast to the surety with which he duels, his voice is wrecked, a kind of frantic worry lacing his words. When his hands find yours, his grip is tight to the point of it being painful, as though he’s half-convinced that if he lets go you’ll fade into the shadows along with the monster.

A feeling of warmth and affection surges inside of you, far stronger than the fear that courses through your veins and you grip his hand back, clinging just as tightly to him as he is to you. “I’m fine— Tom, are you okay? I’m sorry for dragging you out here with me,” You say, anger at having gotten him into this mess and anger that the school would harbour some kind of shadow demon in the forest forging your voice into something sharp and hard.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” He says and you’d be insulted by the way he brushes you off if it weren’t for the way that his thumb brushes your knuckles as he pulls you closer to his side. You know him well enough to hear the unspoken worry in his words. “This is exactly why I came with you.” You know he’s telling the truth. Since you’ve known him, Tom has always had an uncanny ability to know when you’ll need him, has always been there to help and protect you. Usually, that involves editing your essays and handing out detentions to people who trouble you, but you shouldn’t be surprised that he’s taken his chosen role to heart and would gladly put himself in harm's way if it meant you didn’t have to.

Nestled against him like this, you feel the fear that’s been with you since you first entered the forest fade, leaving behind a tired sort of fondness and relief. He’s still glaring at the place where the thing used to be, still tense and stiff as though he’s waiting for it to rise up and start attacking you both again. Tentatively, you reach up and brush your fingers against his jaw, willing him to turn and look at you, so that you can see for yourself that he’s okay, that he’s still here, with you. After a pause, he grants you your wish and your heart quickens at the ferocity lingering in his eyes. “Thank you,” You breathe and just like that, something shifts in the air around you and the tension leaches out of him.

He leans down and brushes a kiss against your forehead and you wind your arms around his back, one hand splayed firmly against his shoulder blades, the other running through the short dark curls at the nape of his neck. “I’m okay, I promise. Thank you for being here.” And you’re not just thanking him for tonight, though are you grateful, you’re thanking him for every instance he’s stepped in to look after and protect you.

“I’d never let anything happen to you, you must realise that by now.” He murmurs, and in the hushed silence of the forest, you can hear the unspoken promise clear as you can feel the warmth of his hand in yours.

#tom riddle #tom marvolo riddle #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x you #tom riddle x oc #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle imagines #tom riddle fanfic #tom riddle fic #tom riddle fanfiction #tom riddle oneshot #harry potter #minific #answers #prompt fill #prompt #request #requests #anon request

[booksweet]

Real

Starring: Gojo Satoru x fem!reader

Synopsis: what If your favorite character became real the moment you needed the most?

Contents: fluffy, probably shibuya incident arc spoilers (not too much), grammar mistakes

word count: 1.368

A/N: helloo, guys! It's Friday and the time has come for me to post again! This story came up because I'm reading (suffering) shibuya incident arc since Monday and it's been HARD, so it may be the aftereffects of 20 chapters read and a lot of crying and sobbing. Hope you like it!

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

main navi | masterlist

She was laying on her bed, not really in a peacefully way once she was reading one of her favorite stories and all the plot was driving her to hell and back. She knew it would be bad, it would be terrible, but no one warned her it was THAT BAD. She couldn't help but just cry after all that happened, she felt his pain and hurt through the pages, even though he was the strongest, he was still human. He was still capable of feeling sadness, pain, and grief.

She knew he was just a fictional character, but to her he was more. She loved him in a way she wished he was real, he was a fictional character tho, and hardly he would become real.

Still, she loved Gojo Satoru with all her heart, evertyhing in him enchanted her, from how he cared about his students to his cocky personality. She knew that her friends couldn't understand how much she cared about him, he didn't even exist, how could he affect her in so many ways?

Yet, there she was, wrapped in the sheets of her bed and in her pajamas while reading that manga, thank God it was late night and she was alone at home, otherwise someone would have come by to check her out - and the person would have a little surprise, seeing her with watery eyes and her red stuffy nose. How come just an arc like this one destroy her like that? How come?

"I can't read it anymore" She mumbled, leaving out a soft sneeze. "I'll finish it tomorrow. This arc is going to be my end."

And after pressing slightly the tip of her nose, she fell asleep slowly, head laying on her pillows, driving her to unknown dream places related to what happened to Gojo and the odd future of shibuya incident arc.

"Who are you?" she heard the voice before open her eyes, she felt a sweet air cherishing her face telling that there was someone closer to her. The first thing she thought was that seh was still sleeping and she was dreaming vividly.

How come I can feel anyone like this? She thought in panic. A man trespassed my house and he is in my room, I'm alone...

"Won't you open your eyes? I know you're awake" He said softly seeming to feel her fear. "I really need some answers, and you're the only one I have."

She almost yelled once she opened her eyes. Almost. Screaming requires air in her lungs, air that ran out of her when she looked at him. A man who was pretty much similar to her favorite character... Gojo? Satoru?

"This must be a dream, I am dreaming" She closed her eyes again, sheets upon her face. "This must be a dream, he's a fictional character-"

"Uh... I'm not?" He said and she could hear confusion in his tone. "Last time I checked, I'm a man in bone and flesh."

"Oh, I'm dreaming, I'm dreaming, I'm dreaming..." She pinched her arms, her cheeks, but she wouldn't wake. "Why am I not wakening?"

"Is this... because... you are already awake?" he said, and she looked at him again. Still not believing her eyes. It's not been a long time since she was crying over his sealing at the prison realm and now this?

"How?" She was out of words, the one she... loves? Her comfort character was right beside her as confused as ever, and handsome as hell. "You're more beautiful in person..." She mumbled.

"First: Yes, I am." He said with a smirk growing on his face, eyes still covered by his blindfold. "Second: I don't really know what happened, I thought this was the prison realm, but..." He pinched the tip of his nose with frustation and then looked at her, she felt her body warming as he was fully concentrated on her. "Prison realm only accepts one prisoner by turn, so once I saw you sleeping there, I realized I wasn't really trapped in there. Then where am I? Who are you?"

"O-oh I'm-" She tried to say, but the words wouldn't come out, stuttering as she was right now. She shook her head, If this is real, I have to recompose myself. "I'm Y/N and... I don't know how to explain either, but you came into my word from that little book over there" His head turned out to the manga she put on her desk before sleeping. He kept staring it for a while in silence. And an unease feeling was rising down her throat. "Say something, please."

"To be honest, this is the first time I actually have nothing to say," the sound of his voice was a muffled noise. "Last thing I remember before appearing here I was in Shibuya, fighting and..." His body became stiff as a rock, the memories were hiting him like waves, waves of sadness and hurt.

"Yeah, I know..." And she really knew, in some ways, she felt his pain, and cried because of his broken eyes and she saw him realizing Getou's body was stolen, his best friend's body.

Here they were again in this obnoxious silence, she felt sadness arising from him. She coudn't take it. If this was real, she would do something to him try to forget the pain. Even if it is just for a moment.

"Hey," she called him, taking him out of his reveries. "Wanna go downstairs to have breakfast? You seem hungry." A smile started to grow wild upon his face, and she never felt such joy.

"I was thinking you'd never ask!" He stood up in a wink of an eye, and Oh God he is tall. "I'm going first, I see you need to change your clothes." Her face became red like a tomato, remembering she was still on her pajamas all this time, the shock made her forget about it. "Unless you want me to stay..." She tried to threw her pillow on him, but he was faster and a loud sound came from the closed door. Why was her heart beating so fast?

"So, how are you?" She tried to catch his attention once more. After she showered, reality came punching her in her face. It wasn't a dream, Gojo Satoru was real and he was at her home, drinking coffee with her. She tightened her hand's grip on her mug while waiting for his aswer. It was hard to resist trying pass her thingers through his white hair, touch his clothes, his arms just to prove once more his was real indeed.

"I don't know exactly" he said with a strange voice, Is he tired? She thought. "I'm not trapped at the prison realm, but at here. I still can't help the ones I care so... Yeah, I-"

A sudden hug made him stop with his words, she mindlessly held her arms around his torso, hugging him tight with tear in her eyes. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." She coudn't stop apologizing, he probably wouldn't understand but Who cares? He mattered to her, she didn't mind anything else.

"Y/N..."He held her back, arms around her shoulders and waist. It's so warm. "You don't need to..."

"But I feel to." She stopped again what he was saying. "I can feel your sadness from here, I can feel your pain. I don't know what's happening for you to come here, but still I care about you. I cared about even without known this would happen. And now, I'm caring more and more because I know you are real."

After a moment of silence that seemed like hours, he left out a soft smile "Okay, let me hug you then". With his right hand, he took off his blindfold and she was blessed by his stunning blue eyes. Eyes that can see everything. I could easily get lost...

"Then I will be here to find you again" He said hugging her tighter than ever, the smell of black coffee surrounding them. "I still don't know what I am doing here and why, but I know that if I'm with you, we'll discover it sooner than you think."

Comments, reblogs and likes are always welcome 💛 Thanks for reading

#sofi is writing — jjks #jujutsu kaisen gojo #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo x female reader #gojo scenarios #saturo gojo #jjk gojo #gojo fanfic #gojo hcs #gojo satoru fanfic #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru fluff

[ao3writers-pls-love-me]

Solangelo headcanon (where Will's and Will in general drive Nico insane)

He takes everything involving Will and Will himself seriously, i like to think Nico take Will Solace literally, he is not dense, he's aware, very much aware of things.

Nico doesn't take lightly the "i like you" in a platonic way, and Will just genuinely drops them everywhere possible.

gods hes doing that lovey-dovey smiley of his again "Nico?", "...hm?", "i like you" i know i am very sure of it at this point, "Will, you...you can't just say it so easily, it's not something to—tell someone you hardly understand that much, other than a friend, that you like them or whatever. it's strange, confusing even. i suggest you shouldn't blatantly throw those words around, without actually mean it", "no i do" of course you do "Will—", "i do mean it, everything about it, i do", "but Will it's...i don't understand, like, why?" why me, for how long, how much, how...can you hold this much affection, and why is it for me? "Nico i will never stop saying it" its too good to be true, "i will never stop liking you, i like you so much Nico, i really do—i like you, i like you a lot, if i don't always say it, you wouldn't know, you would forget and i don't want that, i want you to know how much affection a person like me can give to a person like you, even if it just, words, i meant everything i've said" literally, how.

unfair. incredibly, unfair. William Andrew Solace is unfair. hes not real. i cant do this i cant i cant—

Nico doesn't take lightly the "pet names", so whenever Will adds in those love, sweetheart, darlin', angel, beloved, beautiful,...he will think about it, nonstop, it will be the only thing he has on his head that day.

"hey, sunshine", "what—", "how's it hanging gorgeous?" not great please stop, "uhh", "pff—you look adorable angel, what's wrong, need some help with those hands of yours? i could hold them", "gods why are you so—so the thing—so obnoxious this early of the day, hades's sake its 8 a.m Will", "nothing is too early when it comes to you", "i—what?", "beloved, i can't get enough of you, every time of date" strangely, me neither.

Nico doesn't take lightly Will's physical things, how he occasionally feathery, sneaky, mischievous touches Nico without the eye of people. He doesn't like it, he doesn't know how to act towards it, he also hates how he fell for it, always, every time. He hates how it's so special, like, only to him, to Nico. He hates how private it is, how Will's troubled if Nico wouldn't like it or uncomfortable with it. no, in reality, he hates how he loves them dearly.

"what?", "what...?" stop messing with my fingers when you can just intertwine with it, "what? do you need something?", "oh no, sorry i um, accidentally—did that. i didn't—i'm so sorry. i'm kinda fidgeting, sorry again if i, if i, well..." i know you want it "i don't mind" i know you worried about me, "pardon?" i know this is not something you would do without my consent, "it's ok, what you want, it's ok" i dont know why i do not like it when you're so careful and gentle with me, "i don't mind at all, you don't have to worry" you dont have to ask for my permission, "...alright" since when did i ever reject you.

since when did your touches become such a mindful thing to me.

his hand is gentle and comforting, it's embracing mine nicely.

And he ABSOLUTELY doesn't take lightly Will, as in, a person, in existence, like how can he be allowed—how can there be a Will at all? Nico just doesn't understand. He doesn't take Will lightly, literally, literally everything about him—his sunny smile, too sky blue vision, brightest of bright blond hair, his gentle and warm and calm and chill nature, his counsellor's leadership to his siblings but lingering family love and they never take him seriously for the leader he is, just Will, as everybody's big brother, his voice—gods his voice—and him, as a whole, meat and blood and something something—person—ok Nico doesn't know he's just—he's just going to lose it this is too much. He doesn't want to knoww, he hates it,he hates it so much, he hates how he "more than like" the boy, he hates Will, no he actually not of course not, how could he, but he still is and he—he hates how he takes Will so seriously, he can't think of the boy as, friends, only more, more than that.

he always smiles, when did this happen. thats smille, when did it become a thing to me, "why are you so happy all the time?" why are you so nice, so lovely, "i get to spend time with you, why not", ive heard this sentences for more than 10 times, but it keeps getting me burned, "you always say that", "but it's true" i wish it wasn't, you are difficult i dont like difficult people, "i'm not even that fun to be around and it's not like, you're free all the time, you should have forgotten about me, it's easier that way", "and you always say that, Nico, no of course not, i like spending time with you, you're amazing and i would skip everything if it means hanging out with my favorite person, why can't that get into your thick skull" i dont like you, you are hard to read, i dont like being unable to understand you, "everyone's your favorite person", "yeah well, you're the best to me", "your ranks mean nothing" im sorry, i dont want to hurt you, i want to say that i like you too and hanging out with you is something i look forward to all the time, i like you Will "...Nico", "what?", "is something bothering you?" you, why you, why did it feel right, why did i have these feelings for you, "nothing, just—" you you you you Will Solace you, "i...don't like you", "oh..." wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong, "no no—not like that, it's weird—you're weird. i don't know how to do things, with you, it's frustrating, you're...frustrating", "oh...oh ok" i like you i like you i like you i like you, "so you don't hate me?" i like you i like you i like you, "...no, unfortunately no", "that's nice to hear", "...i guess", "it also means that you like me" yes i do, "no i do not", "i like you too Nico" its getting harder to breathe, "i like you a lot, really, you're wonderful, truly the best, to me. i like you so much. i like you. Nico, you, only you. i like you" how can a 'me too' so hard to get out now

his heart gave up on him.

somehow, Will is impossible, and somehow Nico's starting to understand Will's i like you.

When Nico ends it all, all of these—confusing things and Will, processing, surprise, stunned, exhilarated, his smile slowly drops and his tear slowly sheds, not because he's heartbroken, no, far from that, he just, overly happy. Nico knows what this is about now, he knew but also, he didn't know, back then, gods, it was so raw and he just kept denying it. It was so clear, blatantly clear, exposed, naked, to him. And now he will not ignore it.

Oh, that's love, alright.

"you're unreal" but at the same time you're not, "um ok? what's the matter Nico—", "i like you", "...oh—", "i like you, no, actually no not that, i love you" it sounds like a dream isnt it, "wait wait wait—slow down—", "i love you so much, Will, i genuinely, do. so much that it's getting out of hands, so much that it gets on my nerve every time I thought of you, and i am so, so pissed that 'til now, i somehow managed to get it out", it sounds like a fantasy to me too, "i love you, nothing like Percy's, no, frick that guy, you're not Percy, you're Will, and i would die for you, truly, i love you. i'm sorry, i'm sorry that i took so long to realize that, i'm sorry you have to put up with my arrogance, i'm sorry that i keep refusing my feelings, to back down my pride and admitting my undying love for you, i'm sorry. i love you, Will, only you, i love you and i will never stop saying it, i will never stop loving you"

and Nico opens his eyes, astonishingly watching, as Will turns from shock, sad, blushing mess to unbelievable to overwhelmed to choking on his own emotions to so so glad, he cries.

"gods fuck shit—Nico i—o-oh shit—damn it sorry—give me a moment please i—"

stumbling, trembling, stammering, stuttering, crumbling,...thats a new Will Nico didn't think he gets to see his full whole life.

"i love you"

despite every Will's i like you, just one Nico's i love you and he is far-gone.

Nico is also, a very difficult person.

#frick you this is how they get together #this is one #one heavily dramatic and sappy headcanon #who hurted me #nico is just confused #no one has ever treated him like that #he cant compare it to percy's and he gets really confused #its nothing like anyone else and it messed him up #its like you can read your secret admirer's mind but this is will and he cant be secret and shiet #he just so openly show nico how much he likes him and nico just doesn't how to reply to that #nico takes everything about will seriously #so confessing his love to him is...something #its a big deal #and he doesnt want to repeat the percy things so he just gonna thanos it #bro nobody gonna read this and not being cringed its so sappy #ew love #pjo #solangelo #solangelo headcanon #nico di angelo #will solace #nico di angelo headcanon #will solace headcanon #headcanon

[angellesword]

YOUR EYES TELL | JJK (03)

Summary: You live in a world where people see in black and white. The solution to finally see the colors? It's simple. You need to meet your soulmate and look at him in the eyes, but what if the person bound to you is already contented with the monochromatic world? What if...Jeongguk, your soulmate, is already in love with someone else?

Alternatively;

"A future without you is a world without color."

Genre: soulmate au, e2l, slow burn, angst, fluff, roommate au

Pairing: Artist!Jungkook x Lawyer!Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

SERIES: CHAPTER 2 | CHAPTER 4

Note: OC is a lawyer but the author knows nothing about law except the three law subjects she took last semester. errors. ah. there will always be errors here bc english isn’t my first language. anyway!!! enjoy!

Jimin wasn't lying when he said you were a mess. This was evident to Jeongguk the second he stepped inside your apartment.

Pile of cardboard boxes and papers were cluttered all over the floor, causing him to feel uneasy. The faint colors visible in his eyes didn't help to calm his nerves. It was as if he suddenly became hypersensitive to his surroundings.

He assumed that your house wasn't really that untidy, but as stated, the colors made it seem like it was untidier.

"Hi there, buddy." Jeongguk forced a smile at the cat glaring at him. He remembered Jimin telling him that your cat was a bitch. The fury pet was making this strange, scary sound. Jeongguk suddenly wished you were here to stop the cat from attacking him.

He wasn't expecting you to lock yourself inside your room the moment you realized that he was your soulmate.

He was so startled by your reaction that his first instinct was to run after you. The thing was, your cat was blocking your bedroom door—stopping him from intruding your personal space. It was obvious that the little animal didn't like the fact that Jeongguk invited himself inside your home.

Jeongguk didn't know why you were hiding from him. In your defense, you were embarrassed. What were you supposed to say to your soulmate? How were you going to explain to him that the reason why you looked like a mess was because of your demanding job?

Being a civil lawyer was exhausting. One second you're negotiating settlement with the other side's attorney, then you would just find yourself filing motions in court and of course, there were many instances where you're standing before the jury and judge to present a case.

Expertise wasn't the only thing necessary in law. You also needed a great amount of empathy so that you could understand your clients. You cared for them a lot; this was why it was such a big deal for you whenever they choose to omit facts.

You hated it when your clients were being dishonest, you didn't need them to be innocent. You only wanted them to tell you the absolute truth so that you could properly defend them. It wasn't like your job was easy. The fact that most people living in your world see in black and white was already a pain in the ass. Earlier this day, you had a client who was suing a businessperson for selling fake whitening products. She claimed that she spent a whopping two thousand dollars to get that fair skin tone. Sadly, it didn't work.

The opposing side asked your client this: how can you say that the products don’t work when you can’t even see colors?

You were shocked to learn this. Your client was subject to a color test for eyes. She said she could see colors when in fact, she couldn't. Actually, the only reason why the vendor sold your client the whitening products was because she also lied to the seller. The latter's rule was that she wouldn't allow people who see in black and white to purchase her products. This was so she could protect her business' image from fraudster like your client.

Things like this often happened in court. The one you encountered were usually easier to resolve, unlike what criminal lawyers face. This, however, didn't mean your job should be taken lightly.

What happened in court today actually took a toll on you. Your boss humiliated you in front of your colleagues, saying that he couldn't believe an experienced lawyer like you would make such rookie mistake. This made you feel like a loser that's why you decided to go home early to rest. You knew you couldn't work when your heart was this heavy.

You ran yourself a bath the moment you reached your apartment. Jimin was bombarding your phone with text messages to remind you that Jeongguk, a friend of his, was going to drop at your place later today since he was interested to be your roommate.

You simply replied 'Yes, I haven't forgotten. Stop pestering me,' to your best friend. Truthfully, Jimin hadn't shut up about this guy named Jeongguk since last week. He kept telling you that he was the perfect replacement for Seulgi, your former roommate.

You just shrugged it off. Honestly, you didn't care if Jeongguk was the perfect roommate or not. At this point, you would take anyone in. You seriously needed someone who could help you with the household chores.

The warm water grazing your skin made you feel sleepy. Before you knew it, you're off to dreamland; however, your little slumber was disrupted by loud knocks coming from your front door.

"Shit!" Your eyes went wide upon realizing that your supposed to be new roommate was already at the door. As if to confirm the horror, your phone rang.

Jimin was calling.

"Where the hell are you? Jeongguk is in front of your door!"

"I know. I'm so sorry! I fell asleep." You got out of the tub, hurriedly putting on your bathrobe.

"Talk to you later!" You ended the voice call, rushing towards the door. Unfortunately, you slipped on the wet floor.

You whined in pain. Luck was truly not on your side today, but instead of getting annoyed, you simply stood up and went your way to the door.

"I'm sorry, I was in the shower. I swear I heard you the first time you knocked, but I was panicking so I slipped down the floor and I..." You were already blabbering right after opening the door. You hadn't seen your future roommate's face because it was easier to lie without looking at someone in the eyes.

You didn't know why you told him you heard his first knock, when in reality, you didn't. You guessed you just hated disappointing people. What happened with your boss today was something you couldn't let to be repeated again. You couldn't bear to irritate another person.

You kept yourself busy as you reasoned out. You ran your hand through your wet hair, eyes widening when you saw your fingers covered in soap suds.

"Oh, my God!" You were panicking again. This time, you finally looked at Jeongguk to see his reaction.

It was like the world stopped.

No. You did not see colors instantly. What you felt was something strange—mystical perhaps. It was just like how they described it in books and movies.

You thought people were exaggerating about what they claimed they felt when they met their soulmates.

Apparently, they were not.

You know the feeling of finally seeing the rainbow after the strong storm? It was like that. Except this was way better. Your young self was probably rejoicing now. Being able to meet and look in your soulmate's eyes was dazzling.

The colors were becoming visible now, it was faint—this was in contrast to the embarrassment you were feeling.

You suddenly became very self-conscious with what you looked like. You were wrong. Your young self wasn't that happy because she wasn't expecting to meet her soulmate like this.

You were aware that you looked awful. The bags under your bloodshot eyes were probably so deep. The soap suds in your hair made you appear ridiculous. The most horrifying of all? You were wearing a bathrobe designed with the face of your favorite cartoon character.

"Uh—"

You ran away, locking yourself in your room before Jeongguk could finish what he was about to say.

Your heart was beating so fast as you stared in the mirror. The disgust you felt intensified. God. You looked horrible. You mentally cursed the brand of the mascara you were wearing. So much for claiming to be smudge proof! Curse yourself too because this wouldn't happen in the first place if you only refrained from crying over your boss' mean words, but it seemed like you never learned. You just scolded yourself from crying easily, but here you were, tears were painting your cheeks once again.

"No..." Your lips quivered. You were stronger than this. You weren't going to ruin your chance with your soulmate.

Determined, you quickly changed into a sage dress. Your hands were trembling because of your new found excitement. You loved colors ever since you were a kid. The fact that you couldn't see them didn't stop you from learning its meaning. You studied good color combination before. You were aware how to aesthetically match the hues. For instance, you knew that you would look ridiculous if you wore a neon green shirt and bright pink jeans. You were always careful in choosing what to wear, so now that you could finally see colors without referring to your color palette generator, you were beyond happy.

When you looked decent enough, you decided to finally face your soulmate. The first thing you saw as you opened your bedroom door was Jeongguk sitting on your couch—this was a very shocking scene. No. You weren't surprised because he was casually plopped down on your sofa, what you didn't expect was to see Miri, your bitch of a cat, to be so comfortable on Jeongguk's lap. Your pet looked at peace; the usual hiss she was making was replaced by a silent purring. Her bambi eyes mirrored your soulmate's same big, doe eyes.

You cleared your throat to get Jeongguk's attention.

"I let myself in, I hope you don't mind." You couldn't decipher what he was feeling. Jeongguk's voice was soft, but there was no hint of emotion there. His expression was also unreadable.

Jeongguk tore his gaze away from you when he realized that you were staring. As if this wasn't already awkward for him, you went on to say something that made him more uncomfortable.

"I've been waiting so long to meet you! Are you going to move in with me now?" You plopped down beside Jeongguk, squeezing your body between him and the arm of your sofa. Miri hissed since she was astounded by your sudden action. Actually, Jeongguk was surprised too. Your couch was pretty spacious; he didn't understand why you had to press yourself beside him.

Jeongguk also didn't know why you sounded so hopeful. The sparks in your eyes caused him to scowl; however, this didn't stop you from speaking your hopeless thoughts.

"We could do a lot of things together! I had planned everything since I was young!" You giggled. You didn't know why you were so comfortable telling him things. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that you two were soulmates.

However Jeongguk was confused with your weird idea of wanting to do all of this romantic stuff with him. The uneasiness he felt couldn't be contained anymore when you abruptly talked about dating—as in dating him.

"Whoa, whoa..." He cut you off, arching his brow and moving away from you. "Slow down, will you? I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh." You blushed, immediately realizing that you had gone too far. "I'm sorry I got carried away. I was just excited to meet you." You couldn't help but beam at him.

Jeongguk continued to raise his brow at you.

"Why? Are you really that desperate to find a roommate?"

It was your turn to raise a brow at him.

"N-No, I just..." You breathed in, unsure of what to say. "I'm just happy to finally meet my soulmate."

"Soulmate?"

You flinched because of the bitterness in his voice. His innocent eyes turned dark, he was glaring at you. Miri was startled once more. She jumped on your lap because she was getting scared of Jeongguk.

"I'm sorry to break it to you, but I don't believe in soulmates." The word 'soulmate' sounded so rough coming from him, making you flinch again.

Many people had told you that you were good at gauging the feelings of other people, this was why your heart skipped a beat when you saw pain and anger crossed Jeongguk's feature. It was as if he was betrayed by someone.

"It's the most absurd thing I've heard in my entire life. Only stupid people believe in soulmates. I mean—" Jeongguk sucked in a breath. He was so annoyed that he didn't even know how to express his thoughts without breaking apart. "It's limiting the possibilities for people. Why am I required to fall in love with someone I barely know? Why should I leave the person I truly love just because a person meant to be the love of my life," he paused, quoting the words love of my life in the air. "Helped me see colors? It's like forcing me to do something I don't—no, I can't do. It's such a burden. Love can't be bought. I refuse to be with people just because they helped me."

There was silence after Jeongguk's long speech of the reasons why he didn't—or as what he claimed—couldn't love you.

Jeongguk wetted his bottom lip. The silence was making him hate himself. He hated himself because he saw the tears forming in your eyes, an obvious sign that you were hurt because of what he said. But most importantly, he hated you.

It was unlikely of him to hate someone he just met—or to simply hate anyone at all, but everything about you was making him mad as hell.

He hated your hopeful eyes, he hated your beliefs, he hated that you were the person hindering him from being with Red.

He knew it was unfair to blame you since Red chose to leave on her own, but he still couldn't help himself because the idea of soulmate was what urged her to leave.

You were Jeongguk's soulmate and for him, it meant nothing. So with a furrowed brow, he stared hard at you as he said this:

"I'm making you choose right now. Either accept me as Jeongguk, your tenant or Jeongguk, your soulmate. But just so you know, I will never stay with you if you treat me like a soulmate."

His word stung, though you were aware that the only way to make him stay was to choose the former option. At least this way, you got to be with your soulmate.

The colors you see were starting to fade away and it was okay...

#jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #ficswithluv #bangtan angst #bangtan ships #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook enemies to lovers #jungkook friends to lovers #jungkook roommate au #jungkook soulmate au #jungkook fic

[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

The Perfect Bad Boy (Pt. 16 of 18)

Pairing: Billy Hargrove X Reader

Word count: 3 K

Summary: Working as a lifeguard in the Hawkins Community Pool, you try to fit in after moving from New York. Things were going pretty well when you notice you've been under someone's stare. Billy Hargrove, Hawkins' bad boy, has been staring at you since day one. You never intended to have anything to do with him, judging by the reputation he has. But Billy won't leave you alone, determined to show you his feelings are different this time...

As if your heart flooding you with confusing feelings wasn't enough, there are weird, strange animals lurking in the woods... But those have to be just part of the wild live of the woods surrounding Hawkins... Right?

<- Previous part (15)

Next part (17) ->

{Stranger Things Masterlist}

×

The Loss Of A Friend

You've never been to a funeral. Well, you did, but you were a kid and you didn't know the family friend who was being buried that day. In your child's mind, you didn't get why everyone was wearing black, in uncomfortable silence, crying all day long. You remember clearly that a blue bug got your attention, making your eyes follow its every move, making you smile despite the sad atmosphere.

It couldn't be more different today.

As the coffin is lowered into the ground, where Jason will forever rest now, you hold Billy's hand, the soft fabric of your black dress tickling your tights. You barely feel it though, all your sensations resumed to the weight in your chest, crushing, squeezing your ribs, smashing your heart.

You suddenly remember the day Monica introduced you to Jason. It was the Saturday before you started working at the pool, in the parking lot of Starcourt Mall. He had his little brother on one arm, and the girl walking beside him, tugging on the hem his shirt.

“So that's the new girl.” He said, a smile spreading across his lips as he reached out his hand for you to shyly shake. “I'm Jason, born to bear the weight of being Monica's cousin, but also the coolest guy you'll find in Hawkins.”

That, of course, started a small war of cheesy pick-up lines, insults, and sarcastic comments. You laughed, feeling easily welcomed by Monica's cousin.

Now, what gets your attention is how his young siblings cry, yell, calling out Jason as is he was just sleeping inside the wooden box and would wake up, smile, and start chasing them around again. He won't. Jason is only a memory now.

“I think we should go,” Billy says in a low voice, letting go of your hand to rub your arms softly.

Nodding, you let him guide you to his Camaro, driving you away from the sea of people dressed in black. You've known Jason for such a little time compared to everyone else here, who saw him grow up, studied with him, lived near him for many years. Your pain is just a speck of dust compared to theirs.

When you get home, the sun is setting. You decide to call Diane, just to make sure she's alright, but you don't tell what happened. It would make her come here immediately, and the last thing you need is someone else you care about being in danger. You have to lie, despite hating yourself for it, telling her that your voice is funny because you had to yell a lot with the kids at the pool. But it's better this way. There are more than enough people here you need to worry about.

“Come here,” Billy calls when you finally head to the bedroom. He sits in the bed, back against the headrest and you're quick to crawl into the bed and into his arms. “How are you feeling?”

“I don't know. Sad doesn't really explain it.” Putting your legs over his, you hide your face on his neck, breathing in your favorite cologne, the only one he uses since the day you told him that. “I can't believe I buried Jason. Jason. My crazy-ass friend.” Your voice cracks and you hold back a sob. “I'll never hear those stupid jokes again.”

“I'm so sorry, princess.” There's a pain in his voice too. Billy has been around Jason a bit, mostly with you. But you know he's actually sad because of how broken you are. You can see it in his eyes, that he wish he could take your pain away, and that he's desperate because he doesn't know what to do.

But there's nothing Billy or anyone else could do. You can't fight death. You can't hit it with a baseball bat full of nails until it gives your friend back. The only thing you can do is avenge him. Get whatever took him and destroy it.

“I wanna kill those Demothings.” The anger in your voice is tangible, and you clench your hands into fists. “I swear to God, Billy, I'll kill one of them myself.”

“Anger won't help. We need to be smart about it. We need a strategy.” Billy is often angry with things. Mostly with things that hurt you, but this time, you get why he's taking another path, trying to calm you down instead of putting more wood in the fire. “The meeting is set for tomorrow. We'll find a battle plan to kill those damn things.” His hand comes to lay on your thigh, fingers softly caressing your skin. “But for now you need to rest, ok? I'll cook something you like and then we'll cuddle watching some nice movie. How does that sound?”

“What if I cry through the movie?” You ask because more tears start rolling down, it doesn't matter how many times you try to get rid of them.

“Then I'll hold you tight.”

“Sounds good to me.”

Billy is kind enough to try and get you into some small talk. Nothing too complicated, nothing related to the Demothings or Jason. You're thankful for that. He even manages to get a few laughs from you, although they're always followed by a reality check when the events of the last two days hit you again, and the smile is gone.

A couple of hours later you're watching Jaws, your head on Billy's chest as you try to follow the events of the movie. But it seems way too fast for you, or it's just your mind that's refusing to process anything that's happening.

You just keep thinking about death. About how Jason's whole life was cut short. How all of his plans for the future were erased.

“Billy, can I ask you something?” Keeping your voice low, you speak up for the first time since you came to the living room after having dinner.

“Of course, princess. What is it?”

Biting your lip, you consider if you should really bring that up. It's selfish to talk about your future when someone else won't have one. But this whole situation made you want to make plans because it's a privilege to still be here. It's a blessing to still have time. “What you said to Joyce about... Marriage. Did you really mean that or–” Pushing yourself up from where you were laying on top of him, you take a deep breath. “–or were you just trying to get out of the conversation. Because it's ok if–”

“Haven't I made it clear that I want to be with you for the rest of my life?” He moves to sit up as well, pulling you close until you're placed in between his legs, a hand caressing your cheek. “Because if I hadn't, I'll make it clear now. I want to be with you for the rest of my life. I don't know how it happened, and it did get me by surprise, but the day you walked in the Hawkins Community Pool, I knew something changed in me. I knew I had to get to know you, and I did thought it would pass, that I'd get tired of you as I got of the other girls, but I didn't.” Billy holds you closer to him, your foreheads touching. “You hit me like–”

“Bang.” You finish for him, the memory of the day he was unbelievably honest with you coming back. The day he admitted to you, and somehow to himself too, that he liked you. It was also the day he punched David, and the day he kissed your cheek, making your stomach burn like it has been set on fire.

“Like bang.” He breathes out, warm lips coming in touch with yours. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull him as close as you can, the need to feel that he's here, with you, clouding the sound of the TV. Billy moves to lay back down again, and when you move to follow his change of posture, your knee slips and connects to his ribs. “Ouch!” He breathes out, cutting off the kiss.

“Oh, shit. I'm so sorry.” Covering your mouth, you bring the free hand to rub his side. “Sorry, baby.”

Taking a deep breath, he grabs your arm and pulls you down, making you collide on his chest, giggling. “Sorry. I shouldn't be joking around with you now.”

Squinting your eyes at him, you try to get up, but his strong arms come around your body, keeping you from moving. “I hate you, Hargrove.” The fake sentence is soon overcome by a giggle. “I'll kick you right this time, I'm warning you.”

“Oh, I'm shaking like a leaf.”

“Don't test me, Hargrove. Keep in mind we sleep on the same bed and I know all of your habits, baby.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Mhmm.” Mumbling, you manage to stand up, moving back into a sitting position. You know he actually let you go, but there's no reason to acknowledge that. Taking a deep breath, the sudden happiness is stained again, as the memories crawl back. It seems like Billy notices because his smile softens. “I love living with you, you know that, right?”

“I love waking up next to you every morning.”

You can't help the smile that comes to your lips as you bend over again, kissing his lips.

On the next day, Billy calls Anthony to ask him to give you a few days off work. Obviously, you have to urge your hothead boyfriend not to curse the manager and risk losing his job. You feel fine to go to the pool, or you think you do, but the truth is you wouldn't be paying much attention anyway. And much to your dismay, Billy gets a total of zero days off. No discussion, what makes him hang up the phone so hard you thought he broke the poor thing.

Since you don't want to be alone, and Billy would absolutely never allow you to be alone in the house when you're friend just died, he drives you to Joyce's place, where the party will gather to make plans.

Saying it's hard to be away from Billy on the day after you buried Jason is a misunderstanding. Seeing him drive away from Joyce's porch makes you feel like he's taking your heart with him. He didn't seem pleased either, but there was no other choice. You wouldn't make him miss the day, since you know Anthony is a terrible human being, just looking for the right excuse to get rid of the lifeguards.

“Honey, come inside,” Joyce calls a hand on your shoulder. “Can I get you something to eat? We had pizza last night and I have a slice in the fridge.”

“No, thank you, Joyce.” Politely, you decline her offer. “Is there any bed I can crash in?”

“Sure. Come.” Walking through Jonathan and Will, you wave at them, muttering a good morning and trying not to cry at their sad faces. They know Jason was a close friend, and, like everyone else, they don't know what to do or say. “This is Will's and Jonathan's room. Just pick a bed.” Nodding, you choose the one on the left and lie down. “Do you need to talk?”

“There's nothing to say.” Putting your head on a pillow, you stare at the ceiling. You feel comfortable around Joyce, she has this mother thing about her. “I just want this to end. Before anyone else gets... Eaten.” The word makes you shiver as it brings the image of his body back. “I wish I wasn't the one to find him. To... See him that way. I don't think I'll ever forget that.”

“Honey, I'm so sorry.” She comes to sit on the edge of the bed. “When... When they found Will's body, it hurt. I knew in my heart it wasn't him, but the very idea of losing my baby was horrible. So I have an idea of how you feel. Losing someone is a pain that doesn't go away. You'll get used to it, but it remains. All we can do is learn to deal with it and honor them by carrying their memories.”

You're crying through her speech, and you can't help but sit up and hug her, crying on her shoulder. “We have to be careful because I can't lose anyone else.” You're not sure if she can even understand what you're saying, but since she nods, you think she did.

“Don't worry, honey. We'll all be alright.” She pulls away, rubbing both your arms. “The kids will be here soon, but feel free to stay here or join us, ok? Do whatever makes you comfortable.”

“Thanks.” Offering her a small, sad smile, you watch as she leaves.

You hear when they get here, the chattering starts, and you can understand a few words here and there. They talk about you, and about Billy and about the funeral. But soon enough it falls into the major problem. And that's when you tune out, staring at the ceiling, trying not to make yourself too comfortable in someone else's bed.

The only thing you want now is Billy. You want to go back to the time where there was no Demogorgon, Demowhatever lurking around. At least to you. It's weird to know what really happened in Billy's car accident, how he was almost the host for the Mind Flayer. You're happy it didn't happen, that he's here now. You need to thank Max for that, actually. If it wasn't for her and the others, your Billy wouldn't be here. He could be dead, and you'd never meet him. He'd never shoot glances at you, or drive you home, buy you tacos or punch David's face. Or kiss you, hold you, love you. The thought of a life without Billy in it is absurd. Now, more than ever, after you lost someone so dear, you have this need to be with him. Just to make sure he's here.

Breathing out and closing your eyes, your hand comes to hold the necklace. It makes you feel closer to Billy, and there is a silent promise here, one you hold close to your heart, together with the earring.

Eyes open, you get up of the bed. You don't care if you got days off, you have to see him. Even if it's just for a hug. Leaving the bedroom, you make your way to the living room, which is crowded.

“We wait until it's late at night to make sure the Demodogs are out, sneak inside the tunnels, and spill insane amounts of gasoline all over it. Get the hell out, wait until it's morning, and set the whole thing on fire.” Dustin says, hands in the air and a smile on his face.

He's kidding, right? He can't be suggesting that as if it's the greatest idea of the world. “Are you completely insane?” You ask, making your presence known. Arms crossed, your eyes scan through the party. “You can't possibly think this is a good idea.”

“I agree with (Y/N), this is insane,” Joyce adds, her face making it clear she thinks this idea sucks. “I won't let you do that.”

“But–”

“The point is to kill them without getting ourselves killed. And every single idea you come up with has a hundred different ways to get us killed.” Steve says, both his hand on his hips as he paces around the room. “Who thinks this idea sucks raise your hand.” He's the first to do it, and Joyce, you, and Jonathan do the same.

“Count Billy in.” You say, raising the other hand as well.

“And Hopper,” Joyce states, giving you an approving stare.

“It's six against seven. We're doing it.” Dustin exclaims.

“No.” You basically shout, not caring one bit if you sound bossy. All eyes lay on you as you struggle to keep it together. “We're not doing it and that's final.”

“I–”

“I just lost a friend and I will not let you do something that might just end up in another funeral.” There are tears threatening to fall again, but you hold them back. “So come up with something else.”

The silence is deafening. You know you're breaking down again, even though the tears aren't rolling down. Yet.

“Please. There's gotta be something else.” Lowering your voice and looking down at your feet, you beg. You can't even think about someone else dying. You couldn't bear it.

“I saw this thing at school. Like a robot with remote control.” Lucas starts. “If we could build a bunch of them and attach a hose, we could guide it inside the tunnels and spread the gasoline.”

“Yeah, but there are seven holes. Which means a lot of ground we'd have to cover.” Eleven adds as you make your way to the group, sitting on the couch beside Joyce.

“Let's blow up six of them.” You burst out, crossing your legs. “A hell of a explosion that would take those things days to dig it back. Then there will be only one way in and out. Find a hell of a long hose or just connect a bunch of them and a million gallons of gas. The robots will spread it then we'll just need a match.”

“That's good. It could work.” Nancy says. “But we'll need to chip in to buy all these things.

“Hopper can get some for free I'm sure.”

“We start right now.” Mike stands up and the others follow. “Let's get started.”

The rest of the day is hectic. Lists are made, one of the kids teachers come over to help with what they called a summer project. For fun. And the materials started arriving. You don't really know what to do, so you help Joyce make lunch, keeping up with her small talk. Joyce is easy to be around, and you like to hear her stories about Will and Jonathan. You even manage to show a few smiles every now and then. After everyone is fed, you finally sit on the porch, trying to help as much as you can. The kids are genius, literally building remote control robots from random pieces and the instructions from books. It's amazing. Since you can't really be of much help in this aspect, you join Nancy, separating stuff or doing anything they tell you too.

When the sun is setting, some of them had to go home to gather their stuff. They'll crash here and take the robot construction through the night. By the moment you hear the faint noise of Billy's car, it's just Joyce's kids, Steve and Dustin. Leaving the small pieces of metal you were shaping into tiny little circles, you stand up abruptly.

“Where are you going? These circles aren't going to make themselves.” Dustin complains, raising his hands in the air.

“Billy is back.” There's no need for further explanation, so you tiptoe among the stuff, careful not to step on anything.

“It could be anyone.”

“Dustin, is there any other car in Hawkins that sounds like that?” As you speak, the noise gets louder and Billy's car comes to your sight.

“She knows her boyfriend's car.” Steve jokes as you walk to the yard, smiling when Billy stops the car and comes out.

“Miss me, princess?”

“Obviously.” It's a feeling of pure relief to see him. It feels like it's been so much longer than just some hours, but you feel that you'll have this insane need to be around him for a while. Just to enjoy the fact that you're still alive. You can't help but wonder for long the idea of death will hover over you... Probably forever.

“You ok?” He asks, his hand on your hair as you have your head on his chest.

“I will be.” Remembering the audience, you pull away, standing on your toes to kiss him. “Dustin had a terrible idea but I made him change his mind about it.”

“How did you do that?”

“I yelled.” With no intention of further explanation, you turn at the guys. “I'll be back tomorrow morning, alright? Have fun doing crazy science.” Waving at them, you get into the car.

You would like to stay at Joyce's, keep helping as much as you can, but you feel like you need silence and peace. The kid's laughter and jokes make you feel better, but you know that you also need to let the sadness creep over for a while. Keeping it hidden, disguised, makes no good. So as you dry and brush your hair, waiting for Billy to finish his shower, you cry.

For Monica, for Jason's younger siblings, his mother, his father, uncle, and aunt. For every friend he made since he was born. And for yourself too. Jason was one of the people that you imagined you'd be around for the rest of your life.

You're dragged away from your thoughts by the phone's ring. Rushing to answer it, you find it's Joyce, kindly asking if you can pick Mike up and drive him to her place, and of course, you comply.

“Billy.” You call when you hear him coming out of the bathroom. “Joyce needs us to pick up Mike. Nancy can't stop what she's doing there.”

“Sure. Let's go.”

Being out at night makes you anxious, but you try not to let it show. Eyes on the road, you bounce your leg nervously, tugging on the seat belt. Billy notices, and a hand comes to rest on your thigh.

“We'll be fine. Relax.”

“I'm trying.” Stretching your arm, you touch his neck. “I'm sorry if I can't stop thinking about Jason and what happened.”

“(Y/N), you just lost a friend. My responsibility as your boyfriend is to hold and love you through this process. Don't apologize.”

“I don't want this to be your responsibility, Billy.” When he turns his head to look at you, you run your fingers through his jaw.

He takes a deep breath, pulling over by Mike's house. You were about to get out, but since he doesn't move, neither do you. Billy looks like he's thinking, furrowed eyebrows and distant eyes. “Billy? Come back to Earth.” You decide to ask, taking off the belt and turning your body towards his.

“To have and to hold. For better or worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health.” He squints his eyes through the words, trying to remember them. It takes a while for you to understand what he means, and when you do, your heart starts drumming in your ears. “To love and cherish till death do us part.”

“Billy...”

“It means I'll stand by your side. Not because I feel like it's my responsibility, but because I love you. And I'm more than happy to take the responsibility of being your–”

“Couldn't you save that up for, I don't know, someday when I'm dressed in white?” The words come out fast, and you're blushing hard, your cheeks burning. “No. You had to do this now. Drive me insane now in your Camaro.” You roll your eyes dramatically when his lips break into a smile, that smug, cocky smile he has when he knows he got to you somehow.

“Be my wife, (Y/N).”

“No.” It's an utter absurd how hard you have to fight not to say the exact opposite. You want to just burst out the word, here and now, because you're so damn sure you want Billy for the rest of your life. “No, baby. We'll graduate, save up money and you'll make a decent proposal.” You hope he can't notice your hands shaking as you step out of the car, almost stumbling on the sidewalk. His words burn through your mind, sending shivers down your spine. “I won't say I'll marry you in the middle of the sidewalk, in the middle of the night, in front of Mike's house.”

“Did I just make you nervous?” Billy's arms come to encircle your waist, his deep voice, and breath on your hair making you sigh.

“Shut up, Hargrove.” With the sweet sound of his laughter on your ear, you knock on the front door, trying to push him away before someone comes to answer. “Let go.”

“Are you using my cologne again?” As soon as he asks, you feel his nose softly rubbing your neck, what makes you giggle and try to push him away again, uselessly. “You are.”

It wasn't your intention to let him find out, but he always does. “Well, it was–”

The door is suddenly open, a yellowish light hitting your eyes as you try to stand up straighter. The woman standing there gives a step back as if she just saw a ghost. Her eyes fly from Billy and back at you, then all the way back to Billy. It hits you suddenly as you realize she's Mrs. Wheeler, the woman Billy was going to meet on the day the Mind Flayer almost got him. They haven't met or spoken since that day, and you weren't expecting her to look so... Perplexed. You try to read her expression, to understand what the look in her eyes means.

“Hello, Mrs. Wheeler.” You manage to say because Billy clearly won't even try to be polite. You feel his muscles tensing up, as he gets immediately uncomfortable under the woman's stare since she doesn't seem to even try to hide. “Sorry to disturb you. We're here for Mike.”

×

@chloe-skywalker @dpaccione @dreamin-of-dacre @funeral-7 @uncookspaget @youhavemyfantasticbeasts @halloweenbitch2764 @redlovett @multific @shinydixon @nikkixostan @clockworkballerina @nope-thanks

#imagine billy hargrove #billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove imagine #billy stranger things #stranger things imagine #imagine stranger things #stranger things fanfiction

[i-may-be-stupit]

Idk the horney got me, so here we are HAHAHAHA 18+ and kinda a bit of crack at times, ENJOY!!!!! Oh! And this is reletively gender neutral, babes!!

Your name is (Y/N) (L/N). And you've always been known as a good kid. That is until your father was murdered by a hero. He did a lot of dirty work, sure, but he did it for his family to survive. And when a hero took him down, everyone cheered. They never though about his family. Nor his place in the world. They saw him as dirt. The same way you started seeing heros.

To you, heros didn't care about the villians and didn't care whether they died or lived. They were savage beasts who needed to be taken down. You became a villian. You would assassinate hero after hero with the simple tittle of "Marrow." And that's when you met the League.

They had the same ideals as you and could help make your dream a reality.

You joined the League, but you were still you. You were a seemingly innocent flower that blossomed in any form of villainous mayhem.

Your quirk was known as simply bone manipulation. You could manipulate your bones however you pleased and you could even shoot them out like needles. But, you were at higher risk for osteoporosis.

Its been 6 months since then and you've made yourself at home with the LOV. Twice and Toga were your closest friends now, but Shigaraki just hits different.

You'd go out and have fun with your two close friends, and to be honest, you're pretty sure that you three had pulled every prank possible on Dabi. Kurogiri was like a dad to you now. He gave lots of great advice and made sure that you kept up with your online college classes in between villian duties.

But shigaraki was a whole other story.

I mean, he was usually crule and hateful towards everyone, but the League was his soft spot. He treats members like family. He cherishes them. Even if he doesn't say it. He almost always have been putting them first.

And it made you kind of...attracted to him.

Yeah, he was dryer than the Saharan Desert, and had a diet of strictly microwavable ramen and redbull, but he was actually a good guy. You caught yourself staring at him a few times per day and your crush on him was appearant to you as well as all the other members.

So here you were, staring in awe at Tomura as he and Dabi played against eachother in Mortal Kombat. (They'd fight at least once a day, so Kurogiri made up the idea of fighting in Mortal combat instead whenever they got fed up with eachother) You blushed, seeing Shigaraki so serious. Ugh, there's just something about him...

Toga walked into the room and sat down in the loveseat next to you. She smirked before loudly announcing, "Gee, (Y/N)! It looks like your boyfriend, Tomura, is winning!" You started choking her.

No, deadass.

You fucking wrapped your hands around her neck and violently shook her head back and forth like Bart and Homer Simpson. Toga just laughed and moaned, causing you to feel too violated to keep choking her. You let go and as you did, Shigaraki stood up and started making fun of Dabi for being a "Bitch ass loser."

You blushed deeply, eyes lidded while gazing at the crusty boy. All you could see was Shigaraki, hearts around him as he did his breathtaking victory dance in slow motion. His gorgeous, dehydrated body swayed and jiggled happily as he jumped a few times, white specs gently fluttered from his head. His dandruff glistening in the florescent lights, as you sighed, absolutely smitten. Dabi rolled his eyes at his boss before looking at you. He then smirked. This cant be good.

Dabi chuckled. "Oh okay, Shiggy, you beat me fair and square." Shigaraki looked at him suspiciously. "It's okay though." He smirked, "Because I'm sure that (Y/N) can give me a little pick-me-up!"

The white haired boy glarred at Dabi then at you. Dabi slyly slipped over to you and Toga. He grabbed you be your wrist and pulled you up to stand. You were too flustered out of your mind to even do anything. He wrapped both of his hands around your waist. "Isn't that right, baby?"

You laughed awkwardly, "Dabi, not to be rude or anything, but you seem like a heavy man and I don't know if I could manage carrying all of your body weight if I were to pick you up, I mean my bones are kinda brittle as they are and-"

He brought his face to yours and kissed your neck softly. "We're gonna have some fun tonight, right?" You fucking hit him with a suplex, a small crack being heard from your hip. God damn it, your fucking brittle ass bones! Everyone burst out in laughter (aside from Kurogiri who was facepalming). Dabi sat on the floor rubbing his head in pain. "Fuck, (Y/N)! It was a joke!"

You folded your arms and frowned. "Well don't joke around with me like that!" Heat rose to your cheeks, "Especially in front of T-Tomura..." You looked at your boss to see him still too busy laughing at Dabi getting backflipped. You smiled shyly, holding your cheeks and wiggling like the love sick shit you are. He's so dreamy~ oh my, is he coughing up blood from laughing too hard?

You looked in disgust for a moment before sighing loudly. Ugh, it's so sexy when he coughs up blood! Shigaraki looked at his hand before licking the blood back into his mouth like a fucking heathen-

Sorry.

Your fucking heathen.

Later that night, everyone was out and about, leaving you and Shigaraki alone. He was drinking a glass of rum and coke as you doodled in a little notebook. You looked up to see him staring at you already. You both quickly looked away. It's been rough lately, dealing with your crush on him.

And Tomura was catching on.

Well, kinda.

He thinks he's really ugly and unworthy of love, so he thinks you just stare at him because you're still taken back at how hideous (he believes) he is. He's been wearing Father on his face more often and been getting more easily upset at you. But, he was also confused because he was starting to like your fragile self.

He's scared that he'll break you with one tap of the finger. That's just how fragile you seem. Shigaraki smiled softly, staring deeply into his glass.

(Y/N) seems so fragile, but they're a god damn hurricane.

Shigaraki swirled his cup around, deep in thought. How can they fight so well when they seem so brittle? It's strange. It's unexpected... It's interesting. Your boss' cheeks turned a tint of pink. (Y/N) can pull off a suplex on Dabi. Their back bent so far... I wonder what (Y/N) looks like arching it for me... He looked over at your figure. You were awkwardly dangling your feet off the couch, seeming to be lost in thought. Tomura sighed and took another whisk of his drink. They're way too cute for me...

There's been a lot of awkward times with you two alone. And you could both feel the tension. Shigaraki left to his room with a small sigh. He hates basically everything. But you? He might just love you.

You two hung out a lot actually. You'd play videogames together and have small movie nights for the two of you. You vividly remembered cuddling up beside him one winter night. It was snowing and you two chatted while sitting on the floor making Smores in the fireplace.

But it got harder and harder to be around eachother when you both started liking eachother. It got...awkward. And the night that Tomura asked you if you wanted to watch a horror movie with you and got a concerned face from you was the night his heart broke. You just didn't want to accidentally grab him at a jumpscare and have him laugh at you for being a pussy. But he thought that you just didnt trust him.

You sighed, thinking about that shitty night, and walked to Shigaraki's room. You had to tell him about your feelings. You knocked softly and was allowed to enter. Shigaraki was sitting in bed, wide awake, just sitting there, staring at the wall in front of him in thought.

You sat awkwardly on his bed in a tense silence for a good minute as the man just stared awkwardly at you through the hand on his face. Shigaraki sighed when he noticed you werent going to say anything, and he set Father down on his nightstand.

"(Y/N), I feel uncomfortable with you staring at me all the time." Heat rushed to your cheeks and you stared harder at the  ground. "I get that I'm ugly, but you should know how rude it is to stare-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" You glarred at him, anger boiling up. "The fuck did you just call yourself?!"

He glarred right back at you. "I said I was ugly, did I stutter?"

Yeah. Youre choosing to ignore that attitude. "Tomura, you're not ugly."

He rolled his eyes. "There is literally no other reason for you to be staring at me that much, mutt."

You folded your arms with a frown. "I think you're handsome."

He laughed.

He laughed hard as hell.

For a good 3 minutes straight.

"Oh thats a good one, (Y/N)! You know, I'm actually enjoying you-"

"I'm serious!" You poked his chest hard while getting closer to his face, your eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. "I think you have pretty eyes!" You poked him again, "You have a pretty face!" You poked him one last time, "And you're an amazing leader!" Shigaraki went silent with a blush and so did you. You twittled your fingers together, looking away timidly. "I-uh... I think I l-like you, actually."

Tomura chuckled breathlessly with concern for your mental health, eyes darting around uncomfortably. "Are you being...serious...?"

"Mm-hm..."

"Oh....okay." He awkwardly looked away from you with a small blush. Hes never had anyone like him romantically. Actually, not a lot of people even like him generally. And it made it extra weird with you being so damn cute and funny to him. 

You layed down on his bed, anxiety rushing through you. It was weird to tell your boss that you liked him. I mean, its probably gonna be awkward between you two forever! Tomura layed down next to you. His hands overlapping eachother on his chest. You looked over to him with a small awkward smile. "So-uh... do you like me back...?"

Tomura frowned. "Are you fucking dumb??" You winced and he just rolled his eyes. "It would be impossible to not fall in love with you." A small chuckle left your lips as he softly started playing in your (h/t) hair.

You frowned. "Did I say you could touch my hair?"

He rolled his eyes before lifting you up to straddle him. Heat rushed to your cheeks. And you pushed his chest away as your (e/c) eyes darted away. "T-Tomura, what are y-you doing?" You were speechless and flustered. And it wasn't helping that his hands were laying on your waist (pinkies up of course).

Tomura chuckled with a mischevious look in his eyes. He slowly moved his hands up and down your sides. "Let me play with your hair...and as a reward..." He kissed you softly on your lips. "I'll make you feel things you've never felt before...." He licked your ear and you thanked the Lord for that because it just made his mouth a lil less crusty. "Deal?" His breath tickled your ears and your breathing turned into aroused, airy breaths.

"Deal..." Shigaraki smirked before kissing you roughly, his hand engulfed in your (h/t) hair, leaving his middle finger up of course. As his tongue darted around your mouth, he pulled your hair harder, causing a wince of pain from you. His lips left yours quickly.

"Am I being too rough?"

You smiled softly at him. He cares! "Oh, just a little."

Shigaraki grinned before pulling your hair even harder. "You'll get used to that." Your eyes widened in fear and pain as he threw you onto the bed roughly. He kissed you harder, and forced your thighs open with both of his hands, pinkies up.

He laughed with arousal, pressing his clothed member against you. You sighed as he grinded against your bottoms while tongue kissing you. His hands left your thighs and brought themselves to your body. He sucked, kissed, and bit all over your neck and his indexes and thumbs twirled and pulled at your nipples under your shirt.

"Ah-!" You moaned loudly as the man sucked at your soft spot. "T-Tomura!" A small gasp left your lips and his connected to your skin. Mumbled moans came from you, your hand over your mouth. Tomura glarred the second he heard a moan muffled. "H-Hey!" He had grabbed your hand from over your mouth and tightly gripped it with four fingers, pressing it against the headboard.

He grinned widely out of nowhere, "You really thought you could get away with hiding those beautiful sounds from me?" He sat up, unbuckling his jeans. His eyes went cold as he took off his pants and boxer briefs. "I'm gonna have to get some type of...hm, whats the word?" He looked away in though before smiling and snapping his fingers, "Compensation! Yeah...and I know just what I want from you." Shigaraki push you off of the bed roughly. You fell to the floor and rubbed your arm. He sat on the king-sized in front of you with his cock in his hand. "Suck."

You frowned at him. Did he really have to push you off like that? You got on your knees between his thighs and took a good look at it.

Fuck, he's hung...

You covered your mouth with a huge blush. Where the hell did that come from?! He was a good nine inches and quite thick. You frowned at him and pointed at his cock. "The fuck am I supposed to do with this?" He frowned.

Shigaraki didnt say another word. He just grabbed you by the hair and placed it against your lips. You frowned before licking the tip softly, making him laugh breathlessly. "Fuck..." You sucked on his tip and his hand tightened around your hair, pulling a bit. He looked down at you, smirking while absolutely flustered. "Ugh, your little mouth was made for my fat cock, wasn't it, (Y/N)?" He chuckled and pressed your head forward, forcing a bit more of him inside of you. Shigaraki panted as you bobbed your head back and forth on him. "Youre such a fucking slut..." His cheeks was tinted pink as he stared down at you. Tomura started bobbing your head back and forth on him. He laughed as you gagged on him. "What? Is it too big?" Your face went even hotter. How can he be so fucking conceited yet self conscious?! The white hair boy held your face and was practically thrusting into your mouth at this point. He threw his head back and groaned as cum filled your mouth. "Fuck, (Y/N), you're good at that." He watched you like prey as you thumbed the white substance dripping down your chin. You licked your thumb and he chuckled. "How does it taste?"

You smirked at him minscheviously while getting back on the bed. You took off your bottoms and short then spread your legs. "It tastes good enough to deserve a tip, right?" Shigaraki licked his lips as he crawled in between your thighs.

He rubbed you, playing with your slit. "Did sucking me off really get you this turned on?" You flushed and covered your eyes with your forearm. Tomura smirked mischievously as he licked at you. You moaned quietly, his tongue swirling around and his finger going in and out of your hole.

He stuck his ringerfinger in and you squeaked in pleasure. "Mmm... Tomura, I-just like that..." He sucked and licked, getting more sloppy as his fingers pumped in and out of you. He pumoed faster and faster and your small groans turned into loud moaning as you orgasmed. "Fuck Tomura! Ah-!" You came in his mouth, immediately apologizing. Shigaraki just licked his now soaked fingers and you just stared at him, blushing hard as hell. You smiled softly. "H-How do I taste?"

His red eyes prowled your body as he got on top of you. Your cheeks got hotter when he strattled you. You sighed as he rubbed his manhood against you. Small, flustered moans escaped your lips at his teasing. "You taste like you were missing something." His warm breath tickled your ear, "But I'll fix that right up for you."

Tomura slowly entered you. He groaned out your name in ecstasy. You were a bit uncomfortable at first at his thickness. "W-wait, dont move yet..." You breathed in and out slowly, feeling yourself adjust to him. A groan left your lips, "O-okay..."

Tomura grinded against you, kissing your neck as your hands fiddled with his hair. He started off slow, savoring the feeling of you. He sighed into your collarbone. "God, (Y/N), you're so tight..." He cursed underneath his breath, fucking you a bit faster.

Tears pricked at your eyes. This was almost too much for you. Youve always fantasized about being with Shigaraki and now that it was happening, it felt almost too good to be true. He grinded into you deeper, filling you up fully as his hand held both of tour wrists above your head. The bed rocked as he started thrusting into you faster and deeper. "T-Tomura, you feel so good inside of me!" He groaned louder and you couldn't help but become flustered at all of his noises.

He fucked you even faster and harder. "Fuck, youre mine now, okay?" You nodded and moaned louder at him. "Oh fuck!" His white hair bounced as he pulled out and flipped you over. You were on your forearms and knees, begging for him to keep fucking you good as he thrusted in and out, his hand pulling at your hair as the other gave the occasional spank on your ass. Tomura's thrusts became sloppy as you reached your peak. You both moaned loudly, his cum pouring from inside of you. Shigaraki pulled out and immediately collapsed next to you.

You panted as his arms wrapped themselves around you. You smiled at him. "That was good, right?" He chuckled and kissed your lips.

"The best."

You two spooned as Kurogiri had an extra glass of wine, in utter disgust at when he was forced to hear.

#fanfic #mha x y/n #bnha shigaraki #shigaraki x you #tomura x you #x reader #bnha smut #shigaraki x reader #x fem!reader #x male reader #gender neutral reader

[whitelionspirit]

Hello!!! I'm now in Christmas spirit. 🎄Well it's now Christmas month haha. Can I request head canons of Law, Ace and Luffy x fem! S/O that still believes in Santa Claus? Well more secretly because she's afraid that people find it stupid. Also because when she was young she has meet the real Santa Claus. And... The boys will also meet the real Santa Claus and you can decide how they meet. Take your time. 😊

a/n: A rather interesting request but a good one none the less. Also my first time writing for Luffy and Law so yay! (P.s. I got carried away with this so it’s a bit long)

..

Luffy

As someone who easily believes in anything it would not be hard to see him also believing in Santa far into his adult life.

The rest of the crew besides Chopper easily dismiss his excitement over the arrival of the big man. Luffy calls them scrooges for not believing but happily goes on about his day as usually.

Though it becomes apparent after his confession that you had become rather quiet the rest of the day. While it was not a strange thing it seemed something was very much bothering you.

It got worse as the holiday drew nearer and the idea at stopping at a winter island became a more agreeable idea. Finally after docking and everyone leaving the ship to do some sight seeing you were left with Luffy who surprisingly decided to stay behind.

You were taken aback at your boyfriend wanting to stay behind but he smiled sweetly at you and stretched his arm out and pulled you close into his embrace.

You weren’t sure what to expect but he began chatting about nothing and everything involving Christmas. It put you at ease as you easily snuggled into his chest as you listened closely. It was when he brought up Santa again that you stiffened.

He looked down at you curiously tilting his head in that questioning way he always does. You decided to bite the bullet and tell him your secret after telling him he just looked at you surprised.

Even though he believed you were still awaiting the laughter that usually followed but it never came. Luffy got in your face which made you blush but he just smiled at you.

“It’s okay (Name)! Because I know he is real and it’s so cool that you met him!” He said excitedly which made you relieved.

A few nights later on Christmas eve you were awoken from a deep sleep and were dragged out of bed by your rubber boyfriend. The air outside was freezing as snow began falling over the island. you shivered but a blanket was quickly wrapped around your shoulders.

Feeling a bit better you gathered your bearings and looked to see Luffy’s smiling face illuminated by the moon and the surrounding snow. He was pointing to something in the sky.

It took a few tries but you finally saw what he was pointing at in the far sky. What looked like an almost miniature boat was being pulled a bunch of reindeer through the night sky. A gasp left you as Luffy laughed pulling you close to him as you both watched the man fly away into the night

Ace

Unlike his brother Ace had grown out of children’s fantasies at a very young age but because of having Luffy for a brother he always kept his thoughts to himself.

So seeing you frown at his teasingly talking about a group of kids excited about Santa coming to the crew made him question what about the comment made you upset. He was not the most reserved when it came to his honesty much like his brother so seeing you like that bothered him.

Of course you try to brush it off as nothing which makes him just angry which resulted in a rather heated fight between you both. It was so bad you didn’t speak for days nor did you sleep in the same bed.

As it got closer to the holiday Whitebeard decided to stop off at a winter island in the new world. Surprisingly it is your home island of all places you immediately leave the boat without even a second thought even with shouts of protest behind you. You are soon met with happy greetings from the villagers as they recognize you, you had not been home in several years so the reunion was a happy one.

Your family was very much happy to see you even if they were hesitant with meeting your new family. In the end it went rather well as you tried to avoid mentioning your boyfriend who you had yet to makeup with.

Unfortunately even if he was upset you had yet to introduce him he made sure to make himself useful to them in any way he could. Even when late into the night when the partying was still going strong, he got a few stories out of them about your youth.

One in particular caught his interest; it was about you supposedly meeting Santa as a child one Christmas years ago. How even since then you had believed what you had seen even into adulthood.

It finally clicked with him as to what had upset you so much he felt like an idiot and knew he had to fix it. Even if he himself did not believe you did and that went against his own moral code of not judging others about their beliefs and dreams.

Christmas Eve had finally arrived and he just finally got you alone in the dark of your family’s kitchen late into the night. The pent up emotions of the last two weeks finally got to you both, as you tried to get past him but he stopped you by grabbing your arm gently.

He was not the best at expressing his emotions even now, but for you he confessed how he knew what the issue was now. You froze but allowed him to finish his ramblings, afterwards you turned to him and also confessed you were sorry. As it wasn’t as he actually knew why you had been upset, he kissed you then in the barely lit kitchen with you flush against his warm body.

A sudden sound of bells ringing broke the spell on you both as you pulled away breathless and ran to the windows. Ace followed close behind as you both peaked out into the snowy night. There in the back of the home was a sled with reindeer attached to it along with a very large man clothed in red who hopped down from the sled and laughed at both your shocked expressions.

“Woah he really is real,” Ace whispered, making a grin spread across your face.

Law

Much like Ace he had to grow up quick at a young age so believing in something like Santa was never really an option for him.

Hanging around in Paradise for a while didn’t leave you many options to travel around in so a lot of your time was spent near the islands closest to Sabaody. While Law didn’t particular care for the holidays, you on the other hand took it upon yourself to decorate the submarine.

At first he was annoyed but he saw how happy it made you and how the others brightened up at festive decorations. So he let it go as he buried his face into his medical books.

The mere mention of Santa Claus has him scoffing and making remarks on how parents trick their children into believing in a false reality. His words stung and hit you hard as you tried to hide your disappointment.

Not wanting him to see you busied yourself with looking over the recent logs and documenting new plant life you had discovered recently. Christmas came sooner than you thought and your days were full of present wrapping and stocking up on food for the holiday.

Law knew something was up as you were quieter than normal and it bothered him but he did not push you for answers. He asked Bepo instead who didn’t have an answer for him either.

Christmas was spent on a remote winter island deeper into Paradise the crew deciding to ruff it on the island for the night. Bundle up tight everyone was happily drunk and playing in the snow around several large bonfires. You leaned against Bepo as he recalled a story from his and Law’s early days together to everyone.

Law was sitting across from you all as he huddled a tanker of what you presumed was some kind of cider. He occasionally met your eyes which you quickly avoided. Sometime later into the night you wandered a bit further from the camp wanting to see if you could see the stars.

You know he is following you and when he stands beside you as you peek through a cluster of trees. After several minutes of collective silence you finally speak your mind after an entire month.

“I have believed in Santa Claus since I was very young, mostly due to the fact that I met the man once. While many don’t believe me it was very much real that is the reason I was upset this whole month.”

Law says nothing as he leans against the base of a tree. “I know,” he starts as you look over at him. “I knew the second week it was obvious after connecting some dots. Anyways if that's what you believe, who am I to deny that for you.”

You subconsciously grab for a gloved hand of his and intertwine your fingers together as snow begins to fall again slowly.

You stood like that for some time and watched as the snow gradly came down more only for it to be broken by the distant sound of bells ringing into the still night. You both shared a look, before dashing for the camp where the yells and cheers of your crewmates got louder.

A feeling of excitement came over you as you reached the clearing to be met by the familiar figure of Santa as he was handing out presents to Bepo and the others.

You grabbed onto your boyfriend’s arm and looked at him happily as he just looked on in shock making you laugh gleefully into the cold night.

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