#and maybe just MAYBE I can give myself a little birthday treat by actually posting the dang thing

[neonscandal]

Hello, how are you? I love your blog, thanks so much for sharing you post, Neon (sorry, can I call you that?)

I found your blog cause your BakuDeku and SatoSugu posts, and I was surprised when found out, you also a fan of Banana Fish, Fushigi Yuugi, AoT and Sk8.

Last week was my birthday, and one of the best present for me is founding your blog.

Can I ask your fav characters and moments each from Banana Fish and AoT? Sorry if maybe you've already posted this before.

Happy belated birthday! 🎉✨

I hope you enjoyed yourself 💛 IDK how old you turned but here's to another year around the sun. I don't really do new years' resolutions, but, on my birthday each year, I think about how I want to spend the next year of my life. I hope your next year is extra special.

I haven't quite answered this so please see below!

⚠️ Spoiler warning for Banana Fish anime and Attack on Titan through series end.

CHARACTERS

Aslan Jade Callenreese - Because of COURSE he is. Plenty of places to read about why that is but just know, he is precious and I know he deserved better.

Shorter Wong - Just a funny lil guy. But to know the walls that would have divided Ash and Shorter which they would have broken down to have such trust and peace between them makes everything that happened that much more devastating.

Eiji Okumura - To paint Eiji as some harmless little cinnamon roll does his character such an injustice. He was gentle but he was fearless and could be fierce and had such a teasing sense of humor. I adore him for who he was to Ash but also because he could be sassy and obstinate.

Jessica Randy - Bad bitch with a gun. Adore her for being just as mean as Ash and not treating him like glass but also being sympathetic in those moments where they really connect.

MOMENTS

Admittedly, I wound up having to stop watching Banana Fish part way through because it was so devastating and I was triggered. ✨ Took a month long break before I finished it and I have not watched it since. It just haunts me. I thought I'd read the manga but haven't brought myself to though I did buy Vol. 19 so I could get some closure.

Ash and Eiji's immediate gravitation toward one another from him just giving Eiji his gun?? and from the way he watched with awe how Eiji pole vaulted over fence and effectively saving them. Such a funny way to set up such an unlikely but perfect pair.

Ash shooting from atop the truck and everyone retreating into the Manhattan? river.. THE WAY SHORTER INSTINCTIVELY GRABBED EIJI?

Ash showing Eiji how to shoot in Connecticut, the way he softened up like they were just kids playing but then immediately had to retreat back to being Ash Lynx when he noticed other people watching.

How, even in his betrayal, Shorter did what he could to protect Eiji while in the mansion.

When they busted Ash out of the mansion, that moment of clarity when he realized Eiji was there for him.

Jack-o-Lanterns.

Every single father son moment Ash had with Max.

The moment Max burned Ash's photos. I could actually bawl right now thinking about it?

Yut Lung's revenge on his brothers.

Ash's triumph over Rick Fox.

CHARACTERS (have a funny way of not making it to the end of the series, huh?)

Levi Ackerman - I think I just like people who are burdened and damned.

Hange Zoe - Their personality did not fit the confines of life behind the walls and yet.. there they were. Brilliant, quirky, compassionate and curious. But eventually carried the weight of the whole world which blotted out their smile.

Sasha Braus, Connie Springer, Jean Kirstein - My favorite trio. From Jean's artistry, to Connie's horrible comedic timing and Sasha's insatiable hunger. Just a recipe for hilarity.

Mikasa Ackerman - Admittedly, she lost her edge and appeal later in the series which is such a shame. I mean, they brought it back for the ending but just feel like her being this OP bad ass could have had a personality consistently to match.

MOMENTS

Attack on Titan had such exquisite exposition. This is definitely a series I always wish I could watch and read for the first time again. From the world building to the fact that, just when you get settled into understanding everything, your perspective on that world is completely rearranged. Now as a veteran watcher, crazy to find all the easter eggs that were hidden in plain sight.

The reveal at Utgard tower + their success in the box - As their first line of defense is fighting against dwindling stamina and dulling blades. Offset by the impossible odds of the newbie squads' success. Devastating.

Flegel Reeves' takes on the MP's - THE REVEAL. Also, what a way to emphasize their corruption in front of those shitty run down buildings. It was such a heart swelling moment.

Levi vs. Kenny in the city - their backstory and the animation of him flitting around and dodging bullets.

Battle at Shinganshina - From Erwin's incredible speech, Connie's awful joke and the difficult decision Levi had to make. SO MUCH. Such a phenomenal succession of chaos, honestly.

THE MARLEYAN REVEAL. Bro, are you kidding me??? With a whole new understanding of oppression and classism within the world.

The scouts experiencing life outside of the walls - Especially the clowns, the cars and the ice cream.

Massacre in Marley - The chaos of the attack on Willy Tybur's play to recapture Eren but also showcase the growth of the Scouts in Paradis and the fact that their freedom still came at the cost of other people who also weren't free.

Sasha Braus' Murderer's reveal - Gabi and Falco finding their way to the Braus' was one thing. But to be turned upon by someone who wanted to help them get back home and the only Maryleyan they met because of Sasha while being spared by her father? What a turning point.

Ymir's origin story and how that devolved into the world her descendants suffer in now.

FINDING OUT EREN WAS BEHIND EVERYTHING!? Even the death of his own mother and the slaughter of the royal family perpetrated by his father. All to engineer a future where he, too, knowingly would be killed. Knowing this and rewatching it just... it was there all along.

ALSO Levi Ackerman's back story from the OVA - man has been suffering since birth.

Recalling all of this makes me want to rewatch AOT again, TBH.

#neon asks #anon asks #anime #manga #banana fish #attack on titan #ash lynx #shorter wang #eiji okumura #jessica randy #levi ackerman #hange zoe #sasha braus #mikasa ackerman #snk #shingeki no kyojin #connie springer #jean kerstein

[nancypullen]

Sunday Evening

There are about ten different things I should be doing right now, but I am the queen of procrastination so here I am on the ol' blog. It was a very long week. I have such mixed feelings about the job. The people are absolutely wonderful. The work is interesting and beneficial. But the schedule is...unpleasant. Well, I say that as a person who doesn't really have a schedule. I had to ask several times if I could maybe know my work days/hours at least a week in advance. I'm there 8.5 hours but take a mandatory 1 hour unpaid lunch. So I work 7.5 hours most days, though I worked just 5 on Saturday. They are long days. I suppose I had the idea that part-time would be 20-ish hours a week. Looks like the plan is to work me just under the cut off between part/full time. Not having a set schedule in advance makes it really hard to plan any sort of normal life. For example, the Edgewaters have been asking me if I'm off on Feb. 10th to celebrate the grandgirl's 6th birthday. It's 12 days away and I still can't tell them yes or no. How can I make a doctor's appointment or even schedule a haircut? You don't call anywhere around here and get in quickly, so it would be nice to have, say, a month's schedule to reference when trying to make an appointment. I get the impression that it's not looked upon favorably if you throw a wrench in the works and request particular days off. I guess I'll ride it out and see if it gets better, maybe because I'm the newbie they're just seeing if I survive before locking me into the work calendar? Every time I asked, no one seemed to think it was a big deal. It's a big deal to me, I like to plan my life and get my ducks in a row - not knowing my works days/hours ten or twelve days out rattles me. Really hoping that part gets better.

.I'm a minimum of twenty yeas older than everyone at work, thirty years older than most of them. I feel like a fossil. Actually, the director is around my age, but she has put in her retirement notice. So I show up in my old lady glory and try not to grunt or groan when I get up from shelving books on the lowest shelf. I've had to move boxes, tables, racks of chairs, wood and glass bookcases and pretend that my sciatica isn't flaring up. There is a lot of ibuprofen involved. This is how I feel there...

but they're all nice to me because their mamas raised them to respect their elders. I was at the circulation desk one morning and talking to another employee who is not yet thirty. I realized that I could easily be her grandmother.

The eternal optimist in me says to keep plugging away and everything will settle into place and I'll just be the nice old lady at the library. The part of my brain that always yells, "FLEE! You don't belong here!" is screaming in my ear. Luckily, the eternal optimist occupies about 90% of my gray matter, so she usually wins. Onward, onward, onward. I mentioned that on Saturday I was off work at 2 o'clock. Shortly after that the Edgewaters came over and brought their pizza oven. That was a treat. They made gourmet pizzas for our dinner and we had a wonderful visit. Little Miss kept me busy with Barbies and books, and I plied her with cupcakes. They left today around 3 o'clock and the mister and I are sitting here now wondering if we even want to bother with dinner tonight. I'm ready for bed. The workweek is staring me in the face and I'm not ready. Have I whined enough? I swear I'm not unhappy, just tired. I'd give my right arm for 5 hour work days (like Saturday) instead of 8.5. Mickey has been amazing - actually cleaning and cooking! I have no reasons to complain. So I should probably shut up. That said, we're moving forward and starting to plan a 40th anniversary trip. I'm crossing my fingers that they'll grant me unpaid leave. As a part-time employee I don't accrue vacation days, so I guess we'll see how all of that plays out. Yikes.

I'm boring myself sick with this post and I can't imagine that it's been at all interesting or entertaining to read. I'll wait a couple of days and try to post something worth reading. There have been amusing incidents at the library, but I hesitate to write about any of it because this is a small town and my name is on the blog. I'll have to find my way with that. I certainly wouldn't name names or embarrass anyone. Oh well, I'm off to ready my clothes for work and pack a lunch. I'll try to keep a Mary frame of mind. No one I work with would get that reference.

I'm so old.

*sigh* Until next time - stay safe, stay well. Sending out loads of love. XOXO, Nancy

[gaz-light]

Tumblr.com as per my usual posts of this nature, which come with no tags and are intended to eventually be buried and forgotten in time, I return. I greet you again, my lovely phantoms and specters. The little spirits that ride on the wires.

Well. Fuck me. I don't know what I should do.

I could send a message. Throw a stone into the void and see if it reacts. I assume it will. I'm actually rather certain of that. Especially because I know they have a hard time initiating. I just. Told them that I had nothing left to say. Honestly I don't. Not on the matter.

I'm worried. I want them to be ok. I want them to be happy. For as much misery has consumed me and I have rested myself from its jaws, I don't resent them.

I.... want to know how they feel. Another part of me hates the idea of being forgotten, so easily as well. Part of what spawned this whole thing is my terrible anxieties around being forgotten and abandoned and having other people/things chosen over me. They did and it hurt. It still hurts. Eventually won't. I know that for certain. It's why I told them I was done and gone. But there is something in me that hopes it doesn't have to be this way.

That if they truly actually give a shit AND want me that they can have me. It's gonna take time. Time and effort. For once it was my trust that was broken and that will need to be earned back. I want it to be earned back-

-mind you not for a lack of opportunity elsewhere. I can get other partners, I had other partners. I got with and left Vivian. Seeing and adoring this older jewish girl who took fucking care of me on my birthday and gives a shit about me and is so smart and cool and fun and hot and pretty and she has such a big dick. I like them.

I have history with this girl. That doesn't mean shit but it means I know they can bring out the best in me. Seen me at my absolute highest and unfortunately they brought me down to my lowest in years.

I like to think I'm missed. Maybe I even am. If I'm not then ok. If I'm resented, then ok. I feel validated in my decisions. I think I got treated like shit. I did what I needed to do to heal- or to begin healing.

But if they can't treat me right. Even so much as try to comfort me when I'm having a horrible dysphoria breakdown or not play Shadowrun on my computer for 7 hours after asking to hang out and then basically locking me and my [ex]girlfriend out of my room the whole time, then, well, they don't deserve me and they likely never will. I knew that at the beginning when I cut them off.

Idk. Sad girl hours. I want the life I was dreaming of a year ago back. I want my dearest friend, one of my finest lovers, and the source of so much happiness and sorrow back.

Thanks for reading.

[infinitemelancholie]

This post is probably stupid but I feel it's necessary for myself rn just because it's what my feelings are telling me is appropriate. I'm coming more and more to terms with how trashy and rude I've treated people in the past. I've started to do this already but I'm doing it more now primarily because I'm coming to terms more and more that I shouldn't have acted as I did and most of the time I acted as I did out of selfishness and self pity instead of being considerate and caring of others. I'm writing this to get closure for things that I have done that I shouldn't have done to some people. I probably won't get closure from speaking with them and honestly I don't blame them for not wanting to speak to me after how I was towards them. So because I know I'm not going to have the opportunity to share that with them which again I totally get I wanna do so here so I can move on, and I don't need them to help me move on either. I'm a grown ass man so I should be able to do so in my own way.

Toby and Eddy: I'm sorry for just cutting you both out the way I have. I'm sorry I didn't communicate further with the two of you of how I was feeling and what I had wanted from either of you or what our relationship should be. I should have started a dialogue telling you two how I felt and even where to take our relationship. Cutting you both off like that wasn't productive or beneficial for either of us. You both deserved a voice in the relationship and deserved to express what you wanted as well. I was selfish and inconsiderate to either of your feelings and just focused too much on myself. I should've seen things from your perspectives or at least asked about your perspectives. You both deserved a chance to share those things with me and both deserved to be taken seriously instead of idk not seriously? Taken like your opinions or feelings don't matter? Take your pick honestly. I'm sure you both were going through your own struggles and instead of trying to understand where you both were at I just focused on where I was and how I was feeling. It's especially assholey of me to do to you Toby because you told me what you were going through and I betrayed you. I betrayed your trust and confidence and ultimately even our connection. I should have been more considerate especially after having disclosed having gone through the same thing. You weren't responsible for how I felt or acted. I was. And I should have acted much better than I did. I should have disclosed what I was feeling in the moment and given you an honest chance. Same for you Eddy. I didn't give you a chance for the same thing either when I should have.

Alex: this is a little more complicated for me only because you were really showing your true colors more and more. The signs of abusive behaviors were there from the start and I tried to get you out of those patterns but they were ingrained in you. I'm sympathetic to them though because I know that you're coming from a place of deep hurt and trauma even if you yourself won't admit to it. You're abusive through and through and were abusive to me. I left because I needed to protect myself from that behavior and pattern especially since I had gaslit myself into staying trying to do right by you. But there was a limit and I had reached that and I know I needed out. I pray that you find the healing and peace you deserve. Ghosting you might have been shitty but seeing as how things were I couldn't see any other way. Maybe you still deserved better but honestly I think you really needed more than what I could give you like therapy. There's only so much I can do for someone and being their "one good thing" in life isn't it. Plus towards the end there it was questionable if you were actually being considerate of me or just focusing on yourself especially with what you told me about your birthday. I am sorry for everything you've gone through and I do want you to get better, but I also want you to unlean those behaviors and stay away from me until you do.

[cecisinjapan]

Big Catch-Up Post… Gonna try to get back to consistent posting soon.

—

Tuesday, May 31, 2022

During class, I got called on more than usual. That was fun. Then, in order to have us practice asking questions in a specific way, the teacher randomly selected someone to come to front of the class to be asked questions, and that random person was me. The girl who memorized my birthday decided to make her question what my plans for my birthday were.

Then we had our special conversation class. For some reason, the focus was on learning about onomatopoeias. And we were teaching the teacher more about English onomatopoeias than he was teaching us about Japanese onomatopoeias.

After class, a couple of us went to get lunch together. It was nice because they were people I hadn’t spent a bunch of time with so far.

But then it was homework time and more homework time.

—

Wednesday, June 1, 2022

My birthday, yay?

A pretty normal day of class. There was one point where the teacher asked if anybody had a birthday soon (in order to demonstrate a grammar point), and I tentatively raised my hand. Thankfully nobody made a big deal about it. I would have died of embarrassment.

The Korean girl in my class, who has become a good friend to me, understood that I didn’t want to broadcast that it was my birthday, so she suggested that we go get lunch together after class to celebrate. That was so nice. Then she suggested we head over to Starbucks where she treated me to a coffee and a slice of cake. I was honestly so touched. It was simple, but she clearly thought about what would work best for my comfort. We ended up hanging out from when class let out at 12:45 to around 6pm!

When I got back to my dorm, I treated myself to some purin as a bonus birthday treat. It still amazes me that プリン is legit just flan. I remember seeing purin in anime as a kid and really wanting to try it, but now when I eat it, it’s just a nostalgic taste of flan. What a weird combo. But I can affirm that it really does jiggle just as much as the anime shows it jiggling.

—

Thursday, June 2, 2022

A fairly nothing day. We had special sessions again, and this time we had to give recommendations and warnings for someone who wanted to visit our hometowns. That was interesting. The guy from San Diego didn’t say anything about Comic Con, though, boo.

—

Friday, June 3, 2022

After class, I hung out with the same guys I got lunch with earlier in the week. We chatted and gossiped for a bit, then my Korean friend joined us and we went out to lunch. It was nice to be able to bridge the gap a little between my American group and my Korean friend. I like hanging out with both, but it’s so frustrating to have to sacrifice time with one to talk with the other. Thankfully, the guys enjoyed hanging out with her, so I made significant progress there.

On the way home, I got caught in a serious downpour (as in, my whole body and backpack were soaked through despite my umbrella). I changed into dry clothes and spent the rest of the day indoors.

I ended up putting on Whisper of the Heart on my iPad in the evening. It was weird to watch it for the first time since coming here. For one thing, the test scene shows them taking a test over a grammar point that we covered this week, so I got to pause and get excited over that. Plus I got it in my head that I should try to see the real-life locations that inspired the movie. Thankfully, the break between terms is coming up, so maybe I’ll do that then.

—

Saturday, June 4, 2022

Unfortunately, in the morning, it turned out that nothing I tried to dry out overnight actually dried out. And apparently the boots I had bought specifically for coming here were the perfect breeding ground for mold. The faux leather sprouted mold both inside and out to a level that I’m pretty sure they were completely irredeemable. Anyway, mold is one of my big allergy triggers, so I couldn’t keep them around even if there’s a way to rescue them.

Thankfully, I had a day to myself (I declined going to this week’s culture class since a good portion of the day was supposed to be dedicated to making and eating fish paste?). So I went out and about to shop. I found the perfect replacement shoes, but the shop I went to only carried up to a 25cm while I need a 26 (the shoes are considered unisex, but this shop only carried the women’s sizes… yet another instance of Japan’s sizing being inconsiderate). I did end up buying a couple spare tops at the H&M, but put off checking another shoe store for another day.

I dropped my purchases at my dorm and rested my feet for just a few moments before a friend asked me if I wanted to go shopping with him. Considering we were going to meet up for karaoke later and I needed to head back that direction anyway, I went. That was an interesting choice.

Then it was time for karaoke. This time it wasn’t just the same group as usual. This time my Korean fried joined us! That was exciting. However, the guy who makes karaoke the most fun didn’t join us, so things were a bit more subdued than usual. And then I definitely drank too much.

—

Sunday, June 5, 2022

I woke up with a severe hangover, so I went back to sleep. I repeated that several times until I finally felt well enough to get up in the afternoon. That was a waste of a day, so I need to remember to keep my drinking to reasonable levels in the future. Losing a whole day like this is not ideal when I’m only here for a limited time.

—

Monday, June 6, 2022

Apparently, they have declared this the official start of rainy season in the Tokyo area. It rained literally all day and the forecast for the next week is pretty much solid rain.

Rainy season means that I do need to actually replace my shoes. My backup shoes are really not meant for anything serious. So, after class, I made my way to a different shoe store from before, found the shoes I wanted before in my size and bought them. I’m not certain whether they’re only sold in Japan, but I can’t find any English language information about them. They’re Converse All-Star Freelace Hi-Tops. Aka Converse Hi-Tops that are SLIP ON??? And they have a water-repellent top. Perfection. If these are Japan-only, I seriously think they need to be sold elsewhere. If they’re not, I’m mad that I just now found out about them. They’re so good.

I took my new shoes out on a trial walk. They’re super comfortable and they are definitely water-resistant. I think I seriously found the perfect shoes for rainy season here.

[wri0thesley]

omg wait no hold on I just requested overhaul but then I remembered your overhaul thirst post about him pulling a "curing hysteria~" as an excuse and thought I'd request something along that vibe (no oun intended). I think that'd fall under orgasm control, overstim? (hope this is okay!)

hysteria antidote - overhaul x fem!reader (4k)

seeing nothing but the same four walls every day of your life is playing havoc with your brain. overhaul thinks perhaps you're suffering from hysteria. he has the perfect cure for that.

cw: not sfw/minors dni. dark content!!! dubious/non-consent. captive reader. talk of death, blood, etc. medical kink, gloves, fingering, overstimulation, orgasm control. misogyny. mentions of pregnancy/breeding. afab reader, fem pronouns.

[a/n: idk the internet said the 28th of may was his birthday so consider this both a birthday fic and a fic to celebrate 6k followers, sorry that i am gross and horrible but tbh im having a great time <3]

You really don’t think it’s unreasonable for you to be going out of your mind.

Since the Boss was taken ill, and Kai – Overhaul, you remind yourself, though he’s always just a little less sharp with you when you trip over the new name than he is with anyone else – took over leadership of the Shie Hassaikai, you’ve been pretty much stuck indoors.

Considering that you’re pretty sure he only has fond feelings towards maybe three people in the entire world, including you, you guess you ought to feel special about it – but all it actually does is make you feel like a trapped bird, caged and restless. It doesn’t help that all of the other members of the organisation have started being weird around you; people who you’ve known most of your adult life, people who you’ve worked beside and killed beside and done other horrible things beside (for the good of the organisation, of course)--

But now, they look at you like you might break at any moment. They treat you like an invalid. Their brows crease when they see you out and about, quietly murmuring; “Shouldn’t you still be in your room?”, avoiding touching you at all costs. There’s a kind of fear in their eyes, that they’re going to be told off for even speaking to you, that they’re afraid of being caught close to you.

And you know exactly who’s to blame for that.

You’d tried to speak to him about it, once; you’d thought that perhaps he might be amenable to your desire to do something to help the Shie Hassaikai. He’s always wanted to restore them to their former glory, after all! But after you’d let out your little impassioned tirade, his eyebrows had creased over the bird-mask.

“You don’t sound well,” he’d said to you. “Go back to your room. I’ll talk to you about it later.”

You had missed, at the time, that he hadn’t said ‘we’ll talk about it later’. He’d just said ‘I’ll’. When he had come, that is how it had been; the reassurance that he was keeping you safe. That he didn’t want you to be tainted. That he was keeping you well.

Your quirklessness has never been an issue before, but it certainly hasn’t been a boon. Still, for Kai--

“It’s disgusting,” he’d said, agitated by the discussion. You’d stared at his hands, thinking about the destructive power he himself wielded. “Quirks are a curse, and you not having one is just proof you’re not infected.” He’d looked up, golden eyes piercing directly into yours. “I’m going to keep you perfect.”

Overhaul is not a doctor, for all of his talk about illness and disease and plague. You think he could have used his quirk for something meaningful, once; but you also know that his burning curiousity, his disgust of anyone who deems tainted, his utter lack of morality . . . those are all things that would not have been welcomed in the medical profession. So instead, he deals in needles and pills and altering drugs in the underground labyrinth of the compound.

Sterile rooms, with examination tables and scalpels and impersonal, silver-grey equipment. Pill boxes that rattle when he passes them to you and tells you to take three of those a day, one of those, that one has to be taken to with food--

The idea that you won’t take them doesn’t enter his head, and though he has never . . . overhauled someone in front of you, you have walked past other members of the organisation mopping and disinfecting blood and gristle from sterile flooring.

It is better to go along with him, so you take the supplements and the pills and submit to the way he grabs your chin in gloved hands on the doctor’s chair, tipping your face up to shine a light into your eyes and watch your pupils dilate. But inside, you are screaming.

You’re not made to be locked in one room, occasionally allowed out to pace the hallways of the upstairs – never the underground ones, not any more – with restless footsteps and your muscles fizzing with desire to taste fresh air. You’re not made to stare at the same walls and breathe the purified air and think about how empty the compound is, now that Overhaul is in charge of everything--

(Too many knick-knacks attract dust. Pollen allergies act up, if there are too many plants, and he hates hearing people sneeze. Furniture should be easily movable and barren, to assist in the twice-daily cleanings of every room that people walk through.)

But it’s getting too much for you. Suffocating. You feel like you’re choking on air all of the time; you take the pills, because the thought of what he could do to you is terrifying, but sometimes you wonder if perhaps it would be better if you didn’t.

You’d woken up that morning to the sound of rain hitting the high windows in your bedroom, and you had longed to go outside in your thin nightwear and spread your arms and taste the air, smell the rain, feel it hit your body in fat droplets. Your entire being had ached. You’d tried to distract yourself, with what little there was in the barren prison cell that you called a bedroom – but when the door opened at four thirty exactly, and Kai had stood there with his face as impassive as ever, you had not been able to stop yourself.

Hand fastening around his upper arm (you shouldn’t touch him, you know you shouldn’t, but the same four walls are getting to you), you’d begged him;

“I want to go outside.”

If anyone else had touched him like that, they would already be splattered against the walls and floor. But all you get is a furrow of his eyebrows, careful fingers (gloved, of course; the latex against your skin always makes you shudder) pinching at your hand to get you to let go of him.

“No,” he says. “You’ll catch a cold.”

“I don’t care,” you’re petulant, you know, frustration bubbling up in every cell of your body. “If I stay in here for one more day, I will tear myself into pieces.”

“You’re being over-dramatic.”

“Kai—”

“Don’t call me that.” His rebuttal is sharp. “You know I’m doing this for your own good.”

Your face twists into something ugly. Overhaul hates it when you do that; hates the way your brow wrinkles, your mouth moves, your normally lovely face (one of very few he can bear to look at unmasked and not feel as though he is going to get sick from merely breathing the same air of you) marred.

“You’re not,” you hiss at him. “You’re doing this because you’re fucked up! Because you’ve got some weird fucking ideas about what’s clean and what’s unclean, because you’re on a power trip, because you don’t care about other people--” Your voice is pitching and modulating, all of the things that you usually try and keep balled up inside of you spilling out that the floodgates of how unhappy you are is open.

You’re breathing heavy as Overhaul, clearly irked by what you’re saying, tugs at the wrist of one of his surgical gloves. If he’s going to kill you, good – at least it will be better than this, you think, your breath coming in short sharp pants after the outburst.

He lets go. His hands fall to his sides. His golden gaze on you is very level.

“You’re hysterical,” he tells you. An exasperated laugh falls from your mouth.

“Yeah?” You ask him. “Of course I am. Do you know the last time I breathed fresh air?”

“Seven months, two weeks, three days.” He says it without blinking. Your shoulders tense. Has it really been that long? “You haven’t been ill once in that time. The world out there is filthy.”

“It’s normal to get sick,” you try and tell him, but Overhaul is moving forward; past the doorway, and into your room. The door clicks shut behind him, the sound of a lock ominous. You don’t think you’ve ever been alone with Kai in your bedroom.

In the medical examination rooms, sure. In his office. In common areas, back when he was just the boss’ troubled protege and not the boss himself--

His eyebrows twitch in disgust as he notices the dust on your bookshelves. You’d stopped letting any of the cleaners in here a month ago; you’d refused to clean in the mean time, taking whatever small victory against your captor that you could.

“You’ll give yourself respiratory issues,” he says.

“Good,” your voice is cold, but you realise you’ve backed away from him. For all of your attempts to stand up to him, you’re terrified. Everyone knows what he can do. “Better dead than here--”

Gloved fingers around your wrist, so tight you can practically feel them bruising.

“You don’t mean that,” he says. His voice has gotten softer, cajoling. You’re trembling in his grip. “I told you. You’re hysterical.”

“I know exactly what I’m saying,” you say, but your words feel like you’re spitting them out around a mouthful of gravel. “I—I’m calm--”

Your knees knock against your bed, but Overhaul is still clinging to you; still too close. Your heart is beating so fast that you can hear it pounding in your ears.

“You’re not. You’re hysterical.” He repeats it, calmly. The hand not on your wrist reaches up and cups your face, a gloved thumb stroking across your cheek as if you’re the most delicate thing he’s ever touched. The scent of the latex is overwhelming. “But that’s alright. It’s not your fault.” He clicks his tongue behind the mask. “It’s mine. All of this checking for the physical sickness, and I didn’t think about checking your head.”

You fall onto the bed as his knees knock against yours, your back hitting the wall. It’s just a plain, single bed; rumpled sheets, because you’d fought against any attempt for someone to come in and collect your laundry, too. Overhaul looks silly in your room, you think dimly; like a huge black crow in the nest of a small, frightened wren.

“If you fight,” he tells you, “I’ll disassemble you. I’d rather not. I don’t want to taint you by using my quirk. But . . .” He’s sinking to his knees in front of you, those same methodical hands pushing up the skirt of your dress. “If I did, I’d get a blank mind to work with. I won’t hesitate. But I’d still rather simply fix you without having to break you into pieces first.”

You know him too well to think that he’s bluffing.

After all of the vitriol you’ve spat at him, he’s unwilling to kill you. Would it be worse, to be mindless and brainless under Kai’s quirk? You’ve heard some of his failed experiments before; babbling, drooling, broken things. He’s killed them sometimes just to put them out of their misery.

What if he did that, and your mind remained perfectly capable – just utterly unable to communicate with your body? A prisoner in your own skin. Worse than even now. You swallow back the lump of fear.

“H-how are you going to do that?” You ask him.

You start at how cold the gloved fingers are on your bare thighs, as Overhaul pushes them apart. Cold fear prickles down your spine. You’re too scared to fight back, but everything he’s doing is making you want to run.

“Did you know,” Overhaul says, those same hands sliding higher, to tug at the waistband of your underwear. “In the past, there were rumours that doctors would cure hysteria by genital massage and stimulation?”

His words are very clinical, but there’s a thickness to his voice behind the mask that fills you with revulsion.

“It might be nonsense, of course,” he says. Your underwear is being tugged down, pulled around your thighs, your knees, your ankle. “They theorised that the best cure was regular intercourse, male semen, pregnancy and childbirth--”

“Kai—” Your voice is a soft whine, fear-filled. This time, he doesn’t snap at you for calling him by the name he’s left behind. He simply says;

“Spread your legs.”

You don’t want to. But you want to risk what he’s threatening you with even less, so you tearfully open them as wide as you can go. He shifts forward, and the tip of the beaked mask digs into your inner thigh as he studies you like you’re nothing more than a diagram, not a living, breathing person--

“Next time I’ll have lubricant ready,” he says, under his breath, and your heart seizes up at the implication that whatever he’s going to do to you, there’ll be a next time.

You start at the sensation of gloved fingers gently parting the lips of your sex, Overhaul’s golden eyes drinking in the sight of you spread open and bare. You’re shaking, but for some reason the way he’s looking at you – the utter concentration in his eyes – makes a curl of heat flare deep inside of you.

“Don’t,” you breathe, trying not to squirm. “Please--”

“I don’t want to have to,” he says. His tone remains calm, unbothered. “I’m doing it for your own good, you know that. Just helping you along.” One finger slides through the slit; the sensation of the gloves against your most intimate, heated parts makes the muscles in your thighs clench. It’s . . . not exactly unpleasant, but neither it is pleasant. “Do you think I’m getting any pleasure out of this?”

He doesn’t like getting his hands dirty. You know this; everyone knows this. If this particular thought was so unpleasant to him, you don’t doubt he’d have found somebody else to do it (the thought of one of the other members of the Shie Hassaikai doing this to you fills you with even more revulsion than the idea of Overhaul himself). But you can’t say that out loud. Not after what he’s threatened. So you press your lips together and shake your head, gasp dying in your throat as one of Overhaul’s latex-covered fingers prods gently around your opening.

“You’re getting wet,” he tells you, as if you can’t feel the shameful slick beginning to leak from you. “That will make this easier. Good.”

You hate that the praise makes another jolt of arousal go through you. You don’t want to like the feeling of his gloves, rubbing at your heated cunt; the sensation of a fingertip circling around your entrance, brushing the bud of your clit and making you want to clamp your thighs around his hand.

He sinks the tip of one finger inside of you and you jerk, your hips out of your control as you try and sink away from the intrusion. Overhaul clicks his tongue again in annoyance at you. The hand holding the lips of your cunt open moves, to land on your hip and pin you between the bed and the wall so you can’t squirm again.

“I’ll sedate you next time, if I have to,” he says. “I’m not getting anything out of this. I’d prefer not to have to do it at all--”

He’s lying. You know he is. But you can’t call him out for it, so you press your trembling lips together and try to stop tears spilling out from your lash line as the finger inside of you sinks further and further inside, past his first knuckle, right down to the base.

He crooks it inside of you and your hands curl into the bedsheets, nails digging into your palms through cotton. His touch is curious, exploratory; has he ever actually done this to anybody before? He slides over a rough patch inside of you with the latex-tipped finger and a moan escapes your mouth against your will, your head falling back against the wall. Narrowed golden eyes look up at you as he repeats the motion; taking in the gloss of your lips, the widening of your eyes, the way your shoulders are shaking up and down.

You can feel yourself pumping more slick out; helping the glide of his finger inside of you, as he begins to carefully thrust it in and out of you. His touch is made all the more impersonal by the mask obscuring everything but his eyes and eyebrows; you can’t even hear him breathing.

Your cunt is fluttering around him, pleasure swarming you in breathless waves as he withdraws his finger entirely. He lifts the glove to his eyeline, looking only vaguely interested in how the white latex glimmers with your arousal.

“I’m going to use two now,” he tells you – and that is all the warning you get before two fingers beside one another are opening you up, scissoring your tight channel apart with an ache that you feel up to your hips. You bite back the whimper, but you’re unable to stop the choked breaths that are falling from you as he fucks you with them in steady, constant thrusts.

A covered thumb brushes your clit; swollen, now. Sensitive. Standing to attention. Your hips attempt to jerk in his hold once more, a strangled noise that’s neither pleasured nor pain falling from your throat. You’ve touched yourself, of course you have – even recently, just to try and assuage some of the boredom that fills your exactly-the-same days – but Overhaul’s fingers and thumbs and touch on you are so entirely different from that.

He continues his assault over your clit, those same eyes watching you with that same detached, clinical disposition that he’s had most of the time. There’s a cast to them that suggests there’s something more, but whatever emotion – if, indeed, he’s still capable of that – he’s feeling about having you at his mercy in this way has been pushed to the back of his mind as his thumb rolls and pinches at the bud.

Your body goes all-over heat, Overhaul’s fingers still pumping in and out of you, the slick noises of your shaming wetness echoing around the prison of the four walls you’ve spent seven months in. You’re teetering on the edge of something, hot and needy and wanting – and as Overhaul’s thumb sweeps over your poor aching clit again, you tilt your hips forward for as much stimulation as you can--

And he pulls his fingers out of you.

The heat fades into nothingness as you let out a noise of disappointment. Overhaul’s head tilts to one side, considering.

“What do you want?” He asks you. “Say it.”

No. You don’t ‘want’. He’s wrong. You keep your mouth pressed tight now that the damning noise has fallen out of it; you have managed to not let the tears trembling in your eyes spill forth. Your gaze meets his, defiant and tired and afraid all at once.

“Alright,” he sighs. “If you’re going to carry on being difficult.”

He does it again; his fingers plunging into you, scissoring you apart, rubbing against your folds with a practised agility now that he’s done it for the first time. He has always been a fast learner; always been observant. His thumb is back on your clit with ceaseless assault, and all over again you feel heat begin to build up; tension that crawls into every crevice of your being and worms its way deep inside you despite how badly you don’t want this.

The hand holding your hip loosens somewhat, allowing you to messily thrust your hips into Overhaul’s stimulation. You’re torn; you shouldn’t want to hump against the gloved fingers stimulating you, you should be wriggling and squirming away. But it feels so good; even with the skin-tight covering of rubbery latex, Overhaul’s fingers seem to find every one of your weak points and exploit them.

There it is again, building up on you; a ball of tension in your stomach being gradually wound tighter and tighter, threatening to snap at any moment. Your hips flex against his hand, your fingers clenching and unclenching on the bedsheet--

He denies you the peak of your orgasm for the second time.

And a third.

And a fourth.

“Kai--!” You’re too far gone to even think, after the pleasure has been pulled from you so cruelly, over and over again. The tears spill over your cheeks., rolling down in fat, shaming droplets. Overhaul’s eyes narrow.

“No,” he says, vehement – more emotion in his voice than you’ve heard all day. “You know what to call me.”

You know what he wants you to call him. You know that he wants to leave his old name behind, start again, be someone who can drag the Shie Hassaikai out of the shadows and into light and power once again – and he thinks that the name will help. You gurgle out a sobbing, strangled noise;

“O-Overhaul, please--”

Three fingers are plunged as deep inside of you as they can go, crooked to rub against your sweet spot; as Overhaul murmurs, detached but soft;

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

They thrust into you, his thumb rubbing your clit with firm, certain strokes – and this time, as the orgasm rushes up on you all at once, he doesn’t stop. He fucks you with his fingers through it, his thumb not ceasing the circling. Pleasure washes over you, finally, in great waves and crests. You feel yourself gush on his fingers, soaking him in your wetness (his eyebrows furrow again, at how close your fluid comes to spilling over his bared wrist; but you are too relieved to think about anything other than finally getting what you need).

Your hips flex, gasps falling from your mouth with every thrust of them – and you expect Overhaul to pull his fingers out of you. To stop touching you. Perhaps to strip off his gloves and put on a new pair – you know he always carries spares – and sneer at you as he walks out of the room.

But Overhaul’s fingers do not move from inside of you. The fierce rhythm of his fucking and petting and rubbing does not stop, even as the final aftershocks of your orgasm clench loosely about him and his constant stimulation becomes more of an annoyance than anything else on heated, sensitive skin.

You squirm, trying to push your thighs together to get him to stop touching you – but the hand not fucking you forces your thighs to stay parted with the curl of fingers into supple flesh, leaving you helpless to do anything but let him carry on touching you. Carry on fucking you.

A short, sharp shock of an orgasm rips through you as he swirls his thumb over your clit just so, and you realise that you’re drooling down yourself as well as panting; helpless and sloppy, utterly unable to do anything except lie there and take it until Overhaul decides he’s had enough of touching you.

You come, what? Twice more? Thrice? Until the pulsing of your channel is painful, your skin feeling red raw, your whimpers into the ceiling dry and broken. Only then does he pull his fingers out of you with a lewd pop.

A gush of your fluid that his fingers were stoppering soaks your bedsheets, and you watch, dazed, as Overhaul stands up. He looks down at you for just one moment, that stretches unbearably long in the heat-and-sex soaked atmosphere of the room.

He strips his gloves off of his hands, eyebrows twitching in disgust as he leaves the crumpled latex on your bedside table. He’s sliding on another pair as he speaks;

“Feel better?”

No. No, you don’t. You feel worse. You feel disgusted and violated and aching, your body over-stimulated and exhausted, sweat and drool and bodily fluids clinging to your skin. But if you tell Overhaul that--

“Yes,” you say, voice very soft and small and weak. You cannot see his mouth, but you see the way his eyes flash happily, the overall sensation of him smiling.

Why does Overhaul’s smile make you so scared, when Kai’s smile used to just make you feel warm?

“We’ll need to do it a few more times,” he tells you, as your blood runs to ice in your veins. “Such maladies aren’t cured in a day, after all. But . . .” He turns, rearranging himself carefully, his mask readjusted. You can’t see him as he speaks the next words. “I’d like to try some of the other suggested remedies, too.”

You think of his earlier words.

‘They theorised that the best cure was regular intercourse, male semen, pregnancy and childbirth.’

You’re never going to escape, are you? You’re going to be trapped in this compound until the day you die, and Overhaul is going to think that he’s keeping you safe--

“Take a shower,” he says to you, as he opens the door. It is not a suggestion. “And stop not letting the maids come in here to clean. I’m not having you get sick.”

You think he might be the sick one.

#overhaul x reader #yandere overhaul #overhaul smut #overhaul x you #chisaki kai x reader #bnha smut #bnha x reader #dark content for ts #5555 event fic #not sfw text #writing #afab reader #fem pronouns #misogyny for ts #bnha posting #medical kink for ts #non consent for ts #dub con for ts #non con for ts

[scarsforsupper]

Did somene say "Send Prompt??"!?

Hi,I hope you're doing fine,if I may I have something that maybe can help?[actually it will be probably make things harder cause the prompts I create sometimes are oddly specific or nonsense]

"You're trying to knit a scarf for Viktor's bday,turns out is a conplete disaster,it's even itchy as hecc,though Viktor tries his best to hide it because you did your best and appreciates your hard work."

Feel free to change stuff,make headcanons,a drabble,whatever it makes you comfortable.Take your time ♡

Oh, the weather outside is frightful, and this scarf is...mm, delightful

Viktor x gn! reader (Unchecked and unrevised!!)

wc: 3.6k

HI HI IM SO SORRY FOR THE LONG WAIT!! i started on reqs a week ago and i pushed myself to finish it today and post bc its!! my!! birthday!! im finally 18 ^^ a treat for u guys <3 for @togetherhearted

My sunbeam? Is that you?”

Your heart jumped out of your chest at the sound of Viktor’s voice, electricity shooting through your nerves, a blush following immediately. Viktor has always had a way with words—they always leave you feeling fuzzy. A blushing mess.

Before replying to the man to let him know it was indeed you, your hands fumbled with the long wooden sticks, quickly shoving along with it the colorful bunch of yarn and fibers into the little brown case you’ve brought along with you.

“Yes! Yes, it’s me.” You hollered, the sound of the steady taps of his crutch getting louder and louder.

As he rounded the corner of the corridor connecting the door to the main room of the lab, you spun around in your chair to greet him, a mop of brown hair peeking past the wall. The rest of his gangly body came into view as he sauntered over to where you sat.

“How was the meeting?” you probed, attempting to draw his attention away from the small suitcase you’ve placed behind you.

Scrunching his nose in reply, “Not so good,” he sighed, “it appears Heimerdinger isn’t fond of having our recent innovations out to the public just yet.”

Melancholy dripped from his mouth and into your heart, it broke you to find out that all those late nights spent in the lab might as well be for naught.

Furrowed brows were evident in your features as rose from your chair and stepped towards him. You wrapped your arms around his sleek figure, palms resting on either shoulder blade.

"I'm so sorry, Vik." You mumbled against his waistcoat.

He chuckled softly, "You didn't do anything wrong, love." He coiled his unoccupied arm around your waist, burying his head in the crook of your neck. He breathed in your scent, vanilla. Calming to the max.

"I know... it's just- I can't believe that you just got thrown off the right to reap what you've sowed—" at this point, you were fuming, "—all those sleepless nights, missing out on meals, literally working your best, and this is what you get?"

Viktor sensed your breathing increase greatly, your short outburst already manifesting physically. He slowly traced a finger up and down your spinal column, the other hand's thumb drawing small circles into your waist in an effort to calm you down.

You pressed the side of your head to his chest, ear directly above where his heart is, slow thumps easing you down.

"And tomorrow's your birthday..."

Yes, tomorrow is Viktor's birthday—which brings us back to whatever the hell you were attempting to create with the yarn you had purchased weeks ago.

In preparation for your lover's big day, you had decided to produce something that would hopefully be of good use to him—more so that the winter has been especially harsh this year. You figured you could have just bought something, but you were feeling sappy as you thought of what to give as a present for him.

You had gone to the market for your monthly restocking of perishables and non-perishables when you came across an unfamiliar yet striking stall that traded crafts materials for a few gold coins.

They had blazing crimson rows of wool, bright yellow balls of thread being spun, deep cerulean weaves hung in one corner, rich brown fabrics pinned for display—the little kiosk was a rainbow in itself; it housed the most vibrant hues you have ever seen with your eyes.

It was no question that you were by no means an artist, nor were you involved in any of the creative arts—but that didn’t mean that you were absolutely uneducated in the field. You knew bits of this and scraps of that, but you never really delved much into it. You were more of what people called ‘left-brained,’ focusing more on the analytical and logical aspect of things.

As a young scholar, your heart immediately sought out the natural and applied sciences: Robotics, Biochemistry, Engineering—the likes. You were one of those students that stayed behind after each lecture, opting to linger around to get homework and projects done, taking advantage of the presence of the professor to ask questions and to clear concerns. The fondness towards the scientific courses soon grew into a full-blown passion for discovery and knowledge. You graduated as one of the top students in the field of techmaturgy, which granted you the privilege of having your very own research laboratory in the academy grounds—which is where you were currently in at the moment—and what led you to the first encounter with the love of your life.

Viktor had his own lab that he shared with Jayce Talis, courtesy of Heimerdinger and Councilor Medarda’s approval. Being the dean’s assistant had its perks, but having his own research office did not count as one of them. He had only gotten his own area when he and Jayce proved that fabricating the arcane was indeed possible; he had shared an office with the dean only until then.

“On the bright side,” Viktor muttered, slightly pulling away from the embrace to hold you at arm’s length, one palm resting on your shoulder as he kept the other on his crutch to stabilize himself, “I wouldn’t have to spend tomorrow night writing up license manuscripts.” He looked at you with bright eyes, his brows relaxed and a small smile rested on his lips.

He studied your expression with great focus, searching for signs of either relief or discomfort—heart hoping for the former.

Your mouth turned up slightly as your eyes crinkled in joy, and he took that as a sign to continue.

“However, I am to spend the afternoon at work, we still have to clean up the lab and return everything to their respective whereabouts—we did acquire quite a few tools and hazardous materials that require immediate safekeeping when not in use.”

“Excellent!” You quipped, almost not letting him finish. It was a marvelous coincidence; now you would have enough time to finish what you were desperately trying to fabricate.

Viktor was surprised, he was expecting a gloomy reply, or perhaps a sunken expression to etch its way onto your face, but none of those occurred. It was quite the opposite, actually. A peculiar grin was present instead. He wasn’t offended, or disappointed—no, that’s not very much like him at all. If anything, he was curious. Intrigued. What could possibly make you feel relieved that he would be gone for the day, more so that it’s on his birthday?

There was only one seemingly appropriate answer to that: you were preparing something for him. Something that he was to not know of until then.

It only intrigued him further; the prospect of the unknown. It scratched that perfect spot in his scientist brain, gave him something to ponder and think about. Create theories about.

As fun as it would be to exercise his ability to crack you open—he likes to exploit that sometimes—he knew better than to do that. So he pouted instead.

"Excellent? That I'm gone for the whole day, save for the night?" He playfully scoffed, the huff racking through his body making his leg brace squeak in protest.

"My, I must say, I am thoroughly hurt," his voice rasped as he adjusted one arm on the handle of his crutch, the other one on his chest, emphasizing his words. "Such venomous words..."

"Oh, my apologies," you couldn't hold in your laughter as it rang throughout the room, the beautiful sound music in Viktor's ears. Oh, how he loved the raw sound of your unhinged laughter, he always felt as if he'd slept a full 8 hours after hearing such wondrous resonance.

The two of you laughed your hearts away for the rest of the evening, only ceasing when it was time to head to the warm apartment the two of you shared.

____________________________

Knitting was never your strong suit.

Marked with an 'X' on the calendar was the 29th of December—today. It's finally Viktor's birthday.

It was a bright morning despite the snow that fell upon the city of Piltover (and whatever parts of Zaun it could reach). It was light, which was what enabled sunshine to come through. The chill of winter stayed, but it was refreshing—and beautiful to bask in the bright of day, the whiteness of powder-soft snow glowing as the light hit every fractal.

You were stationed on the carpet just below the foot of the bed, a window to your right. It let in the perfect amount of light for your tedious project, you can't afford to make a mistake on this one. Though you most definitely already have. Many times.

You continued looping yarn after yarn, grips on the knitting needles unrelenting as you ransacked your brain for the lectures you've heard in a Home Economics class you sat in for the sake of learning how to efficiently live independently. You started at around 8 in the morning, a few minutes past when Viktor left for work.

You'd greeted him the moment the clock struck twelve the night before, and in the morning you'd greeted him with breakfast in bed knowing he won't spare a minute in the lab even for a quick snack. Good-bye kisses ensued as the two of you went on with your itinerary for the day: him, laboratory work, and you, this fucking handmade scarf.

It was like a trial by fire; it was testing each and every ounce of patience you've got. Ever since you started, random knots and out-of-place strands have been popping here and there, making it look like a damn foot rag. The only thing that could possibly one-up it was that it was soft on the hands, like a hand towel.

What you did forget to consider was that the skin on the neck was way more delicate—not to mention sensitive.

You were so keen on finishing your little project as soon as possible that you'd lost track of time; you were almost done, just a few more knots here-

And there.

In your hands lay a bunched-up maroon and navy-blue striped scarf—the product of your love. And stress.

Not bad for a first-timer, you thought.

To be fair, it did look decent enough to be gifted to someone, save for a few knots and loose threads here and there.

You had only started to feel the strain creeping up on your nerves from the prolonged hunching of your back and folding of your legs; you were too immersed in knitting that your brain had started to ignore every sensation but the materials in your hands.

Only then did it the realization dawn upon you as you glanced out the window, that the sun had begun to set—Viktor could arrive any minute. It didn’t even occur to you to remember when exactly you had gotten up to switch on the lights.

You scrambled onto your knees as you reached for the brown wooden suitcase, hurriedly stuffing the extra balls of yarn and knitting needles, pair of shears and measuring tool. Shutting the box close, you pushed it under the bed as you grabbed the finished scarf and sat on the edge of the bed. You folded the scarf evenly and placed it on Viktor's pillow, after which you headed to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee for two.

You poured hot water over the filter as you felt your heart rate come down from its previous riled state. As you turned to the cabinets, the sound of the main door creaking joined the squeak of the cabinet door. With a bottle of sweetmilk in hand, you spun on your heel towards the counter when you found yourself face to face with a very eager and joyous looking Viktor.

Your shoulders jumped microscopically—you didn't even hear the soft thuds of his crutch against the wooden flooring of your apartment, only the door, was all.

"Jesus, Vik, I almost dropped your sweetmilk." You half laughed-half sighed, breath fanning his face as he inched even closer, just until about an inch was all there was between the two of you.

"Mm... and would you get angry if it did?" He mumbled, deep voice rich in his accent, you swore your knees almost buckled were it not for the invisible support his body had on yours.

"Birthday or not, I could never get angry at you," you leaned in and pressed a sweet yet short kiss on his lips before pulling away, "Happy Birthday, my love."

He kissed you in response, free hand snaking around your waist. You smiled against his lips, tongues barely dancing against teeth. You pulled away and pressed one last kiss before fully detaching yourself from him, his head following yours in pursuit of more.

The scarf. The scarf. You slipped away from his grasp, placing the bottle on the counter behind him. Things would have escalated very quickly if you hadn't pulled away—it’s not that you didn't want to—god knows how much you crave for him just as how he craves for you. But you had other things planned for today. And besides, sex could come later. Like a dessert; the cherry on top.

Viktor watched as you turned to face him, hands behind your back, supporting your frame as you leaned on the kitchen island.

You could no longer control your excitement, a large grin making its way on your face.

“Actually,” you spoke, voice sweet and soft like milk and honey, “I made a little something for you.”

Aha, Viktor thought, he got you right where he wanted. He played along, knowing that you spent so much effort in keeping the element of surprise—he didn’t want to water you down.

“A present? For me?” His eyes wide and his pupils blown. He was so in love with you.

You smiled back at him, relieved that he seemed just as enthusiastic as you.

“I’ll go fetch it.” At that, you left the kitchen.

Viktor followed you on your way to the bedroom. He’d caught sight of the neatly folded scarf on his pillow upon his arrival, but hadn’t paid much attention to it—he thought you had bought it from a clothing retailer—he had absolutely no idea that you had made it yourself. You just managed to catch him off guard even when he knew you were planning a surprise.

The scarf looked amazingly decent—at least when he was 10 feet away.

But now that he held it in his hands, he lost all words in his mental dictionary.

You had placed the scarf meekly into his palms as soon as he was close enough, you hadn’t had the words to say, so you decided the action would speak for itself. When he hadn’t muttered a single sound—only tossing and turning the fabric, smoothing it out, and stretching it carefully before him did you decide that it would be time to speak.

“Do you…do you like it?” You breathed, nervous that your little creation was a complete disaster.

It was. But Viktor wouldn’t say that. He would never admit that. To be fair, it wasn’t a complete disaster; it just…simply had a few too many mishaps. Which wasn’t a problem, at all! What mattered to him was the effort you put in and the love you had poured while making it.

“Is it alright? I-I did lose count of my rows a few times but I did focus a lot more!” At this point you were rambling. What if he didn’t like it? “I may have done it a little too tight in some areas but I can fix it if you wa-“

“It’s perfect.”

“W…what?” What?

You looked at him like he’d grown a second head.

“You like? It?” Oh god. He likes it!?

Viktor examined you as you stared him back. Pure love and appreciation were evident in those rich golden irises of his—a feature you adored so much. To see love in his eyes was like lying on a cool patch of grass during the summer, the scent of fresh morning dew and citrus distinct in the air.

He rested his crutch on the nightstand and placed the scarf back on the bed as he hobbled closer to you.

With all his heart (and a very thick accent,) Viktor reassured you as he took you into his arms, “I love it. I love it so much,” he cupped your cheek with one hand and stabilized himself with the other on your waist, “thank you.”

He finished with a sweet, warm kiss on your forehead, traces of his cedarwood perfume making its way to your nostrils.

Before crossing off gift-giving from your list, you first wanted to see what it would look like if he wore the scarf; you wanted to make sure he didn’t look stupid when you’d set off for your dinner date in town.

“Will you…” you stalled, shy eyes studying his face, your gaze alternated between the mole below his right eye and the one above his lip. It was a habit you couldn’t seem to break—settling on his beauty marks whenever you feel embarrassed or nervous. As your lover, Viktor was not unaware of this. In fact, he always seemed to catch on the second you lower your gaze from his eyes—and he’d immediately get to work on soothing you.

“…wear it?”

“Why, yes I would! I’d wear it every time I go out.” Viktor proudly spoke, prolonging the 'every.'

Your heart swelled at his statement, giggling as you rephrased it for him, “I mean, will you try it on? Here? Now?”

It was his turn to laugh.

"And I would do that, too"

He reached for the piece of knitted cloth he'd placed on the bedside table minutes ago, his senses registering the wooly texture of the yarns you used. He was almost sure it was going to provide him with the utmost comfort on the harshest of days; wrapping him with warmth and the love you had created it with—as if it were your own arms around him.

Almost.

Anticipation clutched your heart like a vice as you watched him carefully wrap the delicate fabric around his neck, tucking in the last few feet under the new swirl that constricted around him like a snake. It was almost adorable; you wished it lived up to how snug it appeared.

And it did, at first. Viktor felt blissfully warm. It was soft to the skin, and it covered what the cold loved to prey on first.

"I can't help but wonder," he inquired, "of all gifts, why a scarf? Much less, a handmade one?"

It wasn't that Viktor didn't appreciate something that wasn't ready-made or store-bought—it just had a homey feel to it—and he couldn't quite place the forlorn feeling of nostalgia that was starting to hit him like a brick. It just didn't seem orthodox for you to indulge in artistic craftsmanship. He knew you like the back of his palm—and he knew that you weren't the most artistically inclined.

"I remember you told me once... it was a long time ago, you probably wouldn't remember—but you told me-" you were staring at his mole again.

"Breathe with me, you're doing great."

Sucking in a breath at his instruction, you continued, "You told me that your mother was a craftsman. An artisan."

Oh lord... was that why you picked a handmade scarf as a present for him?

"I wanted to make something meaningful that would remind you of...well, home."

He did tell you stories of his mum. That she was the brightest and most creative artisan in all of Runeterra. You could recall just how starry his eyes would get and the glee that sang in his voice whenever he mused about her.

He loved her so much.

The soft glow that emanated from the window behind you as the sun dipped into the horizon definitely didn't help the newfound adoration for you that was starting to paint you in a new light. It was all coming together now, and it definitely scratched the itch in his brain.

Speaking of which, just as the itch in his brain was scratched, a new one formed. And it was coming from the skin under the fabric.

Viktor craned his neck—he didn't want to pay any mind to it—hoping it would somehow disappear if he continued ignoring it. But it didn't.

Miniscule tingling soon turned into full-blown discomfort; the prickling sensation ravaged around his neck like a lion would a helpless gazelle. It didn't help that you were fawning over him, eyes bright and vivid as you admired the way it looked on him.

"Wear it out to dinner later, hm?" You chirped, "I'm taking you out to town tonight."

Oh, my sweet pie, tell me how I'd last with this caterpillar—very lovely caterpillar—around my neck. But god forbid he say that. He saw right through your actions how much you'd anticipated for him to wear it, just as how you'd put the thought and meaning into making it—with your very own hands and sweat.

He smiled as he stretched his neck once more, pushing the irritating sensation of the threads in the yarn to the back of his mind; he could deal with it. As long as he had you by his side, he knew he could deal with anything. That was just how the two of you worked—you were the strength of each other.

A hand extended to you in invitation.

"Then, shall we?"

#viktor x you #viktor x reader #viktor #viktor league of legends #viktor lol #viktor arcane #viktor arcane x reader #arcane x reader #league of legends x reader #league of legends #jayce lol #arcane #lol #jayce talis #i cant write short pieces for shit #but ill do my best

[peppermintbee]

OMORI has poor writing (Part 1)

OMORI stans, just block the #omori hate tag now because I’m going to use it to vent my frustrations with this game. If you love this game, I am not going to try to convince you otherwise. I am glad you enjoyed it so much. I am glad it means a lot to you. I’m not here to take that away from you. I honestly wish I felt the same way!

However, if you are like me and finished the game feeling disappointed, underwhelmed, and maybe a little frustrated, then I am here to say you are not alone. OMORI--while having the right set pieces for an interesting game--is a narrative mess.

I’m splitting this into two posts. This first post is about problems with the plot. The second is about problems with the message/moral. 

(Note: I use “OMORI” in all-caps for the game title, and “Omori” in title case for the character name.)

Spoilers and criticism below.

Part 1: Plot Writing Lies

There’s a book by Brian McDonald called Invisible Ink which is about how to write a compelling story (you can read this great book online for free here). There’s an explanation of the writing “lie” that I find myself frequently thinking of. A “lie” in this context does not mean something is literally untrue, it means something FEELS untrue, unrealistic, improbable, or unlikely. For example, if a character gets shot in the leg but manages to do parkour, this is a “lie” since it seems unrealistic for that to happen. If a character witnesses their beloved parent’s death and shrugs it off, it’s a “lie” because that reaction seems highly unlikely.

In OMORI, the plot is held together by multiple little lies that--try as I might--I just couldn’t bring myself to believe.

1. Sunny’s friends care about him, and vice versa

A major theme of the game is how friendship can overcome any obstacle. Friendship gets Sunny over his fear of heights, spiders, and water. Friendship is what Sunny remembers before the final boss fight, and allows him to face his guilt and defeat it (and prevent him from committing suicide). With the photobook and dialogue you are reminded over and over and over and over and over again that Sunny’s friends love him unconditionally.

However, I just couldn’t bring myself to believe it. The childhood memories are cute but shallow, boiling down to simply hanging out and eating treats. Plus, Kel and Aubrey fight constantly, with Aubrey even physically hitting Kel when he steps out of line. Hero and Mari behave more like babysitters than true friends to the younger kids. 

But at least the other kids interact with each other. Sunny, on the other hand, showed nearly no affection or consideration towards his friends. He floats through the memories like a ghost--he could have been completely absent from all the photos and it would have made little difference. I was ready to accept this as Sunny being an unreliable narrator and not thinking he was a good enough for his friends, but this never contradicted. Instead we are given even more memories where Sunny just silently exists there being “cute.”

[Sunny enriching the lives of his friends by LARPING as a cat.]

Because of the lack of meaningful interactions between them, there was nothing in the game that made me think that these 12-15 year olds would have a strong enough bond that would survive 3-4 years of no contact after finding their friend hanged. In fact, that discovery only drove them farther apart. The only person who I could believe actually had a close bond was Basil, who almost literally filled that trope of being the friend who would help you bury a body (or in this case, help Sunny cover up the accidental manslaughter).

The writing fix for this would be simple: instead of showing us the same boring birthday and beach scenes over again, give the kids memories of overcoming some age-appropriate adversity together: heartbreak over an unrequited crush, anxiety over homework, sports injury, lost dogs, divorced parents, running away from home, bullying, etc. Set a precedent of the friends supporting each other through good times AND bad times. Without such backstory, Sunny’s friendships allegedly giving him the courage to overcome his guilt feels like a lie.

2. Sunny abandoning Basil in the bathroom scene

One of the most confusing moments in the game was Sunny’s negligence when Basil has his first breakdown in his bathroom. This part of the game is player-controlled, which is a strange writing decision because all you can do is click on Basil and various bathroom amenities over and over which completely saps the urgency out of the scene. When you try to leave, Basil begs Sunny to stay, but (due to a lack of player options) Sunny walks out without a word. With no option to talk to him OR get help for him, it makes Sunny seem exceptionally cruel to Basil. In fact, I was starting to wonder if the game was setting up for some sort of twist that Sunny DIDN’T care about his friends, which would fix some of the confusion in point #1. However, as we know, that is not the case. Therefore, Sunny’s negligence/apathy towards Basil’s pain feels like a lie.

The writing fix would be to make it MORE clear that Sunny is intentionally running away from Basil. Make it a cutscene, or, give a false choice such as “Leave Basil? Yes / Yes”. After Sunny leaves, Kel should make some remark about Sunny looking odd, “You look sort of shaken up, is there something you want to tell me?” then hit it home with Sunny shaking his head. This would make it more clear that Sunny is intentionally hiding Basil’s state, as opposed to just being a bad friend. As it stands, it just felt like a writing mistake.

3. Basil and Sunny working together to stage Mari’s death as a suicide

This is the plot hole that I see the most complaints over, but it’s so big I have to address it. Accidentally pushing Mari down the stairs I understand, but the rest is too absurd. Below are some of the “lies” that the writing tries to get away with:

That Sunny and Basil wouldn’t just claim she slipped and fell.

That either boy would even come up with this sick plan.

That they wouldn’t back out of this idea during the multi-step process (carrying her downstairs, outside, getting the jump rope, tying a noose, putting it around her neck, stringing her up, hiding the evidence... This is a series of multiple decisions, not one quick accident like the initial push.)

That it’s not the image of Mari’s death that traumatized Sunny, but the image of what they chose to do to her body that traumatized them. I understand the image of Mari hanging is more dramatic, but they literally did it themselves so why is that more haunting than Sunny killing her?

That Mari’s true cause of death wouldn’t be immediately obvious to the parents, the police, the friends, EVERYONE. (I’ve seen fans try to get rid of this plot hole by hypothesizing that the parents knew and covered it up, but the evidence of this is circumstantial at best. The father saying, “You’re not my son,” is unreliable since it happens in Sunny’s headspace. Divorce is common after the death of a child, and, at the very least, Sunny’s mom doesn’t show any evidence of knowing what happened. The way it is written, only Sunny and Basil know the truth.)

The ridiculousness of this twist is so extreme that it completely broke any immersion I had left. Frankly, the reveal that the happy, loveable Mari committed suicide is a far heavier and more realistic twist than a crazy murder-cover-up story is.

Additionally, it seems like Basil was only written into this scene in order to make Sunny the true victim of what happened. After all, Sunny may have pushed her, but it was Basil who came up with the demented cover up. (This is apparent from just the photos but the datamined Truth Album confirms it.) By having Basil come up with the plan, the game splits the guilt between the two of them to make the kids easier to sympathize with. It’s problematic because if Basil was not in the scene, there would be no way to justify what Sunny did to Mari. So why is what they did easier to accept when they worked together?

Fixing the writing lie: Sunny lies and says that Mari slipped. Remove Basil from the scene, and instead have Sunny confide in Basil which forces Basil to become a co-conspirator and burdens him with the terrible truth.

4. Sunny’s friends forgiving him and Basil for what they did to Mari

Last but not least, the story heavily implies that Hero, Kel, and Aubrey will forgive Basil and Sunny for what they did to Mari. I found this to be almost as unbelievable as the staged-suicide stunt.

It feels like a lie since the group’s friendship is never established as anything beyond shallow hang outs from 3+ years ago (see point #1).

It feels like a lie because this is hot off the heels of Aubrey being so distraught over Mari and the following fall out that in the last three days she 1.) attacked Sunny and Kel with a nail bat TWICE, 2.) Stole Basil’s photobook, and 3.) Shoved Basil in the lake. This trauma is still very fresh for her.

It feels like a lie because the complexity of the staged-suicide is so extreme, one would be hard pressed to forgive ANYONE for doing that, be it friend, foe, parent, sibling, lover, etc.

I’ve seen fans argue that the ending is not about forgiveness, it’s about telling the truth, and I want to believe that. Really. If the ending was about Sunny starting his redemption arc by telling the truth no matter what the consequences are, that would be a meaningful lesson. But the writing does not support that. The ending headspace segments are focused on assuring Sunny that his friends will support/forgive him no matter what. To do this, the game shows us the shallow photobook memories (again) to show how much they allegedly care about each other. Then, when fighting Omori, Sunny remembers these quotes from his friends, which directly correlate to their unconditional support:

KEL: Friends... Friends are supposed to be there for each other.

AUBREY: I hope you can find some peace... or you know... some happiness.

HERO: We made the mistake of leaving each other when we needed each other the most. This time... we’ll stay together.

BASIL: Maybe one day... things can go back to the way they were before.

The really direct evidence that this ending is about getting forgiveness is this quote from Basil in Sunny’s headspace:

[BASIL: “AUBREY, KEL and HERO are good friends. You have to trust that they’ll forgive us.”]

This is one of the last scenes before Sunny tells his friends the truth, proving that obtaining forgiveness from his FRIENDS is in fact the leading motivation for Sunny’s actions.

Fixing this writing lie is easy. Instead, adjust the writing to be about telling the truth, not about how much the friends will still love Sunny. Have headspace Basil say, “Even if they don’t forgive us, Aubrey, Kel, and Hero deserve to know the truth. It’s the only way to make things right... or close to it.”

Conclusion

OMORI is undeniably a cute game with a strong visual identity, and has a premise that could make for a very compelling experience. However, the sloppy plot and weak character writing cause the potential of this game to be squandered. There are other issues as well that I chose not to cover for the sake of time, such as the poor pacing of the dragged out dungeons and the bizarre, unrealistic behavior of characters in the “real” world. 

However, there are a few more glaring problems with OMORI that I have to address: In part 2 of my critique, I break down what may be the biggest problem with OMORI’s writing: the message.

[ Link to Part 2: OMORI’s Message is Mishandled and Distasteful ]

#omori #omori hate #omori spoilers #review #words #fun fact i named sunny 'moony' so I had to consciously change all the moons to suns in this essay #suicide cw

[dreamkidddream]

hey congratulations!!🎉

if possible, can you write quote #19 w/ atsushi?

Whew so this was a popular request and I’m honestly excited for it! This was so fun to write too. Atsushi ain’t slick either 👀 Atsushi when he’s doubting himself 📉📉 Atsushi when he’s confident, believes in himself AND goes feral📈📈 📈 also sorry for the wait, school has me 1000000x stressed, but my birthday is coming up so expect me to post more as a birthday gift to myself 🥰 reader is gender neutral!

TW: a little spicy but nothing extremely graphic is mentioned, minor language

Prompt: “I saw that. You just checked me out.” with Atsushi!

Atsushi couldn’t help it. No matter what, his eyes were always drawn to you. You’re just...really pretty! Beyond pretty! You’re just so alluring, that no matter how much he tried to snap out of the daze that you unknowingly put him in, he would just be focused on you all over again. Didn’t matter where either: in the office filling out reports, hanging out in the cafe, on missions (Akutagawa would be fuming and a little confused, but Atsushi didn’t care).

While he is naive at times, that didn’t mean that he’s stupid. He knows that he’s in too deep and it’s too late to try and deny what he’s feeling for you, but he’s scared. He fears that he isn’t good enough for you, that he never will be good enough for you. You deserve more than what he can ever give you, so why waste your time on someone like him? You deserve better than that, better than him...

But those thoughts were pushed away whenever you’re around him. Everytime you flashed him that sweet smile of yours, his heart would beat even faster than before (and you made his heart pretty fast already), and he couldn’t bare the notion of you not being in his life. He couldn’t imagine it, and he didn’t even try to.

Which lead to now: you both walking on the Yokohama boardwalk, him holding onto your prized tiger plushie (that took so long for him to win and SO MUCH MONEY) and varying treats from different street vendors, and you chattering excited about...something. What was it that you were talking about again? Damn it, it happened again!

It was so easy for Atsushi to get lost when it came to you. Just seeing the ways your eyes sparkled underneath the lights and the night sky was enough for him to lose his breath, not to mention how stunning you’re already are. He was more than flabbergasted when you accepted his invite to the boardwalk, stumbling out a thank you with a heavy blush across as you rambled on about how you can’t wait until then.

And you look so good. Not that you already didn’t! You actually got a little dressed up tonight, nothing too over the top but nothing like a regular hangout either. The outfit that you chose really displayed your figure, and he couldn’t help but let his gaze fall to-

“Hey! Are you listening?”

SHIT.

“HUH?! Oh! Of-of course!”, he stuttered out, nodding his head. Please believe me, please believe me, please-

“So you agree that I should go on a date with Dazai or Ranpo? Or even Akutagawa?”

“Ye-WAIT NO!”

“I’m just kidding, Sushi,” you playfully bumped his shoulder. “You zoned out on me. If I’m boring you-”

“No! It’s not that!”, he rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand, shameful. “It’s just...I’m really having a lot of fun with you tonight. I’m still a little shocked that you actually agreed to come out with me.”

“Why would I tell you no? I love spending time with you! Plus, this gives us a chance to hang out without any interference. Just us two.”

“Y-yeah! Just us! I’m really happy that you’re having fun.”

“Just make sure I’m not boring you to death okay? Plus, I have to tell you something important...”

His ears perked up and his heart started to race. Was this the moment? Could it be? He wanted to pinch himself to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. You looked so bashful, twiddling your fingers together nervously.

Were you about to confess to him?

A smile broke out on your face as you gazed at him.

“You’ve been checking me out this whole time, haven’t you?”

He choked.

Atsushi could faint right now. Not out of pure bliss, but of embarrassment. You knew what he was doing?! He wishes that the ground would open up and swallow him while, he even wishes that Akutagawa just comes out of nowhere to fight just so he wouldn’t have to face you.

“W-wait?”, and his voice cracked. Even more embarrassment.

“You’ve been checking me out, tiger boy! My my Atsushi, who knew that you could be so devious?”

He almost dropped your plush tiger trying to wave his arms to defend himself. He wasn’t checking you out! He was admiring you! Very big difference in his opinion.

Oh who was he kidding? Either way, you didn’t need to know that!

“No I wasn’t! It’s- you see- I wasn’t checking you out! You h-had something on your face! Yeah!”

“Oh please Atsushi. I saw that. You just checked me out. As a matter of fact, I know you’ve been checking me out for quite some time.”

Oh he could just shrivel up and disappear into nothing at this point. He felt so ashamed, disgusting. Oh God, what if you thought that he’s a pervert now? He began to open his mouth, the start of a first apology of many to follow on the tip of his tongue, when you cut him off.

“Honestly, I was wondering when you were gonna make a move. Thought I was gonna have to, but I wanted to give you enough time and maybe see you sweat a little.”

“...huh?”

You broke poor Atsushi.

So you didn’t think that he’s a disgusting pervert? You didn’t hate him? And you knew that he’s been doing this? And you knew of his feelings for you? And you reciprocated said feelings?!

Atsushi was overjoyed at this revelation. Then, he came to the realization that you knew this whole time of his feelings for you, didn’t say anything because you were amused with how stressed he got, and then proceeded to still mess with him after.

He’s irritated to say the least.

You let out a string of laughter, “Atsushi, you should see your face right now!” You started to clutch your stomach, tears pricking at your eyes with how hard you’re laughing. “Seriously! You didn’t think I wouldn’t notice you always staring at me? I’m not that oblivious you know.”

As much as you loved teasing him, you really did mean what you said. He’s been gazing at you with his longing look in his eyes for so long, that you believed it was only a matter of time before he approached you. However, you were starting to get just a tad bit impatient. You knew how much of a crush he has on you just as you have a crush on him, and you were trying to have him make the first move, but if he continued to just give you puppy eyes when he thought you wouldn’t notice, you were going to drag him by his tie and force him to confess.

“But don’t feel too bad. If I was super nervous to confess to my crush, I’ll probably just stare and hope they understand my feelings that way. So, now that that’s out of the way, do you want to confess first or should I-”

“You don’t even know what you do to me, do you?”

Atsushi’s had his head lowered, and when he snapped his head up, he was glaring at you.

Oh no, he’s mad at you. You didn’t mean to make upset! It was- wait a second. What you do to him? He continued on, gripping your shoulders so that you couldn’t look away, your focus would be on him and only him, just like his is always on you and only you.

“It’s not my fault what you do to me! It’s yours!”

“Wait, AtsuSHI-”

“It’s not my fault that you’re really pretty and nice and-”

Now he was shaking you while he rants and whines about all the things that “weren’t his fault”. You began to giggle again, “Okay okay Atsushi! I get it.” Clasping his hands, you slowly ceased his shaking, with him giving you that same puppy eyed look that you’re used to.

Damn it, he didn’t understand what he does to you.

“I’m sorry, Atsushi. It’s just so fun to see you get riled up sometimes”, you already moved his hands to in front of you, gently rubbing circles on them. “I...I really do like you, Atsushi. More than like, really. This wasn’t how I was planning this to go, but whatever. And you don’t have to worry about me not returning your feelings dummy! It’s pretty obvious, wouldn’t you say?”

You could see his expression soften the more you spoke, processing your words and letting them sink in. He saw no playful glints in your eyes this time. You genuinely meant what you said, you like him, more than a friend.

He felt tears gathering in his eyes, but you wiped at them before they could fall. Caressing his face, prizes and treats long forgotten, you leaned in to kiss him softly. He went still, then melted into it, bringing you close to him as much as he can by your waist. When you pulled back, he had such a dopey grin on his face, eyes full of warmth.

Nothing could compare to this feeling, the feeling of being loved, being truly cared for.

He truly did feel blessed.

“The night’s still young, Atsushi,” you leaned in to give him another peck, which he happily accepted. “And I don’t want to waste anymore time than we already have.”

“Y-y-yeah, me either”, he touched your forehead against yours. You look so angelic underneath the stars, he couldn’t look away if he tried. “Let’s make up for lost time.”

“Of course. And I know the perfect way to start.”

Bonus:

“Good morning, Atsushi!”

Dazai rolled his chair to his desk, already putting off his work for the day. “So tell me: how was your date last night?”

“Oh-it was great! We just went to the boardwalk. (Y/N) was happy, and we both confessed, so everything went okay.”

“That’s it?”, he sighed. “How boring. You guys didn’t do anything else?”

“Hm? No? Was I suppose to do something else?”, he blinked at Dazai. Did you miss a step or something? Everything went better than expected last night, so he did everything right...right?

“Tell me, Atsushi. Did you two run into any trouble last night?”

“No. Why?”

“Well how did you get that bruise on your neck?”

Bruise? What was he-

Oh no.

Dazai leaned back in his chair, arms folded behind his head. “And judging by the way (Y/N) is being way more cheerful than they usually are, something tells me that that isn’t a bruise-”

“DAZAI! Get back to work!”

Kunikida couldn’t have come at a perfect time. Dazai groaned out a “fine” and rolled back to his desk, letting Atsushi breath out a sigh of relief. You guys had a lot more fun than he let on, and he would be beyond mortified if the whole office found out-

“Goodness Kunikida, I was just letting Atsushi know that his hickey was showing! (Y/N) really knows how to leave a mark, don’t they Atsushi?”

Please someone, end him now-

“And the way that (Y/N) is covering their neck tells me that you do too. My mentee is growing up so fast, I’m so proud!”

“DAZAI!”

“ATSUSHI!”

#bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs reader insert #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd atsushi x reader #bsd atsushi #atsushi nakajima x reader #atsushi x reader #dream’s 100 + 200 followers prompt special 💙

[glassartpeasants]

Like Father, Like Son

Overhaul x F!Reader

Warnings: Angst, unhealthy/toxic relationships, child abuse, mentions of needles

A/N: This is a post based on a head cannon made by @yandereacademia which you can see here. I promise I will continue the DDLC AU but I needed to get this angst outta my system because I’ve been really stressed lately lol. Also the original storyline is kinda bumped up to fit the story

~~~

The only reason you were with the sociopath called Overhaul is because of a stupid mistake you made about 5 months ago. If you could go back in time you would’ve never drank that much until you were blackout drunk. You had somehow managed to sleep with the germophobic man after you both crossed paths when you both were blackout drunk. Which leaded where you are now. In the Shie Hassakai base, pregnant with his child. 

Once you showed him the test he demanded- no, MADE you quit your old job ad live in the base with him. Not in his room of course.Who knows what germs you could be carrying! You don’t get special treatment even if you are the mother of his child. And If we’re being honest, he doesn’t really see it as his child. More like an heir. How else would the Shie Hassakai live on? 

He doesn’t even see you that often. He sends either Chrono or Mimic to look after you. Sometimes Setsuno. You liked Setsuno since he actually treated you like a human rather than a burden. Chrono was a bit better than mimic. Mimic was just a plain ass. 

Your entire pregnancy was all about check ups. Healthy food, did I mention checkups? It was almost every Tuesday and Friday that he made you come into a little doctors room and inspect you and give you ultrasounds. You felt more like an incubator rather than a mother, but you digress. Once you got the news that the child was a boy you bet your ass Overhaul was way more worried about you than he originally was.

You wanted to run really. You saw what horrible things Overhaul had done. You didn’t want your child to end up like Eri or to turn into a shit human being like Overhaul. You wanted your child to grow up compassionate and kind, not a stone cold murderer with no remorse for human life.

Maybe once your child is born you can teach him those things in secret...

~~~

2 years after the child is born

You were right, Overhaul wanted nothing to do with the baby until it was old enough to be taught the ways of the yakuza. He wasn’t even impressed when the baby started talking and walking! You wanted to yell, scream, argue, and just hurt the man in general. A child needs support, not a unimpressed look everytime they do an accomplishment. 

You always supported your son. Showing him how proud you were whenever he handed you a drawing of him and you. Overhaul barely even saw the kid which affected him to the point where the kid didn’t even draw him in pictures.

You were happy that your baby didn’t see/look up to Overhaul as a fatherly figure. Man didn’t deserve to be called one or be one. You were worried if Overhaul would use your son as a experiment like he was using Eri.  

Speaking of Eri, you finally convinced Overhaul to let you see her and comfort her after he used her for the bullets. She was such a sweetie and especially loved how you would sing her to sleep whenever she has a bad day. You didn’t get to see her a lot, but you did what you could when you did. If only you could make Overhaul see what he was doing to everyone around him...

~~~

Your son just turned 8

Everyday your son looked more and more liked his father. Not to mention he inherited Overhaul’s quirk It wouldn’t have bothered you that much if it weren’t for the fact that he started looking up to his father. Whenever your so was getting put to bed by you, he would always tell you about how much he wanted to be the next leader. He would tell you how he watched Overhaul to paperwork, sat next to him in meetings and such. The finally straw for you was when he told you that Overhaul let him use his quirk on a living breathing human being. To say you were furious was an understatement. All you saw was red. 

You smiled at the boy before pressing a kiss to his head and walking out his door while whispering goodnight before your started your expedition to give Overhaul a piece of your mind. You’ve stayed quiet for to long. You couldn’t just let him expose your child to such violence at such a young age! All you saw was red as you walked to his office door. Giving it a harsh knock you were allowed entry.

Upon entering you notice that you are the only one there with him. Just the two of you. You were afraid yes, but your anger out did it.

“Did you seriously let our son use his quirk on someone at such a young age?! He’s only 8! He doesn’t need to be exposed so early!” You yelled at him with your hands on your hips. You knew if you pointed at him you could say goodbye to that finger.

“He’s going to be the next leader. It’s only natural to start him off early. And I don’t remember giving you a say in the matter.” His voice cold and stoic but a hint of annoyance caught your ears.

“8 is way to early! Please Overhaul, Just give me 2-3 more years without him experiencing what you do.” You begged him. Tears threatened to spill from your eyes. You only wanted what was best for your son. Your heart stopped when you heard Overhaul get up from his desk and his footsteps come near your now slightly shaking form.

“Bold of you to assume I would let him miss out on very needed skills to become the next leader. We both know that if it weren’t for him, you would have been dead the second i found out I slept with you. That boy is the only thing that kept you alive. So, from now on, I expect you to never come to my face. Talking about him needing to be kind and compassionate, is not the way of the yakuza. One more incident like this, than I’ll make him kill you myself.” Your eyes widened as you looked at the man in front of you. You can feel your blood run cold in your veins as it circulates through your body. Tears streaked down your face as you felt so defeated. Your entire body felt like you’ve been crushed by a car. 

You turned around and walked out the door and into your room. Locking the door your jumped onto your bed, grabbing the pillow before screaming into it. Your tears stained the pillow case as your body shook. You felt so hopeless and so helpless. Where was a hero when you truly needed one?

~~~

The next day

You were just finished changing before your son barged into your room. You were about to say good morning to him before he started screaming at you. Shocked you told him to calm down, but in the corner of your eye you saw the purple feathers that you have learned to fear walk by.

“What are you saying? Please calm down!” You say as you try to soothe your screaming child.

“How dare you try and take me away from dad! Dad told me everything!” Your son flailed his arms up and down while stomping on the ground. His screams soon turned incoherent.

“Baby! I would never-”

“Liar! Dad told me that you wanted to leave him! He said that you thought he didn’t deserve a son!” You didn’t say that what was he on?! You only wanted to protect him! You loved your son to the point you would die for him! What had Overhaul said to him!

“Please sweetie calm down-”

“No! I never want to talk to you again!” Your son ran out the door before slamming it shut. Your heart felt shattered as you heard Overhauls voice on the other side, ’calming’ your distressed son. You felt your world crumbling around you as your son was the only thing that kept you happiness in these dark times. Him and Eri. Oh Eri, if he grows up that means...

You felt vomit rise in your throat at the thought of your own son hurting such a sweet, innocent, little girl. You fall to your knees as tears spill down your cheeks. You couldn’t just run away from the Shie Hassakai ever. The base is fully guarded, and has high max security cameras. Not to mention the probability of them finding you and your son right away. If you even tried, you would probably get you and your son hurt. Maybe even little Eri. 

Your whole body felt numb. You just wished it was a horrible nightmare.

~~~

5 months later

As the weeks pass by, you felt your hurt break more and more everyday. Your son had kept his word when he said he ever wanted to talk to you again. You haven’t heard your baby's voice since that day. Hell, now you barely even see him! You see Eri more than your actual son now. ANd seeing Eri was not that often.

You felt hopeless. You wanted nothing more to do than crawl in a hole and die. Every night was spent crying over your son and how your life and gone so down hill so quickly. You didn’t even feel like moving. You just sat in the corner of the room since it felt like the only warm spot in the entire room. This little corner felt like some sort of sanctuary in this horrible place you call home. 

~~~

Your son just turned 13

Day whatever of the last time your son talked to you. And day whatever since you’ve left your room. You had no reason anymore. Overhaul officially banished you from ever seeing Eri again. Your world was crushed once more. At this point you felt like your whole existence was useless. 

Your days grew darker by the minute as your mental health seemed to be slipping through your fingers. You only ever moved when you needed to go to the bathroom or to drag the food plate that was brought to you by some employee of Overhaul. You barely ate anything anyways so you really saw no point in doing anything anymore. 

It only hurt more knowing that today was his birthday. You had asked the employee that brought you food if he had a party or just something to celebrate. You felt the last of your hope crushed once you heard his answer.

“The only thing he got was a official Shie Hassakai mask.”

~~~

Your son turned 15

You body was weak. You had refused to eat anything seeing no point in it anymore. You were always tired. Only getting up to go to the bathroom then sitting back in the corner that once gave you sanctuary. 

You heard footsteps on the outside of your door as the familiar voice of Overhaul was on the other side. Another voice rang in your ears and it hit you like a train once you realized who’s it was. It was your sons. His voice was so much deeper than the little boy’s you had once heard. It only deepened your sadness. You blinked but didn’t even turn your eyes once you heard the door opening. 

“We can test the serum out on her first. She’s too weak to fight back.”

“I didn’t know my mother had a quirk.” You couldn’t even make your eyes turn to look at them. You didn’t want to see the monster your son had become. Your heart couldn’t take anymore heartbreak, You felt like you would crumble into nothing.

You felt a light get shine into your eyes. You didn’t even blink during it. Once the light was gone you got a clear look at your once loving son. A mask covered his face just like his fathers did. He looked you in the eyes and you did the same. You wanted to cry but held it down. 

A latex hand grabbed your arm before you felt the needle being poked into it. You didn’t even flinch or wince. Almost as if you were a lifeless doll. A hand moved up and down your face as if to see if you were even alive or ‘there’.

“She isn’t responding to anything. She didn’t even wince. She’s breathing but she looks like she’s sick.” All that was one ear and out the other. Finally you felt the needle leave your arm as a sigh escaped Overhaul’s lips. 

“Well wait for about an hour or two and see the effects. For now, we have to do more tests on Eri. Lets go.” So...he was apart of the team experimenting on Eri. You felt like throwing up. How could the boy who you raised to be kind and compassionate turn into such a disgusting monster.

The sound of their footsteps leaving the room hit your ears. From the corner of your eye you say your son about to leave before you spoke up,

“You are not my son.” You saw him stop in his tracks as he turned to look at you. His eyes a bit wide but said nothing.

“I never want to hear you call me your mother ever again. Your a monster undeserving of one. I can’t believe I gave birth to someone like you. I never want ot see your face again.” In your monotone words they’re were spikes laced in venom. You couldn’t even look your own son in the eyes. As they we’re the same as his monster of a father. 

“Get out of my room and never come back.” You heard him close the door slowly as you let out a breath once you finally saw him gone. You can barely stand to see the monster your child had become. But, you didn’t see nor hear the way his breathing became ragged. Or how his eyes felt like spilling tears. Or how his body slowly shook at your words. 

‘It shouldn’t hurt. This shouldn’t hurt me. Why does it hurt so bad? Please stop it. Her words shouldn’t affect me. Why does it hurt?’

#overhaul x reader #bnha overhaul #mha #bnha #overhaul #chisaki kai #shie hassaikai #kai chisaki #kai chisaki x reader #mha angst #bnha angst #kai #angst #yakuza

[palidoozy-art]

The more I think about your recent post about the changes you made to Strahd, the more I wonder about those changes you made to the others mentioned (Rahadin, Van Richten, Ireena, etc). I'd absolutely love to hear what adjustments you made as you already shared some stellar ideas already. Like the Tome? -Chef kiss- Amazing.

Oh mannn I do love talking about my campaign. I changed a lot with them. Again, weirdly enough, I think Strahd wound up being the most like his original incarnation. I could talk forever about the changes I made so I'll try to be brief haha. IT STILL WON'T BE BRIEF.

Obvious CoS spoilers below

IREENA - I thought it was weird that the picture they gave her makes her look like such a badass, and then the module just kind of writes her as a damsel in distress to either get kidnapped or pulled into water or dumped somewhere. To me, she's like, the second most important character in CoS -- and the book literally gives you less direction to roleplay her than her brother. Furthermore, reading her ending actually legit made me mad.

So I said fuck all that. Ireena in my game was a 19-year old girl who grew and developed over the course of the campaign. Several of my players actually said they thought of her as "the main character," just because she experienced a lot of character growth and development, going from a sheltered meek teenager to someone who can fight and assert herself. The biggest change I made to her though was that I very specifically did not just want her to be "Tatyana with memory loss." Ireena is a unique individual who happens to be partially made out of Tatyana's soul. While she shares many similarities with Tatyana, they're separate people, and part of what Ireena has to grapple with is how to live up to that. She's in the post-campaign because of that distinction -- while Sergei offered her to join him, she declined, because she wants to experience life past her twenties. I didn't get to play it out because we were kind of rushing towards the end, but I honestly envisioned a scene where she talks to the portrait of Tatyana, apologizing to her because she knows she's being selfish remaining alive.

This also brings up a unique problem in the post campaign. If Ireena dies, she ceases to exist and may not be able to be resurrected. When her soul leaves her body, it's Tatyana's again. Ireena very much wants to live. Tatyana doesn't. A resurrection has to be made with the consent of the soul, and if Tatyana declines, Ireena's just... gone. Forever.

Related: because I wasn't sure what my players would ask, and Rahadin would absolutely know this information -- there have been 18 incarnations of Tatyana, including the original. I actually have a timeline of when they were all born and how they died. The curse manifests in that they always die or are killed before their 25th birthday. If Strahd attempts to marry them, they lose their minds and throw themselves off of the same balcony the original Tatyana jumped off of during the ceremony. Strahd can never have Tatyana. Vampyr will ensure of that.

But yeah, essentially: Ireena gained actual class levels; she wasn't just Tatyana with memory loss; she traveled with the party for 90% of the campaign and wasn't just a macguffin to be kidnapped/take to places; and I removed any of the "Sergei takes her into water/the sky and you never see her again" endings because I absolutely hated those.

VAN RICHTEN - Van Richten I tweaked a lot from his original incarnation. First, I started him off as Lawful Neutral. No, game, I know you tell me he's Lawful Good, but I'm gonna have to disagree with you that "training a racist tiger to genocide an ethnic camp" falls under the spectrum of Lawful Good. Second, I changed him from cleric to artificer (alchemist). I somehow just got the impression the dude was a godless man, and so he felt more fitting to be a man of science rather than a man of the church. Third, since I wasn't sure the other dread domains were ever going to be brought into 5e I moved him out of Darkon and into another world from the outside.

His backstory was also tied more into Strahd and the campaign in general, as well as the Dark Powers. About 30 years ago, he went into the mists with his own adventuring party (that included Escher) to try to rescue his kidnapped son, Erasmus. He found his son half-turned and begging him for death. Killing him, Van Richten hunted down the Vistani woman (Ezmerelda's mother) who sold the man, and in a rage strangled her to death. This gave him a curse. Ezmerelda witnessed it happen.

He went on a warpath against vampire spawn and vistani alike, until Strahd proposed a deal to Escher. Escher lured the group to a familiar dinner date with Strahd... only for Strahd to murder all of them, including Van Richten. Van Richten was approached by a dark power -- Vaund the Evasive, and given the option to return to life in exchange for the promise that Van Richten would eventually return to Amber Temple and free him. He took it, waking up outside of Barovia. From there he became famed vampire-hunter-book-author, until in his early 50's he decided it was time to seek vengeance and fulfill his promise. He brought in his hat of disguise, came up with an alibi, and headed into Barovia as Rictavio the Great.

He was absolutely played as a much more morally grey character at the start (the party's first encounter with him rather than Rictavio was him literally torturing a dude). He softened over the course of the campaign as he grew attached to the party, until finally reaching a point in the post-campaign where he's considered Lawful Good

Also: Ezmerelda was treated more or less as his adoptive daughter. She absolutely argued against this every single time, but he even slipped up and referred to her as his daughter on a few tense occasions.

RAHADIN - Rahadin I adjusted a lot, too. A LOOOOOOT. Strahd being comically evil makes sense -- the dude is a darklord, that kind of comes with the territory. With Rahadin, I wanted him to have more motivations to his actions, because the base game actually suggests that the dude is actually capable of caring. In the base game, you can find him at Amber Temple, trying to "petition the dark god into releasing his master from his torment." He screams in grief if he finds Strahd dead. Furthermore it felt like the game glosses over the fact that the dude was adopted as Barov's son. It doesn't bother addressing how Rahadin felt about Sergei, who would in theory be his other brother. I thought a number of things suggested in his backstory were interesting, but not expanded upon in the base game. So I took it upon myself to do so.

I changed how dusk elf society was built, which affected the three major dusk elf characters. It worked off of a pretty brutal caste system, with three kings at the top overseeing all of it. Rahadin was born in a lower caste, but actually brought into the warrior caste after a member of royalty was intrigued by his stature. Rahadin worked as a general, but grew frustrated by the inefficiencies of the caste system and its inequality. He started attempting to use his influence to petition other members of nobility into changing or loosening the strict system.

Patrina caught wind of this, and viewing it as a threat to her lifestyle + viewing it as an easy way to gain brownie points with those above her... tattled on him to the three kings, spinning what he was doing as treason. Rahadin was arrested and subsequently tortured. They attempted to execute him on a breaking wheel, breaking his bones against the spokes and leaving him in the town square as an example. He wound up escaping, crawling his way out of town until he was subsequently rescued by a group of human monks. The event pretty much broke him, morally. He went to Barov soon after and sold his people out, taking a personal hand in helping annihilate the dusk elves and conquering their land. Barov was so impressed by the man's loyalty that he adopted him as his son.

Part of this was done to make a connection as to why the hell Rahadin just absolutely fuckin' hates Patrina so much (since that definitely got played up during the campaign). When thinking of Rahadin's motivations, I tried to come at it from the angle that this man was evil... but legitimately cared deeply about Strahd, Sergei, and Tatyana. He was devestated from the events of the wedding, but saw Strahd's return as a second chance. As the lone surviving witness from the wedding, he desperately wanted to help the three of them. But his own blind loyalty to Strahd and his broken moral compass prevented him from doing so.

One of my favorite little additions was a sidequest I offered to the players (they wanted to redeem Rahadin). They were requested by him to retrieve (well, "not destroy or sell") one of his most precious belongings in his office. When they get there... it turns out it's a birthday card and a worn-out old amulet from Sergei and Tatyana that he's kept after all these years. They got Ireena to read the letter to him, to help him keep going after Strahd's death.

anyway i could ramble on about changes forever but i don't want this post to get too long haha. i have. many feelings. over this campaign. maybe at some point I'll do a separate post with some of the others.

i also kinda wanna do a comic of an event from Rahadin's backstory for my players but we'll see, I might deem it "too stupid."

#palidoozy rambles #curse of strahd #curse of strahd spoilers #cos #cos spoilers #WARNING IT LONG #I HAVE MANY FEELINGS ABOUT THESE THREE CHARACTERS

[n0wornever]

Healing - Luke Patterson x Reader

i love your writing so so so much, it literally makes my day a lot better when i see you have post a new imagine:)♡♡ could you do maybe one with luke (if you feel comfortable of course, if you don’t its 100% okay:) ) where the reader is plus size?? thank you so much!!

Omg I love you, thank you so much sweet thing! I have a difficult time with these storylines bc as a plus sized girl myself, I feel like they can be too corny if done wrong. I hope I did your request justice.

Also, hank you to purple anon for the nudge on this idea! 💜(lyrics are from Who You Are by Jessie J)

“Y/N, you finally wore that top we picked out!” Julie said, flashing her friend a smile as she walked toward her locker.

The girl nodded. It had taken a moment in the mirror this morning for her to fully wrap her mind around the idea of wearing the garment out of the safety of her home. The little yellow crop top was dainty and frilly, everything she loved but it fell a little higher than most of the shirts she owned. She never really exposed her stomach like this, even a few inches of skin, but after she curled her hair and pulled on her favorite pair of jeans... she knew as she admired the full outfit in the mirror that she’d regret it if she didn’t take the leap.

“Yeah, I’m actually feeling pretty good about it.” 

Julie’s smile widened as Y/N closed her locker and fell to her side. As they walked down the hallway, Julie jabbed her friend’s side with her elbow to get her attention again. 

“Are you ready for today’s performance?” 

Y/N nodded, chewing on the inside of her cheek. Today was the day that they performed their songwriting final in front of the whole class. She had worked really hard on her piece over the past few weeks. Y/N paused as the reached the door, fidgeting with her hands. Julie gaze dropped to her fingers for a moment before returning to her face. She paused the movements by grabbing the girl’s hands into hers.

“You’re going to kill it okay?” Julie reminded her, swaying their hands side to side.

Y/N let a small grin slide onto her cheek as she looked at the curly-haired girl. A hint of pink caught her eye as Carrie walked through the music room door. Her shoulders immediately deflating as their eyes met and the girl’s eyes fell down her body. Raquel held a smirk on the right side of her face before strolling the rest of the way in. Julie squeezed on Y/N’s hands, pulling her focus back to her.

“Don’t worry about her, she’s going to be too obsessed with perfecting her own routine to try to do anything to you today,” Julie responded with narrow eyes. 

Her gaze softened as she smiled at something behind Y/N. The girl gave her a puzzled look with her brows pulled to the middle of her forehead. Julie let go of her hands and took a step back.

“Plus, your lover boy looks like he’s happy with your outfit choice today too.” 

Y/N tilted her head to the side, eyes following Julie as she walked into the classroom. That frustrated glance disappeared as a familiar hold wrapped around her waist. She shivered as a kiss was placed on her neck before he whispered in her ear.

“Is it my birthday?” He said softly, a giggle falling from his lips.

She let a small smile form on her face as she turned around in his arms. Her hands reached out to his cheeks, cupping them. She let her thumbs rub along the skin as she took in his chiseled features. She let her hands slid around his neck as she relaxed into the embrace. 

“What?” She finally responded, shaking her head slightly.

“Because I really don’t deserve this treat on a normal day.” 

His eyes fell to her torso, and she followed his gaze. She tapped at the nap of his neck, bringing his eyes back up to hers. She rolled her eyes as the red appeared across his cheeks. His hands gripped around her waist a bit tighter as her eyes grilled him. 

“Do not stare me like a piece of meat, Patterson.” 

“I’M NOT I SWEAR I JUST,” He said in frustration, diverting his gaze to the ceiling. “You just look really good today,” He said, biting down on his lower lip.

“Well thank you, baby,” She said as she beamed up at him, batting her eyelashes.

He let go of his lip, letting it hang from his mouth in a pout. She let her eyes fall them for a moment before she leaned in and placed a soft his on his lips. He pulled her closer, but her arms fell from their place on his neck to break apart hands at her waist. She heard him sigh but continued her way toward the door with a smile on her face. 

The bell rang as she entered the classroom, Luke hot on her trail. She looked over to the empty chair next to Julie and sped in her direction. Her boyfriend followed closely behind, taking a spot in the chair behind her so that his arms could drape around her shoulders as they waited for the teacher to begin. The sound of heels clanking on the tile floor brought the loud discussions to a few light murmurs. 

“You all know that today is the day class,” Mrs. Harrison announced, taking her place at the front of the classroom. “I’m looking forward to hearing all of your final pieces.” 

Mrs. Harrison’s eyes fell on Y/N’s for a moment, giving her a warm smile as she clasped her hands at her chest. She had already known that she had chosen the first spot on the performance sheet over a month ago, but her brain hadn’t let her really understand what that meant until this moment. The teacher nodded toward the piano before addressing her verbally. 

“Y/N, I believe you are our first performer today. Are you ready?” 

The girl nodded, her hands grabbed the sheet music underneath her. Before she had the chance to lift herself up off the chair, she saw a hand raised in the corner of her eye. Mrs. Harrison’s gaze drifted for a moment as she pointed at the awaiting student. 

“Mrs. Harrison, don’t you think that Y/N’s outfit may be...I don’t know, a bit distracting during the performance?” 

Y/N let her gaze shift behind her as she finally landed on her feet. Raquel’s ridiculously performative frown turned to a smirk as their eyes met. 

The girl looked left to right seemingly in search of something as she held the classroom’s attention. “I know we have a dress code handbook around here somewhere.” 

Y/N crossed her hands at her waist, letting her papers crinkle under her grip. She heard the chair behind her start to move, and her gaze slipped over to her boyfriend’s pinched expression. 

As he started rise out of his chair, Y/N moved her right arm to hold a hand out toward his face. Luke sank back into his seat as he watched the altercation unfold in front of him. Mrs. Harrison said something Y/N couldn’t hear, all of her senses focused on the poised pale girl with her hands resting on her lap. Y/N licked her bottom lip, letting out a short, angry laugh before addressing her. 

“Raquel, I’ll be behind a piano. I think you’ll live.” She rose an eyebrow as the whispers around her went quiet. “Can I please do my performance now? We have very little time for intermissions.” 

She heard Luke let out a giggle behind her, a few kids around him joining in. The now flustered girl shooed away her gaze with her hand, bringing her left leg up to cross over her right and bringing her attention to Nick next to her. Y/N turned back around, nodding at her teacher, who gave her a knowing smile, before walking toward the piano. 

She placed the now slightly rippled paper on the stand before sitting down on the bench. She flexed her fingers a few times before setting her hands onto their placements on the black and white keys. She let her face turn toward the mic next to the instrument, eyes making their way back to Raquel. 

“This one is actually for you Kell,” The other girl leaned back in her chair as she listened. “I hope you like it.” 

Y/N’s hands glided down the keys. As the music began to pick up, her eyes softly closed. Her hands paused for a moment as her lips pressed forward toward the mic again. 

I stare at my reflection in the mirror Why am I doing this to myself? Losing my mind on a tiny error I nearly left the real me on the shelf

Her voice felt a little shaky, her heart thumbing into her fingertips as the moved from key to key. As she took that first exhale, she let her shoulders relax a bit and sat up straighter in her place. That’s when her fingers gained a mind of their own, running freely without waiting for her mind to catch up. Her forehead scrunched as she shook her head at the next lines. 

Don't lose who you are, in the blur of the stars Seeing is deceiving, dreaming is believing It's okay not to be okay

She felt tears start to bubble at the surface of her eyes, but she took a quick sharp breath before starting to sing again. The pull against her chest gaining strength as she sang from her gritty chest voice. 

Sometimes it's hard, to follow your heart Tears don't mean you're losing, everybody's bruising Just be true to who you are

She let her voice fade for a moment, the soft light accompaniment perfectly playing off of the bitter, somber tone in her voice as she hummed softly, her eyes facing the ceiling as she played. Her face lifted toward the center of the room, opening her eyes to find the girl across from her staring back with a wide gaze. Y/N let her left lip raise for a second before her voice took off again.

Brushing my hair, do I look perfect? I forgot what to do to fit the mold, yeah The more I try the less it's working, yeah, yeah 'Cause everything inside me screams, no, no, no, no, , no, yeah

She felt lyrics overtake her, her fingers pressing harder into the keys below them as she nodded along, eyes finally following her hands on their journey left to right. She could feel the warmth rising to her cheeks, but she couldn’t stop herself to focus on their appearance. She let the room shift to black again, her eyes shut as she repeated the chorus. 

Don't lose who you are, in the blur of the stars Seeing is deceiving, dreaming is believing It's okay not to be okay Sometimes it's hard, to follow your heart But tears don't mean you're losing, everybody's bruising There's nothing wrong with who you are

As her eyelids fluttered back open once more, she made it her mission to sing the last lines to her now puzzled enemy. Her hands fell into their placements a bit harsher, an aggressive tone ringing to match the intensity in her vocals. 

Yes, no's, egos, fake shows, like whoa Just go, and leave me alone Real talk, real life, good love, goodnight With a smile, that's my home That's my home, no

Raquel’s smart smirk fell for a moment, her hands relaxing on her thighs as the two stared at each other.

Y/N was ready to bring the song home, the repetitive lines already on the tip of her fingers made their way to the left side of the piano. She lightly touched the keys a few times before letting them hover over them silently. Y/N smiled to herself as she let her lips fall toward the microphone for the final time. 

Don't lose who you are, in the blur of the stars Seeing is deceiving, dreaming is believing It's okay not to be okay Sometimes it's hard, to follow your heart Tears don't mean you're losing, everybody's bruising Just be true to who you are

She played herself out, the delicate movements dancing off of her fingertips for a few seconds before she drew back. She kept her eyes on the keyboard for a moment as she let the impact of her words finally resonate within her. She began to hear clapping rise around her. As her eyes finally made their way to the rows of seat in front of her, she saw some of her classmates standing and smiling at her as the pressed their hands together. 

She pushed the bench out a bit, rising to bow toward the crowd. She heard a whistle sound in the crowd, looking over at her boyfriend whose smile was wide as he shook his head slowly at her. She slipped a wink in his direction before returning to the music stand to collect her sheet music. 

As she sat down in her chair, her eyes made their way to the other side of the room one more time. Raquel’s eyes refused to meet hers, her gaze fixated on her nails outstretched in front of her. Y/N sighed, bringing her focus back to her lap. After a moment of silence, she felt a hand rest on her lap. She looked over to Julie smiling in her direction.

“If we ever need Racket to shut up again, I’m giving you every single song in my notebook,” Julie’s gaze moved from her to the girl across the room and back. “Because man, did those vocals make her go silent.” 

Y/N felt her cheeks burn again under her friend’s gaze. She laughed off her nerves from the attention and set her hand on top of Julie’s. As she finally let herself breathe, a set of hands placed themselves on her shoulders, squeezing them on impact. She let her eyes fall behind her, meeting her boyfriend’s bright hazel eyes. 

“I’m in awe of you baby,” He said quietly. 

She scrunched her nose at him as he pressed his lips quickly to her head before letting go of her. As she turned back around in her seat, she couldn’t get the smile off her face. She tried to focus on her classmate’s guitar solo, but her brain kept going back to the words on the page. 

As the final performance ended and the bell rang, announcing the end of the class period, Y/N rose to her feet again. She swung her backpack over her shoulder and walked toward the door with Julie. As the duo entered the hallway, Y/N was pulled from Julie’s side by her forearm. The girl gasping at the sudden contact, but relief quickly washed over her as she realized who had stolen her away. 

Luke led her down the hallway, toward an empty stairwell. As they stood in the silent space, he released his hand from hers and pulled her in by her waist. Her smile spread across her face before she even had a chance to fight it, letting her hands rest on his chest. 

“I just wanted a moment alone with you,” He said, leaning his forehead against hers. “Are you okay?”

She let her teeth run across her bottom lip a few times before nodding. He returned the nod, leaning in and pressing his lips against hers. As they parted, his smile fell to a smart smirk as he took her in.

“I guess I really don’t need to save you, huh?” 

“No, I can handle my own battles,” She said confidently, tapping on his chest. 

She let her eyes fall back down to his lips, his eyes trailing after hers. “But I do need you to kiss me though..” 

He chuckled, bringing one of his hands up to her neck and pulling her in once more. 

.

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Tag list: @xplrreylo @lovesanimals , @anythingandeverythingfandom , @crybabyddl  @themaddies-obx , @lukeys-giggle , @bumbleberry-pie @kiss-themoongoodbye  @marinettepotterandplagg , @lolychu , @bathtimejish , @dasexydevitt13 @musicconversedance , @txrii  @bestdressedandstressed @daisiesforlacey  @epikskool  @bookfrog247 @carleywhittaker @princessvader15 @rudysbay @spooky-season-bitch  @kcd15  @meangirlsx @itz-jas @parkeret @writerinlearning @calamitykaty @whatever-happens-imma-stand-tall @teenwaywardasgardian @dream-a-little-bigger-x @tenaciousperfectionunknown @thesweetestsinner  @kinda-really-lost

#luke patterson #luke patterson x reader #luke patterson imagine #luke patterson fanfiction #jatp #julie and the phantoms #jatp imagines

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Inspired partially by the twitter trend of The Face Vs. The Face Sitting On It and just in time for Valentine’s Day! 

Gender Neutral Reader Insert. 

Enjoy my masterlist!

Support me on KoFi!

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While sitting in the car, you watch out the window. Folks buzz around you--some folks looking content, strolling about their day. Others are flitting around, a bit of crease in their forehead. And you feel for them. You know those days where there’s just not enough hours in the day to get it all done. Or it’s when one thing sets off a spiral of all terrible things. Or when you just don’t wake up on the right side of the bed. You know that crease all too well because currently you were having a bad sleeping week. 

You were getting tired when you were supposed to but the second you put your head on the pillow your brain was hot wired--keeping you up with all the things you needed to do, hadn’t done, all the appointments you had kept pushing off. It was finding the littlest things to find that anxiety and keep you staring up at the ceiling. Calum noticed the tossing and turning and tried his best to lull you to sleep this week, fixing you tea in the evening, getting you off your phone or laptop a couple hours before bed. He even started reading to you, but your ears picked up on the white noise of everything in the house. Your brain picked up the embarrassing memory that you hadn’t even considered in decades and now holding it in front of your mind’s eye for hours on end during the week. 

Like right now, you should’ve been at home sleeping. Your work was giving you a long weekend and you really could’ve used the time to catch some extra Z’s, but you were, admittedly, a little scared to stay home. Sure maybe you did fall asleep cuddled up next to Duke. But you worried that you’d stay up, worry yourself sick some more so when Calum told you he had some errands to run you immediately tagged along. The time running around would hopefully tire you out enough that when you got home you could actually fall asleep. 

So after Calum’s personal training session in the morning, which you sort of tagged along for, but mostly went through your own routine and getting a solid breakfast, you two were now buzzing around from store to store. Calum had gotten most of the grocery the other day, but he forgot a couple things so your first objective was to grab those and bring them back up. He then had to go to the post office to mail out his mother’s birthday cards and a few other things. 

While in the line at the post office, your head tucked into his back, Calum got a phone call from a guitar shop on the other side of time about a new model that had just come in. Calum had been eying it for ages, but he didn’t want to be reckless with his money especially after getting some work on his teeth and to the house. So he asked the guitar shop to keep an eye out for when more stock arrived in case it sold out before Calum felt comfortable spending a large sum of money like that again. 

The store agreed to set one off to the side for him and could keep it on hold until the end of the day. Which was perfect--still gave the two of you time to get lunch. You didn’t need to get anything, didn’t need to do anything. But even after lunch, Calum made one more pit stop. Here now at the gas station, you sit peering through the windshield and can see a mother with her two sons walking from the doors. They boys hold brightly colored icees in their hand, each clutching a bag field with goodies. 

You aren’t entirely sure whey Calum needed to stop here for anything. It’s not like he needed stamps, since he got those at the post office. He hadn’t pulled in to get gas. Lunch had been filling, though you tried not to stuff yourself too much just because you knew that on a long car ride, the last thing you wanted to do was be uncomfortably full. 

The door opens again, Calum strutting through with his glasses covering his eyes and resting comfortably atop the chubby cheeks. Barely hanging from the crook of his fingers is a brown plastic bag. The doors click open and he climbs into the driver seat. The guitar shop wasn’t that far, but today seemed to be a busy day on the road. Took you all too long just to get to the grocery store this morning. 

“Snacks?”

“Was craving something sweet after lunch.” 

You peer into the bag as he hands it over to you. Some gummy bears, gum, a bar or two of chocolate you can’t quite tell. You set it onto the floor at your feet. “Let me know when you want something.” But he’s already tearing into a Twix bar when you glance at him. “Or not,” you laugh. 

“The other stuff is for you--if you want to indulge. Can’t forget ya,” he pushes the glasses down for just a moment to wink at you and then looks into the rearview mirror. 

“Do you think you’re going to get this one?” you asks as the SUV rolls out from the parking lot and onto the asphalt of the highway. 

“Hmm, maybe. Gotta see how it feels first.”

You nod at his question, resting your head into the cushion of the seat. And it goes quiet for a while. The radio plays softly in the background, and every so often the packaging crinkles as Calum downs more of the chocolate and caramel treat. 

“Valentine’s Day is coming up soon,” Calum states, while paused in a bit of traffic. “Got any ideas on what you want to do for it?”

You think for a moment. Valentine’s Day has never been your thing--being perpetually single does that to a person. “Restaurants are going to be a nightmare.”

“Yeah, they will be.” Another crinkle comes from the right side of the car and then his arm reaches behind your seat, finding the small bag of trash you stash there--though you have to be careful when Duke sits in the backseat. Generally though, he doesn’t mess with too much. “My mom sent me a recipe of hers. It’s really good.”

“I’d be down for cooking.”

“Nothing else? Don’t wanna go sky diving? Give me another heart attack?”

You laugh thinking about the first birthday you spent with Calum together as a couple. “You didn’t die.”

“But I did almost shit myself.”

“You can play on stage to thousands of people, but no, jumping from a plane is a no-go.”

“Yes, because I am a sane human.”

You huff out a small tuft of laughter and turn to look at him. One hand on the wheel with the stainless steel linked chain dangling from his wrist. His other arm is resting against the door, gently tapping out a beat with his long slender fingers. “Do you want to do anything?”

“Valentine’s Day,” he scoffs. “How long have we been dating? When have I ever been dying to do anything on some random day in February.” His statement doesn’t fall venomously from his mouth. He even looks over to you with a smile. “I don’t need one day out of 365 to declare my love for someone.”

And it’s true. While Calum wasn’t super accepting of love from new people, while it took you months to show Calum that you were trustworthy and not someone to keep at an arm’s length, once he cracked open, he oozed adoration and love for people. And you knew it was a defense mechanism. You knew that when someone did care as hard as Calum did it wouldn’t always be an easy thing to win over. 

Calum, when he finally let someone one, loved hard. It could be a random Tuesday in July or a Sunday in February, and he would make sure his love was known. He never needed a special occasion to send flowers, to cook dinner, to offer to drive you to doctors appointments because he knew that sometimes you got too nervous or flustered by them to drive but did manage to push through if absolutely necessary. He’d easily pick up some gloves and an extra sponge if he saw you wiping down the walls in the kitchen or wiping through the counter. He kept fridge cleaning days marked on the calendar. And when you added reminders to wash bed sheets to the shared one, he also include rest breaks for you too. 

Calum had never needed someone to force him to show appreciation. 

“I mean, there is the option to literally do nothing on Valentine’s Day. Like treat it as any other day.”

“That’s still something,” he countered, turning on his signal and switching out from the middle lane. His exit was approaching in another mile and a half. 

“Oh fuck off,” you laugh. “We can’t cease to exist that day. Bare minimum we need to convert oxygen into carbon dioxide.”

Calum laughs softly, showing some of his teeth too. “Fair, fair. There’s another Netflix documentary coming out, true crime one. I forget what it’s fully about, but I think it’s about a serial killer if you’d be down to start it then?”

“When would I ever turn down the opportunity to be a detective with you?”

“You haven’t yet,” he states with laughter in his voice. 

“And I never will.” The ramp takes the two of you down and down and soon you’re winding through streets and not too far you can see the shopping center coming into view. He pulls into the lot of the shop and the two of you step out in unison. 

The bell above the door chimes as he opens it for you and you smile often in your thanks. “Hey, Calum!” one of the guys at the register calls out. The store is fairly empty. But you’re not shocked on a Tuesday afternoon. 

“Hey, Derek. How’s it going?” Calum heads directly over to the counter and you look up to the left wall, at the records on display.

“Let me know if you need anything,” the second guy states to you, “or if you want to see anything.” He’s younger than Derek, both look to be equally tattooed from the pieces that peek out from the short sleeve work shirts, but his face is significantly brighter. 

“Thanks,” you return and go back to the displays. You can hear Calum and Derek chatting but slowly tune it out, make it background noise to the music playing through the speakers. 

You turn to walk towards the back where more instruments sit and you can see Calum leaning into the glass display of the counter. The palms of his hand pressed into the metal edge. The sunglasses sit on top of his head and you notice the younger guy glancing over at you again.

He nods again and then goes back to his computer. Nothing else is said. And you look over the stringed instruments, ukuleles, some violins and then you spin around again, done with that lap and go to head up to Calum. “See anything?” he asks. 

You shake your head. “You’re the musically talented one. I just nod and smile when you talk about it.”

Derek returns, a case in hand. He comes out from the hinged doors that separate the sales floor from the registers and back of the store. You scoot a little closer to the display as the case is transferred over. Calum takes it easily heading to the corner you just abandoned to sit and check out the instrument. It’s a beautiful deep green, almost reminds you of the thick Washington forest. The body is slender. 

“That’s a pretty cool color,” you note, watching Calum work his fingers over the frets. 

He grins up at you. “Think so?” You give another nod. He doesn’t inspect it long before you can see the desire to give in crosses his face. 

Derek’s standing close by and you turn to him and keep your voice as close to a whisper as you can while still being heard. “What’s a bass like that cost?”

He rattles off the price, one eyebrow slightly raised over the other. You know Calum will riot--he’ll pitch a fucking fit. But you reach into your wallet and slide out your card. You had been saving--for a year. You wanted to do something big for Calum. You just didn’t know what it was yet specifically though you had some ideas, a bass was top of the list.  But you didn’t want to try and go out and buy a bass without consulting him, without getting an understanding of what he liked. You thought about maybe a really good leather jacket and some more boots. He loved the ones he had, wore them as much as he could. 

And when you mentioned possibly getting him more, he told you the ones he had were still in good shape. Calum wasn’t the type to just buy clothes to buy them. He indulged here and there, but always made a point to wear something he had down before replacing it. You’d tease the subject a couple more times after that, but he never took the bait and you weren’t going to force him into a thing he didn’t want or need. 

But it’s clear to you that this is something he wants. But he’ll tussle with himself and never give in on it. It’s pricer than you thought it would be. But you too were being smart, having finally paid off the last of your car, you start moving those payments to savings and it helped a great deal. You were fine. You get insurance and the whole deal as Derek advises. By the time you slide the receipt back across the counter, Calum comes back to the registers. “I appreciate you holding it for me, man. But I don’t think I can right now.”

Derek looks at you and you look down into the glass. “It’s--it’s yours, dude.”

“What?” Calum breathes behind you. 

“They-uh, they paid for it,” Derek says, nodding at you.

You can feel the heat in your body now and spin around to face Calum in a rush. “Consider it a not Valentine’s Day gift.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“Ever since I finished paying off my car, I saved the payments to do something nice for you. Didn’t know what it was going to be for sure. But I know you, Calum. You’d want something and tell yourself no. I mean you can treat yourself sometimes.”

“You-you didn’t?” His eyes are rapidly blinking, head shaking like he doesn’t want to believe you. Like he can’t believe you as his mouth mumbles out, “No,” repeatedly. 

“It’s yours,” you nod. “It’s really yours.”

If it weren’t for the weight of the bass, you’re sure Calum would’ve tipped over, maybe even rushed to Derek to hand the case back over, but instead he’s weighed down, chained to this spot in the blue speckled carpet of the store, still repeating, “No,” softly. 

“‘I hate to break it to you, but you’re gonna have to find space in your office for it now. Because I refuse to return it.” You step forward, find the handle and slip your hands around it taking it from Calum. A small grunt leaves you and then you start to the door, throwing a thanks to Derek. 

The lights to the SUV blink and you can hear the locks clicking open as you push open the door to the store. “Wait--what are you doing?” Calum asks. 

“Open the trunk please,” you ask. 

“Let me do it,” he demands, stepping in close to take the case with the bass now. “What the fuck did you do? Baby, this is expensive.”

“It’s not a Valentine’s Day gift,” you answer again. “Because I love you. On a random Tuesday.”

He gets the instrument safely into the trunk and then closes it, watching dumbly as you climb into the passenger side. He walks to the driver seat and climbs in, taking you gently by the chin. “That was absolutely reckless and unnecessary-- ”

“I am just absolutely reckless and unnecessary then,” you counter, “because I’m not returning it.”

“--but thank you. Thank you so much,” he continues as if you hadn’t interrupted him. “I love you.”

“I love you.” Then it’s silent, as the two of your gaze at each other, watching what could almost be tears well in his eyes, but they don’t fall. 

“I don’t know what I did to deserve a person like you, but whatever it was, I’m glad I did it.”

“I’m glad you did it too.” The two of you return home, Duke rushing to the front door as the two of you step through it. Calum safely places the bass in his music room/office and returns shortly after to help you decide on what to order for dinner. 

As the two of you settle onto the couch, Calum takes your hand and presses a kiss to teach knuckle. “I’m gonna teach you how to play.”

“You know we’ve done this before.”

“And you were good at it.”

“I was alright at it.”

“It’ll be your bass,” he whispers. 

“I bought it for you,” you return tossing your head back to look at him. 

He kisses your lips. “Yeah, but it’ll be the one that I teach you to play for real one and it’ll be yours--just as much as it is mine.”

“A true sap,” you laugh, but nod and return your focus back to the TV. 

In the week that follows, Calum makes sure to take an hour in the evenings to set you down and pick up on the lessons. They fizzled out as work for the both of you picked up. But now things are a bit more calm. He sits next to you, assessing what you remember from last time and correcting finger placements as needed, but they go smoothly. 

When Valentine’s Day does come, Calum pulls you back into bed for just five more minutes of sleep. And five minutes turns into half an hour. But finally you two pull yourself out from the sheets, figure out what to do in the midmorning that results in food being consumed and then you slowly gravitate towards different sections of the house. 

There’s still a bit of laundry to be done and Calum takes Duke out for just a little bit. The two of you migrate back together by mid afternoon. He finds you making a quick lunch and presses a kiss to your cheek. You turn to face him, squeezing at his. “I bought some face masks,” he offers. “Care to join me in doing the bare minimum of converting oxygen into carbon dioxide after your lunch?”

“Don’t see how I could pass up such a wonderful offer? You want anything?” He shakes head, mentioning grubbing on some of the leftovers earlier while you took a nap. 

With your lunch done and the plates cleaned, you find Calum in the bedroom and let him know you’re ready for the face masks. He shuffles to the bathroom. “I hope I got the right one for you,” he mutters. “I got them forever ago it feels, so who the hell knows what I got.” His laughter is soft as he rummages through the bins under the skin. 

“I’ll be in the office,” you tell him and he nods, still pulling bins out. You settle into the couch and spy the green bass still on the stand from yesterday. You pull it into your lap and sling your arm over it. The amp next to you is off, you know but you still pluck away at it as if it were on. 

Calum shuffles in a few minutes later. “Um, babe. It’s off.”

You don’t reply but do look up. He holds up three different packages. “Here’s to hoping one of these is worthwhile.” You place your bass back to the stand and take one that sounds like one you’re okay with using. Calum hands you a towel so you can wipe your fingers off after you get it placed onto your face. He helps get it right and then you help him with his and the two of you slip onto the couch, legs entangled and leaning into opposite ends of the couch.

You laugh at Calum’s story as you scroll mindless through app after app. In the boredom you snap a picture of Calum with the face masks on and don’t think too much of it, saving it to the album with all the silly and cute photos of him are--there are tons. 

“I mean the sun is a star. Though the ones we see have been dead for a long time.”

Calum taps your leg with his foot. “It was a simple question--to be the sun or the stars. I didn’t ask for this philosophical crisis.”

“Why would it not weigh in your decision! If you’re a star like the ones we see at night, you’re technically already dead. You wanna be dead?” You huff, sitting up. 

“I mean, no, but c’mon.”

“It’s a valid thing to consider, that’s all I’m saying!”

He laughs. “Okay, sun or the moon?”

“You first,” you return and just then your alarm on your phone goes off. The two of you shuffle back to the bathroom and take off the masks. 

“Moon, maybe,” he counters. 

You nod. “Fitting. When should we get started on that recipe of your moms? Is it super involved?”

“Nah, it’s pretty easy. Normal time should be good. I’m going to read outside if you want to join.”

“Maybe in a bit.”

Calum nods, grabbing his book as he passes through the bedroom and the patter of Duke’s claws follow behind him. You go back to the music room, turn on the amp and then actually play a little something. It’s nothing fancy--just the arrangement you put together with Calum as a practice exercise once. You play it for a bit, adding a little flair. When you phone rings, you pause to answer it. You wouldn’t normally, but the number looks semi recognizable so you answer it. 

It’s just a scam call and you hang up but then notice some other notifications. Before you realize it, you’re deep into Twitter. You’ve run across the trend of people posting pictures of themselves and their significant others with the caption, The Face Vs The Face Sitting On It. It made you laugh just a little bit at first. And then you kept going down the rabbit hole. Some are silly, most are good pictures. 

While it’s not exactly secret that you and Calum are dating, you two don’t post too much. Calum isn’t incline to post on social media in the first place and while you use it a bit more than him, you try not to post too much about him out of respect. However, as you look tap on quote retweet and bring up your photos you think maybe one silly post wouldn’t hurt. So you grab the one of him recently with the face masks and then one of yourself--it’s silly too, a little blurry too in the darkness that it was taken in. 

You hit post and watch the likes come in. Then keep scrolling. Eventually you have to put the bass away and peel yourself from the couch to find Calum and see if he’s hungry enough for dinner. Just as you round the corner to the office, you spy him stepping through the glass sliding backdoor. “Hungry?” you ask. 

He nods, “Yeah.”

The two of you, with Duke trotting ahead, make your way down the hallway and into the kitchen. “You’re funny,” he states, washing his hands first. 

“Thank you. I’ll be here until you kick me out.”

He laughs. “No, the pictures you posted. On Twitter.”

You’re shocked that he noticed it that fast. Normally it took him a bit longer to see silly stuff like that. “Hope you don’t mind.”

“Nah. What I hope you don’t mind is my reply.”

At first you’re nervous. Calum could’ve gone one of two ways--super silly and broke out even worse photos of you possibly not sober or he went super on trend with it and pulled out a photo of you done up for a date night. Not that you preferred one over the other, but sometimes you liked to keep your relationship light on social media. It was easier that way. There wasn’t any real pressure that way. Though the fans seemed to have enjoyed it when you posted more posed and serious content. 

You liked to keep it a bit more real. You and Calum didn’t do the whole nine yards a lot--you two were normal people who hated getting out of bed some days and went as well into the afternoon before showering at times and walked Duke and went to doctor’s appointments like everyone does. So you always opted for a bit of a joke, a silly Tweet or photo whenever you could. 

“What did you post?” you ask. 

He shrugs, taking up the knife to dice the onion. “I’m not telling you.”

You glance at the printed out recipe and get a pan on the aisle over medium heat before pulling out your phone. As you load the app, you listen to the snap of the knife fitting the wooden cutting board. You type Calum’s name and tap onto his profile. 

While there’s is silly--I do want to take a moment to show off my favorite person in the world. So here we go, The Face Vs. The Face Sitting On It. Below is attached a picture of him--you snapped while you two were out for lunch one day. The black t-shirt tight around his biceps as he slyly grins into the camera. The lights in the background are just barely in focus of the resturant and Calum’s glancing out of the window next to him. You remember that you were recording him, or at least you thought you were, and told him that he was handsome. Not the first time, but everytime he did, he blushed and turn away. And you captured it here too. 

The photo of you is actually one with him in it. The guys got together and did a big family dinner and the two of you posed at Crystal’s request in the slightly matching outfits. You hadn’t intended to match--though black was a staple in both your wardrobes. You were a bit different thanks to the pop of color in your shoes, but in the lighting of the street lamp, you had to admit that you did look hot. The first couple of  buttons on your shirt you were undone and with your hands tucked into the pockets, you looked like you owned shit. 

“While I hoped that you’d go with something more silly, I will take this,” you finally say. 

“That picture is literally my background for a reason,” he returns. 

You kiss his cheek and then trace over the stubble with your teeth to his ear. “Can I make a reservation for tonight?”

“The table is reserved for you literally at all times,” he returns in a breathe. 

“Good,” you laugh and then glance back to the recipe. 

#calum hood #calum hood blurb #calum hood x reader #calum hood x reader insert #calum hood imagine #calum hood smut #Calum Hood smut adjacent #5sos #5sos fanfic #5sos fic #5sos imagine #h writes #5 seconds of summer #5 seconds of summer fanfic #5 seconds of summer fic #5 seconds of summer imagine #gender netural reader

[orenjineki]

Dabi the house-elf

Summary:When you don't get your Hogwarts letter at 11, you spam Hogwarts with letters until they get pissed of and send you a human Dabi who thinks he is a house-elf. And he's always naked and hung. Crap.

Warnings: Dub-Con, Dubious Consent, R18, Minors DNI

Notes: I am so sorry but I saw this tiktok by @savs_creates where Dabi is a house-elf and I just couldn't stop myself. https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMerqQ5Dc/

I thank @mangospams who is my greatest inspo when it comes to Yandere Dabi.

You had a house-elf. As a muggle. A house-elf. The size of a grown, human!, man with a sizeable…erm, well size. Not only his frame was decently sized but also his private parts, as you liked to call them in your mind when you happened to accidentally see them from the corner of your eyes when the brown bedsheets you had given the man? elf? once again did a terrible job at covering him.

Which you did not want to see since you were still unsure about his race. To be fair, you were unsure about a lot of things since you turned eleven. Up until your 11th birthday you were convinced that you would get a letter from Hogwarts, be declared a witch and go on a great many adventure with your new, magical friends in a school that was essentially a death trap for children. (They have a forbidden forest with giant spiders, that can and will eat you, unless you raised the og spider because you thought it was a cute pet!). The thought that Hogwarts was not real, merely a product of fiction, did not occur to you. And why would it, since quirks were real, why shouldn't magic be?

And so you waited for your letter, standing on the doormat of your home, looking for owls. But none came. But they had to! And so you waited. And waited. With the interruption of school, food and sleep. But not a single bird, not even a pigeon, dropped a letter with a red wax seal in front on your feet. But you never gave up hope, maybe they just got lost on their way?

You waited so long that you eventually turned twelve. Angry about this unreliability and with a feeling of betrayal, you decided to take matters into your own hands and write them a letter instead, ha! And so you did, every day, complaining about the fact that this magical institute had the audacity to not send you your magical letter! Heck, even an email would have been fine! Your parents tried to stop you at first but since you were somewhat decent at school, they let you keep your paper intense hobby. When you had sent your 6666thletter, way past your 18th birthday, you finally got an answer!

''Dear Ms. …,

We have received your thousands upon thousands of letters, demanding to be announced a witch and allowed into our school. However, we are glad to inform you that you are, through and through, a muggle. Usually we would ignore such profligate attempts at gaining something which you do not deserve but the amount of paper you have wasted for your letters poses a threat to the environment which muggle folk already treat with so much disrespect. Therefore, as a reimbursement, and a desperate attempt to get you to stop writing us, we will send you a human who thinks he is also a magical being without a trace of magic in his veins. In this case it is a human man who got hit with a confundus charm as a child and is convinced that he is a house-elf. When you finish reading this letter, you will find him standing in your kitchen, awaiting your orders.

Sincerely, the secretary of Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry.''

Wait, so Hogwarts is real? And you have a house-elf/human now? What? You drop the letter and rush into the kitchen to see a man, with white hair, piercing blue eyes and piercings on…anyway. You couldn't decide what was more confusing about the situation. The fact that he appeared out of nowhere, the fact that large parts of his body were burned or the fact that he was naked. You decided to accept this new version of reality by staring at him incredulously for a good five minutes, in which he did not blink once, staring back at you.

Since he didn't say anything and you started to feel a little drowsy from this… revelation, you decided to end the day early and go to sleep in your one-room apartment. Sadly, your apartment was too small to hide in another room, hoping that he would be gone, only a really weird dream, when you woke up and entered the living room the next morning. Sadly, your living room was also your bedroom and your kitchen and so you could only turn around and stare at the wall incredulously until you fell asleep. The next morning you woke up feeling surprisingly refreshed, since your apartment was always too cold to catch a good night's sleep. But somehow you felt really warm, as if you had shared the bed with another, very warm body.

…

Was that breathing you heard near your ear, right behind you? You turned around in a millisecond and went right back to incredulously staring at your house-elf-human. Holy shit, he was still there. And naked. And now he spoke, making it even harder to ignore his existence. ''Is master mad at Dabi? Should Dabi burn himself as punishment?'' He raised a hand and a very hot and very scary looking blue flame emerged from it. Great, so you had a crazy human who was convinced to be a house-elf with a fire quirk in your very small and very expensive apartment. Just great. You decided to pretend this was real. Maybe if you went along with it, he would be revealed to be a figment of your imagination and someone would send you to a mental hospital where live might be a bit more normal than this. ''N…n…no, please don't! I'm just confused, it's fine, you did nothing wrong.''

And so you had a human house-elf. You tried really hard to convince him that he wasn't an elf, but his believe in his magicalness was as unyielding as 11 year old you's. You decided to just treat him like a really confused roommate. Very, very confused. He kept standing or laying as close to you as possible, staring at you so hard you worried he would set you ablaze with his eyes. Those eyes…

They were always on you. If it wasn't such a weird situation, he might have been your type, though more ''normal'' in his speech patterns preferably. The scars didn't look ugly, just saddening when you wondered about the pain his quirk must have caught him. In order to give him and you more privacy, you gave him an old brown bedsheet as clothing since he refused anything that was new and without holes. He was actually quite helpful around the household, watching you doing daily chores and picking them up immediately the next day until all you had left to do yourself was work and grocery shopping.

He did however always manage to make you slightly uncomfortable with the way he would stare at you whenever he had nothing to do but you had to write a paper or watch a cat video. And he was absolutely horrible when he interacted with other people, other men to be exact. One time, when you forgot to tell him to hide under the blanket when the doorbell rang, the delivery man had been visible from the kitchen unit and he stared at him, an eerie smile on his face, and a blue flame in one hand. You decided to push the delivery man out of his view, grabbed the package and slammed the door shut. After that you had a serious discussion about ''politeness'' with Dabi and he just kept insisting that ''Master doesn't need anyone else, only Dabi''.

You tried to talk him out of this worldview, but every time you even remotely disagreed with him, the room suddenly got very hot and smoke poured out of his ears and you decided to drop it. Maybe you should get a post office box instead.

From that day on everything seemed mostly fine, until you came home from work, very exhausted, with a sore neck. You yawned a lot more than usual when you tapped away on your phone and stretched your arms and moved your head around in a desperate attempt to ease the pain. Suddenly, two very warm hands found their way on your shoulders and a very hard and apparently large cock pressed into you from behind.

You gasped in shock, your breath stopping. Soft, white hair tickled your neck when your ''house-elf'' whispered into your ear: ''Does master need help relaxing? Dabi saw some of those massage videos master always watches at night on her phone. The humans in the videos look very calm after the massage.''

Your eyes widened in realization and horror, your ''house-elf'' had found your browser history. Great…

You tried to wriggle free from his hold, but only managed to rub your ass into his hard, and pierced, member, making the ''house-elf'' groan softly. The deep noise made your legs quiver and pulled a pathetic whimper from your lips. To your own shame, the most recent ''massage video'' you saw came to your mind and you wondered if he would really go this far. Before you could form another coherent thought, he let go of you to grab a glass of coconut oil from the fridge, melting it's content in his hands.

Then, his oily hands wandered, one under your shirt to softly massage your left nipple and make you whimper, the other under your waistband, inside your panties, to softly rub at your clit. Apparently, he had seen one of the more ''romantic'' videos, because you also felt his lips press soft kisses all over your neck and collarbone. Maybe he was really a magical creature, since the way he played with your admittedly very single body wiped all coherent thought from your mind. He kept rubbing and rubbing your clit until you came with a very embarrassing, very high-pitched moan.

''Don't worry master, Dabi will make you feel even better''. Before you could really grasp what he meant, something warm, hard and big was slowly pressed into your now soaked pussy. An even bigger, even more pathetic whimper left your lips. At your very audible reaction to his actions your ''house-elf'' stilled inside you once he bottomed out and laid his chin on your shoulder, looking at you with the widest eyes you ever saw on him. ''Is Master in pain?''.

You shook your head, bit down on your lip, and realized that you desperately needed him to pound you against the kitchen counter. ''I'm…I'm fine, please just move''. The desperation was very audible in your voice and the look of concern disappeared from Dabi's face. Instead, he licked your ear and whispered:'' Only if you Master admits that master belongs to Dabi''.

''W…what?!''

''Say it or Dabi will burn the next man that tries to sneak into master's home with a package.''

''O..ok, whatever. Master belongs to Dabi''.

The reaction where a dark chuckle and a kiss to your ear before he pulled out of you completely to thrust back in. When you didn't protest and your moans only grew in volume, his hands wandered and he started to squeeze each breast with a very large and warm hand. For the second time that night you wondered whether he actually was magical, since this felt like a very ''magical'' experience. Definitely fantastic with the way the various piercings battered into your g-spot and your clit, making you moan and whine just as loud as the women in your ''massage videos''. When Dabi saw your head fall back on his shoulder and your tongue roll out, he decided to make sure that everyone could see you were his and bit down on your neck, hard. You yowled out in pain but he compensated for it by rubbing your clit and thrusting so hard that you came on his cock half a minute later. The sensation of your walls squeezing him tightly and your cute whines also pushed him over the edge and you could feel his warm seed trickle out of you once he slowly retreated.

The house-human picked you up and held you bridal style in his arms before you could collapse. You still groaned softly from the overstimulation and he carried you to your very small shared bed. After carefully tucking you into bed and pulling you into his naked chest, he softly pushed your hair out of your face and gave you a number of soft kisses all over you face, on your nose, cheeks and mouth.

Before you managed to fall asleep, completely exhausted, you could hear him whisper into your hair after kissing your head:

''Now Master is Dabi's mate. I love you master, but if I ever see another man at the door I will turn him into a pile of ash''.

#dabi #dabi x reader #dabi smut #mha smut #mha crack #dabi crack #yandere dabi #yandere dabi x reader #mha yandere #yandere mha #dubcon #dub-con #tw dubcon

[agathasangel]

written in the stars (wilhemina venable x fem!reader)

Warnings: None really? This is like a short lil fluff/soulmate/love at “first sight” kind of fic.

Summary: (This is kind of a post-time reset part 2 of “her favorite”?) Years ago, the apocalypse happened and you fell in love in an underground outpost, but the timeline reset so you remember nothing. Years later, you went to party because you were bored. And she only went because she needed to work on her personal life after quitting her job. But you were just so familiar to each other.

You were at the birthday party of a girl you went the college with, Mattie Venable. It was the year after you graduated, but even after a year you forgot how overwhelmed you got at large house parties like this. You looked for a quiet room to sit in and calm down, and there was one that was occupied by someone you could never have missed. A woman a bit older than you with flaming red hair dressed head-to-toe in lilac, with a cane in one hand and a glass of red wine in the other. She was absolutely stunning, and you could have sworn you had seen her before, but you couldn’t possibly put your finger on where.

“My sister is a little too old to be throwing this kind of a party for herself, don’t you think?” the woman asked you.

“You’re Mattie’s sister?”

“I am. Wilhemina Venable.”

You’ve never heard of a Wilhemina Venable. So why did that name sound so familiar?

“I’m (y/n).”

“Were you particularly close friends with Mathilda, (y/n)? Forgive me, but I swear I’ve heard of you before.”

“Mathilda?”

“That’s Mattie’s real name. Our parents liked the idea of giving us unusual old-fashioned names and then more “normal” nicknames. Mine is Mina. But were you close to her?”

“Not really.”

“That’s for the better. She is a drunken spoiled brat who only cares about herself.”

“Why are you here then?”

“I recently quit my job. I don’t have friends so I thought that coming here might be a good idea.”

“What was your job? Can I ask why you quit?”

“Have you heard of Kineros Robotics? I was the secretary there. But in reality, I ran the whole place. I did almost everything but building the robots. I don’t know what those two imbeciles are going to do without me if I’m honest, but I suppose it’s not my problem. I quit because I was not able to have a life outside of work. Which would have been fine if those two idiots had given me more agency, treated me with more respect.... I’m rambling, I apologize...”

“No, go on...”

“And I suppose that I wanted some kind of life outside of work. So here I am. But I can’t say I’ve liked any of the people my sister keeps around. Except you, (y/n). I can’t put my finger on why, but you seem... different. Tolerable, at the very least.”

“Thank you?”

“What are you doing here if you aren’t close with Mattie and obviously don’t like big crowds and hard alcohol?”

“I was just bored. I graduated last year with Mattie and I don’t really have anything to do or anyone to visit. And then she invited me to her party and I thought, hey, why not?”

“Do you have no friends?”

“I have a couple but they never seem to be available.”

“Boyfriend or, um, girlfriend?”

“No. I dated a girl for a while junior year though. But it didn’t work out.” you hoped the woman would pick up on the hint that not only were you into girls (if she was, you weren’t sure but you definitely got a vibe) but that you were available.

“What about you, Wilhemina Venable?”

“You may call me Mina. And no, I barely even have friends.”

“I’m your friend now, Mina. Unless of course you want me to be something else...”

“Maybe I do. Would you like to- how do I put this... get out of here?”

“I think I would.”

You left the party, and Mina drove you to a wine bar.

“This can be our first date,” she told you, “Although I swear I know you. You seem incredibly... familiar.”

“You do too. It’s almost as if in another life we had a whole relationship already.”

When you were sat down at the bar, she attempted to start another conversation with you.

“I’m not sure what I should ask you.”

“Anything!”

“Um...what do you do for work?”

“Well I work as a waitress now but I’m looking to get jobs as a writer or illustrator.”

“So you write? And draw?”

“I do. Can I draw you?”

“Yes, I would love that (y/n).”

She asked you to spend the night with her, and you agreed. You drew her in a fancy Victorian-style purple gown, still holding her cane, without her glasses and with her bright red hair pinned pack out of her beautiful face.

“(Y/n), I- I love it. It’s... exactly how I wish I saw myself.”

So you took the drawing out of your sketchbook and gave it to her to keep.

“I have such a clear vision in my head of you exactly like this. I don’t know why.”

“I see you in a similar purple gown and a corset. Almost like a memory. I actually... have several, maybe I have one that would fit.”

So you went into her closet, which had several lovely period-style dresses in all different shades of purple. She found a corset that she thought would fit you and the two of you played dress-up in her closet for a bit.

“I got into this type of fashion when I was quite young. My parents liked it, but what made me really interested was the fact that I had to wear a back brace that was very close to a real corset to improve my posture.”

“Why?”

“I- I have scoliosis, a very bad case. It’s the same reason I walk with a cane now. I would prefer not to let you see my back. For a while, at least.”

“That’s fine. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

When you found a dress that, according to Mina, suited you perfectly, she asked if she could take a photo of you. She darkened the room and lit candles, and then took several pictures.

“Lovely. You are so beautiful, (y/n). I’ve had this image in my head for a long time, of a girl who looks like you in a dress like that. Of kissing her in low candlelight. May I please kiss you, little one?”

“Please.” you said.

You were often quite tense and stiff in your kisses, but with Mina it was easy. She knew exactly how to kiss you. Take control, gently bite your lip, and softly cup your face before moving her hands down to your waist and then wrapping her arms around you.

You both changed into pajamas after that, both of you wearing nightgowns owned by Mina. 

“I’ve been racking my brain all night wondering how I know you, little one, but I know we’ve never met.”

“Me too.”

After months of dating, you and Mina came to the conclusion that you were in fact, soulmates.

“I know it seems ridiculous. I never even believed in love before all of this and now I’m here talking about “love at first sight” and “soulmates” and “destiny”.” said Mina

“You and I were meant to be, Mina. I love you.”

#wilhemina venable x reader #wilhemina venable #sarah paulson fics #sarah paulson imagine #sarah paulson x reader #ahs fanfiction #ahs apocalypse #ahs fic #ahs apocalypse fanfic #american horror story #ahs imagine #my fics

[mmtions]

re: your reply to schrödinger’s love confession: YES! A THOUSAND TIMES YES! THAT IS IT EXACTLY!!!! 2/3 of the fic are Eddie and the readers slowly descending into madness, and Linda finding the whole thing extremely entertaining. and yes, whether they were or weren't together the whole time is left unclear, because who cares right, at until the epilogue when their one year anniversary is coming up and eddie realises he can't be sure when it is.

btw, i told myself i wouldn't do this today that id wait a few days but then i got another idea halp me the buddie mania has taken me

however, with the texas madness I got another fun working theory I’m going to call: FOOD IS THE FOOD OF LOVE! (because taking Shakespearean quotes and using them for my evil headcanon purposes gives me great pleasure)

basically, now after Texas, the floodgates are really truly open and eddie needs to cook for the ones he loves. so, does he go a little overboard, perhaps. but does he get a little over ambitious, going around and spouting his new personal motto “hey, if you can read the recipe, you can make the recipe” , maybe. look, eddie is an intense guy and if he's going to do something, he's gonna go all in. plus, you know what, when it comes to cooking, a little confidence and some trial and error go a long way and soon, he can use a pressure-cooker and a oven thermometer with the best of them.

and then christopher discovers the chocolate guy videos.

and then buck’s birthday is coming up.

and look, eddie isn’t an idiot. he knows that he isn’t anywhere near the level of skill of the chocolate guy. but it gives him an idea. it inspires him, ok. because surely, he should be able to make a birthday cake for buck from scratch. you know, as a thank you for all the times buck’s been there for him in the past year. not as a declaration of love or anything. there’s totally not a lot riding on the success of this. 

and after all, he is a firefighter, he works in extreme conditions every day of the week. how difficult can it really be to make gooey salted caramel for the filling, anyway.

okay listen thATs tHe ThING i'm SENSITIVE ABOUT. did you see that post like eddie cooking for his sisters aged 12 and then never again. god. everytime i think i'm over like five minutes of eddie content from yesterday it turns out i'm absolutely not. the tamales!!!

anyway yes. i absolutely believe eddie is a rigid recipe follower and does not trust his instincts at all. which actually makes him a better baker than cook technically, though he's getting better at both. it's maybe time to admit he's a control freak when he suddenly has thirteen different ways of checking the temperature of his oven. (I was going to list out the different treats he makes each of the 118 - AND CARLA HE MAKES LOTS OF GOODIES FOR CARLA because she deserves it i stg s6 better bring some appreciation for carla - but i hate baking with a passion and i'm in the uk so even if i could name some baked treats i bet they'll all be called different things anyway).

anyway yes he tries to bake for buck but like it's his narrative so in his head they're disasters. and he keeps foisting them off on various people (christopher's class has diabetes now after the fourth attempt) because they're terrible and not good enough. and literally everyone responds to him like "um eddie these were delicious what are u talking about" and he's like no not good enough. eddie control freak my beloved.

anyway eddie is still trying to perfect the recipe when Buck literally just finds some leftovers in the fridge and scarfs them down with absolutely no discrimination. and he's says they're delicious, with caramel stuck to his bottom lip, and eddie just has to kiss him - mostly because buck looks delicious, but also partly out of relief that he doesn't have to bake that recipe anymore.

(later eddie claims he successfully courted buck - buck privately thinks courting should involve a bit more than launching oneself around the kitchen table for a searing kiss, but he's not complaining)

#asks #thanks beloved anon!