#hope i run into them again in a better circumstance

[juuls]

I keep falling asleep everywhere and it’s only been a few days. Any Spoonies of the Fibro kind have any experience with this..:….? : Basically on Wednesday my body started hurting everywhere and not just in the trigger points. No new meds, no new habits. But it got so unbearable that my brother dropped me off at the hospital (he had to pick me up about a half dizen hours later because of Raid, which I said was wonderfully fine (I used to raid, myself lol)).

I kept falling asleep everywhere. Waiting room, doctor’s room before he got in, doctor’s room after, and then at the coffee shop I waited at for my brother (the staff were so sweet and basically adopted me).

Had to fight (well, I gently pushed, not fought) for even 3 days of the lowest form of ‘narcotic family meds. It helped but I’ll definitely talk to my regular doc about it on June 1st.

Doc was a little worried about a blood-borne virus or another type of virus that starts eating st the joints. Which actually jives with what my physiotherapist said on Tuesday when she noticed arthritic nodules at the base of my fingers that weren’t there a year ago. Sigh. Would be a shame if I had gout. :P

And yet he still didn’t draw blood or seab or anything fir other samples???

People hear ‘fibromyalgia’ and seem to just close off half their brain. Ridiculous.

But yes. Mostly my question is: have any of you experienced excessive lethargy and sharp pain everywhere on your body, not just triggers? Any hints or clues from your own life experience?

Medical side of Tumblr, I call upon you with this ring of—wait, wrong script. 😂

But yeah, any and all advice would be loving. When it’s just my trigger points hurting, I do know how to lie down to minimize the pain. This, though? Far more widespread snd the lethargy is likely because of not sleeping well.

*violently shakes magic 8 ball* GIVE ME A CLEAR ANSWER, YOU HUNK OF JUNK

And before you ask: yes I had a fully normal (besides herniation and degeneration) MRI done in 2018, osteoporosis check every few, pap every 3, somewhat regular blood tests (unless they look at the wrong things…

So hey! It’s great I’m not nauseous nearly as bad as those 8 months were but oh lookie, a new problem. Or one I was ignoring on purpose while dealing with the nausea.

Sad part is I can only have a ~1km walk a day and it’s been so lovely out. I can sit on the comfy deck chairs but everyone else has to walk Yg noe. My baby. 😢🥲🥰

Off to go fall asleep outside since I just now crossed “fall asleep in shower” off my list. Jeebies H. Crab.

Any help is great, even commiserating! Love all y’all and thanks for listening to me be all upset. Time for some fanfic I’ll likely get a paragraph into then zzzzzz. :P

💜💙💜❤️🧡💙💜

#fibromyalgia #spoonie #disability #spoonie advice #disability advice #hospital #ER visit #emergency room #incompetent staff #seems like it but yesh they were reslly nice too) #at least it was a quick stay so I had time to walk over to the pharmacy #then asked if I could use an out if the way booth at Tim Horton’s #they were really sweet and gave me food because i had no money abd they practically adopted me #hope i run into them again in a better circumstance #:) #myofascial pain #SUCKS SO MUCH #thank you for listening to me rant #even if no one replies (i hope you do though!) it’s just nice to vent eh? #oh yeah this is in Canada #love y’all and stay safe and be well. muah! 💋

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

the things you do for love ; satoru gojo

synopsis; satoru begs you to wear the frilly maid dress he bought. against your better judgement, you indulge him.

word count; 7.0k (this was supposed to be short but i miss him terribly)

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, fluff fluff fluff!!, sickeningly sweet, literally just satoru being down horrendous, lots and lots of petnames (he is embarrassing), he’s ur biggest hypeman, entirely sfw!! (i feel like i have to specify that…), reader is a lil grumpy, satoru gojo is the most insufferable man on earth <3

a/n; this is just a silly lil wip i found in my drafts…. i dont remember what possessed me to write this i just think satoru would cry and fall to his knees and throw up blood if he saw u in a frilly dress

”— no.”

the word rolls off your tongue, instantaneous, with a decisive kind of sterness. leaving no room for hesitation, doubt or indecision; not a single gap for his argument to fit through, no loophole he could take advantage of to persuade you into giving in.

but despite all that, satoru just won’t back down.

”come on, baby, please?” he pleads, voice coaxing and sugary sweet. you can almost see those puppy dog eyes of his from behind the black glass of his shades. ”i already bought it and everything!”

”i don’t care,” you spit. a halfhearted attempt at appearing annoyed, in hopes it’ll distract him from the strawberry flush of your cheeks. ”i’m not wearing it. you shouldn’t have bought it, in the first place.”

”but sweetheart,” he drawls, tinged with a sadness he knows tugs at your heartstrings. ”it’s so cute. you’ll look so adorable.”

”not happening.”

”but —”

”— no. i’m seriously not wearing it, satoru.”

and it’s harsh, the flow of your words, sharp and firm; but that’s your only option when he gets like this. your only slim chance at survival, being almost painfully direct. that doesn’t stop your resolve from weakening pitifully when satoru’s posture wilts, though, obviously exaggerated but still somehow effective. you debase yourself for being so weak for him. 

but giving in just isn’t an option, this time. 

under normal circumstances, it wouldn’t take too long for him to persuade you. satoru can be annoying, extremely so — but when he’s being so stubborn about something, there’s usually a good reason for it, even if it’s just that whatever he wants you to do will make him happy. to you, it’ll do.

(his happiness is your priority, after all.)

but in this case, there’s just no way. absolutely no way in hell.

he’s still holding that thing up, like he genuinely thinks it’ll support his argument, swaying it lightly side to side. it really, really doesn’t. it does the complete opposite, in fact.

”but angel,” he tries, again. you wonder if he’s eventually going to run out of petnames, or if he’ll just keep cycling through them until he runs out of air to breathe. ”don’t you wanna see how it’ll look on you?”

a sharp scoff flows from your lips. 

he can’t be serious. 

you really, really, really don’t. if anything, you want everything in the world except for that. you’d rather smash a glass bottle into little pieces and eat them one by one. you’d rather sit on satoru’s lap in a room full of other people. you’d rather jump in front of a moving train with explosives tied to your back.

— it’s so frilly. 

you almost couldn’t believe it, yourself. when he barged into the room, cardboard box in hand, fresh from the mail; all while wearing an excited grin, foreboding, but you were too mesmerized by it to even notice. 

it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, so you didn’t think much of it. satoru buying you gifts is not in any way unusual, even and especially if you tell him not to — and usually, it’d be a sweet occasion. the kind of moment you can soak in, drink up, and then recall fondly for the rest of the week. 

every single detail is worth cherishing. how excitedly he always opens it up, eager for your reaction, and how you always thank him, no matter what it is. sincerely, because satoru can be awkward with his affection, but his love bleeds through in moments like these.

from expensive, well-kept bouquets to little flowers on the side of the road; from thought-out gifts to little trinkets; no matter what it is, the sentiment remains the same.

(this made me think of you. i want you to have it. 

i remembered you mentioning this brand. i love you.)

a way for satoru to show his love, without overwhelming himself or you. a way of easing him into it, when everything is still just so new to him. 

buying you whatever catches his eye is the perfect solution, according to satoru. and it exasperates you, sometimes, when you come home to five amazon packages right outside your doorstep — but deep down you know it’s more for him than you. because it makes him happy, to be able to, allowed to show his love for you in ways like this. in normal ways, easy ways, that say more than his words ever could. 

(being granted the luxury of making you happy. of loving you, even if satoru doesn’t think he’s very good at that, just yet. but he is good at impulse buying things he knows you’d like; so that’ll have to do, for now.)

which is why you couldn’t help but let his infectious joy seep into your bloodstream, trickling its way through your veins with a sweet kind of fervour. couldn’t help but smile, a tender curl of your lips, in tandem with his cute little grin. couldn’t help but grow a little bit excited, as he opened the package — 

to reveal a cutesy, frilly, maid outfit.

— and then your mind screeched to a halt. 

the look on your face must have been something special, horrified and flustered in equal measure. almost in disbelief, as he immediately began to gush about the outfit in his hands. look at the bows, isn’t it cute? god, you’re going to look so pretty. i mean, you always do, obviously, but —

you weren’t really listening. all your mind could do was spin in circles, trying to get some read on the situation, but it was just no good. he genuinely, thoroughly, truly and sincerely expected you to put on a goddamn maid outfit. 

if he had bought it for himself, then maybe you would've been at least a little bit excited. you’re sure he'd look good in it; with those big blue eyes of his, that cute, happy grin. so good that your heart would probably combust, a little. melt through the floorboards. 

but no — he wanted you to wear it. 

and despite your instant, firm protests, he just will not give it up. your boyfriend is a stubborn man, so it’s no surprise, but it’s still enough to irk you.

”satoru, for real. no! i’m not wearing it!”

”but you’d look so good,” he whines, loud and grating as he inches closer to you. still holding the dress up like a prize; you back away, instinctively, like it’ll burn if you touch it.

”i don’t care! it’s a maid outfit! why the hell would i ever wear it?” 

sunglasses seated at the bridge of his nose, satoru allows you to catch a glimmer of his eyes — an effective method of persuasion. he definitely knows their power, and he’s definitely flaunting them for the sole purpose of making you falter. that manipulative scumbag.

the fact that it actually works makes you even angrier, though.

a sharp turn of your head, and your gaze falls on the windowpane, lingering there as you grumble under your breath. he’s so annoying. you’re growing more and more flustered by the minute, too. 

”— because you love me?” 

satoru tilts his head, white locks of hair following the movement. soft and silky, nice to run your fingers through, but you chase the thought away as soon as it enters your subconscious. he looks almost hypnotizing under the sunlight, with the golden rays illuminating his features, smoothing over the contours of his face — as if the sun was made solely to shine on his skin.

and ah, you think, there we go. satoru’s classic tactic; using your love for him as a bargaining chip, pouting down at you like a kicked puppy. you like to picture his eyes all watery and glassy, everytime he tries it, as if he’s some rejected cartoon-mascot. so silly. 

valiantly, you fight off the temptation to smile, gracing him with another little scoff instead. shooting him an unimpressed look, a tiny raise of your eyebrow. ”that won’t work on me.”

”aww, come on,” he almost coos, inching closer still. ”don’t you love me? my sweetiepie? my cute lil’ mochi?” 

(he’s getting bolder with the petnames, you note. as if that’d change anything. they’re so cheesy it makes you recoil.)

”obviously.” you deadpan, trying your best not to let affection seep into the words. but you see satoru’s lips curl up, anyway. ”i’m still not wearing it, though. sorry.”

satoru sighs. heavy, exasperated — dare you say defeated? for a second, you delude yourself into thinking he might actually give in, for once, spare you both the trouble — 

until he falls to the floor, knees hitting the soft flooring with a loud thud. awfully dramatic. he clasps his hands together as if to beg and plead, a starved dog at your feet, and gazes up at you with newfound determination.

”please, baby — i’m begging you,” he groans, voice sad and pained, agonized, like you just threatened to break up with him. silly, silly man.

”don’t grovel.” a sigh drops from your lips as the pads of your fingers go to massage your temples. soothing what you’re almost sure is an incoming headache.

and he makes a certain noise, almost a whimper, like you just kicked him in the gut. you glance down at him as if to signal really? with your eyes, lips parting to speak — 

but your breath only hitches in your throat, and no sound comes out.

satoru’s eyes are almost teary. peeking out from behind his shades, big and glassy, eyelashes dewy with what you know are just crocodile tears. he’s far too skilled at it for his own good, though — maybe you should be supporting his acting career, instead of the weird teacher-slash-sorcerer thing he’s got going on.

and you’re weak, you realize, terribly so. because something deep within your chest constricts, at those sad eyes, heart squeezed painfully, and when you speak you note that your voice sounds a lot softer. 

”satoru,” you sigh, again; more resigned this time, a little fatigued. missing the way his eyes glint at the sound, as if sensing an opportunity. ”really. i’m sorry i wasted your money, but it’s just… not happening. okay?” 

attempting to sound delicate, your voice settles on a soothing tilt, like an adult speaking to a tantrum-throwing child. hoping it’ll be enough to make him falter even slightly. 

it isn’t, of course; if anything, his determination only grows. 

”even just for a short while?” he tries, voice sweet and pliant. all daisies and sunbeams, tailormade to tug at your heartstrings. ”just an hour or so! then i’ll be satisfied.”

”an hour? no way!” you scoff.

and this time, you don’t miss it. from behind those shades, a certain glimmer of something flickers through his irises — something keen and observant. a certain dread crawls its way down your spine.

”so it’s fine if it’s less?” he grins, changing tactics, smooth and decisive. ”half an hour. that’s as low as i’ll go.”

”oh my god.” an exhale, drawn out and exhausted, from the very depths of your chest. ”satoru. toru. no. i’m not wearing it at all. this isn’t an auction.”

”but it could be,” he purrs, still on his knees. it makes him look a little bit disturbed. ”c’mon. why are you getting so shy? guess what — i’ll even settle for twenty minutes. just for you.”

oh, he’s just awful. you want so badly to be mad at him, and that teasing, smug, shit-eating little smirk of his — but you can’t. 

not when he looks so effortlessly pretty, bathed in the light of the sun, surrounded by a mellow glow so tender it makes him look something like an angel. not when he’s acting so characteristically himself, so stubborn and infuriating and entirely impossible not to love. 

another sigh. you’re a little surprised you have enough air left in your lungs to breathe it out, and as much as you hate to admit it, you’re beginning to grow just a bit tired of the back and forth. ”i’m not shy,” you huff. ”i just don’t want to. it won’t look good on me, anyway.”

satoru blinks. genuine surprise shines in his eyes, for a second, like you caught him off guard. ”huh? of course it will. why wouldn’t it?”

a pause. gnawing at your bottom lip, you avert your gaze, trying to find the words. ”it’s just… tacky,” you settle on. ”it’ll look weird.”

”it won’t! you’ll look so cute!”

another huff, as your dispassionate, bored gaze meets his. ”and how do you know that?”

satoru's answer is instantaneous. ”you always look cute. just wanna see how you look in this,” he chirps, brandishing the outfit with barely contained excitement. thoroughly giddy. ”when i saw it, i knew it’d look adorable on you. and i’m never wrong!”

a soft pout plays at your lips, in the wake of his eager sincerity. barely noticeable, just a little embarrassed, but it’s there. and satoru’s seen it, finally — the road to victory. he knows he can win this, if he’s smart about it.

”i just wanna see you in it. just for a second. please? pretty please?” he tilts his head, tantalizing, showing off the blue of his eyes and the curl of his lips. ”then i’ll never ask you for anything again. promise!”

”okay, that’s a lie and we both know it.”

the grin that blooms on your lips is a mistake, you quickly realize, because satoru interprets any sign of joy on your face as positive approval. his determination grows.

”yeah, yeah… but i mean it! i won’t bother you if you just wear it once. just once!” he puts a single finger up, to emphasize the point. ”just wanna see my precious baby all frilly and cute. won’t you indulge me, oh my dearest?”

he’s grinning, now, all soft and teasing. it’s more breathtaking than he’ll ever understand. he’ll never even come close to understanding how gorgeous he is, like this — when there’s no one around to perform for, when he can just be himself. when it’s just you, and satoru, and the feeling of having all the time in the world.

(even if you don’t.)

and you know your face must be flushed, a soft cherry red, as your gaze falls to the floor. the heat on your cheeks and neck, the pitter patter of your heartbeat; you feel it all. 

and it’s embarrassing, to find yourself so fervently twisted around someone’s finger — to find that you don’t even really mind. being wrapped around satoru’s finger isn’t so awful, all things considered. it’s a scary thought, for sure, but he’d never abuse the privilege. probably.

— a sigh. 

you still don’t want to wear it. you really don’t. it’s just awful. tacky, and embarrassing, and overall unpleasant. 

… but if it’ll get him to stop nagging you like this… 

and if it’s just for a short while…

silence, only silence, spilling into the sunkissed air. outside your apartment, the sky melts into a buttery orange hue. an intense contemplation is etched into your eyes, and satoru takes note of it; opting to put the final nail in the coffin. his very last bid.

”fifteen minutes. then you’re —”

”ten minutes,” you cut him off. sounding just a tad exhausted — resigned to your fate. 

and satoru doesn’t even bother trying to hide his excitement. suddenly beaming, he shoots up to his feet, and it causes you to jolt. ”perfect,” he grins, holding the dress out toward you. a little too eager for your liking.

”— but seriously. i’m only wearing it once. never again,” you tilt your head. ”got it?” satoru just nods, happily, so excited he’s practically jumping up and down — and despite everything, you still can’t find it in you to be angry. 

he looks so earnestly giddy.

eyes brimming with suspicion and weariness, your hands reach out to take it into your arms; the puffy dress, the frilly headwear, and the black thigh highs. you’re surprised he didn’t invest in a pair of shoes, while he was at it. just to complete the set.

(you decide not to comment on it, knowing he’d have some poor, overworked shoemaker on the phone within seconds.)

”need my help putting it on?” he purrs, face suddenly very close to yours — and the sudden stutter of your heartbeat sparks a hitch of your throat. desperate to cover it up, you shoot him a hefty glare.

”oh, shut up,” you hiss, but satoru only grins wider. soft little giggles flowing from his lips, like a schoolgirl teasing her upperclassman. silly.

a heavy hesitance rests on your features, as you give the outfit another chance. judgemental eyes trailing over the bows and frills, giving it a thorough look, until your lips curl down into a soft frown. it’s not that bad, but…

”it’s kinda ugly,” you lie, decisively.

”really? i think it’s cute, though.” 

”yeah, ’cause you have no taste.” a click of your tongue. ”what’s so great about maid outfits, anyway? i don’t see the appeal.”

satoru smiles. carefree, amused — still very much teasing. ”well, we’re about to find out,” he chirps.

you give him a look, eventually giving way to a soft exhale. ”fine — but only ten minutes. at most.” a pause, as you stop to think. what else? ”oh, and no taking pictures.”

”— i’m taking pictures.”

…

the exasperated look you send his way doesn’t seem to phase satoru even in the slightest. he continues to smile at you, unbothered, soft around the edges, and you know you’re not winning this one either.

”… fine,” you sigh. ”but — not too many, okay? and you aren’t allowed to show anyone, either.”

”of course not,” he scoffs, almost offended. ”as if i’d let anyone else see you like that.”

stuck between feeling relieved and put off, you settle on simply letting it go. and satoru continues to speak, reassuringly, glossy lips shining in the sunlight as they part.

”rest assured, baby,” he hums, a melodic lilt to his sugarsweet voice. ”this stays between us. i swear on my honour.”

you snort. ”like you’ve got any of that.”

”mean. anyway — c’mon. i can’t wait any longer.” before you can think to protest, he’s ushering you away in the direction of the bathroom, big hands heavy on your shoulders as they push you. still hesitant, you make no move to resist.

(what have you gotten yourself into?)

with one final sigh, your fingers curl around the doorknob, outfit hanging off your arm. not before sending one final glance back at satoru, reinstating your conditions. ”just this once. then you’re selling it. or burning it.”

”yes, yes — you have my word,” he promises. before you can narrow your eyes, he pushes you forward, gently; bouncing excitedly on the balls of his feet. ”go on, i’m waiting!”

”yeah, yeah…”

the door closes behind you with a soft thud, and the reality of the situation begins to finally dawn on you. the maid outfit weighs heavy on your heart, but light in your arms — you gaze down at it with pure contempt. it’s not like you have a choice, though. satoru won’t let you wriggle away from this one. and maybe, just maybe, a part of you wants to indulge him, after all.

(his smile shone so brightly, in the light of the sun.)

and it’s almost cautious, the way you begin to dress yourself; first the thigh highs, black and silky, then the outfit itself. pulling it over your head, your arms sneaking through the openings. 

it’s a perfect fit. 

a second passes. you stop to think, brows furrowing in suspicion — did the little bastard measure you? just to make sure he got it exactly right? he has been rummaging through your closet more than usual, recently, but you didn’t think much of it. over the years, you’ve conditioned yourself not to question the things that he does. that sneaky, sneaky man.

after putting on the headwear, you finally lift your gaze, tentative and slow — to take a peek at your own reflection. the flush on your face stands out, a contrast to the black and white colour scheme of the outfit. 

and you can’t help but exhale, a little exasperated.

it’s so… frilly. there are frills on the sleeves, on the shoulderpads, on the skirt, on the hems… everywhere. little bows litter the surface of the smooth fabric, a big one attached to the collar, and several smaller ones across the sleeves. 

and as much as you loath to admit it — it is kind of cute. 

still, you can’t shake the feeling that you’re only embarrassing yourself. it’s hard not to think, when a maid outfit is staring into your soul through the mirror — and you just so happen to be wearing it.

(what the hell are you even doing?)

a low groan slips from your lips, and you crouch down, to bury your face in your knees. the flush of your cheeks is beginning to spread towards the tips of your ears, growing hotter by the minute. satoru’s about to see you like this, of all people. how on earth will he react?

(what if he thinks it looks weird, too?) 

”i’m still waiting!” a voice suddenly exclaims, sing-songy and sweet, and closer than you realized. has he just been standing there and waiting in silence, this whole time? of course he has.

”just —” you croak out, words a little strangled. ”just… give me a minute.”

satoru lets out a high-pitched whine, cheek pressed against the cold wood of the door. ”but i’ve been waiting so long already!” he complains, pouting, the urge to see you growing unbearable. impatience tugging at his heart, so excited he can barely pull himself together.

(all he can think of is you, you, you.)

curling up into a little ball, you attempt to swallow the bundle of nerves in the back of your throat — but that jittery, feather-light feeling of your heartbeat just won’t go away. it makes you feel a little paralyzed.

you're actually, genuinely, sincerely about to go show off a goddamn maid outfit. what the hell.

when you finally grasp control over your vocal cords and part your lips to speak, the voice that spills out into the air sounds more than a little meek. but you can’t quite bring yourself to care, overcome by a heart-tingling nervosity and the heat of your skin.

 ”… i don’t want to.”

satoru pauses. 

he can picture you, in his mind’s eye; the way you must look, right now. clad in frills and a cute little skirt, face flushed red and embarrassed, as you shift from foot to foot. and it takes concentrated effort, to bite back the coo that threatens to crawl up his throat — but he knows it’s still not too late for you to change your mind. if he wants to see you, he needs to be careful. so he tactfully opts not to tease you.

”come on, angel,” he soothes, instead. voice smooth like honey, like coffee with cream and too much sweetener. ”don’t be embarrassed.”

you stay silent, still attempting to suffocate the tinge of humiliation in the depths of your chest. so satoru continues. ”just come on out, hm? might as well get it over with. then you won’t have to think of it again.”

a moment passes.

”… do i have to?”

the corners of his lips curl up.

ah, you’re so cute. all embarrassed, almost childish, in the way you’re still trying to be difficult; and satoru just indulges you, all too eager to get you to show yourself to him. ”yes, you do,” he coos. ”be good f' me and come on out, okay?”

a couple moments pass. eerily silent, growing second by second. the only sound that fills the air is that of satoru’s soft breathing, the distant whirring of the ceiling fan.

until finally, he hears the squeak of the bathroom floor. you stand up, turning to glance at your reflection in the mirror one last time, before hesitantly reaching for the doorknob.

it’s slow, the way you open the door, agonizingly so — pushing at it slightly and dragging the movement out. and you can feel satoru’s presence, right behind it, as he takes a step back to give you space. when you finally step over the threshold, you adamantly refuse to meet his gaze.

(satoru’s breath hitches in his throat.)

there you stand, gaze stubbornly averted, expression flustered and mildly annoyed. cheeks dusted a dark cherry-red, that crawls towards the tips of your ears as you fidget with your frilly, oversized sleeves. they’re dressed in little bows, awfully cute, and so is the skirt — short, but not enough to expose the skin of your thighs above the thigh highs. you still squirm a little, thighs pressed together. 

and then, of course, the big bow on your collar to complete the look. pink in colour, a stark contrast to the whites and blacks of the remaining outfit.

after a moment passes with nothing but pure silence, your lips part to speak. doing anything you can to stop yourself from looking over at the man in front of you, afraid of what you’ll see. ”i don’t think it suits me,” is muttered, a tiny huff. ”… and i still don’t see the appeal, by the way.”

— but satoru doesn’t answer. 

he just stares. uncharacteristically silent, in a way you’re wholly unaccustomed to. enough so that you find yourself gnawing at your bottom lip, fidgeting with the hem of the skirt, hoping the smooth texture will soothe your nerves a little. the beating of your heart resounds in your ears, sending blood flowing through your veins with excited pumps.

the silence festers, and all you can do is let it grow, your nervosity thickening with it — until it’s just too much to bear. 

(ahh, you knew it. it really does look weird, doesn’t it? that’s to be expected. 

still, you can’t help but feel just slightly dejected.) 

”… why aren’t you saying anything?” 

the little mumble comes out sounding embarrassed, and maybe just a little defeated, too. but satoru doesn’t hear it. as your gaze falls on the man in question, slowly, you take in his expression with a frown on your face — and realize that he isn’t just keeping quiet. 

he’s completely stunned. 

no matter how hard you stare, you can’t seem to get a good read on his expression. he’s just standing there, face completely blank, eyes entirely obscured by the black of his shades. the light streaming in through the glass of the windows has shifted its course, falling away from the two of you — but you still see the vague, red tinge crawling up his neck. 

and as soon as you spot it, satoru begins his descent.

crouching down to the floor, silently, he brings his hands up to cover his face. feet against the ground with his knees folded, pressed against his chest, stilling as he inhales sharply. shades seated on top of his head, pushed up by his hands when he buried his face in them. a groan drops from his lips, muffled by the skin of his palms — but you can hear it clear as day.

”hold on, just… give me a minute…” he finally croaks out, words somehow tiny. almost shy. 

upon closer inspection, you realize your eyes weren’t deceiving you — there really is a red hue to his neck, one you aren’t used to seeing on him. strawberry-tinged dust, staining his smooth skin, the tips of his burning ears. satoru actually looks flustered, for once. and your heart can’t help but flutter.

— he thinks he might actually, genuinely die.

it’s a wonder, he thinks, that he managed not to fall to his knees the very moment he laid eyes on you. all dolled up; frilly and cute, in his own words, though they don’t come even close to properly describing how adorable you look right now. with your flushed face, shy eyes, and all those little frills and bows adorning your dress. rendering him speechless, clogging up his throat with pure unbridled love. a mouthful of honey, too sweet for even him to swallow.

god. god. he really, really needs to pull himself together.

crouched down like this, face hidden behind his hands, he can physically feel himself grow more and more flustered. senses invaded by the sound of his heartbeat, deep and visceral, until it’s all he can hear — he knew you were going to look cute, obviously, but he was seriously underestimating you. your cuteness is lethal. 

even just the sight makes him weak in the knees. even just the thought of you makes him feel a little like his heart is attempting to break out of his chest. hurling itself at his ribcage with ferocious resolve, like he could keel over and die of heart failure at any given moment. he’s pleasantly surprised that he’s managed to suppress the loud squeal his body keeps trying to let out, honestly.

and while satoru struggles with his deep, internal turmoil, all you can do is watch. looking down at him with wide eyes, as his skin flushes a bright pink, like little chrysanthemums blooming from his neck up to his ears. 

yeah, you think, there’s no doubt about it. satoru is flustered. it’s not a side of him you get to see very often, so you can’t help but be just slightly caught off guard. staring at him silently, until you snap out of it, eyes simmering with something soft and delighted.

he’s so cute.

(and maybe, just maybe — it makes you want to tease him, a little bit.)

so you crouch down, facing him with your knees against your chest, jaw resting on your crossed forearms as you gaze at him. he’s still not looking at you, face hidden behind his palms, shying away from your view.

and then you sigh. the sound catches his attention, soft — and just a little bit dejected.

”… you’re the one who wanted me to wear it,” your lips curl down into a pout, ”and now you won’t even look at me?”

satoru stiffens. 

(you sound sad. you sound disappointed.)

slowly, he parts his fingers, desperate to soothe you — blue eyes peeking out through the gaps, as if the sight of you could blind him. he then proceeds to move his hands, tentative, laboured, like he’s dragging heavy weights off his body. like it’s a struggle. 

with his face finally exposed, all flushed and pretty, bright azure eyes stare at you; brimming with pure adoration. 

satoru exhales, almost shaky. he has to take another moment to simply look at you, as if drinking in every inch of your expression. memorizing every corner of the face he’s grown to love so much.

a moment passes. then two.

then, he practically pounces on you — engulfing you like a tidal wave, trapping you in his big arms as they go to curl around your waist. shades falling off at the impact, hitting the floor with a soft thunk.

”you’re killing me,” he whines, loud and right by your ear. nuzzling into you, squeezing you like he’s a puppy with a chew toy. ”you’re so, so, so cute. d’you want me to have a heart attack?”

a hitch of your breath. that’s all you can manage, utterly failing to keep up with him as he presses you up against his chest. rocking you back and forth in his embrace, smearing open mouthed kisses across your skin; whining and murmuring about how adorable you look. 

a flurry of warmth, of love, of something a little too precious for words. something distinctly satoru, that makes you forget about everything else — as if the world stops spinning somewhere outside of his arms. as if that’s where you belong.

all you can do is indulge him. maybe you’re spoiling him a little too much, but it feels nice; letting him drown you in his overwhelming affection. the thought of creasing the dress doesn’t even seem to cross his mind, as he squeezes the life out of you.

evidently, satoru suffers from an acute case of cuteness aggression. 

”so adorable,” he murmurs, leaving wet kisses on your cheeks. his exaggerated mwahs make you feel just a tad shy. ”my little sweetheart. all dressed up for me.” 

squirming in his hold, he only brings you closer, smothering you in his warm embrace. the slightly erratic beating of his heart is all you can hear, with your cheek squished against his chest. arms keeping you nice and still, lips lingering over that one ticklish spot behind your ear. 

a little giggle slips from your lips, and satoru feels himself smile; wide and giddy, boyish and adoring. nuzzling into the comfort of your chest, soft fabric brushing against his skin, a low whine escapes his throat. ”can't take it. wanna put you in my pocket.”

”your pocket?” a grin blooms on your lips, words dripping with honeyed amusement. satoru grins right back.

”my pocket,” he hums, approvingly. ”you’re just so cute and small. gotta keep you close, so i don’t lose you.”

a huff, lighthearted. 

suddenly, the grip around your midriff tightens — and you’re hoisted up, stumbling a little as satoru lets go of you. still holding onto you by your wrists, softly, delicately, as if you’re made of glass. when you lift your head, all you can see is his satisfied little grin, and the twinkle of his eyes.

your heart flutters. 

satoru gazes at you, silently, still drinking you in. every second spent staring into the brightness of your eyes fills his heart up just a little more; colourful, heart-shaped candies, scooped up and poured into the hole in his chest. patching it right back up, so effortlessly sweet that it makes him want to pluck every star from the sky and offer them at your feet. 

”alright,” he breathes, taking a step back. breaking the delicate silence, a little dance between him and time. fingers still curled around your wrist. ”do a twirl for me.”

a humoured scoff. ”hell no.”

”aw, come on! you gotta pose for the photo, baby.”

before you know it, satoru’s got his phone out — and it’s aimed right at you. by the time you notice it, you’re fairly certain he’s already managed to snap a couple pictures. so all you can do is sigh, in faux exasperation.

”c’mon, c’mon,” he coos. ”give me a smile, pretty.”

a roll of your eyes, as you bite your lip to muffle a soft bout of laughter. it doesn’t really work. ”i’m good.”

satoru seems unaffected by your words, pulling back from your touch reluctantly; just so he can make a show out of playing the cameraman, switching between elaborate positions and taking pictures from angle after angle. somehow, you get the feeling he’s forgotten your request to keep the pictures to a minimum.

(he looks like he’s having fun, though. so you let it slide. just this once.)

”god. you’re way too cute for your own good, you know that?” he murmurs, leaning down to take another picture. and it flusters you, how smoothly the words slip from his lips, how it seems like he barely even has to think about them at all. 

it’s a little embarrassing, in a heart-fluttering kind of way. but you do your best to hide it.

”you’re a sap,” is all you say, soft smile playing at your lips. 

”and you’re adorable,” satoru grins. 

then he slips his phone into his back pocket, satisfied with the collection, and grabs your hand.

his fingers curl around yours, softly — and then he lifts it up. bringing it to his lips. they’re warm, as he kisses across your knuckles, the tips of your fingers. soft as a feather, tickling your skin. 

(as if he’s whispering psalms under his breath. as if he’s worshipping you.)

then he tilts his head, eyes gazing at you sweetly. sweeter than fresh mandarin slices, splotches of marmalade, his favorite caramel fudge. and his eyes crinkle, crow’s feet and dimples peeking out as he smiles, an easygoing kind of joy blooming on that pretty face of his — youthful, boyish. it suits him more than anything.

his voice comes out smooth, awfully coaxing. so very easy to give in to, paired with that breathtaking grin. 

”one tiny twirl?” he asks, politely.

he’s so annoying. 

(but you’re far too in love to say no.)

so with a single roll of your eyes, and a soft little scoff, you relent. indulging him once more, just one more time. just one little twirl.

satoru feels his heart squeeze painfully, deep within his chest, as he watches you spin around. skirt and frills ruffled by the movement. just once, a soft little twirl with your fingers intertwined. far too precious for his heart to take.

when you stop, just a tiny bit dizzy, he leans in, and the kiss he leaves on your forehead is soft. chaste, but it still pulls a blissful sigh from the back of your throat. satoru’s lips curl up against your skin, before he pulls back — eyes almost overflowing with affection.

”cutie.”

you blink. 

averting your gaze, flustering a little under the weight of his love-filled eyes, all you can do is emit a soft little huff. embarrassed, as it flows from your lips. but it only makes satoru’s smile grow further.

”okay, okay. you’ve had your fun.” you clear your throat. ”time’s up.”

suddenly, satoru’s eyes fill with something akin to dread — nose crinkling, just barely, a sign of his displeasure. ”noooo,” he whines, draping his arms around you. tugging you close. ”just a little more? please? pretty please?”

”nope! we said ten minutes. no take backs.”

”can’t i have an extension? since i’m your favorite?” satoru pouts, puppy dog eyes in full force. only this time, they don’t work as well as he’d hoped.

”nope,” you repeat, popping the p. ”sorry.” another whine buzzes right by your ear, and you smile. 

”and then we’re burning it.”

”noooo!” 

”sorry, but it’s gotta go.” you bite back a soft grin. satoru sounds agonized, voice dripping with grief, and it makes your heart dance with barely contained laughter.

”but then you can’t wear it anymore, baby…”

”that’s kinda the point, toru.”

”but you’re so cute in it,” he pouts, bringing you closer still. squeezing at your waist and rubbing his cheek against the top of your head. ”it’d be such a waste if you never wore it again, don’tcha think?”

he’s trying his best, you can tell — attempting to make you falter, coax you into wearing it just a little longer. but for today, you’re done indulging him.

”well, too bad.” nuzzling into his neck, your tone settles on a firm tilt; decisive, as you nip at his skin. just a little teasing. ”i said i’d never wear it again, and i meant it.”

a moment passes. maybe it’s the warmth of your lips on his skin, or maybe he can tell you aren’t budging — whatever the case, satoru finally seems to relent. an exhale tumbles from his tongue, deep and drawn out. ”fineee,” he drawls. ”i’ll just buy you a new one.”

”i won’t wear it. i’ll just get angry.”

”at lil’ old me? really?”

”really really,” you click your tongue. ”if you love maid outfits so much, why don’t you wear one yourself?” a beat. ”it’d look good on you.”

satoru perks up, suddenly. pulling away so his eyes can meet yours, bright and teasing, glazed over with something excited. ”oh?” he purrs. ”you wanna see me in one, huh? so bold, baby.”

a scoff slips from your lips, sharp but tinged with laughter. ”well, it’s only fair, right?” grinning up at him, your hand reaches out to smooth away his bangs. fingertips trailing across the expanse of skin, touch so very tender that his eyes flutter shut. ”i think you’d pull it off better than i ever could, anyway.”

a hum buzzes in his throat, seconds ticking by slowly; a dance with him and time. an attempt to prolong the softness of the moment.

”hmm… well, i’ll consider it.” just barely holding back a smile, he leans into your touch. ”you gotta wear it with me, though. we can buy a matching set!”

”that makes no sense,” you huff, with a raise of your brow. ”i’ve already worn it once, so next time, it’s gotta be all you.”

”sorry, baby, but you need to do it too.” he cradles you close, smoothing a palm down your spine, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. chest rumbling with the smooth timbre of his voice, words rich with teasing fondness. ”i’m too shy to do it by myself.”

and you really, really wish you could be angry with him — but it’s just impossible. 

satoru is just way too lovable, smile far too sunny and warm for you not to melt under. and his caress says more than words ever could, light and doting, careful and loving; like how a believer cups a handful of holy water. as if you could slip from his grasp at any moment, so he has to keep you extra close.

in the end, all protests and complaints die on your tongue. you only laugh, soft and breathy, filling the air with a fondness so palpable you can almost taste it. bordering on something close to a scoff, but never quite getting there. 

eventually, satoru does — begrudgingly — let you change out of the outfit. whining a little, sulking a tad, before brightening right back up again. like clockwork, the sun peeking out after a rain shower, the calm after the storm. always that same happy smile, wrapping you around his little finger.

satoru, in all his glory; your very own pocket of sunshine. annoying, stubborn, thoughtful — 

and yours, wholly and thoroughly.

(while you’re busy gazing at him adoringly, satoru grumbles under his breath. contemplation painted on his features, as his mind spins in circles. frills, bows, lace…

what kind of design would make him look the prettiest for you?)

#satoru ”my girl look so good today im abt to scream and moan and throw up” gojo #he is so husband coded to me. so unbelievably babygirl #he would absolutely wear a maid dress if u asked him to btw. and he would rock that shit so hard. #just……. gojo in a dress………….. breathe if u agree #im a firm believer in flustered satoru also….. #it wouldnt happen often but if u act cute enough i just think smth in his brain stops working #and he grins rly wide and tries to cover his face w his hands so you wont see how much hes blushing. if u tease him more he squeaks #who said that. #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x you #gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk #gojo fluff #jjk fluff

[theaawalker]

I Promise [Finnick Odair x Reader]

Pairing: Finnick Odair x Reader Song Inspo: About You Now by Miranda Cosgrove Word Count: 829 Series: 1 | 2 | ? Summary: a day of fishing brings reminiscence for you and Finnick. District 4 never felt like home, but you've always had each other. Finnick has his soul mark, as do you, but that doesn't change anything. You know he'll find someone better, but nothing is promised in District 4. Warnings: none Masterlist: see fandoms (pc-friendly)

You loved fishing with Finnick. He was so good at it and you were very impressed. You also didn’t mind diving into the water as deep as you could to catch his eye.

It was like any other day, Finnick would cast out the nets and spear what he could and you would dive in to retrieve the nets. You had been doing this since you were kids and this was the first time Finnick wasn’t wearing a shirt. So let’s just say you were a little more distracted than usual.

As he pulled back his trident you watched his back muscles and noticed something. On his shoulder was a seashell tattoo. But this wasn’t any ordinary tattoo. It was a soul mark.

You looked down at your wrist and pulled your shell bracelets off to reveal a seashell soul mark identical to Finnick’s. He was your soul mate.

“What’s wrong?” He called to you. “What are you looking at?”

“Nothing.” You said shaking your head. “I didn’t know you had a soul mark”

He looked over his shoulder. “Yeah. Do you have one?” You shook your head and he shrugged. “It’s too bad, I haven’t found her yet”

“Yeah, what a shame.” You sighed and turned to the setting sun. “Listen, we have to finish up.” You said, running and diving into the water.

You loved Finnick, but he deserved better. He was amazing and you were, well, you. He didn’t know you were his soul mate and it’s very possible for a soul mark to disappear when circumstances change. There had to be someone better to be his soul mate and that is what you would hold out for.

As you swam to the surface you were met by Finnick’s sea blue eyes staring back at you. His hands wrapped around your waist and pulled you close.

“My little fish was underwater for a very long time. Are you ok?” He asked concerned.

“Yeah” You nodded pushing yourself away from him. “I have to go” You said swimming to shore.

After the next few months despite your best efforts you fell more and more in love with Finnick everyday. You tried to stay away from him but it was almost impossible. Oddly enough you thought that maybe Finnick was in love with you too.

You were fishing one day again when Finnick spoke up. “You know I don’t think this soul mate stuff is true. I mean how can a mark on my body that matches someone else mean I love them. What if I already love someone else”

You couldn’t tell if you were upset or relieved so you nodded. “Well I don’t have to worry about it”

“I just wish I wasn’t carrying this on my back” He paused. “Get it?”

“Ha, ha” You said splashing him with water.

“Oh, you want to do that do you?” He said charging at you and knocking you backwards and into the water with him on top of you and your back against the sandy bottom.

When you both came to the surface you laughed but Finnick’s face turned serious.

“Are you nervous for the reaping next week?” He asked, breaking the happy moment.

“I don’t know.” You said shrugging. “I always wonder what are the odds.”

He nodded and looked off into the distance. “Yeah... I suppose.”

“Come on.” You said pulling him up. “It’s almost dark”

The next week went by and Finnick seemed distant. He was really worried about the reaping. You weren’t sure if he was right to be, but today would be the day to find out.

You dressed in your best blue dress and braided your hair back in a single fishtail braid. Sadly, you couldn’t meet up with Finnick before, but you would see him after. You hoped.

After you were all lined up in the square that’s when your nerves finally hit. You fidgeted with your dress and tried to crane your neck to catch a glimpse of Finnick. To your despair he was nowhere to be found.

As they drew the girl’s name you breathed a sign of relief when it wasn’t you. When they got to the boys you crossed your fingers it wasn’t Finnick.

“For the boys!" The woman called out. “Finnick Odair!”

“No...” You whispered. You watched in horror as Finnick walked up to the stage. “No!” You said running up after him the guards in quick pursuit. You grabbed his hand and gave him a hug. That was all you had time for before the guards were tearing you apart.

Finnick still had your arm and through all the grabbing and pulling your sleeve pulled up revealing your soul mark. Finnick saw it immediately. “I knew it was you. Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked desperately.

“I’m sorry.” You said as you were finally pulled away.

“I will come back to you!” He yelled as he was dragged into the justice building. “I promise!”

• ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ •

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#writer #writers on tumblr #writing #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x you #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair x angst #finnick odair drabble #finnick odair fanfic #the hunger games finnick #finnick x you #finnick x reader #thg finnick #hunger games finnikc #finnick odair #finnick imagine #finnick x y/n #the hunger games #the hunger games fanfiction #the hunger games x you #the hunger games x reader #the hunger games fic #finnick odair fluff #coriolanus snow #lucy gray baird #tigris snow #effie trinket #peeta mallark #katniss everdeen #prim everdeen

[starwrighter]

Dude, get a restraining order

(Masterpost) (Ao3 link) (Previous) (Next)

(As promised Damian falls in love at first sight!)

Minutes ticked by like hours as his English teacher droned on about topics he’d learned years ago. Surface-level information dumbed down to its simplest form. Todd had already given him the assigned book years ago. A classic written sometime in the 1950s. He’d claimed it’d be a book he could relate to. He’d quizzed himself, writing an essay to prove he actually read it when Todd came around again. 

He guessed that’s why when the discussions of symbolism and deeper meanings started, his interest plummeted. He focused on a worksheet, only half listening as the teacher read aloud. Vocabulary and its context, all of it so dull. painfully easy, but still father wouldn’t allow him to skip grades, nor would the school. Something about him having “Poor social skills,”

Tch, lies and slander. It wasn’t his fault his classmates were too cowardly to speak to him face to face. They’d been the ones to label him as intimidating and cold. If not being a spineless pushover made him intolerable, then he didn't want to be friendly. He wouldn’t allow himself to be taken advantage of, and he sure as hell wouldn’t let anyone talk down to him without facing the consequences. 

He didn't need to be social with these hooligans. A waste of time! Plus, he’s certain everyone in class already held a certain distaste for him. It’d be better if he was homeschooled, but father said he needed to be seen by the public so the media wouldn't talk. Journalists and tabloid writers were like vultures they'd squawk regardless if he was in school or not. Father hadn't seen his argument valid so he was stuck with yet another year of this dull nonsense.

A new transfer student from a small town in Illinois should be here today. An outsider spending a whole seven months in Gotham, it should be equal parts entertaining as it’d be inconvenient. The backlash that’d hit them if they let said transfer student die within city borders would be tremendous. He could only hope this Daniel Fenton wasn’t just late and instead backed out like any sensible person would.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case as the teacher stepped outside, coming back with a smile of faux sweetness on their face, waving her hand, signaling someone inside.

A boy with eyes blue like sapphire stones stepped into the classroom. His shoulders lax but the way he fidgeted in place screamed he’d rather be anywhere but here. His features were soft, electrical scaring running down the left side of his face, creeping down the boy’s chin and neck. Hair pitch black with short splotches of white-ish gray framed his face. A small silver necklace shaped like Saturn hung from his neck, a clear dress code violation, but clearly, he hadn’t been accosted for it yet. Their teacher encouraged him to introduce himself.

“Hi, My name’s Danny and I hope I don’t die here,” Daniel joked, his posture jovial despite the morbidity of his words.

“Though, I wouldn’t be shocked if I did,” He finished, earning a quiet chuckle from those who could see the boy’s scars. 

Daniel glanced around the front row, eyes landing on the empty spot beside him. Daniel quickly took this spot without hesitation, ignoring the multiple students who waved him over with a simple gesture to the left side of his face.

With a closer view of Daniel's left eye, he could see the slight milky discoloration of the pupil and iris. He's likely blind in that eye, but the circumstances of him being born with the impairment are unlikely, judging by the damage around his eye socket. It had healed well for what he could only infer was a grievous injury. The scar tissue looked fresh, no older than a year or so, signaling this partial blindness was relatively new.

He seemed relieved that the teacher was reading out loud like nobody had offered him any sort of accommodation for his disability. Considering Daniel came from a small town in Illinois, he doubted any school accommodations were made for him besides maybe a week or so off school when he was recovering. Gotham wasn’t much better, but Father poured a decent amount into the city’s healthcare and educational systems. 

“Tuck your necklace under your shirt,” He whispered to his new seatmate when the teacher turned her back. “It breaks the dress code, you’ll never get it back if a teacher spots it,” A warning deadly serious, a bit stern for something as frivolous as a piece of jewelry, but Daniel looked as if that simple warning had saved his life. Daniel shoved the necklace under his dress shirt with alarming speed, tucking the thin, bronze chain beneath his collar, making the boy’s neck look deceptively bare. 

They both continued their work in silence, mutual respect between the two of them to stay out of each other’s way. When Daniel’s pencil lead broke, Damian offered him a sharpener. When their teacher called on him despite his hand being down, Danny answered instead, giddy that “he” was called on. Giving the English teacher the easy choice of admitting she was targeting students or playing the part of a welcoming teacher eager to have the half-blind kid engage with her class.

Daniel did it on purpose too, that was sure. He made class time more bearable that was certain as well. The way his seatmate engaged the subject in an intelligent manner despite frequent mutters of English not “being his subject,” was admirable.

When brought into discussion, Daniel meshed with his new peers relatively quickly, quick to snap in with a clever quip when the opportunity arose. He was by no means a social butterfly but fell into the rhythm of a conversation with practiced ease. 

Often, when not writing he fidgeted, picking at black and white polish on his nails or twirling a pencil between two fingers. He’d rest his face on his palm and pursed his lips when confused. Though his mannerisms were somewhat awkward, some might call them cute.

It wasn‘t long until class was over, the bell calling all the students to coagulate by the door, slowly filing into the hallway. All except him and Daniel, who stared at a schedule and a map with furrowed brows. They shared their next class too, an idea that filled him with an odd giddiness.

Damian pulled a copy of his own schedule from his bag, tapping Daniels's shoulder and showing him their matching second-hour classes.

“It would be easier if we went together,” 

Daniel smiled, canines sharpened to a point. His heart boomed in his chest, a strange but…Pleasant experience. It was too early to tell, but he thinks he’ll enjoy having Daniel here for the next seven months.

#dp x dc #dpxdc #dc x dp #dcxdp #deadserious #dead serious #deadseriousship #tagging everything so people can filter properly #These bitches gay as hell #good for thems

[creatingblackcharacters]

Hair for thought: a little mini lesson

I know this blog may seem more geared towards art than writing, and admittedly, I am pushing for visuals because I can be a very visual creator myself, so the two converge for me. So that may be an issue of communication on my end.

However, I do want people to consider that the way you "see" your character in your mind affects how you write them! So if you're here to learn to write better Black characters, the way you picture them has an effect!

For example, let's say you're writing your character. You want them to have a 4C afro. Do you know what 4C means? Do you know what that looks like? How it feels? How it changes under different environments and circumstances? How can you describe those things to give your reader an adequate picture of your character if you don't know what that looks like? How can you get creative with their looks if you don't know your options?

If you have a loving moment between your characters, and you want one to touch the hair of the other. First, do you know the importance of the vulnerability of touching your Black partner's hair? Second, how will you describe that, if you don't know the texture of the hair and what it looks like? You can't often "run your fingers" through it! You have to be able to know and describe the curl pattern and what could happen with it!

Again, I'm using hair examples because that's the next lesson, but this still works in general! Skin color, the way the light plays on the skin- if you understand lighting on brown skin visually, you can describe it! Our lips, the way they feel in a kiss! Pubic hair texture, for the nasty!

One major example I have of this is that once, a few years ago, I did a test in one of my favorite fandoms. I took about 100 stories, and I asked myself: how far can I get into this fic while assuming My Blorbo is Black? (I.e., how often do we assume that whiteness is the default and don't feel the need to properly describe our characters?)

The answer: through most of them 🤣 "Brunette with brown eyes" is the majority of Black people.

We have to be willing to address the unintentional bias in our minds that treats Whiteness, and therefore white features and the habits that come with them, as the default. It doesn't seem like it matters because it's "normal", except for I and other Black fans! It's not our norm! You have to understand how we look, and how we may interact with the world culturally (and again, we're not a monolith! But there are some consistencies!) and how that may "look" (be described) in a story.

I hope this may help clear up some confusion 😅 and again, I'm sorry if I didn't make my goals clear. I'm new at this.

#creatingblackcharacters

[luimagines]

You Reunite After Not Confessing Part 2

Masterlist

Part 1

Part two will include Hyrule, Wild and Legend.

Content under the cut!

Hyrule

Hyrule has been despondent. 

Granted, he didn’t think there would be anything to come from his feelings to begin with. He was always moving around and there was little he cold offer in return for their companionship.

His home, while beautiful, was deadly and lonesome. He didn’t think it would be an easy, or even fair, trade to ask them to come along and be with him. 

But maybe that wouldn’t have had to be the case? A small voice tells him that he could have just as well gone with them. He could live in their world. He could still be with them. They wouldn’t have to give up everything. But is he willing to leave behind everything he knew? Everything he fought for? Everything he loved?

He’s not so sure.

Not that it matters. Since you didn’t bother to look back, he wonders if you’re happy where you are. He hopes so. He had seen your home once or twice. It’s just as beautiful as his own home. Your house was small and quaint but lovely in its own right. It suited you.

He doubts it would suit him.

A normal life would simply have to be beyond his reach for as long as he lives, he supposes. Which isn’t anything new either. He had that idea long before he met you and it’s only been proven true now that you’re gone.

He sighs, picking up a stone and skipping over the dirt path. He used to do it with Wild and Twilight but he knows better than to get near water now that he’s back. It’s best to just keep inland.

He hears some stumbling and grabs the hilt of his sword out of instinct. The forest seemed quieter than usual, but he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Maybe he shouldn’t have tossed that stone.

“Hello?” You call out and Hyrule’s heart sinks.

Is it a mirage? Is someone playing a cruel trick? Hyrule takes out his sword anyway and moves toward the sound. He’s not sure if could hurt someone he cares about, but there was always that possibility. Warrior drilled it into his head more than once that it was possible and that should it come to a head, there should be no hesitation on his part.

He sees you and you looks scared. Then you turn and spot him and scream.

Hyrule lowers his sword. That’s not exactly the reaction he was expecting under either circumstance- whether you missed him or wanted him dead. He calls out your name inquisitively. “Is it really you?”

You gulp and run to him, throwing yourself into his arms and crying. “I can’t believe it! You’re here! I had no idea where I was!”

Hyrule hesitantly wraps his arms around you. “This is my home... How did you even get here?”

You gulp and pull back. You somehow manage to look guilty even through your tears. “...I walked through another portal.”

Hyrule gives you a deadpanned look. “Didn’t you learn from the last time?”

You sniffle. “But it brought me back to you.”

Have mercy on his heart- don’t torture him like this. Hyrule frowns and tries to not get his hopes up. “It’s dangerous here. We can’t stay.”

You nod and take his hand. He stops again and watches you. You seem more interested in his hand all of a sudden. “I missed you.”

“...I missed you too.” Hyrule takes your hand in his, lacing your fingers together. 

“...”

“...”

“...I think I fell for you on that adventure.”

Hyrule trips over thin air and looks back to you. Shock couldn’t have been written more plainly on his face. You suddenly remember yourself and look away. “I’m sorry... I don’t....Well, I do- But I didn’t mean... I mean, I did mean- Oh dear... What’s wrong with me right now?”

Hyrule bite his lip, taking a chance by kissing your cheek. “It’s ok. I understand.”

You shut up instantly and look at him with wide eyes. 

“Come on.” Hyrule pulls you along gently. “We can catch up once we’re not out in the open, yeah?”

“...Ok...”

Wild

Wild was sure that he was going to be in trouble after this one. It was one thing to run off and explore like he was used to at this point- but now he was thoroughly- to put it nicely- screwed. He’s not even sure if the world shifted or if he fell through a portal he couldn’t see in time but Zelda was going to be pissed to say the least.

He had no signal, he couldn’t recognize where he was and to top it all off, he could see something interesting in the distance. He could hear the voice of many telling him to leave it alone already. There are bigger and more important things to worry about right now.

But he was so close. And it was right there.

He heads towards it. If anything, he can say that he’s simply incredible lost and deal with the consequences afterwards... again.

It felt nice to be doing something different though. Or rather, to travel again. After the adventure ended and he got over never telling you how he felt, there was so little to do. It was strange. He had gotten used to do one thing after the there, doing little things here and there with a bigger goal on the horizon, working towards that goal day after day- and now? Nothing.

He could relax, take it easy. His bones itched to do something exciting.

So a little peak at the mysterious form in the distance wouldn’t hurt anyone. Right?

He wished you were next to him right now. You would have joined him without a second thought. Zelda is nice enough to indulge him from time to time but she’s much rather to research in a study than climb the mountain for the hell of it.

As the form gets closer, he can see that it’s a camp site. Which is.. less exciting but doable. Maybe there’s people nearby and he can learn something about his predicament.

He looks around. There’s a hammock, a small tent and a fire going. There’s food cooking over it. It smells like it’s lacking something but then again, he doubts that everyone knows the ins and outs of scavenger feasting like he does.

“Excuse me! I spent a long time hunting that so if you would be so k...” You storm back into the camp, no doubt aware that’s he’s arrived. But once you actually see him you stop dead in your tracks, staring at him as if you’ve seen a ghost.

And he knows that he’s no better off.

You’re just as- no. You’re even prettier than he remembered you to be. He can feel his jaw hang open slightly and he gulps. “...H-hey...”

“...Link?” You whisper his name, unable to move forwards or backwards.

He smiles. His heart suddenly feels like bursting. He could cry. He might already be crying. “I missed you.”

You cover your mouth and run to him.

He catches you.

“I missed you too.”

“I have something...” Wild bites his tongue. It’s too early and much too late, but he’s already started. What the hell, he thinks, he might as well keep going. “I have something to tell you.”

“...What is it?” You sniffle, just as emotional as he is. You pull back slightly, loosening your hold on him just enough for you to look him in the eye.

Wild gulps and tucks your hair behind your ear. “...After traveling with you for all those months.... I fell in love with you...”

You gape at him before your lip wobbles and you hug him again. “I wish you said so earlier.”

“...Why?”

“Because I love you too.”

Legend

You think he would be used to heartbreak by now.

After you left and he found his way home again, he seemed to fool himself into thinking it was all a dream. If it wasn’t (and in his heart, he knew it wasn’t) then he might as well swallow the bitter pill of never seeing any one of them again.

Strangely, he might be able to live with never seeing any of the other heroes again. It’s just you that hurts him the most.

As before, he got used to being home again. He got used to feeling a dull ache in his heart and he got used to the silence of his house once more. Legend tried to keep the smile on his face. He really did. And some days were admittedly easier than others.

At the same time, Legend was also preparing the moment where his normality would be taken right from under him... again.

He had no reason to believe that the goddesses would consider his work to be done. If there was work to be done then it would have to be completed one way or another. Who better than the Hero of Legend to get the job done.

As luck would have it, he was correct in every facet. 

Legend was walking home one day when he felt, or rather saw, a rather familiar mode of transportation. He sighed and collected his things before he went through it, not even bothering to write a letter explaining his absence this time around. That might come around to bite him in the future, but he wasn’t about to let this moment pass by when he could do something about it.

Once he reached the other side, Legend put down his bag and start to take out his immediate items. His sword, his shield, magic dust and his amulets.

He started to walk along a beaten dirt path. This was a good sign... to a degree. People were here. So there should be an ending to this one way or another. 

He started whistling to himself to pass the time. It was something he found himself doing more and more often now that he was alone. He thought back to you because of it. You whistled all the time. How did that little song of yours go again?

He kept up your song, going over some parts over and over again because he couldn’t remember how to continue it. It wasn’t until something whistled back to him the correct notes that he felt his heart sink.

Legend reached behind him, putting his hand on the hilt of his sword and whistled again. 

It whistled back the next part of the song.

He continued on, walking towards the sound. Whoever was doing this was nearby. They had to be.

The thing is, they don’t reply with a whistle. Instead there was a beat of silence before they call out. “Legend?”

His heart stops in his chest. It’s you That’s your voice. He calls back to you in a similar manner, not wanting to get his hopes up.

You come out of your hiding place, slowly and hesitantly before you see him. You beam and charge, tackling him onto the ground in a hug. Before he can even reorient himself properly, you take his face in your hands and kiss him.

Legend’s eyes go wide and you pull back almost as quickly as you went in. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be!” He shouts and dives to capture your lips in another kiss. He pulls back with a grin stretching from ear to ear. “I’ve been wanting to do that for so long now!.... Why can’t all my welcomes be like this?”

You laugh and kiss his once more. “I’d hope to be one to do it though.”

“I’d hope you’d be my only.”

Part 3

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #linked universe x reader #lu x reader

[qqueenofhades]

I'm having a bit of a rough mood from seeing that the judge in the Georgia case dismissed some of the orange motherfucker's charges.

Can I get some your ever-insightful perspective on this, and if there's still hope for prison time for something? Anything at all?

I can offer a few pieces of context on this, yes. First, the judge did dismiss a few of the less-substantiated and secondary charges against Trump in the Georgia election interference case. However, these charges were primarily related to "soliciting others to make false statements," i.e. how he enlisted others in the purpose of overturning the GA election results, and do not contest or impact upon the actual fact of election subversion (which is at the core of the prosecution). The judge also openly invited the prosecutorial team to re-submit the dismissed charges with more substantiated evidence and clearer testimony, so this wasn't a from-the-bench hack job like the ones Aileen Cannon keeps running in the Mar-a-Lago classified documents case (seriously, when can we appeal to the 11th Circuit to get her taken off? WHEN???) Which, considering that this is a Republican judge appointed by a Republican governor (Brian Kemp) is a good sign.

In short, this wasn't the judge saying "all these charges are bogus and inadmissible," it was the judge saying "I'll dismiss a few of these for not being as well substantiated as the others, but please resubmit with revisions/improvements and I will be happy to consider them again." And while I am not a lawyer, it is my understanding that prosecutors typically bring a multiplicity of charges, including some that might not ultimately stick, in case of this exact circumstance where some of them get dismissed/required to undergo judicial review/are otherwise ancillary to the central indictment. Which, in this case, is still intact. So no, Trump is 100% not "getting entirely off the hook" or "no longer under investigation in Georgia" or whatever else. I'm sure the GOP will try to spin it as such, but ignore them. The Trump "find me 11,780 votes" phone call to Raffensperger and the rest of his Georgia election interference has not been dismissed, and the RICO case still largely exists as first filed.

This is also a good sign that the judge won't order Fani Willis dismissed and the case completely shut down, as the Georgia Republicans have been trying to do with their hit-job inquiry into her personal life. If the judge was leaning toward dismissing Willis/the case entirely, this could have been a lot more sweeping intervention, but it doesn't look like he's going to do that, and in fact offered them an invitation to re-submit and make the case stronger. So that actually bodes better for the chances of eventually securing a conviction in the Georgia case, if the prosecutors have to go back to the drawing board and make sure everything is airtight. It's probably helpful to see all this in the above light and to understand that all legal cases drag on for years, with forward progress and setbacks. Especially this one, which is unprecedented in all ways.

However, I need to warn people again about thinking that Trump will be tried, convicted, and imprisoned before the election, and that this will spare us from having to vote against him or otherwise electorally dispose of him. SCOTUS, to nobody's surprise but still our disappointment, agreed to hear the Trump immunity case in late April (instead of just accepting the DC Circuit's opinion), and while they're likely to rule against him, that still creates another months-long delay. Importantly, though, the Department of Justice has announced that the "no legal proceedings 60 days before the election" rule does NOT apply to Trump, as he has already been indicted and the cases are currently being litigated. If they had decided that the 60-day rule applied, all trial proceedings would have to be frozen in the first week of September, but since not, they can continue into October and November. If the 60-day rule had been upheld, it would have drastically increased the odds of Trump avoiding trial entirely before the election, as few prosecutors would have wanted to proceed when they knew that there was an automatic kill switch built in. But if the DOJ holds to this, Trump could literally be on trial on Election Day itself. Which is good, obviously, but still: it will not be the magic solution. We still have to vote for Biden.

As I have said before, the stakes in 2024 are simple. The criminal trials will not get rid of Trump before the election. There will be another election that is Trump vs. Biden and therefore one of them will win the presidency. If Biden wins and Trump loses, Trump will be out of delay options and will go to prison almost 100% as all his criminal chickens come home to roost. If he wins, we will be fucked for generations to come. Vote accordingly.

#anonymous #ask #politics for ts #the giant orange monster

[coolprettyleo]

picking up the pieces - begin again au

tw: lowkey cringe

wc: 856

ryan leonard x hughes sister au

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

frankie decided she loved her life. was she manic? maybe.

she walked to class wearing a cute mini skirt feeling like that bitch. with the song rich girl playing feeling a bit main character. she wanted to look good for this class though.

it had been about two weeks since she's seen anyone. avoiding everyone she knew at all cost. she was finally going to her theater class where she sat with will, gabe, and ryan.

she's decided she hates ryan. frankie just felt like he was an asshole trying to convince everyone he was a 'nice guy' when he wasn't. honestly she was just bitter he pushed her away two weeks ago.

frankie usually didn't get rejected so when she did, she would act like they were the plague and they were the most evil person in the world. it was easier to do in her opinion.

ryan had actually been trying to see her since it happened. he had felt horrible for the way she took it. he just wanted her to know that he was in it for the long game and the serious game; a game that frankie wasn't familiar with. but alas frankie thought he was slut shaming her; something that had been haunting Ryan. he would never shame her for that kind of stuff. if anything he found it even hotter of the way she carried herself and how confident she was.

frankie opened the door to her class, running fifteen minutes late. so when the big wooden doors creaked open it caught the attention of a certain hockey trio. she decided to sit with them again due to the fact she wanted them to see she was thriving. even though her life had fallen apart she was still slaying at life. and they needed to see that.

the professor got to talking their ears off as she scrolled through Pinterest. trying to find a new way to stay interesting as she was trying to rebrand her whole life.

she ignored the worried glances each of the three boys would give her throughout the rest of the lecture, trying to desperately keep it together. the professor ended class early, so frankie tried to pack up as quick as possible hoping to not have to converse with the three boys.

"wanna go get chippers with us?" will offered to her. as if nothing happened. she eyed them before giving ryan a nasty look.

"im good, thanks." she said in a bitchy tone as she walked swiftly pass them.

ryan looked at the other two boys with a wince before grabbing his bag, chasing after her.

"frankie wait!" he called as she raced down the steps. not listening to him.

"please stop avoiding me, I never meant for you to take it that way" he said grabbing her bag. he was desperate to talk to her since he had called her, texted her, looked for her, for two weeks straight. this girl was stubborn.

"im not avoiding you, I just dont see a reason for us to all be friends anymore" she said looking at him with her head held high. trying to play a part she oh so desperately wasn't.

"dont say that, we were friends before you got with drew, remember?"

"just leave me alone! I know what you and your friends think about me. why would I want to be around that?"

"that was drew and the rest of them, it was never me, smitty, or gabe" he said reasoning with her.

"I just feel really stupid ryan. overall embarrassed. I mean you were just trying to be nice to me and I got mixed signals and tried to get with you too, no wonder you think im a whore" she said looking away.

"woah- I do not think of you like that- I tried to kiss you too. when I pulled away it was because I wanted us to kiss under way better circumstances. you dont have to be embarrassed whatsoever. its drew who should be, if anything"

"under better circumstances?" she said confused.

"well I mean- I like you. like I wanted to take you out and all that before we kissed. and to be honest, I want you to be over drew before I take you out" he said putting his hands in his pockets blushing profusely.

ryan liked me? since when?

when she had first met the BC boys she originally wanted to hook up with ryan, but he didn't look like he showed her any interest so she moved on too drew.

"I don't think your over him yet though. and thats fine, im in it for the long game and ill wait, but in the mean time I still want to be friends, I still want to see you, so please join us to chippers" ryan added on after she had looked deep in thought.

she contemplated weather joining them or not. she wss hungry. and she did love chipotle. and its not like she had any other friends.

"ill go" she said after a second as ryan grinned.

it had always been hard for frankie to keep a grudge.

"and by the way, im so over him. he gives me the ick" she said they walked towards chipotle.

"I'll believe it when I see it, princess" he said grabbing her bag.

#nhl imagine #ryan leonard #frankie x ryan #gabe perreault #nhl imagines #will smith hockey #bc hockey #gabe perreault x reader #hockey fic #hockey imagine #jack hughes x reader #quinn hughes #luke hughes x reader #hughes sister

[darling-im-wonderstruck]

hii!! could you write something where peter and reader go grocery shopping, then he gets lost in the store but it’s just super fluffy?? tysm :)

back to you | p.p.

synopsis : no matter what happens, no matter the circumstances, no matter the situation, you knew peter would always find his way back to you.

pairing : bf!peter parker x reader

wc : 589

warnings : flufffffff !! and peter being a chaotic idiot 😭

‎‎ ───── masterlist | request | navigation

a/n : hi ! sorry the fic is a little late this week again 😓, the title and summary is so dramatic given the fic LMAOAOSKSMJSND but anyways !!! this was based on @sacharinee’s grocery shopping headcanons ! please read m’s works, they’re all amazing :) <3 💞

y’know, grocery shopping can be pretty fun if you don’t just sigh and mope around.” you grin. peter on the other hand, had a pout on his face. he was avoiding you whilst making sure he was never further than three feet away.

“you didn’t let me get the chocolate covered wafers,” he mumbles, looking down. you couldn’t help but giggle at your lover’s antics. he’s been like this on the car ride to the grocery store and its only gotten worse once you arrived.

“we’re only here to buy our meals for the week, and you promised, no unnecessary purchases,” you called back to the promise he made before leaving. grocery shopping with peter was almost like babysitting a full grown adult, and you didn’t know if you were up for that today.

but alas, here you were.

“this is necessary! i’m starving,” he groans but he quickly follows it up with, “you’d let me get them if you love me.” a smile was slowly creeping up on his face.

you give him a soft peck on the lips (one gladly accepts), before saying, “i love youuu!” peter grins hopefully after hearing that. “but we are not getting those wafers,” you say, continuing your round throughout the grocery store, peter trailing behind you.

despite peter’s growing hanger, he manages to make himself helpful by grabbing heavy batches of items, placing them into your cart. you send him a smile of approval which makes peter all giddy and proud, suddenly, he’s in a pretty good mood.

his mood only improved once he saw samples, all laid out neatly on a nearby stall. he quickly glances at you to take note of where you are, and he’s off taking multiple samples of the same food so he can share some with you.

but as soon as he comes back to the bread and pastry section, you’re nowhere to be found.

at first, he isn’t too worried about it, he’s certain that you’d come back for him anytime now.

anytime now…

the panic really starts to settle in once thirty minutes have passed, he was starting to get looks, he’d been standing there alone, samples in one hand, phone in the other.

he’d tried calling, unfortunately for him, your phone was on silent.

he couldn’t wait any longer, at some point, he begun showing anyone he could see a photo of you, asking if they’d seen you anywhere. when he realizes no one’s seen you, the panic fully sinks in.

but really, you were lined up by the cashier, you hadn’t noticed when peter had left your side, but you thought it would be safe to assume that he was okay, probably looking for more samples.

unbeknownst to you, he was far from okay.

he paced back and forth in the dairy aisle, mumbling, running his hands through his hair, thinking of every possible outcome of you being separated.

“baby?” and when his head turns towards you, you could’ve sworn you saw tears beginning to form.

next thing you know, his arms are tightly wrapped around your waist and he’s peppering soft kisses on your shoulder.

“what’s wrong?” truthfully, you were starting to worry.

“i turned around and you were just— gone.” that’s when you broke, you couldn’t hold it in anymore, you burst into laughter.

“you, peter parker, are an idiot.” you say, a fond smile on your face, one he couldn’t help but mirror, “and, i hope these will make you feel better.”

you pull something out of your grocery bag, low and behold… “the chocolate covered wafers!”

taglist : (send me an ask/dm to be added !) @live-laugh-lovejoy @tomsholland2412 @parkerpeter24 @herpeanutzombie

a/n : tysm for reading :) pls reblog to support your writers !!! requests are open !

#— zuri writes … ֢ ׄ 🖋 ⃞ ִ ׄ ۪ #peter parker #peter parker x y/n #mcu!peter x reader #peter parker fluff #peter parker imagine #tom!peter parker x reader #tom!spiderman #peter parker x reader #peter x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker fanfiction #spiderman #spider-man #spiderman x reader #peter parker smut #peter parker blurb #peter parker oneshot #peter parker fic #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland smut #tom holland peter parker #peter parker angst #peter parker writing #college peter parker #mcu peter parker #tasm!spiderman x reader #tasm!peter fluff #tasm!peter x you

[desolatespring]

CW: yandere themes, threats of murder, dubcon/noncon, mentions of dacryphilia, overstimulation, and edging, oral sex (f receiving), dom Chrollo, 18+ Commission for @tomatop It took awhile to pick up on, but you eventually began to notice the subtle cues Chrollo inadvertently laid before you. In a way it almost humanized him, and that you thought, was even more unnerving than just accepting him as a monster. Viewing Chrollo as human was a cruel conclusion you struggled to come to. Despite the insurmountable power, and cold calculated behaviors, he was still a man. On rare occasions you came close to feeling bad for him, never true empathy, but pity.

Tonight was one of those instances. His usual methods of producing verbalized emotional turmoil, or as he liked to call it “banter” had ceased to work a few days ago. You remembered an article you read soon after graduating, and the term “stonewalling” stood out to you. It consisted of simply refusing to answer questions or responding to someone as an act of self preservation. Chrollo seemed to feed off your responses to him, you hoped by cutting him off from them he’d simply starve. Anything from a forced smile to you screaming in frustration was enough to temporarily satisfy him, providing him with enough material to psychoanalyze you for days, if not weeks on end. So, you decided to limit his resources.

You sat cross legged on the floor, back leaning against the bed, with a book in your hand. Under normal circumstances you loved reading, but alas, nothing with Chrollo could be considered normal. The only reading material you had he had supplied you with, was it really necessary for you to be reading “Fahrenheit 451” for the third time? You swore you’d go insane if he compared you Clarisse McClellan even once more.

When you first started reading Chrollo was at the head of the bed, reading his own novel, but after a few chapters he’d invited himself to lay down right behind you, his hand “accidentally” brushing your hair on occasion as he turned the page. Not long after this you could feel his eyes on you. The chill that tended to run up your spine under his scrutinizing gaze never came though. This is what told you something was off, even without turning your head you could almost feel emptiness radiating from him, threatening to swallow you into the abyss. That alone was almost enough to make you capitulate, ready to beg him for forgiveness for ignoring him.

Forcing yourself to focus on the pages in front of you, you successfully set these feelings aside. That was until the once sporadic brushes against your hair became more frequent. Out of the corner of your eye you could see that fingers that once touched you with an unspoken confidence became riddled with doubt. The touches were much more gentle, you could tell he was deep in thought.

That caused you yourself to think. Was he getting bored of you? If he was you considered yourself to be found guilty of treason, willing to receive capital punishment. No longer having an interest in you would surely be cause enough for him to kill you. You saw first hand the way he quickly disposed of his fortunes after heists. Once they served their purpose they were discarded and he moved onto his next target. Surely you’d meet the same fate if he no longer felt a need for you.

The realization had you speaking before you could stop yourself, “Did you finish your book?”

Just like that the emptiness you felt earlier was replaced with substance, you could practically feel the arrogant grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

“No. Is yours too difficult to understand? I could explain it to you.” Almost instantaneously you regretted opening your mouth, maybe death would be better than having this cretin belittle you.

Deciding you’ve already had enough of the conversation you begin to focus on your story again. Your escape is short lived as the book is snatched from your fingers.

“What made you speak to me again?”

You sigh before turning to face him. Of course he would ask. Maybe trying to seem like you had his best interest at heart would temporarily win him over.

“You seemed disappointed.”

He pauses before responding. “Elaborate, there’s more to it than that.”

You purse your lips. Shit. I should’ve thought that one through better. “I assumed if you were disappointed with my silence you’d grow bored and just kill me.”

He seems satisfied with your answer. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise the king of deceit saw through your original deception.

Rolling onto his back he faces the ceiling with his fingers intertwined below his chest. His breathing is steady and his eyelashes flutter shut, casting a small shadow on his cheeks. In this moment all you think is how unfair it is for someone so evil to possess such attractive features. Wasn’t it said Lucifer was the most beautiful of God’s angels? you muse.

“You’re right you know? I feel like we’re at a standstill lately. I could replace you.”

Your breath hitches as you freeze. “I-I’m sorry?” Your voice sounds hoarse as you stutter.

“There is a way you could make it up to me. Buy yourself some time at the very least.”

You look at him reproachfully, waiting for him to explain further.

“You hardly resist when I touch you now.” He opens his eyes and turns towards you, watching for your reaction before continuing, “you could indulge me in some of my other… fantasies. Unless of course, I have to find someone new.”

The implications of his words causes your blood to run cold. Not only would your life be cut short, at this point that might be your preferred alternative, but he’d also find someone new. Taking a shaky breath you accept his offer. Someone new? Jealousy didn’t fuel your readiness to agree; you couldn’t bare the thought of anyone else falling victim to this man, not due to your own selfishness.

Sensing your forfeit, a satisfied smile chisels itself onto his alabaster skin, “come here.”

You hesitate before standing. Once you’ve risen you look down at your feet, each step looking like it was recorded in slow motion and looped back on repeat. All too soon your shaking knees collide with the side of the bed and you climb on top to kneel in front of him.

His hand reaches out, tucking the hair covering your face behind you ear. It slides down to underneath your chin as he gently lifts your face towards him. “Good girl.”

Under any other circumstances the action would have you swooning, but the butterflies in your stomach have turned to bile and you force yourself to keep it down. Pestilence sat before you, touching you with the delicate hands of a lover, while you became riddled with the plague.

Pulling you closer his lips hover centimeters from yours, the fresh smell of mint and cologne stinging your nose. If you weren’t so stunned you might’ve pulled away, but now it was too late as he finishes closing the distance between the two of you.

His lips were warmer than you expected. Softer too. Although the soul in Chrollo may have died long ago, his body was still alive and breathing. With a start you feel his tongue grazing your lower lip, his silent plea for you to reciprocate his actions. Swallowing your pride you lightly part your lips, begrudgingly allowing him access.

Once again he surprises you, the restraint he exhibits in this moment is unparalleled. Nothing is too rough or too fast, if it were anyone else you might even find it pleasant.

The taste of mint spreads to your tongue and you hesitantly put more effort into pleasing him. The hand on your chin relocated to rest on the side of your face while the other grips your hip. There’s no real force behind it but you know pulling away just got rendered impossible.

He continues to deepen the kiss as he guided you to straddle his lap. Once he’s sure you’re comfortable he begins leaning back, coercing your body to be on top of his.

Both hands are now on your hips and his fingers begin creeping under the waistband of your shorts. Using a little more force he guides your hips lower and motions for them to roll against him. Despite the voice in your head telling you it’s wrong, you follow his lead and cautiously grind against him. Overtime it becomes more natural and you resist the pleasantry less.

It doesn’t take long for you to feel the way his pants begin to stiffen, adding more pressure to your clit. You inhale sharply, abruptly breaking the kiss. Chrollo uses the opening to his advantage.

“Hm, it’s a wonder how you denied yourself for so long, look at how you’re taking charge.”

The mockery causes your cheeks to flush in anger. Before you have the chance to argue that he’s the one making you do this, his lips are back on yours.

Satisfied with your silence he pulls his mouth from yours, now beginning to trail kisses down your neck. As he reaches your collarbone he gives a light nip before easing your shirt off of you.

You curse yourself for not wearing a bra, now leaving yourself far more exposed than you’re comfortable with.

It seems to be spur of the moment decision as he flips you over onto your back, opting for himself to be the one on top. His fingers wrap around your wrists and he has the strength to easily hold both of your hands with one of his own.

He now freed hand begins to fondle your breasts before he gently begins sucking one of your nipples. He releases it with a pop and blows on the wet skin, the cool air causing you to shiver and arch your back.

He looks at you with a knowing smirk. You shoot him down with a glare. He clearly isn’t deterred since he’s now sliding your shorts off of you. He snaps the waistband of your panties against your hips before removing those too.

You being fully nude when he’s still in a button down and black trousers only reinstates the power imbalance you know exists. You’re completely vulnerable to him, and he’s just observing you. It’s hard to tell if his arousal is coming from you or the humiliating position he’s put you in.

“Unbutton my shirt.” Your glare softens to more of a pout as you listen to his instructions. You try unclasping the buttons as fast as possible to get the inevitable done and over with.

“I didn’t realize how badly you wanted this. Slow down.” You look back up to him and the expression on his face can only be described as taunting. He knows damn well why you’re in a rush, and it has nothing to do with excitement.

Nonetheless you slow your pace and maintain the eye contact with him, making your discontent as apparent as possible.

The moment his shirt is discarded he’s grabbing your hips with more intensity and pinning them down to the mattress. His grip is bordering on painful but you try not to show it, deciding to just take it in stride and lay there.

He slowly lowers himself between your thighs, making sure to keep his eyes on you. At this point your will starts to crumble and you look away, suddenly wanting to give him as little to work with as possible.

Chrollo seems unbothered by this, admittedly probably expecting it. The next thing you notice is the feeling of his warm tongue licking a long, sensual stripe up the length of your inner thigh. You subconsciously try closing your legs at the contact. But in an instant his hands are leaving your hips and moving to your legs to hold them open.

He continues to trail up your leg, occasionally leaving sloppy open mouthed kisses and bites. Every time he gets close to your pussy he switches to the other leg and starts the process over. After a few repetitions you lose count of how many times he’s done it.

Despite it being Chrollo, you start to desire more and the teasing is getting to you. Suddenly, you’re struck with a sickening realization. He wants you to beg him for it. You whine in frustration at the thought, temporarily forgetting he’s there to hear all your noises.

“Is something wrong, my dear?” His words slightly hushed by the way he spoke them into your leg.

“Stop teasing…” you mumble, hoping that’ll be enough to satisfy him. It wasn’t.

He stops altogether and props himself up on his left elbow to see you better. “I can’t understand you darling, please look at me when you’re speaking to me.”

You huff and sit up slightly. “I said stop teasing.” Your words are even quieter this time and you can tell by his grin that you’re blushing.

“What would you like me to do instead?”

You bite your lower lip to avoid screaming at him. He seems to have mistaken it as a sign of arousal though because he grin only grows bigger.

“I-I um, I want you to eat me out…”

You can practically see how the gears turn in his head. Thankfully, this half hearted attempt at dirty talk seemed to be enough for him.

Not giving you time to react, he drops his head back down and licks along your slit before taking you clit between his lips and sucking gently.

“Ah-” you yelp in surprise and tilt your head back, not wanting him to be able to see any of your expressions. As you lay back down he only doubles down on his endeavors. Your back arches and much to your chagrin you can’t hold back your soft moans.

His tongue swirls around and over your clit until he finds a rhythm that you clearly enjoy. You go to reach for his hair but last second your fingers opt for the satin sheets instead.

You’re to blissed out to think much of anything when he reaches up and sticks two fingers in your mouth. Assuming it’s just a kink of his you decide to indulge him.

As he pulls his fingers out of your mouth his thumb trails down your lower lip. Your eyes widen and your whimpers get louder as he abruptly begins to finger you. Taken aback by the bold gesture you cuss him out.

“Fuck you.”

“We’ll get there.”

You scoff in annoyance but it’s quickly silenced when you feel his fingers begin curling inside of you. Between this and the love letter he’s writing with his tongue your orgasm begins to build.

You’re fairly certain you can feel him smirk against you as he comes to the same conclusion. Your back arches of the mattress and you string together a mantra of words.

“Chrollo- I’m, fuck I’m close.”

And just like that his fingers are gone and his mouth is pulling away. You sit up, confused. Shame washes over you at the sight of him. He’s perfectly composed, leisurely pulling his cock from his pants, while you’re forehead is covered with a sheen of sweat, cheeks red, and your mouth is slightly agape.

He looks up and seems rather proud of himself for leaving you with such a dazed expression. Now freed from his pants he grabs your calves and yanks you to him, resulting in a nervous giggle leaving your lips.

“Lay back down.” His tone is softer now and he nudges your shoulder, motioning for you to recline back.

You give him one last hesitant glance before doing as you’re told. The sound of him spitting in his hand before lightly stroking himself causes you to grimace. How alluring.

You’re pulled from your thoughts as he leans over you, staring into your eyes as he lines himself up with your entrance. This is the most life you’ve seen in the empty sea of grey. His pupils are blown wide with lust and there’s a glimmer of something else in there but you can’t quite put your finger on it. If he was anyone else you might’ve mistaken it for love.

He’s careful as he enters you. Watching your face for any signs of discomfort. The sudden look of care throws you off guard and you feel almost dizzy as your emotions muddle together.

You let out a shaky breath once he’s fully inserted himself, forcing your muscles to relax despite the slight sting from how he stretches you out. Once you adjust to his size he sets a slow, steady pace, gradually picking up speed as you settle into it.

He brings himself closer to you, resting his face in the crook of your neck which he makes sure to mark. His breath tickles as his teeth graze along your earlobe.

Being too lost in the moment to care, your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him deeper into you. The low groan he lets in response causes a pleasurable shiver to run through your body. Clearly appreciating your submission his hand snakes up and his fingers curl around your throat, giving it a light squeeze. When he hears no protests and only a high pitched whimper in response his grip tightens.

He sits up straighter at this and tosses one of your legs over his shoulder. The change in position causes your eyes to roll back as he ruts himself deeper into you, making sure to hit every spot that makes your leg shake around him.

For the second time you feel your orgasm approaching but this time he shows no sign of stopping. Instead, opting to coax your through it.

“Mm, I knew you’d take me so well, sweetheart~” his voice is husky and his cheeks flushed a light pink. If you weren’t so close to cumming you’d probably laugh at the sight of Chrollo looking flustered.

Instead, his words send you over the edge and your hand latches onto his forearm. The grip of his hand around your throat once again tightens as the way your nails dig into his skin. He groans as your walls squeeze around him.

He continues fucking you throughout your high and by the end of it your babbling from the overstimulation. He removes his hand from you throat and delicately places it in your hair, his pace slightly slowing as he sees you growing overwhelmed.

They way you now spasm with each thrust as tears prick at the corners of your eyes is enough to bring him to his own release. His hips stutter and he waits a moment before pulling out, relishing at your final whines, a symphony you’ve orchestrated just for him.

After you’ve both cleaned up he ticks you into bed, laying down beside you. Despite your earlier actions you still stiffen when his arm wraps around your waist. The silken sheets that helped ground you earlier now holding you prisoner.

“You know, I was only bluffing earlier. I don’t think I could ever get tired of you. A day with you could supply me with a lifetime of musings.”

It takes a moment for his words to set in, but once they do you’re sitting upright, anger bubbling in your throat, ready to be released.

“You mean that was all just a ploy to sleep with me?” Your fists clench at your sides, eager to collide with him.

“Of course it was. Now go to bed.” He replies lazily, flicking off the lights.

#chrollo x reader #chrollo imagine #yandere chrollo #chrollo #chrollo smut #yan chrollo x reader #yan chrollo

[in1-nutshell]

Hey, sooo could you do buddy as drifts sibling/sparkling (which ever you want) and knew him when he was deadlock with him leaving them on accident with them running into each other again with buddy still being a con would drift try to have them join the lost light?

We are going with the twin route because not even I'm ready for an abandoned sparkling one. Also added some extra things, hope that was okay!

Personally, I don't think he would ever willingly abandon his sparkling or twin under any circumstance

Hope you enjoy!

Drift's twin the Con who was left behind on accident

SFW, Platonic, Familial, Slight Angst, Romance, Cybertronain reader

MTMTE

Buddy had been by Drift/Deadlock side since the beginning.

From the overdose.

Meeting Ratchet and Orion Pax.

Meeting Megatron and joining the ranks.

Being one of the best snipers compared to their twin.

“I bet you 50 shanix you can’t hit the bot over there.”--Deadlock

“The one behind the rocks with that horrendous color scheme? Please, I’d do it for free, but since your offering…”--Buddy

Buddy closes their optics and fires the round hitting the bot on the shoulder.

“Non-lethal. Doesn’t count.”--Deadlock

Buddy holds a digit in the air.

The bot suddenly explodes.

Deadlock smirks.

“Compression rounds?”--Deadlock

“You know me Deadlock, I have to make my presence known one way or another. What better way with an explosion.”--Buddy

Deadlock reading his rounds.

“Always one for the grand entrances.”--Deadlock

Buddy smirks back.

“Always.”--Buddy

Drift/Deadlock was their entire world and vice versa.

Buddy was his light in this dark world.

The only rocks in the world they had were each other.

Through the fun times and worst times, they stayed loyal to each other’s side.

But then the accident came.

It was the two of them and a small group of Cons on a stake out.

No one knew about the bombing raids.

Drift remembered the screaming and grabbing Buddy’s servo trying to get to safety.

He remembered the feeling of violently getting flunked into the air and blacking out.

He remembered waking up to nothing but scraps of metal and holes in the ground.

He remembered screaming and yelling for Buddy, realizing they weren’t holding his servo or anywhere in sight.

He remembered clawing the dirt around him trying to find them, hoping that they had been partially buried and safe.

He found nothing and went back to the base empty handed and empty hearted.

Buddy’s death was one of the turning points for Drift when he thought about his purpose with the cons and eventually joining the Autobots.

He would later tell the life of his beloved twin to his closest allies on the Lost Light.

Not a day goes by when he doesn’t say a little prayer to Buddy. It was a way of coping with the loss for so long.

Obviously, Buddy isn’t dead.

As it turned out the explosion took them much farther than everyone else.

Their signal had gotten jammed with the surrounding fauna and injuries didn’t help.

They remembered blackout out for a while before a group of Decepticon’s stumbled across their stasis frame. After an accidental reactivation Buddy was brought back to their ship for repairs.

A group they called the Scavengers.

Krok, the unofficial leader welcomed them to their group.

Buddy ended up joining the group as they added more members slowly as they tried to get back in contact with everyone.

The Scavenger couldn’t count the number of times they found Buddy try and contact Deadlock.

They tried to get in touch with Deadlock, but soon it became clear to Buddy that there was no possible way to communicate with him or anyone without the specific equipment for it.

It was now hope that fueled Buddy to one day see their twin again.

It was never a dull moment with the Scavengers and Buddy liked it.

The addition of Fulcrum and Grimlock just added to the fire.

The war may have been a loss… but it wasn’t a loss for everyone.

Krok looking at Buddy who had fallen asleep at the main console again.

He sighed before going over and gently picking them up.

Buddy stirred a bit in their sleep but didn’t wake up.

“They fell asleep at the console again?”--Spinister

Krok just nods as he moves to get Buddy to their habsuite.

“How many times has it been this week?”--Misfire

“Its none of our concern Misfire… They’re just tired.”

“Maybe they should start actually recharging at a decent hour.”--Fulcrum

“Maybe…”--Krok

“They need to let loose a bit you know. Maybe, I don’t know, take them out?”--Misfire

Krok stops in front of the door.

He feels his face plate warmer than usual.

“They won’t be interested.”--Krok

“You could always shoot them.”--Spinister

“No!—I mean—Spinister we don’t shoot team mates.”--Krok

“Krok I think we all know you and Buddy are a little pass the ‘Team mates’ phase.”--Fulcrum

“What makes you say that?”--Krok

Crankcase points at him.

“You carried them to bed and actively tucking them in.”--Crankcase

Krok paused for a moment before walking to the doorway.

“Listen, they are just another valuable member of the team. Anyways—”--Krok

“Krok.”--Crankcase

“Who in their right mind would want to go out on a date me?”--Krok

“Krok.”--Spinister

“They’re smarter, they’ll find some one else to settle down with.”--Krok

“Krok.”--Fulcrum

“Even if they do want to settle—"--Krok

“Krok.”--Misfire

“What?!”--Krok

The four Scavengers point behind him.

He turns and is face to face with Buddy.

“GAH!”--Krok

Krok trips backwards but Buddy grabs him and pulls him flush to their chassis.

Krok feels warmer than usual.

“Buddy… I thought you were asleep?”--Krok

“When your one of the best sniper of the Decepticon army and Deadlock’s your twin, you learn how to sleep lightly and play robot-opposum.”--Buddy

Krok chuckles nervously.

Buddy smirks at him.

“You know… there’s a planet that’s Cybertronain friendly coming up. We could go do some site seeing, what do you say?”--Buddy

Krok tries to speak but he just dumbly nods.

All the Scavengers behind him face palm at the interaction.

Buddy’s smirk turns to a genuine smile.

“All right then, see you in a couple hours then Krok.”--Buddy

They wink and close the door.

Krok just stares at the door.

“What did we just witness?”--Misfire

“That Buddy clearly has more game than Krok?”--Spinister

It was no surprise that Krok had feelings for Buddy.

But when Buddy reciprocated them, that took them all by surprise.

They worked perfectly with each other like a well-oiled machine.

They worked together determined to stick with each other through thick and thin.

“Krok, you’re doing it again.”--Buddy

“Doing what?”--Krok

“The clicking…”--Buddy

Krok looks down at the clicker and slowly sets it down.

Buddy comes to his side and slips their servo into his giving a loving squeeze.

Krok just rest his helm on their shoulder sighing.

“Do you want to talk about it now?”--Buddy

Krok shakes his helm.

Buddy moves their servo and pulls him into a side hug.

“Is this okay?”--Buddy

Krok vents and nods.

They stay on the couch for a bit.

“Buddy?”--Krok

“Hmm?”--Buddy

“Thanks… Thanks…”--Krok

Buddy reaches and hugs him properly.

He responds immediately.

“No, thank you Krok…”--Buddy

The pair end up cuddling in Krok’s room for the rest of the night.

The pair had often danced around being Conjunxes, but both were too shy to bring that up.

The rest of the crew has their own romantic drama to watch now, and they don’t even need a TV for it.

One night the WAP’s engine broke down.

They sent out an emergency pin for repairs.

They received one back.

From the Lost Light.

The ships captain had offered a temporary stay on the ship while their ship was being repaired on the condition that they would be on their best behavior.

The team agreed.

Now The Scavengers were walking to the entrance port as the giant ship had latched onto it.

“Hey Misfire, who did you say the captain was again?”--Fulcrum

“Rodium? Rod? Hang on its on the tip—”--Misfire

The doors open.

“Guess we’ll find out.”--Krok

Buddy takes the lead.

Krok gives them a questioning look.

They walk in and nearly have a spark attack when they see the Co- captains, Ultra Magnus and a familiar felicon.

“Buddy? Your online?”—Megatron and Ravage

Buddy walks forward to the big grey mech.

They stick their servo out.

“Megatron. Its… been a while.”--Buddy

Megatron wordlessly takes the servo.

“It has…”--Megatron

“That’s Buddy? I thought they offlined a while back.”--Rodimus

“Well, they’re not.”--Grimlock

“Grimlock!?”—Rodimus and Ultra Magnus

“This day is just full of surprises isn’t it.”—Ravage

Upon remembering Buddy’s infamously and realizing that the ship was practically crawling with Autobot bot, the Scavengers formed a protective circle around Buddy as they continued to walk with the three other bots.

Ravage took this chance to leave the group.

He knew there was someone that needed to see this.

The group made it to Swerve’s and Buddy instinctively went on guard.

They were honestly glad they brought Grimlock as he gently pushed them forward when they wanted to stop.

Buddy felt uncomfortable knowing full well that many bots had recognized them, ye they weren’t doing anything.

As the group sat down in one of the larger booths, Buddy reached under the table and grasped Krok’s servo.

He sent out loving squeezes trying to soothe them a bit.

“How are you feeling about all… of this?”--Krok

“…Could be better honestly…”--Buddy

“At least Misfire and Grimlock seem to be having fun.”--Krok

Buddy looked over to see Misfire and Grimlock happily chatting with the red minibot bartender.

“Good for them—”--Spinister

BANG!

Buddy immediately moves in front of Krok upon hearing the noise.

There at the entrance of the bar was a white and red mech.

Behind him another white and orange mech panting behind.

“Drift… I swear if you ever do that again…”--Ratchet

Drifts optics frantically searched the bar until they found Buddy.

Buddy felt their spark stop for a second.

Their frame slightly trembled.

“Buddy?”--Drift

Buddy quickly moved across the bar and tackled the mech down in a hug.

Ratchet quickly moved out of the way of the tender reunion.

Drift latched onto Buddy.

They were both slightly teary optic.

“Drift… Oh Drift…”--Buddy

“Oh, Thank Primus… You’re here! You’re here!”—Drift

There was a lot of catching up between the twins as they left to a more private place on the ship.

Drift really owed ravage this one.

Throughout the next few days Drift and Buddy hardly left each other’s side. It soon was made official that The Scavenger’s would be a part of the Lost Light, the twins were overjoyed.

“Drift! I haven’t properly introduced my team.”--Buddy

Drift smiled at them.

It was almost hard to believe that this mech was once one of the most feared mechs in the Decepticon armada.

“You’re the ones who saved Buddy?”--Drift

“Yes.”--Krok

Drift shook their servos.

“Thank you doesn’t even cover it.”--Drift

Buddy slides next to Krok and holds his servo.

Drift looks at this interaction and gives Buddy a smirk.

Buddy looks at Ratchet behind him yelling at a poor bot that decided to play with his equipment.

They mirror his smirk.

“Who would have thought you fell for the one mech that saved your sorry behind all those years ago.”--Buddy

“You aren’t one to talk. At least he’s my Conjunx, is he yours yet?”--Drift

“Not yet—KROK!”--Buddy

Krok fainted in Buddy’s arms.

“DANG IT NOT AGAIN! SOMEONE CALL A MEDIC! OR GET SPINISTER HERE!”--Buddy

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN AGAIN!?”--Drift

#transformers x reader #maccadam #bot buddy #idw mtmte #mtmte x reader #mtmte x platonic reader #mtmte scavengers x platonic reader #mtmte drift #mtmte deadlock #mtmte scavengers

[e-spexially]

cowboy like me

pairing: billy the kid x lucy gray baird

summary: "sure would have been nice to meet you under different circumstances."

ib: these two edits by @lg.baird and @beatrixsfx on tiktok

note: this is purely self-indulgent, I saw these and felt SO angsty and inspired :(

The saloon was nicer than most that Billy had entered in the past. Smoke danced in the air and the room was dimly lit by the oil lamps placed on each table, giving the entire room a dreamy haze.

They even had live music. Not the kind where drunk men played the piano or gave some warbled rendition of an old folk tune, either. No, up on stage was a band. Two young women and two young men, playing instruments that appeared well cared for. The one singing looked to be the youngest of the bunch, blonde and fresh with her vocals.

It was a fast-paced melody and the already tipsy men and women of the saloon were on their feet in the small clearing between the tables that served as a dancefloor.

Billy walked up to the bar and bought himself a drink, trying to blend into the crowd. The music was a breath of fresh air from the constant drone of the outdoors he had been spending his time in lately. Being on the run was tiring and it was nice to finally sit in a real chair, surrounded by other people.

As he hunched over his drink, considering a game of poker, the song ended with a wave of applause, and the blonde girl spoke out to the crowd.

"Alright, y'all! For this next number, help me give a big, warm welcome to my cousin, Lucy Gray Baird!"

The blonde's energy was infectious and her request drew more applause from the crowd, even Billy. He supposed the group must have been well known, but he was out of the loop these days.

Then something unexpected happened. Onstage, walked one of the prettiest girls Billy had ever laid eyes on. Lucy Gray Baird was a dark-haired beauty, with a sweet smile and an air of confidence. His attention was hers without the girl even having to try. But then again, so was everyone else's. More applause rang out as she shot the crowd a smile, delicately cradling her shining, black guitar.

"Evenin', everyone!" She said to them in a melodic voice. "I hope y'all are enjoyin' the night so far. For this song, I'm gonna slow things down a bit and give everyone the chance to hold that special someone a little bit closer."

Billy felt the need to sit up straighter, to show that he was giving her performance the respect it deserved. And it truly did.

Everyone's born as clean as a whistle

As fresh as a daisy and not a bit crazy

Staying that way's a hard row for hoeing

As rough as a briar,

Like walking through fire

As Lucy Gray sang, he realized his father had been wrong before. The stars weren't a reflection of his own light, but hers. He'd spent countless hours staring at the night sky and he'd never met anyone that made him feel the way that view did. Not until tonight.

People were dancing, just as she had hoped. They held each other and swayed to the simple tune. She watched them proudly with a bright smile, as though her intention was merely to create the noise that seemed to move them, not be their sole focus. But he just couldn't help focusing on her, he couldn't look away. Her dark eyes scanned the crowd and Billy felt his heart skip a beat.

This world, it's dark

This world, it's scary

I've taken some hits, so no wonder I'm wary

It's why I need you

You're as pure as the driven snow

That's when they locked gazes with each other and the haze of the room matched the one he was feeling. Lucy Gray smiled a little wider when this happened and something inside him wondered if she knew what he was feeling. Did she? Or, better yet, did she feel it too?

The song continued and then ended, too quickly. She sang two more, their eyes meeting again and again. His drink was gone, the poker game long forgotten as well. Once her set reached its close, she immersed herself in the crowd with another young woman, the others onstage keeping the atmosphere going. Billy watched Lucy Gray being praised by many for her songs and smiled to himself.

She really deserved it. His leg bounced anxiously and the air felt electric, like something was fixing to happen. He knew what Jesse would say if he was here.

"Better make your move now, kid. 'Fore someone beats you to it."

Billy inhaled sharply, trying to give himself a boost of confidence. He suddenly felt thankful that he decided to wash before leaving the rooming house that night. Giving the bar a quick tap, he rose to his feet and made his way through the crowd to her.

She was in the middle of speaking to the women about her dress when he walked up, excusing himself and hoping she didn't find him rude for interrupting.

"Good evening." He held his hat against his chest. Lucy Gray stared up at him with a curious glimmer in her eye, catching sight of the pistol around his waist momentarily. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but I was hoping I could buy you a drink?"

She looked pleasantly sheepish. Exchanging a quick word with the other women, she nodded.

"I don't see why not."

He breathed a sigh of relief and gestured for her to go first, setting his hat back atop his head. He didn't have much money left, but spending it on her felt like the right choice.

Purchasing two whiskeys, he handed her one and watched as she perched on the stool.

"I'm sorry, I didn't get your name," she spoke, taking a sip.

"Right," said the man, wiping his hand on his pants before extending it, as if he were afraid to get her dirty. "I'm Billy."

Lucy Gray smiled and shook his hand. It sent a jolt right through him and he averted his eyes for a moment. She stared at him thoughtfully, resting the whiskey glass against her shoulder.

"Are you enjoyin' the show, Billy?"

"Oh yeah," he replied, hoping he didn't sound too eager. "I liked that first song of yours, the one about the snow."

She looked pleased by this and he could tell she liked speaking about her music.

"Really? I'm glad to hear it!" Sipping her whiskey, she had an excited, almost nostalgic look in her eye. "I wrote that one a few months back when we were still up north. It snowed all the time up there and it just got me to feelin' inspired."

Billy leaned against the bar, taking in the smokiness of her voice. He could listen to her talk forever.

"Up north? You travel a lot?"

Lucy Gray nodded.

"Us Covey travel wherever the fancy takes us," she said. "We spent a good while doin' shows to keep ourselves fed and moved around until we needed more money. Then this fella named Jones picked us up somewhere in Sacramento and said he'd help us get our very own tour through the lower United States."

Moving from state to state by choice was a luxury he couldn't fathom. Ever since he was a boy, moving had been about survival. Billy thought he'd like to live a life like Lucy Gray's, to see the world of his own accord and not because he was running from something. He finished off his whiskey.

"That sounds nice, just bein' free," he mused, mainly to himself. This earned a head tilt from her and her mouth turned up in a small smile.

"I figured cowboys were as free as they come." That made him laugh and he set the glass down.

"I'm no cowboy."

"Well, you sure look the part," joked Lucy Gray. She looked around the saloon at the crowd and then her eyes found the dancefloor. "Hey, how 'bout a dance?"

Billy looked over his shoulder at the patrons slow dancing, feeling a bit more bold on account of the drinks he'd had. He glanced back at her and held out his hand.

"I don't see why not."

She drank the last of her whiskey before letting him lead her out onto the floor. He pulled her a bit closer, his hand finding her waist and hers his shoulder. Something about her demanded to be seen, to be admired. He might not have been the smartest when it came to women, but he knew from the start that she had all the control. What's more, he wasn't even sure it was intentional, but he knew he liked it.

As they danced, she studied his face a bit more.

"You're that outlaw, aren't you?" Billy felt his face flush and looked around for a moment before she laughed. "Don't worry, I wouldn't say anythin'. Not before I heard your story, anyways."

"My story?"

"Sure, everyone's got one." He pondered this for a moment, giving her a shrug.

"S'not exactly the kind people like to hear," he admitted. "It's got lots of sad bits."

"Well, those kinds of stories make the best songs." Lucy Gray looked up at him through her eyelashes. He wondered what his life would sound like through her pen, if she'd be able to take something dark like that and make it beautiful.

Maybe he'd tell her another time. He hoped there would be another time.

"I'll tell it to you someday." It felt like a promise, mainly to himself, that he'd see her again.

"I hope you will." She seemed content to let it rest at that for now. "Those posters don't do you justice, y'know? You're much more handsome up close."

A soft blush appeared on his face and he laughed it off.

"I'm sorry you had to see those, they're not exactly a likeness."

"You're right," she said gently. "I expected someone much scarier, the way people talk about you."

Billy's heart sank a bit at that. He hoped she hadn't heard anything too bad and if it was the truth being passed around, he only hoped she wouldn't judge him for it.

"I hope you'll give me a chance to prove that m'not so scary."

"Don't worry, gorgeous, I don't scare easily." He chuckled and she leaned in a bit. "This is the part where you spin me."

"Yes ma'am," the man drawled, obliging by holding onto her fingertips and twirling her around. Lucy Gray moved gracefully and she gave off the scent of fresh linen with a hint of wildflowers. He imagined her traveling through a field of them somewhere, carrying her guitar in one hand and a suitcase of all her belongings in the other.

What did she take with her? Were there pictures, family heirlooms she held dear enough to carry on her travels? Billy thought back to his mother's gold ring that rested in his pack back in the room he was renting. Did Lucy Gray have anything that precious to her?

She giggled as she spun back into him, bringing that field of flowers right with her. He maneuvered her around into a smooth circle around him before wrapping an arm around her torso.

"You're not bad on the dancefloor for an outlaw!" She said.

"All that time on the run, you get good on your feet," he joked. He savored the laughter that left her chest. It felt genuine and warm, just like her.

The song ended and she went to hold his hands in her own, smiling up at him as the crowd began thinning, the blonde on stage announced that the band would be heading out for the night.

"Thank you for this, Billy," beamed Lucy Gray. "It's just been wonderful."

He nodded earnestly, hoping he had made an impression.

"No, thank you. I can't remember the last time I had a drink and a dance with a nice girl, especially one as pretty as you." Her eyes sparkled at that, almost like she didn't want it to end. He knew he didn't. "Could I walk you out?"

She agreed and they returned to the stage to retrieve Lucy Gray's guitar, along with the bottles of whiskey given by the owner for their work. Then they headed out behind the saloon with the rest of the band, the others buzzing in excitement about the energy of the audience.

"These Texans sure do like their dancing. And their bars!"

"I'll say, you see that man spinnin' his wife around? I thought they were both liable to topple over the way he was drinking!

They were walking in the direction of a small cabin that resided some yards away from the building, a lamp left on the dirt by the front step. It looked cozier than the rooming house for sure.

Billy stopped just as the band piled into the cabin, leaving the door open for Lucy Gray. He could hear the chatter continue from inside.

"Will I see you again? I'd sure like to hear another one of your songs."

"You might see me around. If you're on the run like you say you are, we'll cross paths again."

He hoped so. God, did he hope so.

"You have a lovely voice, my mother would have liked to hear you sing." Lucy Gray sensed the twinge of sadness in the tone and pressed her lips into a thin line.

"They're never far, the ones we love." She studied him for a moment before plucking the striped feather from her dark curls and holding it out to him. "Here, take this. Add some life into that hat of yours."

He huffed in amusement at the feather but took it and tucked it into the band of his old hat.

"How do I look?"

"Like a cowboy." Lucy Gray nodded approvingly. "I hope you could return it to me someday soon?"

"Oh, you bet."

"Good," she said. "You still owe me that story, William H. Bonney."

McCarty, Billy wanted to tell her. His name was McCarty.

"And then you still owe me a song," he replied lightly, deciding against it. Lucy Gray nodded, looking wistful.

"You got yourself a deal." She held her hand out to him and they stayed there for a moment, hands joined. Could he say goodbye? Did he even have a choice? Lucy Gray was free and he wasn't. Sure, he could have joined her on her travels, but no good came with moving alongside an outlaw.

No, none of that. For tonight, he'd let her go and pray that fate would bring them together again.

"Good night, Lucy Gray." He spoke first. She smiled up at him and gave his hand a single shake.

"Good night, Billy."

After that, he watched her walk into the cabin and shut the door, but not before giving him a final wink. Once she was out of sight, he let out a deep sigh. It felt like he'd just woken up from a dream, the good kind that you hope you have again.

Feeling his boldness leaving him and the night's activities taking their toll, he turned on his heel and started for the rooming house, humming Lucy Gray's song all the while.

#lucy gray baird #billy the kid #billy the kid x lucy gray baird #billy the kid x reader #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #tom blyth #rachel zegler #tom blyth x reader #coriolanus snow #needed this for personal reasons #take a shot every time i say hope #💌

[astarions-wife]

I can’t believe it’s come to the point of analyzing Cazador for all of you, but considering the amount of “Cazador can be redeemed!” And “Cazador x reader” I’ve seen, I feel like i need to make this.

So you feel pity for Cazador because he also suffered at the hands of his master. Good. That’s the point. You should feel something for Cazador, he also suffered abuse, and was dragged into the cycle of it by Vellioth. It’s awful, it’s terrible, but it doesn’t mean he’s redeemable.

Very much so, when Cazador kills Vellioth and chooses to start the cycle of power and abuse over again, he was too far gone. He made the choice, the conscious choice to be the same as his old master. Of course he’s suffering internally, somewhere is the soul of someone who lost everything, and became something awful. However he doesn’t even say he wishes for a reset. He wishes for death. Only in death is he free of the cycle of abuse, for his role in it is too far gone at this point.

“Orin and Gortash have apologists!” They do, but they’re also under different circumstances. It’s also justifiable to absolutely hate Orin and Gortash (believe me, even as someone who believes Gortash could’ve been better, I killed him in my initial run). Specifically as the Dark Urge, you can tell Orin that she’s being used just as Kethric and Gortash were. She’ll even break down as if she’s realizing that all this death she’s done in the name of her father/for her God, has been her being taken advantage of. Though she never gets a chance to be better, because she’s forcibly transformed in this ending, it’s just a sneak peak of what could have been. She was being used, and while it doesn’t erase or justify ANYTHING she did (and you’re well within your right, and should hold her accountable), it at least gives the player insight on to what could have been.

Likewise with Gortash, a victim of abuse at the hands of Raphael, with canonical lines on how he was beaten in the House of Hope as a little boy. His own parents sold him out, and he ended up being so desperate to be bigger, to have more power, that he also let himself be used, and in turn lost everything he worked hard for (and sold out Karlach, which is absolutely unforgivable of course). However he wasn’t too far gone. You can see his loyalty to you depending what options you pick, and although death is his inevitable end, it still shows that there was still a person inside.

There wasn’t a person in Cazador anymore. He was trapped behind the wall of abuse that he continued, and refused to even acknowledge it, or try and see reason. Perhaps it wasn’t possible for him, but ultimately his actions brought him here. Those that say Ascension for Astarion would free him of those chains, are simply wrong. Why does Astarion deserve to live, anymore than his siblings? Or the seven thousand people who were turned against their will? Of course Astarion is more, controlled in his hunger—but so are his siblings. Even speaking to them after the fight they’ll all vow and attest that they can control themselves, and they’ll even help the others if brought to it.

Ascended Astarion picks up the abuse cycle, killing thousands of people with just his first command. Ascended Astarion no longer speaks to you, but instead at you. You’re his “favorite” spawn, but then again Cazador had favorites didn’t he? And all of them suffered just as badly as the rest. Ascended Astarion even mentions “covering the world in darkness for his spawn”, which shows him continuing the abusive cycle that got Cazador in the first place.

Cazador dying, and spawn Astarion choosing to break the cycle is the significant ending. The best ending for Cazador, the only one for him, is to let him die. He’s a horrible, cruel, bitter man, and any sense of his humanity died long ago. Only in his dreams is there anything left, and he’s too cut off to even reach them anymore.

We also know that the Szarr’s had family. There are relatives to Cazador (see his niece), and clearly it wouldn’t have been wrong of him as a vampire to have a family if he so chose. But he didn’t seek out a partner, like some of his other (vampire) relatives did. He chose to only live by his spawn, whom he considered his children, showing that he truly didn’t see a need for a partner. Themes of family are a vital part of his story, but the element of a romantic partner never has been.

TLDR—Some villains in this game are understood, and potentially redeemable if given the option. Cazador is not one of them.

#I am VERY much a Cazador hater btw #but analysis is the only thing people understand #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate #astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion bg3 #baldurs gate iii #baldurs gate astarion #astarion baldurs gate #vampire spawn bg3 #cazador szarr #baldurs gate 3 cazador #cazador #cazador bg3 #bg3 cazador #anti ascended astarion #ascended astarion #orin #orin the red #lord gortash #gortash

[headkiss]

hiiii can i request and Eddie or Steve x reader where r scrapes their knee really bad and either one won’t stop babying them til it heals? may or may not have scraped my knee really bad 🫣

hiii i went with steve for this one, hope that’s okay!! and hope your knee heals soon lovely <33 | 0.7k fluff, tw for blood !

Steve stays by the windows this time of day. He glances up at everyone that walks by, waiting to catch a glimpse of you.

You walk your dog every day, the same route and everything. When you were a kid, you’d promised that if you got the dog, you’d take care of it, and somehow, you kept that promise.

It’s a nice routine, getting to spend a little time outside, nothing but your footsteps on the sidewalk and the jingle of your dog’s collar.

It’s even better when Steve happens to be outside, when you get to pause and talk to him for a bit.

You’re in front of your house once more when your dog gets distracted by something, circling you and before you know it, the leash is tangled around your leg. When your dog tries to take off, you end up on your hands and knees on the ground with a curse, feeling the sting right away.

Pushing yourself back to sit down, you swear again at the scrape on your knee, the blood coming to the surface, quickly running in a red tear down your leg.

Remorseful, your dog sits next to you and whines. You scratch the fur behind its ears.

Steve, of course, sees the whole thing. First, the little flutter in his chest when he saw you walking by, then, the small panic at seeing you fall. Seeing you even remotely hurt.

He grabs his car keys from the table by the door (to look like he was going somewhere, not like he’d just been watching you) and heads outside.

“Hey, are you okay?” He calls, lightly jogging down his driveway to get to you.

His voice warms you at first. And then the embarrassment creeps in. You cover your face with your hands, and pull them away before replying, “I’m fine, I swear. It looks worse than it is.”

“Why don’t I grab my first aid kit anyway? You can come sit on the porch.”

He holds out a hand, and you grab it with the one that isn’t grasping the leash. Sparks shoot from your fingertips all the way up your arm, landing in a pulse in your chest.

“Thanks, Steve.”

It hurts to bend your knee too much, and you hiss as you stand. So what if you use that as an excuse to lean on him just a little more, to hold onto his hand a little tighter?

Steve helps you sit back down on the porch step, crouching down with you.

“I’ll be right back, okay?”

“Okay,” you nod.

Steve walks inside, and once the door’s shut behind him, he all but runs to the bathroom to grab the first aid kit. He’s not sure what it is about you that has him scrambling to spend more time with you, all he knows is that there is something. That it’s sort of undeniable.

While he’s gone, you take a moment to breathe, to try and get over how embarrassed you are that he’s seeing you like this, how much you like being around him even in these circumstances. You press your palm to your forehead and shake your head. You’re a mess.

Steve comes back quickly, a small white box in hand and the sweetest smile you’ve ever known on his face. He’s so kind, he makes it difficult to keep feeling embarrassed.

“Here we go.” He sits down beside you and opens up the first aid kit, grabbing some wipes first.

“I can do it,” you offer. Because as much as you’d love his hands on you, him taking care of you, he really doesn’t have to.

“It’s alright. Let me,” he says, placing a gentle hand around your ankle.

Steve starts by wiping up the blood from your leg, then from around your wound. He’s as gentle as can be, his touch delicate, his voice soft when he apologizes anytime he catches you wincing.

Then, something to clean it, “this might sting a little.”

“Okay,” you practically whisper, afraid to break the softness of the moment. Afraid to mess it up.

He’s right, it does sting, and when you suck in a sharp breath, he’s quick to ease you, “I know, I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

And, well, how could anything hurt when Steve calls you sweetheart?

#steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington request #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington story #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington requests #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington blurbs #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington hurt/comfort #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #stevie blurbs #stranger things #stranger things fic #steve stranger things #stranger things steve #stranger things fanfic

[pictureinme]

kinktober day xxiv. MUTUAL MASTURBATION – jim (the delinquent season)

word count: ~900 tags: canon cheater jim + homewrecker reader, teasing, praise, guided masturbation masterlist | ao3

Jim let out a shaky breath as you spread your legs for him– your bare arousal on full display for him.

“Fuck, no panties? Are you trying to kill me, sweetheart?”

You shrug your shoulders, hitching your skirt up even higher for him to see just how wet you already are, “Well, you’ve been teasing me all week Jim… can’t I have a little fun, too?”

Jim and you had been having this illicit affair for only a few weeks now, but you were getting antsy– what’s the point of being a homewrecker if you aren’t getting any? He had always shied away from the topic, opting only for ‘emotional cheating,’ as Google had described it one late night. To him, going ‘all the way’ would mean he’s really cheating on his wife, and he just wasn’t ready to commit to being the shit husband he already is– typical.

That didn’t stop either of you from alluding to such acts, however– it seemed like leaving him half-mast after every excursion was your specialty. Describing the things he’d do to you in any other circumstance definitely felt great at the moment, but again, you needed more.

He bites his lip, weighing his options as his mind clouds with thoughts of taking you right there– on the duvet his wife picked out. You snake a hand down to your wetness, spreading yourself even further. As you glance at his pants growing tighter, you hope he gets the memo.

Without any audible complaint, Jim unzips his jeans and palms himself through his boxers, “What are you doing to me, (Y/N), fuck…”

He watches as you circle your entrance with a delicate finger, your head lolling back slightly against the plush headboard. His mouth falls open as you enter yourself slowly like you were hypnotizing him.

“Don’t be shy, big boy,” you hum, looking at him with a gaze of pure, unadulterated lust. “Let me see what you’re packing too, hm?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jim smirks as he pulls his jeans and boxers down mid-thigh– his hardness bobbing back up against his navel.

Now it was your turn to bite your lip– you had been fantasizing about the day you’d finally be able to touch him. Seeing would just have to do for right now. He grasps himself at the base, hissing at the much-needed pressure he’s providing himself. You add another finger gently, but you really didn’t need to delay with how wet you already were– you were just addicted to teasing him.

“Look at how wet you are, baby,” Jim groaned as he started to pump himself slowly. “You always like this for me? Walking around all soaked?”

“Always,” you nod, subconsciously speeding up your fingers, “Haven’t gone a date without coming home with soaked panties… if I’m wearing them.”

“Good girl,” he sits up more from his spot across from you, the chair creaking with every minor movement. “How about you touch your clit for me too, yeah? Wouldn’t that feel so good?”

You melt at his praise and request, your other hand coming to tease your clit almost immediately, “How’s that, baby? Am I touching myself just right?”

He nods quickly, hips twitching upwards at your words, “Always so perfect for me, fuck… keep doing that.”

Jim ogles at your every movement, following your fingers with his mouth open– you’d never seen him so desperate. You felt yourself get even wetter at the realization of how much you aroused him, and he wasn’t even inside of you. You’re in no better position, your eyes glued to every swift up-and-down motion he was making with his tight fist. The beads of precum spilling onto his knuckles made you desperate to take him in your mouth– you’re doing that next time, even if it just means kneeling in front of him as he releases.

You put a third finger inside of you, mind running wild with images of Jim both above and below you, “Please…”

He chokes out a moan as you whisper that sweet word, “What’re you begging for, sweetheart? You wanna come?”

Not even really knowing why you said please, you nod nonetheless, “Don’t wanna come before you do, baby, fuck…”

His Adam’s apple bobs as he groans again, and he pumps himself even faster, “Anything for you, (Y/N), just keep fucking yourself full of your fingers just like that for me.”

You whimper as you speed up your ministrations as well, wanting so desperately to be full of him in any capacity, “Wish it was your cock, want you to fill me up instead.”

“Fuck, keep talking like that,” Jim’s eyebrows furrow as he watches you slowly coming undone.

“Need you inside,” you fuck yourself back on your fingers, your other hand starting to rub your clit even faster, “In my mouth, my pussy, fuck, anywhere, please…”

You feel yourself tumbling even closer to release, but hold off until he does first.

“(Y/N), Jesus,” Jim thrusts up into his fist, his legs shaking incessantly, “Such a good fucking girl for me, so good–!”

He lets out a whine as the ropes of his arousal land on his trembling thighs, as well as his still tightly wound hand. He wastes no time looking back towards you, needing to see you make a wreck of yourself for him.

“Come for me, (Y/N), please– make a mess, baby.”

You practically mewl as you let yourself go, burying your face in the pillows as you milk yourself for everything you’ve got. You ride out your orgasm on your fingers until you feel a familiar touch helping you remove them slowly.

“Perfect girl, you did so good…”

taglist: @sunpuffsstuff @alprazolvm

#jim the delinquent season x reader #cillian murphy x reader #jim the delinquent season smut #cillian murphy smut #kinktober 2023

[lilian-writes-sins]

       𝑵𝒆𝒘 𝑩𝒖𝒈 𝒊𝒏 𝑻𝒐𝒘𝒏 Ch. 1

𝑢𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑙 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑣𝑒. 𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑖𝑡 𝑖𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑖𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑙𝑑.”

★ pairing: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir x Reader

★ p.o.v: 3ʳᵈ person

★ ch. 1 summary: Years of pain will make anyone reach their breaking point sooner or later. Running away to stay with their maternal aunt in Paris, France, just seemed like the better option for [Y/N] [L/N], with no reason to look back. Hopeful for a brighter future here, the teen goes out to explore the winding city, quite literally bumping into and helping an elderly man during their walk. Unbeknownst to them, a gift of immense power awaits their return.

★ tags: swearing; (slight) verbal abuse; mentions of past abuse; mention of a nightmare/panic attack

★ word count: 1,623

MASTERLIST | previous chapter

       “Okay… I’ll call you before and after the flight. Have a good day at work, see you soon and thank you... again.”

[Y/N] ended the call with a sigh and finished packing for their flight to Paris. They had always wanted to visit their maternal aunt Astrid, but not in these circumstances.

Suddenly, [Y/N] stopped and listened for stumbling footsteps, sighing in relief when they heard nothing. That relief was short-lived when their childhood door slammed open. That poor door was barely hanging on its hinges.

       “What the hell are you still doing here, you waste of space?” came the slurred gargle of their drunken father.

[Y/N] intended to ignore the man, but that never went well in this house.

The teen was tired and sore enough as it was, and they definitely didn’t need another confrontation with the piece of shit they had to call ‘dad’ (as far as they were concerned, they didn’t even have one). To their relief, their father didn’t do anything. He just huffed and stood by the doorway, watching as [Y/N] took a few steps towards the front entrance.

       “If you leave right now, you’re never welcome back here,” this was the last they were ever going to see of each other, and [Y/N] felt nothing but pure relief. ‘Like I ever was,’ they wanted to scoff at him.

They stepped outside, carrying two small bags filled with necessities (like documents and clothes) and small trinkets that held some sentimental value. The teen didn’t even look back at the pitiful excuse of a ‘home’ they had lived in for years.

[Y/N] called a taxi to take them to the airport, trying to rest on the way. After paying the driver, they stepped out and looked up at the enormous building in front of them, their heart racing with excitement and nerves. ‘This is really it, huh? I’m actually doing this,’ the teen mused with a small smile.

As they went through the motions of checking in, passing by security, boarding and settling into their seat, everything blurred together. The air in the airport was almost as thick as their thoughts as they watched the world pass by outside the window. The journey was already exhausting the teen, making them lean their head back to rest their eyes.

Eventually, the plane lands, and [Y/N] sluggishly makes their way off. They took a deep breath, their eyes scanning the moving crowd for their aunt. Their body tensed as they turned to look at the culprit, relief flooding them when they saw it was Astrid. She gave a reassuring smile, and they smiled back, not wanting to let their nerves show.

       “… Hello,” [Y/N] said, raising their hand in an awkward wave. It had been a long time since they’d seen each other, and they didn't know what to say.

       “Hey there, sugar. Are you ready to head out?” The woman returned their greeting with a warm smile.

[Y/N] nodded as the pair made their way to Astrid’s car — a black 1962 Chevrolet Impala corvette — and climbed in. The ride from the airport was long and mostly silent, with music filling in the space. Astrid snuck a few discreet glances at the teen, her mind racing with questions, but she held her resolve, not wanting to overwhelm the teen.

The two arrived at Astrid’s home, a large flat on the third floor. As they stepped out of the car, [Y/N] felt a wave of anxiety come crashing on them: ‘What if this is all a dream? What if she sends me back? What if he finds me… oh fuck...,’ they thought as their heart almost jumped out of their chest.

       “Are you okay, darling?” Astrid noticed the teen’s distress and went to rest a hand on their shoulder.

       “I-I’m fine… Just tired from all the travel,” [Y/N] responded, not yet comfortable expressing their feelings.

The pair made their way up the stairs, stepping through the front door and taking off their shoes.

       “Alright, so... your room is right across the hall, you can see the door in front of you. It’s a bit small, though, but one of the windows connects to the balcony!” Astrid stated happily as she showed you around.

[Y/N] picked up their bags and made their way past the kitchenette and living room, opening the door to their bare-bones room. It had a bit of a weird shape and consisted of a single bed and a dresser, just as the woman promised. ‘Well, she wasn’t lying,’ the teen thought.

They put their bags near the bed and sat on the mattress, deep in thought, when their aunt knocked on the door before entering.

       “Hey… I know this isn’t much, but we can go shopping for furniture, and you’ll get to decorate it however you want,” Astrid said.

       “Okay, thank you… for all of this,” the teen whispered quietly.

       “Oh, honey, you don’t need to thank me for anything. I’m glad you reached out,” the older woman patted [Y/N]’s shoulder, “now go to bed. It’s getting late.”

Exhaustion won the teen over quickly and silently as they changed into their pajamas and rested on the bed, staring at the ceiling. They fell asleep as their mind began to drift away.

       

       

       

       

       

       

       

[Y/N] slowly opened their eyes, feeling the warm rays of the sun hitting their face. As they adjusted to the light, they noticed that they weren’t in their new room; instead, they were back in an all too familiar glorified storage closet of a room, back there with him.

Panic filled their chest as they felt their breathing become heavier, their eyes blurring, and their blood pumping faster. Suddenly, they heard a soft knock, followed by Astrid’s melodic voice.

       “Are you awake, [Y/N]?” she asked, and the teen was instantly calmed by the familiar voice.

       “Uhh, yeah! I’ll be out in a moment,” they quickly replied, rushing to get dressed.

They found Astrid waiting in the living room, placing two plates of food on the coffee table. As soon as the food was in front of them, [Y/N] realized just how hungry they were and quickly began to eat. A few bites in, they realized that their aunt was observing them, and the teen felt embarrassment wash over them.

       “It’s alright, sweetie. Eat as much as you want,” she smiled, pointing her chin back to their plate.

The two continued eating in comfortable silence until Astrid cleared her throat. [Y/N] shifted their gaze towards her, waiting for her to speak.

       “So… I know summer just started, but I would like to enroll you in school here. We could go next week, make it into an outing,” the woman proposed. The teen nodded, though they were slightly nervous.

They were a good student, if you only looked at their grades; their behavior was slightly questionable, to say the least — but being the new kid stressed anyone out.

After making plans for the weeks ahead while washing and drying their plates, [Y/N] headed to their room. Despite still being barren, the room now held a sense of potential and possibility, filled with visions of posters, plants and bedsheets.

With the urge to clear their mind, they decided to go on a stroll at the nearby park. The teen threw on something lightweight and headed out the door. Putting on their shoes, [Y/N] informed Astrid where they were going, and she wished them a safe and nice time.

The trek to the part wasn’t long, and the teen made a pit stop at a nearby bakery. They walked out, pastries in hand, set on continuing their walk. They stopped suddenly when they heard someone shouting behind them. Tense yet curious, they turned towards the source of the noise, relieved to find that it was only an elderly man who had tripped and fallen. [Y/N] helped him up and collected his bags from the pavement, noticing that his cane was just out of reach.

       “Ah, thank you, young one,” the man said gratefully, taking his cane from their hands. [Y/N] smiled, glad they could help.

       “No problem. Have a good day,” they replied, waving goodbye to the man as he went on his way.

The teen finally made their way to Place des Vosges and went to sit on the first empty bench they saw. They removed their headphones, taking in the park’s environment: the running fountain water, parents playing with their children, a middle-aged man feeding pigeons…

       …just then, they heard it.

‘Click’ ‘click’ ‘click’ ‘click’ ‘click’ ‘click’ ‘click’

It was the sound of a camera shuttering, accompanied by a loud, Italian-accented voice commanding someone named Adrien. It seemed to be coming from behind the fountain in the center of the park. Irritated, [Y/N] stood up and made their way back home.

       “Hey! I’m back!”

No response. The teen locked the door, making their way to the living room. They saw a blue post-it note on the coffee table, it read: ‘𝙷𝚎𝚢, 𝚜𝚞𝚐𝚊𝚛! 𝚂𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢, 𝚖𝚢 𝚋𝚘𝚜𝚜 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍. 𝙰𝚗 𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚢 𝚘𝚛 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐... 𝙰𝚗𝚢𝚠𝚊𝚢, 𝙸’𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎’𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚐𝚎. 𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚘𝚝𝚜!’

[Y/N] made their way to their bedroom to enjoy the last of their pastries. Walking through, they spotted a black box with odd red markings on their dresser. Feeling strangely drawn to it, they reached over for it. Carefully opening it, a bright pink light almost blinded the teen, causing them to drop the box.

When the light faded, all that was left was a red bug-like creature. The teen could only stare in disbelief.

       “Hello, [Y/N]! My name is Tikki, your kwami,” it stated with a smile.

Their jaw dropped, wanting to say something, anything, but no sounds were made…

       …until…

       

       

       

       

       

       “What. The. Fuck.”

MASTERLIST | next chapter

★ author's note: This is a re-write of the original chapter!

★ taglist: @leafanonsforest; @ok-boke; @they2luv1naia; @mytaiyakeylover

#★.lilian writes #adrien agreste x reader #chat noir x reader #miraculous ladybug x reader #cat noir x reader #mlb x reader #gn!reader