#i know it sounds weird but i do find it helpful

[jeongin-lvr]

Hello, I hope you're doing well 💕 I've come to share a thought that won't let me sleep...

Roommate Chan who notices that when you and your bf get busy, your bf is very loud whereas Chan doesn't hear a peep out of you. The walls of your shared apartment are pretty thin, and he's sure he should hear at least something from you from time to time. This leads him to wonder if you ever get to orgasm. But he's a good friend and keeps these thoughts and wonderings to himself.

Before this accidental realisation, he would put on headphones whenever he could hear the goings on, but now that he's been exposed to hearing it a few times – when he's left the shower and walked past, or come home in the middle of it – he can't help but listen. He can't stop himself from unconsciously straining his ears in the hopes of hearing something on your part – not because he wants to hear what you sound like (even though he's thought about it), but because he hopes to high heaven that you're getting some pleasure too.

One day, he comes home to find you on the sofa, staring blankly at the TV. When he asks if everything's okay, you tell him that your relationship has ended. You don't seem too upset about it, but Chan still waits a while before bringing it up – a little awkwardly, but he can't help himself. When you confess that your now ex couldn't get you there, Chan offers to help, before confessing that he's liked you for a long long time.

cee!!!! oh my gosh so sorry this took forever 😭😭 I’m so slow when it comes to stuff like this!!

ohhhhh my gosh I love this… the thin walls drive him crazy at first. he’s rushing to put on headphones the moment he hears things are getting on through the walls. however, there was one occasion when he actually paused to listen. there was the familiar creak of the bed, the soft wood banging unevenly against the wall… even the deep pants and moans of your boyfriend. however, there was never any, well, you. and whatever he did hear from you was the soft words of “good job” to your partner. to Chan it didn’t seem like he was doing much of a good job. He almost laughed when he heard that for the first time.

Then he got curious, furrowing his brows as he spent the rest of the night wondering. that’s when he first found himself pondering if he could be the one to get you there. of course, he always pushed those thoughts away because, obviously, you had a boyfriend. that and he didn’t know if you just weren’t very vocal in bed or if his suspicions were genuinely correct. either way, it left him curious.

but then there was one night when your boyfriend wasn’t over and he heard you mewling through the wall. Chan knew it was weird and gross but he pressed his ear against it, jaw slightly agape as he took in the sounds. oh, now he knew that your boyfriend just wasn’t very good. you were very vocal. very, very vocal. that was the conclusion Chan got to before scolding himself silently and stuffing his head in a pillow, trying to ignore how flustered he’d gotten himself.

and then a few weeks later he had found you sitting cross legged in the living room, mindlessly watching a TV show he’s never seen you even be remotely interested in. and your eyes were so distracted, it didn’t take a genius to notice that. Chan, being the good guy he is, asked if you’re okay; and in that moment it’s like he opened the dam, all your thoughts, frustrations, and annoyances pouring out of you like a rush of water. Chan listened and for the first time this entire ordeal he wonders if he can help. and before he had the chance to think it all through, he asks out loud; “do you want me to help you?”

and you’re shocked but he’s even worse. his eyes are wide and his lips are pressed together as he sits across from you on the couch, his hand on yours from when he was trying to comfort you. only now it felt deeper than just comfort. you both stare at each other for a while. he doesn’t truly realize how desperate you are as you nod and with watery eyes you say, “can you please?”

eventually he’d lay you down on the couch, at first he was awkward and nervous about his next advances. mumbling sorry’s and saying your name in gentle ways that made you feel more than your ex ever did. but somehow Chan would get confident as his lips connect with yours for the very first time. he doesn’t know when or how or what to even say when he pulls apart. but right now all he can think is that he wants— no, needs —to make you cum. so he does. he spends the entire night working on you. and honestly, it doesn’t take long to pry an orgasm from you. so he does it twice on his tongue, once on his fingers, and in the heat of the moment he finds the balls to spread your legs and sink his dick into you. you’re sensitive now, and Chan realizes this is the most vocal he’s ever heard you be. and now he spends every night wondering if he can get more of those sounds out of you.

#mooties ! #screamingggg #I wanted to write more but I fear my brain would’ve melted out of my head #skz smut #bang chan smut #stray kids smut #bang chan oneshot #skz bang chan

[hidtired]

A Single Punch [Part 4]

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Description: The line up ended with people thinking you died. However, your recovering at Hilltop with severe injury's. How will the rest of your family react to seeing you again, even Negan?

2.1k words

Warnings (much angst, injury, near death, depression, recovery, typical walking dead shenanigans) [Happy ending, fluff <3]

(Daryl Dixon x reader) Masterlist

Rick POV

They decided that the Saviors had to go. Headed to Hilltop to gather support. Rosita also said there was something there for them that had to be seen to be believed. He was hoping for good news for once. With finding out they had Sasha and even the whole Carl stunt, and the two Alexandria lives lost, with them also taking Eugene, he was due for a break.

So to his surprise he saw Daryl turn the corner. He was surprised but the only thought he could think of was you.

“Thank you, for being my family.”

Guilt ate him. He still moved to embrace his brother. He knew what it felt like to lose something like that. He also felt responsible for bringing you. He knew he shouldn’t but couldn’t help thinking if he didn’t… Daryl seemed broken to see him. Knowing him for so long as he had, never thought he would see the gruff guy simply crumpled at the sight of him. It made him tear up a little at the thought.

He looked more beaten than the last he saw him at Alexandria. He was holding up better than he thought he would. Everyone else hugged him but Rick had to say something, “Brother I’m so sorry… Y/N… if I didn’t- she wouldn’t have been there if I didn’t ask her to come.” Daryl only smiled at your name mentioned, ok that unnerving him. Maybe he wasn’t doing as well as he thought. When Rosita seemed shocked to see him he was confused, ‘Wasn’t this what she was talking about?’

Daryl pulled out Ricks gun handing it to him, Daryl finally talking in a breath after all the attention. “Wasn’ your fault. You should know-“ Carls loud gasp made Rick turn to his son. He was looking over Daryl’s shoulder, tears starting to brim in his eye. It was hard to get tears out that boy so, Rick followed his eye line.

“No, I’m not a walker-“

You. Jesus leading you by his arm. The sounds of people stuttered gasps at the sight of you, making their hearts drop. Carl had run into a hug. Daryl chuckled, “Ya, that’s what I was gonna mention.” Rick put a hand to his mouth, an attempt to hold himself together. He put a hand to Daryl to walk past him to you. He had mentally beaten himself up about you. Feeling like the blood was on his hands. You were like a little sister. He joined Carl to hug you. Soon following Michonne and Tara.

“It’s good to see you all.” You looked well… beaten to hell. But it was a drastically better image than the last they were left with of you. When everyone pulling away from you, you seemed to struggle to find your center of gravity. It was Daryl that was behind you with a arm around your waist as you half leaned back into him.

It was Michonne who panicked thinking you were going to fall, “Are you ok?” You gave a small smile and shrugged, “You know, just brain damage.” You sighed at the still serious faces pointed at you. Rick could hear it in your speech, the weird places your voice would fluctuate.

“I’ll be ok, the worst of it is over. I’m just… relearning somethings again.” Your eyes now red from tears shed from happiness of your family back, “Long story short, took the hit-t to the hand, didn’t blackout immediately. But later woke up -later in the truck.” Rick closed his eyes soaking the information in. “I’m so sorry if I just let you stay at Alexandria you wouldn’t have had to go through any of it.” The face you gave him was like that you’d give at a child dissolvingly, “You didn’t hit me with that bat.” That silenced everyone for a moment into thought. It was Jesus that pulled his focus back.

"Why are you all here anyways?"

Your POV

They were going to fight the saviors. They need the support from Hilltop and that lead them here, Gregory's office. He was a coward that much you knew. Maggie was at a constant stand off with him your whole time here. It was Daryl's voice pulling you out of thought, "So what your just gonna wait till they decide something isn't enough and start killing some of you?" Daryl shock his head, "As long as its not you though, right?"

“She made it out of it can’t you just take that as a win and count your losses?" Gregory pointing to you next to Daryl. "See I’m happy that your little girlfriend-“

“Wife.”

Everyone’s eyes widened and just looked to each other before just accepting that little info letting you continue. “If you would like to remain not knowing what being beat-t half to death feels like, I’d suggest-st listenin to them.” Gregory’s eyebrows furrowed deeper, “Are you threatening me after my hospitality to you?” You tilted your head to the side 'Jesus really was the one to help', “Not at all. That-t day will come at the hands of your buddies you’re so found of.” It was clear this prick of a man lacked a back bone. He wouldn’t change his mind. You were going to get worked up if you argued any longer so you waved your hand in front of you before slowly walking out the front door. You were done with it. The others could deal with it.

It was later that Jesus said he knew of another place that they could ask. You were going to go with at the suggestion of a doctor. That's what lead you in the back of a car, Rick driving and Michonne in the passenger seat. Carl was staring at you from his place next to you, "Go ahead and ask." You turned to him with a knowing look. Carl perked up and tried to look away like he wasn't caught, "Nothing, just still can't believe your here." You hummed, "How's little Jude." That got him talking, completely forgetting his originally thought as he gushed about his baby sister. It was Rick to ask the next question, "So its Mrs. Dixon now is it?" Your attention turning to the man in question. He had taken his motorcycle, you didn't want him to worry you'd fail off. You looked at Rick in the review mirror. You were slightly bashful, "Bout damn time I know." That caused laughs to ring in the car. Maybe everything was going to be ok.

Meeting this 'king' was a experience. A man with a tiger was a very big first impression. The big thing to put everyone at ease was that Morgan had been here. Rick however was a little unhappy of him trying to talk about is peace stuff. "They killed Glenn and Abraham, right in front of us... Among a few at home like Olivia and Spencer. Hell I only found out Y/N didn't die with them." You were uncomfortable with eyes looking to you. 'Didn't die with them...' Survival guilt had been eating at you. But, it seemed to snap Morgan into a apology.

You felt a hand slipping behind your back, Daryl. He try comforting you and you appreciated it. The Kings decision was made in the morning, and like Hilltop didn't go to plan. It was offered that you and Daryl could stay. With your injurie and Daryl on the run Rick agreed. Much to a displeased Daryl at him not having a choice he wasn't to apposed to you being there.

The place was rather nice. Guy name Jerry offered some cobbler and it was one of the best things you had in a while. You had meet with the Doctor while Daryl try getting Ezekiel on board, by Ricks request. Daryl found you at the table with your cobbler. He sat next to you looping a arm around your back. He had a displeased look on his face. "I found Carol." You look up from your plate to him, "She ok?" He made a face that said not really, "She doesn't know about everything that happened yet. I just couldn't say anything." He looked down ashamed. She did seem a little out of it the last you saw here. You nodded at his statement, "She around?" Daryl shock is head, "On the outskirts of the place."

You both remained silent until you broke it, "I see you want to help. You can go you know?" Daryl only scoffed at the suggestion, "Nah." You smiled, "I can try and convince-ce the King. While you fight the fight." He gave you a look that told you he was struggling to leave your side.

"I'll be here."

You raised you eyebrows to him, "Your eating yourself alive by not doing anything. I see that." He inhaled and started to nod, "Assholes need to pay for what they did." You patted the hand that was around you, "Always so passionate, one of the many reasons I love you." He grunted, "uh-huh knock it off women." You loved making him fidget at your words of praise. "That anyway to be talking to you wife?" He finally looked down at you with a small smirk, "Sure as hell made it known earlier." You shrug with you now the one being bashful.

That evening you waved Daryl off to get into the fight. With promises to kick his ass if he got hurt. You spent your days mostly with a doctor trying to heal. You were getting there. You didn't have anything much going on other then that. One of the few things to happen was seeing Carol. She seemed surprised to see you and embraced you, "Morgan told me what happened." She looked ashamed, "He said you almost died to." You nod, "Closer then I ever been." Your voice seemed close to normal again, you still put most of your focus in walking. Carol looked you up and down, taken notice to your hair growing back in the place that was shaven. Your face still some colors of yellows and greens.

The war had its ups and down but you had won it in the long run. By the next time Daryl saw you were moving independently. He retold his story's to you. The knowledge of Carl passing saving someone and his role in the win. His talk with Maggie about 'Glenn and how he would have likely had like his death mean something.' Mentioning Aaron took in a baby Rick found in a saviors outpost. Also mentions of Morales someone from the old quarry days and how he killed him. He expressed his dislike for the decision Rick made to keep Negan alive. You didn't like it much either but life went on. Daryl took you to Alexandria not wanting you to deal with the Sanctuary. You wanted to talk to Negan but said nothing to Daryl about it.

You have a foggy remembrance of the guy. Early one morning you went to confront him. He was laid down facing the wall. So you stood quietly leaning against the wall opposite to the bars. He turned at the feeling of a presence. "If your here to kill me I think there is a line." Ah right, smug asshole. You step closer to the bars, you could feel Negan's demeaner drop. "What? Looks like you saw a ghost..." He only look you up and down considering maybe he had lost it, "Well if it isn't the little Plague herself." That's right, he had called you that before trying to kill you. "I killed you if I'm not mistaken, Daryl sure as hell tried killing me for it." You nodded, "Well you seemed to have missed." You turn to leave getting what you wanted. The information you forgot and scaring him, you turned before leaving, "Or did you?" He sat there thinking maybe he ha lost it and imagined you.

That made you smug about it the rest of the day. If you couldn't kill him, you'd make him feel like he had one foot in the grave just like you thought you were.

The end.

Feedback welcomed and requests open!

My Masterlist for more Daryl ( Masterlist )

Lost a little motivation to write most parts in here, its stuff y'all already knew so.

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl fanfiction #daryl imagines #daryl x female reader #daryl x reader #norman reedus #twd daryl #angst #fluff

[waywardxwords]

Chapter 8 - Save Me

Summary: After a random encounter introduces you to Dean Winchester, you can't shake the magnetic pull you feel towards him. For years, you've felt like everything in your life is under control--a promising career, financial stability and no real responsibilities. Dean's a hunter; it's his life and job. But somehow when you meet, your worlds are flipped upside down and you have to decide if it's a chance worth taking.

Chapter Warnings: Slight language; there's a ton of dialogue in this one but I feel like it's necessary to prep for the chapters ahead

Pairing: Dean Winchester x female!reader

Word Count: ~3k

[1][2][3][4][5][6][7]

If you were being honest with yourself, you didn’t know how you felt about going to Kansas for the unforeseeable future. While it wasn’t like you went into an office everyday and you could really work from anywhere within the United States, you had still built your life in Virginia. You had friends—especially Jen—and it felt weird leaving her here, unable to defend herself. But Dean had assured you she would be taken care of, and you knew that you were unable to defend yourself against these monsters Dean and Sam knew how to fight. 

“You about ready?” Dean asked as he tapped softly on your opened bedroom door. 

A heavy sigh fell from your lips as you looked at your packed-to-the-brim duffel bag and backpack. Dean said it was important to pack as light as possible, but without knowing when you’d be back, it was hard to be selective in what you brought. 

“I think so,” you mumbled, your lip caught between your teeth yet again. You released it as Dean stepped into the room. 

“Hey, I know this is a lot to take in,” Dean started slowly. Both of the boys kept treating you like you were made of glass, which was a little bit annoying but also made sense. It felt like you were all waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

“I’m okay,” you said out loud for him, but also for yourself. “I’m not really a big fan of the unknown…I’m a planner.” You mumbled as you looked around at your things.

“Not big on taking chances, huh?” Dean chuckled softly as his eyes watched you move. Again, it was like he was waiting for it all to set in and for you to crumble.

“Nope,” you sighed as you finally looked back at him. “Rule follower, remember?” You managed a half-smile as you remembered the first time you met in Atlanta.

“Oh, I remember,” Dean smirked back. He took a few steps towards you and you both sat on the edge of your bed. “Just keep in mind–this doesn’t have to be forever.” Your head had dipped a bit, so he moved his to find your gaze. 

“I get that,” you nodded. You didn’t want to offend him; this was his life. He was used to packing an ‘oh shit’ bag and getting out of town. He was used to all of the things that went bump in the night. You, on the other hand, were still trying to wrap your mind around it all. “I just wish I could circle a date on the calendar and know when I could come home.”

Dean nodded as he processed your words. “Tell ya what,” he started. “How about we take it one day at a time, for now,” he paused but you waited for the ‘and then’ part. “Once we get back to Kansas, we can sit down and come up with a plan. Figure out what it looks like so we can get you back home.” 

You didn’t want to be presumptuous, but there was a tone in his voice that almost sounded like he wasn’t looking forward to that. But since everything had happened, you really hadn’t been given a moment to figure out what this was between you and Dean.

“That sounds fair,” you answered honestly. Dean smiled and seemed hesitant, but leaned over and kissed the side of your head anyway.

“Good,” he seemed okay with your answer. He sighed and looked around at the rest of your room. “Anything I can do to help?”

You pushed your hair behind your ears and followed his gaze as you, too, looked around. “I don’t think so,” you said softly. “I’ve packed just about everything that will fit into my bags. I’m just worried I’m forgetting something.” 

“We do have stores in Kansas, ya know,” Dean winked as he stood and reached for your duffel. “Jesus, woman.” He muttered as he slung it over his shoulder. “You got a dead body in here, or what?”

You managed a laugh as you stood to follow him and slung your backpack up on your shoulders. “No, Dean, I think I’ll leave the dead bodies to you.” You patted him on the shoulder and walked just beyond him, but you heard him laugh as you rounded the corner into the hallway.

“Everything locked up?” Sam asked as you closed up the front door and headed to meet the boys in the driveway.

“Yep,” you sighed and readjusted your backpack a bit. “I mean, it probably doesn’t matter when it comes to demons, right? They can get through locked doors, I’m guessing.”

They didn’t answer you directly but nodded slightly. “I’m guessing you want to bring your car to Kansas?” Dean asked as he eyed your garage door.

“Oh, absolutely,” you answered quickly. “I just figured I would follow behind you guys, if that’s okay.” You said as you used the keypad on the side of the garage to type in your PIN number that opened the door. 

Sam and Dean stared at you, confused for a minute. “Sam’s flying back to Kansas,” Dean said. “This is a rental so I figured I’d drop it off on the way and hitch a ride with you, if that’s alright.” His words made you turn around slowly and your brows pulled together in confusion. 

“Wait,” you started carefully. “You flew here?” 

Dean caught why you were so surprised and flashed his white teeth in a small smile. He pulled at the back of his neck as Sam watched you both look at each other. “Sweetheart, I don’t own European cars. Don’t drive ‘em either, if I can help it.” He shrugged as he thumbed to the Volkswagen Jetta in your driveway. 

“Okay,” there was more you wanted to say but you decided not to rub in how much Dean hated flying in front of Sam. You weren’t familiar with their dynamic at all, but Dean had told you that he didn’t like being afraid, and that he always tried to be strong for his brother. You didn’t want to embarrass him or say something you shouldn’t in front of Sam. “Do I wanna know why you have to get back to Kansas quickly?” You turned your gaze to the younger Winchester. 

Sam chuckled softly and shook his head. “Work…related,” he mumbled. “So probably not.”

You nodded once and turned back to your car. “Okay, then,” you breathed. “I’ll follow you to the airport and wait for you to drop off the rental.” 

You loaded up your backpack and Dean tossed your duffel bag in the car.  As you both turned away, you faced each other, maybe a foot apart. 

“I’ll see you at the airport,” he said softly. 

“Be safe,” you said back as you studied his features and tried to read what he was thinking. He nodded, and after one more look, he went to walk back to the rental car. 

Before he could step away, you took a chance. You reached for his jacket and tugged so he turned back to you. With his jacket still between your fingers, you pressed your lips to his in a rather quick, but hard kiss. For a moment, he paused but then his hands cupped your face as he kissed you back. 

As the pop echoed around you, you didn’t notice how Sam had turned to give you some privacy and scratched awkwardly at the back of his head. “What was that for?” Dean asked as his eyes looked between yours. 

“To say I’m sorry, again, for not believing you,” you started softly but continued before he could say anything. “And for saving my life.” A small smile tugged up the corner of his lip just enough for his dimple to appear. 

“I don’t want you to apologize to me again, got it?” His thumb caressed your cheek gently. 

“No more apologizing from either of us,” you stared into his eyes until he nodded. 

“Deal,” he agreed, though somewhat hesitantly. 

“Okay,” you pulled back and waved at Sam. “Thanks to you too, Sam.” You called after him. He turned back around and nodded. “And I guess I’ll be seeing you in Kansas.”

“I’ll see you there,” he nodded as he waved. “Drive safe.”

You nodded and watched Dean walk back to the car. Just before he climbed into the driver’s seat, he called out after you. “And I’ll be seeing you soon.”

Even after everything, you couldn’t help the heat that radiated in your cheeks or the way a smile pulled across your lips. 

Dean had dropped Sam off at the drop off area at the airport. Once he had gathered his backpack, you followed Dean to the rental car return. It only took a few minutes before you popped the trunk to your Toyota Camry and waited for Dean to toss in his duffel bag. 

He pulled open the passenger door and leaned down. “You want me to drive?” He asked carefully. Dean seemed like the kind of guy who preferred driving, but you smiled and shook your head ‘no’ anyway. 

“How about I take the first shift? And then we can switch,” you suggested. He seemed content enough with that response and climbed in. “Sorry it’s not the Impala.” You offered with a small smile. 

“Ah, it’s alright,” he sighed as he pulled on his seatbelt. “I’ll get you in a Chevy or Ford, eventually.” He smiled back. You chuckled softly and shook your head as you pulled away from the airport. 

“What’s the address?” You asked as you toyed with the navigation on the dash. 

Dean grumbled, something about fancy cars and shitty navigation systems but you just rolled your eyes. He plugged in an address for Lebanon, Kansas. 

“Jesus,” you mumbled, as the screen totaled your drive time at 20 hours and 32 minutes. 

“Buckle up, sweetheart. Hope you’re ready for a long drive,” Dean chuckled. It was already late into the evening, pushing midnight by now. 

“It’s weird, I feel like I’ve been up for days at this point,” you muttered as you adjusted the air and your seatbelt. 

“You sure you don’t want me to drive?” He eyed you carefully. That was the thing about Dean’s gaze: you could feel it even when you didn’t see it. 

“I’m alright. We can switch when we stop,” you shifted the car into drive and eased on the gas. Dean unbuckled his seat belt to pull off his jacket before he buckled it again. “I’m supposed to call Jen tomorrow. I’m not even sure what to say to her, she recognized you from the photos we found online.” The sound of your voice was anything but strong as your stomach flip-flopped. 

“I’m guessin’ the truth isn’t an option?” Dean asked. 

You shook your head no. “And say what? She got possessed by a demon named Meg, her eyes turned black and she flung me against the wall a few times? Yeah, I’m pretty sure she’d have me committed,” you fell into a comfortable speed as you got on the interstate and hit cruise control. 

Dean half chuckled and shook his head as he glanced out the passenger window and then back to the windshield, his features illuminated by the headlights of drivers coming down the other side of the highway. “That probably wouldn’t go over too well. It’s a lot for anybody to take in.”

You muddled over a thought before you said it out loud. “How did you take it when you first found out?” You asked him as you glanced between him and the road ahead of you. 

His brows kind of pulled together and you took that as his thinking face. “I don’t really know how to explain that,” he started softly. “It’s all I’ve ever known, really.”

Shock had to have graced your features but you tried to calm your expression. While you recognized this was all new to you, it wasn’t to Dean. And you certainly didn’t want to offend him. 

“When did you find out about the things that go bump in the night?” You asked him carefully. 

“When I was four,” he didn’t look at you when he answered. Instead, his gaze went out the passenger window again as he watched the trees pass by in darkness. 

“Four?! Dean, you were a baby,” you breathed. And then you remembered. “You were four when your mom died…”

There was a moment of silence that you took as his acknowledgment that you had the right idea. But then, he continued. 

“My Dad kind of went into overdrive at that point. Trying to find what killed her,” he explained. You nodded as you tried to absorb it. When he didn’t offer up anything additional, you broke the silence. 

“You were just a kid, Dean…” you felt a pang of sadness for the man next to you. It made you angry, even. “No kid should ever have to go through that.”

“No kid should have to lose their parent to some supernatural asshole, either,” he said back firmly. You somehow knew he wasn’t upset with you by the comment, just trying to make you understand. “Seeing my Dad go through that, and having to make sure Sammy was okay…” he shook his head as he trailed off. 

The dots started to connect for you. Dad was busy fighting the monsters, Dean had to take care of his brother, you kept your thoughts to yourself but made a mental note. He had to be strong—couldn’t be afraid. 

“Anyway,” he cleared his throat and resituated himself in his seat. “All that to say, I don’t know what it’s like, really, to be thrown into this world that I live in. But I know it can’t be easy.”

“I don’t want you to worry about me, Dean,” you answered quickly, and you meant it. It seemed as though Dean was worried about protecting everyone in his life and being strong through it. “I don’t want to burden you with that.”

“Sweetheart, I’m gonna worry about you whether you’re sitting right here next to me, or you’re thousands of miles away in another state,” he looked at you when he spoke. “And it’s not a burden.”

“Can I ask you something?” Your bravery to ask the hard questions surprised you. Something about being in the car with him for almost a full day made your usual resolve soften. 

“Shoot,” he stole another glance at you. 

“Do you like it? Fighting…monsters?” You asked, for lack of a better word. 

Dean mulled it over before he answered right away. “I like helping people,” he said simply. “I like being able to save people so they won’t have to go through the same thing we did.”

“But who saves Dean Winchester?” Your eyes found him in the dark car once again.

“I don’t need saving, sweetheart,” he smirked again, a hint of confidence to his tone.

“Everybody needs saving sometimes, Dean,” you answered softly.

The only noise around you came from the hum of the engine.

“I guess Sammy does,” Dean looked out the window. You could tell he didn’t want the conversation to continue at that point, so you switched gears slightly.

“Does it ever scare you?” The idea of fighting monsters terrified you, but you were curious if Dean was ever afraid. 

He seemed to process the question like it was something he had never been asked, which shocked you considering the line of work. “I mean, I guess sometimes. Usually when one of us is in trouble.” You nodded, but he continued. “When one of us is knockin’ on death’s door, I guess that scares me.”

Each new fact you found out about this life Dean lived in brought on a new wave of shock. “Death?” You asked him as you looked between him and the road. 

Dean chuckled, but you could tell it was from him being a bit uncomfortable. “Let’s save that one for another day,” he shifted in his seat. 

Maybe that was a good idea. You redirected the conversation slightly. “Where does your fear of flying fall on the scale of being scared?” You smirked. 

“Oh, that one’s still at the top of the list,” he winked with a wide smile that reflected the light from the streetlights as you drove, welcoming a lighter conversation.

“But you got on a plane anyway. To get to me,” you stole another glance in his direction. 

“Well, yeah,” he said simply. “Sam said I should let it go, that something must have made you change your mind. But when I couldn’t reach you…” he shook his head. “I just had to be sure you were alright.” His words caused a flutter to form in your stomach, and you smiled, but that was shortly followed by a yawn that tugged at your jawline. “Getting tired?” Dean asked.

You shrugged a bit but couldn’t help the nod that followed. “It’s been a really long day,” you sighed. “I guess I was more tired than I thought.”

“That’s what happens when shock starts wearing off,” he reached to place his hand just above your knee over your denim jeans. It was obvious it was meant as something comforting as his thumb traced small circles on the fabric there. “Why don’t we pull off? I can switch with you.”

“Dean, you need sleep, too,” you argued.

“We can stop eventually if I get tired, too. But I’m alright, sweetheart,” his voice was gruff and raspy–you could sense the exhaustion there, but you obliged.

There was a rest stop up ahead and you took the exit slowly. Once the car was in park, you opened the driver’s door to switch with Dean. As you both got settled in your new seats, Dean pressed a quick kiss to your temple before he adjusted the mirrors. 

“You just get some rest,” he said gently. 

You nodded against the headrest of the seat and closed your eyes. “Night, Dean.” It wouldn’t take long for sleep to find you.

A/N: Happy Thursday, friends! I know this chapter probably felt a bit "filler" with the dialogue, but it was important for the development of future chapters. I promise things will get more interesting in the next chapter!

Let me know what you think! I appreciate all the likes, comments & reblogs more than you know!

Chapter 9 will be posted on (or maybe before, TBD) Thursday, 4/25!

Chapter 9 Preview:

One blink, then two. The hum of the engine and vibration in the seat of the car reminded you where you were. There were so many emotions that coursed through you as you remembered: demons, monsters, Dean. 

Your nose twitched as you smelled the air and your eyes were drawn over to Dean. The sun was out now–high in the sky.

“Dean?” You cleared your throat as you shifted in the passenger seat to sit up fully. He did a double take and you saw the smile spread across his lips.

“Morning, sunshine,” the gruffness to his words and the look on his face made your stomach flip–or was that hunger? You settled on a mixture of both. 

“What time is it? Where are we?” You asked as blinked a few more times to try to take in your surroundings. 

“It’s about 8:30,” Dean answered as he glanced at the clock. “And we’re about an hour outside of Louisville, Kentucky.” 

“Jesus, I slept for eight hours, Dean! You should’ve woken me up,” you rubbed the sleep from your eyes and felt around your hair inconspicuously. You didn’t want to give away that you were slightly concerned with what you looked like after passing out in the passenger seat. God, what if you drooled?! You swiped your fingers across your mouth quickly. 

“Nah, you needed the sleep,” he answered simply. “You had a rough few days there.”

“Thanks,” you breathed. Suddenly your stomach groaned and you hoped he couldn’t hear it. “I’m starving. How about we stop and switch off again?”

Series Masterlist Main Masterlist

Tag List: @jackles010378 @ladysparkles78 @hallecarey1 @zepskies @lacilou @lyarr24 @roseblue373 @deans-spinster-witch @stillhere197 @deans-baby-momma @nix-rose @djs8891 @globetrotter28 @k-slla @agentorange9595 @dragonfly92 @nancymcl @springsteeen @perpetualabsurdity @deanwinchestersgirl87 @mimi-luvzyu @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld @ultimatecin73 @impalaspixie @daughterofcain-67 @jasminewinter140 @yvonneeeee @stoneyggirl2 @rizlowwritessortof @marimarvelfan @jc-winchester @taylortot @siampie1990 @thewritersaddictions @raisinggray @tabsluvsu @rachiem4-blog @leigh70 @nyotamalfoy @ades106 @akshi8278 @fanfic-n-tabulous @officialnighttime @so-get-this-sammy @malindacath @mrlonelycat @madomens @importantnightmarebird @just-levyy @foxyjwls007 @respectfulrebel @onlyangel-444 @brightlilith @cutiesarah @alexislsanchez @adeptusxia0 @frettaganvleet @nerdymuffinbonkcloud @hobby27

Want to join the Tag List? Click here!

#supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fan fiction #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fan fic #supernatural ff #spn fanfiction #spn fan fiction #spn fanfic #spn fan fic #spn ff #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fan fiction #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester ff #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x ofc #dean winchester reader insert #taking chances

[madlittlecriminal]

[04] Secret Ingredient⥓ Mafia!Miguel O'Hara × Female!Baker!Reader

Warnings: Danny is an oc, mention of death in the family (not reader or miguel related), mention of pregnancy (not reader), annoying customers, two cliffhangers in one (im sorry), patrick o'hara (web-slinger)

series masterlist | miguel o'hara masterlist

Another day, another employee seeming to irritate him to the core. Miguel didn't understand what was so hard for this guy to understand that no meant no, but seeing him beg Miguel for a day off when his PTO ran out was comical to say the least.

"For the last time, Danny, you used up your PTO. I cannot give you the day off simply because you don't want to work. If you were at work more often instead of doing whatever you want to do, then maybe you'd have the day off." He says while leaning back in his chair.

"But you don't understand! I need the day off, Mr. O'Hara! Please!"

"Give me a valid reason why and I'll think about it." It was bullshit. The only way Danny was going to get out of this is if his fiancée was giving birth or if he had a death in the family. For any other reason, Danny was going back to work and Miguel didn't care if Danny was going to throw a fit.

He was honestly surprised that Danny and his fiancée were still together considering he hardly works and they live together.

"Well...you see..." Danny started, but he couldn't come up with a valid excuse other than not wanting to work.

Miguel waited for him, his leg folded to where his ankle rested on his knee and his hands folded on top of his abdomen. He tilted to the side as he listened to Danny stutter.

"Danny, I'm a patient man. However, your stutter isn't natural. You're nervous because you can't come up with a lie right now and that's fine. However, don't expect me to listen to you if you can't come up with a lie. Get back to work."

Danny grumbled before leaving Miguel's office, slamming the door behind him.

"Slamming doors como si paga por algo-" he paused and shuddered. "Oh God, I sound like my mother." (like of you pay for something-) Miguel shook his head and fixed his blazer before going to type on his computer before his phone rang. A small smile formed on his lips when he saw your name pop up on the screen, but he didn't answer it until the third ring.

"I thought you gave me a fake number there for a second." You let out a sigh, making Miguel let out a shy chuckle, fidgeting with his pen as he tried to tell himself to relax from how hard his heart was thumping in his chest with nerves.

"Nope. Right number." He says, leaning back into his chair again as he heard you put the phone down.

"Good! Okay, I had a weird question to ask you." You say, everything around you sounding much louder which he automatically connected it to you putting the phone on speaker.

"Ask away." He reaches over and grabs his glass of water with a trembling hand from his nerves.

"Why did you need to know about interior designers and such?"

Miguel smirks, thanking whoever that it was a phone call and not in person communication or a video call. "That's for me to know and for you to find out."

"Of course it is."

He heard you huff out a breath and he couldn't help but bite his bottom lip to hold back a laugh.

There had to be flaws somewhere in you...right? I mean, he only saw perfection-

'No. Stop it, Miguel. Not yet. Don't fall just yet.'

"Well, I'll let you go. I have a cake to work on."

Before he could get a word in, you hung up.

Miguel put his phone down and let out a chuckle. He rests his elbow on the arm rest of his desk chair, his chin resting on his palm as he let his mind wander a bit.

Where did his mind wander to exactly?

To you.

He wondered if your hands were rough or surprisingly soft. He wondered where you learned to bake. Was it taught to you by a parent or guardian? Did you learn from recipe books? YouTube videos? I mean, he had to thank someone for your talent. Shit, he wouldn't be surprised if you were self taught.

He shook his head before a soft knock was heard from his office door. He looked up and immediately regretted it when he saw the look of shock and anxiousness on Lyla's face.

"They're here for the meeting, Mr. O'Hara."

He got up and buttoned his blazer before following Lyla out of his office and into the conference room. He knew Lyla well enough that when she said his last name, it wasn't Alchemax business.

-----

You raise a brow at the man in front of you who was asking for a gender reveal cake.

"Sorry, can you repeat that?"

"I want a gender reveal cake, but instead of the usual pink and blue and you do black?"

You blink at him.

"Black and...?"

"Just black."

"Do you want the frosting black?"

"No. I want the cake to be black."

"Sir, that's not how a gender reveal cake works. If you want, I can do black and whi-"

"No, I want black."

"What's the gender?"

"Boy."

"Okay. So you want everything to be black?"

He nods.

"What flavor?"

"Vanilla."

You stood there for a bit, screaming internally as you head to the back to take out a vanilla cake you just made. You quickly made black frosting with food coloring before decorating the cake. When you triple checked that it was perfect, you showed it to the customer.

"You made sure it was blue on the inside, right?"

You wanted to throw it at the customer.

"Sir, you told me you didn't want to do pink or blue, you wanted black."

"Yeah. The frosting."

You clenched your teeth before forcing a smile.

"Anything else?"

"Yeah, I need it within the next two hours or so."

"Come again?"

He gave you a nod before stepping out of the bakery.

"Customers piss me off sometimes." You murmur.

"Do they? I'm sorry to hear that."

Your eyes widen before they meet a familiar pair of brown eyes.

"Hey darlin'. Hope I'm not interrupting anythin' important." Patrick says softly, giving his charming country boy smile that made you relax.

~~~~

tags:

@deputy-videogamer @barbiecrocs @deepinballs @faimmm @wakeupr41 @bubblegumfanfictions @smartyren @kimmis-stuff @latenightcravingz @youcantseem3 @corpsebridenightamare @thedevax @cicithemess @diannana @itsameclinicaldepresssion @hwasoup @migueloharasbbm @vkumi

#miguel o'hara #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x y/n #marvel #mcu #marvel universe #x reader #spiderman 2099

[darshy]

pretty, pt. 2

some of the formatting on this is screwed, i know, it’s just a struggle adjusting things on a phone ):

n e way, enjoy!!

Megumi Fushiguro didn’t hate Satoru Gojo—at first. It was more of a simmering annoyance, something bubbling under his skin, threatening to slip out and crash. Nothing too dramatic. Tsumiki liked the man enough so it caused Megumi to tolerate him. 

“After all, he saved us. Imagine where we’d be now without him!”

Before his sister said that, Megumi uttered his first curse word in relation to Gojo.

And, after living with the man for about two months, an anomaly occurred. Typically, Gojo would be absent for about a week. He’d say, “I’m just checking on something!” or “I’ve got a long mission—I’ll be back before you know it!”

Now, he’s been gone for a month.

Not that it really matters; the two siblings have a roof over their head and a surplus of food. It’s not their business to be in Gojo’s business.

It’s not Megumi’s business to be in Gojo’s business. 

There’s a creak in the house at two AM. The only creak in this house is located in the kitchen, right in front of the refrigerator. Megumi only knows this because he was tasked—by Gojo—to find every creak in a building as a survival tactic. Just in case he was kidnapped.

Or, if he wanted to sneak some food in the middle of the night. Doesn’t really matter the situation.

Megumi blinks and attempts to wipe the sleep from his eyes. The sound was minor, could easily pass as a tree scratching a window, but Megumi’s gut is twisting. It couldn’t be Tsumiki, she never gets up at night, and it couldn’t be Gojo because he always arrives back in the mornings.

So who is it?

He waddles to his bedroom door, toes twitching against the cold, wood floors. He presses on the lock, satisfied to hear a gentle click. Then, he pushes the door open. It reveals a dark hallway with several other doors in its walls. Tsumiki is just a few doors down to the left and Gojo’s room is the last room on the right. Megumi’s stomach churns as he looks to Gojo’s door.

‘Ugh, it’s so ominous…’

He pushes through anyway. The floor is smooth against his feet as he slowly makes his way down the house. Just as he reaches the middle of the staircase leading downstairs, he hears a murmur. Alarm rings through his mind and his hands shake.

What should he do? Is this an intruder? Should he leave and take Tsumiki with him? Call Gojo? Fight? His technique isn’t very refined—Gojo has been so busy lately that he wasn’t any help—and he’s never actually fought before. He could call for 911 too…

What should he do?

The murmuring gets louder, more audible. Megumi strains to hear from his spot, frozen, too scared to go up but still too scared to go down.

”M’gon’ kill that—- —watch him choke— -“

Megumi leans closer by holding onto the handrail of the staircase while praying that it doesn’t create a creak of its own.

”..she’s…mine. Mine.

“—Megumi, ah, why are you awake?”

Megumi holds his breath as he stumbles down the stairs. He, surprisingly, doesn’t feel the harsh impact of the ground against his bones. Instead, there’s a feeling of warmth and the smell of a girl. Megumi pulls away immediately. He’s quick to mask his face of fear, and instead, replaces it with a glare and a sneer. “Gojo? Why are you here?”

”Am I not allowed in my own house?” His smile is slow going, just a bit wobbly, and rather empty-looking. 

Megumi jerks back even further. “Are you drunk?”

“A question answered by three other questions,” Gojo says with the bark of a laugh. His breath smells weird. Obviously there’s the stench of alcohol but there’s something else there. Lingering. 

Stinking.

”You smell,” Megumi mutters. Gojo blinks down at him. “You’re stinking up the air,” he says a bit louder while conscious of Tsumiki’s gentle snoring. Gojo grins again.

”And you’re drunk. Why are you drunk? I’ve never seen you drink.”

”Awh! Am I worrying you, Megumi-chan? But don’t worry—I’m an adult, so I can do adult things like this.” Megumi cringes at the honorific and cringes even more so at Gojo’s use of ‘adult.’

”There’s no kind of adult in you.”

”..okay! Time for bed!”

Gojo swipes up Megumi and quickly warps the two into the boy’s bedroom. Megumi’s stomach churns and he wants to puke.

But underneath all the smells of alcohol, there’s a twinge of floral essence. It smells like the shampoo and perfume that Tsumiki uses. It smells like a girl.

Megumi opens his mouth to ask another question but then Gojo is gone.

“Why were you awake last night?” Gojo asks as Megumi pours cereal into a bowl. Tsumiki blinks between the two of them, her mouth full.

”I was thirsty,” Megumi says lowly and glances up to his adopted father. Gojo has dark circles under his eyes and his hair is a bit messy.

“I’m glad I didn’t wake you.” His breath permeates the air; now the aroma of mint and toothpaste. His eyes twinkle and Megumi knows that he saw through the lie.

Change is a constant in life. It’s so much of a constant that Megumi is accustomed to it. A new school, a new bed, a new life…

It doesn’t mean that he doesn’t hate change, because he hates change. 

He hates coming home to tiny little curses wriggling about. He hates the new craze in Gojo’s eyes. He hates how the hallways are dark at night. He hates the muffled noise coming from Gojo’s room.

He doesn’t necessarily mind the new smell that tangles with Gojo’s cologne.

He still hates change.

Megumi wakes up at five in the morning. His stomach is killing him. It’s twisting and knotting and spinning.

He moves to the hallway bathroom and is surprised to see the light on, shining beneath the door. Gojo is gone again and Tsumiki never wakes up at night.

”Tsumiki,” he calls gently, holding his stomach. She doesn’t reply.

”Tsumiki, please let me in.”

Silence.

”…Tsumiki?”

There’s a shift of a shadow, a disturbance to the light. Megumi recoils quickly and nearly smacks his head against the picture frame behind him. His stomach rolls.

He decides to use the bathroom downstairs, unnerved.

Tsumiki closes the front door behind them. The heat is nearly unbearable so the siblings scramble to remove their socks and shoes. Soon, they lay against the cool tile floors of the kitchen. Tsumiki is looking at Megumi and Megumi is looking at the ceiling.

”It’s hot,” she groans. Megumi nods in agreement. Both of their faces are flushed feverishly. Megumi wants to take a nap against the tiles so he slowly closes his eyes.

”Hey, wanna get some popsicles?”

Megumi opens his eyes. “Yeah.”

The two stand up. Just as Megumi reaches for his sandals, Tsumiki stops him, “I’ll go—I have the money.” For proof, she takes her pocket in hand and shakes it. Change jingles loudly.

”Huh?”

”I’m gonna go. By myself. Just tell me what you want.”

Megumi’s eyebrow twitches. “But I wanna go too.”

”Just tell me what you want.”

”…fine.” Megumi proceeds to babble about a specific ice cream before Tsumiki takes off. The last words to leave her lips are: “Don’t forget to lock the door!” He dutifully follows—turning three locks until they click—but is then faced by another obstacle: boredom. He doesn’t have homework assigned and he doesn’t really have any chores that needed to be done.

Megumi lays against the tiles again. He sweats, heating the cold surface up, so he slides to another section of the floor. He repeats this three times until there’s dirt and mini pebbles sticking to his cheeks. Tsumiki is not back yet.

The boy makes his way up the stairs and into his room. He can probably find something remotely interesting inside but—oh.

Megumi pauses. His hand that was raised to open the door falls to his side.

Gojo’s room is making noises. It’s scratching and crying, almost like a sound for help. Megumi eyes the door with a tilted head. He takes a step forward and then he hears it.

Pleading.

Megumi’s guts twist and his fingers flex. He’s struggling to breathe and he’s reminded of Tsumiki’s words of “In through your nose and out through your mouth.” It’s not enough.

He staggers backwards. The noises get that much louder with a few more scratches and a few more sobs. Megumi is torn between investigating and leaving.

He chooses to depart. He moves back to the top of the stairs, grasping the handrails so tight they’ll leave marks in his palms.

—but what if this is urgent?

Megumi blinks and squeezes the handrail again and doesn’t take any further steps.

What if they need help?

He turns back to the door. His mind is full of slush and he’s hot and sticky and he just wants Tsumiki to come back with a bag full of popsicles and ice creams.

What if Gojo is hiding something?

He places his hand on the doorknob. He’s shaking. The scratches have subsided but Megumi can clearly hear a sniffle every few seconds.

The knob doesn’t turn. The door is locked.

What is Gojo hiding?

Megumi squats. He presses his face against the floor and peers into the thin crack under Gojo’s door. A single eye and bloodied finger tips stare back at him.

He screams and screams and screams and runs to the bathroom to puke.

Who is Gojo hiding?

”Megumi! I’m back!” Tsumiki calls from the front door. “And guess who I found!” She doesn’t explicitly say who and, unfortunately, the response she receives is silence.

Then, there’s loud crying.

”Ah—Megumi!” Tsumiki hurries up the stairs with Gojo right behind her. The two find Megumi hunched over the toilet, heaving and hacking. Gojo approaches with open arms, a frown on his face. 

“Megumi? What happened?”

Gojo barely grazes Megumi’s shoulder before he’s shoved away. Megumi’s glaring and sobbing. Tsumiki parts her mouth in shock—Gojo tenses up right beside her.

As Tsumiki leans in to coddle her brother, Gojo stands, watching, eyes wide and fists clenching.

What did he see?

Megumi gasps for air as he’s slammed into the fighting mattress. Gojo stands above him, a simple smile on his face. It doesn’t look real.

”I told you to bend your knees more,” Gojo says with a patronizing tone, “If you had, maybe you wouldn’t have fallen.”

That’s a lie. Gojo would have pushed him down anyway, it doesn’t matter how much force he would of had to use.

“I just… I want to learn my technique more,” Megumi says lowly. He claws at a rip in the mattress. Slowly, fluff crawls out of it. Gojo wipes it away with his foot. Megumi huffs.

”To master a technique, you need to learn basic fighting. How else did you think I became this great?” Gojo laughs obnoxiously and Megumi doesn’t feel a tug of his lips or a happy beat of his heart or anything. It’s all been stowed away since he discovered the person trapped in Gojo’s room. If that’s even a person.

Obviously, Megumi has attempted to open Gojo’s room for a while yet. The time windows have been small, unfortunately. Gojo has stayed home for a while now—the scheduling of his missions have gotten more and more bleak. As if the higher ups don’t need him. As if there are less and less curses.

That will never be true.

And besides, Megumi shouldn’t be so worried about it anyway. He could just be seeing things, or it’s some kind a curse that Gojo just wants to specifically torture. (And, even at that, Megumi’s not sure if the thing is being tortured. He’s not even sure as to what happens in that room.)

”—despite the challenges, which you’ll go through by the way, you’ll always come out on top because you have me, Megumi! Oh, and… Hey! Are you listening?”

”No,” Megumi replies before he spots a fist coming right for his forehead.

Megumi watches the two dogs zip around each other. They nip and preen and jump and yap. Their furs brush and mix and it’s pretty to look at.

Tsumiki watches too. She sits next to Megumi, playing in the grass with her toes. Leaves are falling and snow will be arriving soon, but Tsumiki is comfortable going around barefoot and wearing shorts and a tank top.

“Is it a lot of work?” she asks, “To make them play, I mean.”

Megumi shrugs. The dogs freeze for a second, a moment of stillness, but then they’re back to enjoying life.

“Well—at least it’s nice to see.”

Megumi agrees. He doesn’t say that aloud.

Gojo has a girlfriend. She smells a little like Tsumiki.

She’s sitting next to him at the table, hands in her lap, head swirled in his direction. Tsumiki admires her a lot. Megumi shifts uncomfortably in his seat as Gojo spoon feeds her. Under the blindfold, Megumi can imagine the heart eyes.

Later, the couple settle onto the couch, deciding to watch a movie. Tsumiki and Megumi are instructed to go to bed.

”Megumi…!” Tsumiki hisses when Megumi stops at the top of the stairs. “Gojo told us to go to sleep. I don’t want to be in trouble because you’re caught watching TV!”

”She’s wearing gloves, Tsumiki.”

”Huh?”

”She’s wearing gloves inside.”

”Well it’s fall and maybe she runs cold,” Tsumiki says, leaning against a nearby wall. “Or, maybe, she doesn’t have her nails done.” Tsumiki sighs dreamily. “She really is perfect.”

Megumi’s eyebrow ticks. “Ew.” He turns back to look down the staircase. 

Gojo’s standing there, hands on his hips. His lips are puckered in a pouting way. “I said go to bed!!”

Tsumiki laughs.

Megumi’s up in the dead of night.

He makes his way to Gojo’s room with expectations of the sounds of creaking and moaning and crying.

There’s nothing—even as he crouches to peer under the crack of the door, whispering back, promising to help this time.

There’s nothing but faint scratch marks on the floor.

The girlfriend—you—has been around more often. Sometimes it’s babysitting while Gojo is gone (which, by the way, the siblings have never had a babysitter before, as per Gojo’s terrible parenting skills), but most of the time it’s while Gojo is around. The two of you stay in the bedroom for a majority of the visit, so Tsumiki clings to Megumi until you come out.

Currently, this is a babysitting scenario. Gojo’s been gone for two weeks and you’ve been doing your due diligence for the kids. Cooking, cleaning, and playing house seem to be your specialty.

”You’d be a great mom,” Tsumiki says. Megumi physically flinches and you pause your mindless surfing on the TV. You’re still wearing gloves.

“Oh, you think?” you ask rather awkwardly. Tsumiki nods.

”I’m just waiting for the day Gojo proposes.”

Megumi pops his mouth open, to tell Tsumiki to knock it off or something but then she stands up and announces that she will grab some snacks.

Megumi’s eyes immediately find yours after that. “I’m sorry. I…don’t know why she said that.” He feels miffed.

”It’s okay,” you smile gently. It appears that you want to say more but then stop. You curl into the side of the couch, on the complete opposite side of Megumi. You look almost sad, like something is missing in your eyes.

”You don’t have to stay here, you know,” Megumi says and you blink up at him. “I know that Gojo can be a bit pushy—“ he’s under exaggerating— “but he can’t boss you around or anything. You guys haven’t known each other for that long, right?”

Your lips part and just like before, you stop. It’s frustrating watching you pause and struggle by simply not saying what you want to say. Then it’s awkward when your eyes dart up to the clock, waiting for your cue to shout I should head home now!

And just as Megumi gives up, slinking into his side of the couch, face pressed against the armrest, you talk.

”Satoru told me what you guys have been through—so don’t think I’m upset about Tsumiki. I honestly thought it was kinda funny.” You grin a little and Megumi pouts back.

”She still shouldn’t have said that.”

”It’s whatever.” You shrug but still grin and there’s a sparkle in your eyes that is similar to Tsumiki’s. Oh. That’s what was missing in you. That’s probably what made Gojo fall for you.

You’re really nice looking.

Megumi’s face warms. He distracts himself by looking at your gloved hands. Like clockwork, you hide them in your lap, with an uncomfortable look on your face.

”I’ve, um, known Satoru my whole life,” you blurt. Megumi realizes that you don’t want him to question the gloves. “He would visit the US during his holidays and he would find me.”

Megumi leans in and curiously questions, “Find you?”

”Because he wanted me—us—to live here, in Japan, together,” you say and the sparkle leaves your eyes. You’re not so pretty anymore. “And guess what happened.”

You and Gojo must have broken up. The teacher has been disturbed lately. He screams and breaks everything in his sight and he almost appears to lose control. (Of course, this is while the kids are—supposedly—sleeping. He wouldn’t dare show unruly behavior to growing and easily-influenced children!)

Thankfully, he doesn’t lose control, less Megumi be six feet underground.

And Megumi isn’t sad. Your absence doesn’t make his heart heavy. Doesn’t make him want to cry and throw things too because that’s how Gojo does it and Megumi isn’t him. Megumi is simply Megumi. He doesn’t want you back like Gojo does. He’d just appreciate it if you visited once in a while. It would help the broken plates. It would help with the increased amount of curses.

“Sensei.”

”Sensei.”

”No Megumi! Sensei.” Gojo corrects.

”That’s what I’m saying!” Megumi groans. “It’s not like I’ve never said this before. I literally go to school, Gojo.”

”You mean sensei,” Gojo says with a sly smile. Megumi groans again.

He’s growing up. It feels slow, like each day is dragging by. It doesn’t help that Tsumiki has fallen ill, even to the point of bedriddenness. But it’s okay. Because Megumi is growing and he’s going to fix her.

He’s going to fix everything.

“Geto Suguru.” Megumi looks up to his soon-to-be teacher. “You knew him?”

Gojo shifts uncomfortably. “He was my best friend! And now I have to kill him.”

”Oh,” Megumi utters because there’s nothing else to say. He looks back down to the sheet. He squints at a near familiar name. Shoko Ieiri. Megumi taps the small picture of her. Gojo grins.

”Another friend. I don’t have to kill her.”

”Oh,” he utters again, because there’s still nothing to say.

Just before school starts, just before Gojo officially becomes Megumi’s teacher, you’re back. Standing in a pretty outfit, beaming at the two from inside Gojo’s home. Megumi stiffens and attempts to meet Gojo’s eyes. His attempts are ignored in favor of you, however.

The two make it inside. They’re sweating, at least Megumi is, from the relentless practice. And he wants to ask what you’re doing here. Why you’ve shown up out of the blue in a pretty outfit, smelling a bit like Tsumiki and not wearing gloves at all. 

He’s going to ask but then you place food in front of the two and Megumi can’t say no to this.

So he eats. 

There’s comfortable conversation for you and Gojo. It’s weird not having Tsumiki sitting next to him, whispering, prying. She would be waiting for you to finish. She’d wait and wait and wait.

Megumi keeps eating. His mind feels like it’s running a little slow.

”Of course I would, Satoru… Why do you think I’m here?” You say while smiling. It looks weird.

”For me.” Gojo’s smiling too. His is easier to decode than yours. It’s a simple cypher: right corner of his mouth is a bit down and his front teeth are gnawing into the flesh. He’s not upset but maybe a bit annoyed at… something. Megumi’s not so sure. The teacher always carries a look like that when Megumi misplaces his foot. Or when the teen is up at night, creeping into the halls.

Just as Megumi’s head droops, his forehead hovering right above the countertop, he hears you gasp. Blearily, he looks to his two elders. Gojo’s hand is clutched around a wrist you’re attempting to tug back. The teacher’s face is bright red with his glasses slipping down his nose sloppily. “Satoru…!” you whine and pull back.

It’s terrifying how quickly Gojo leaps across the counter to get to you.

Megumi closes his eyes.

Itadori is a mess. He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t even be alive.

He shouldn’t be in Megumi’s dorm room, but he is, and he’s poking and prodding around. He says things like: “Woah Fushiguro!! What is this?!” and it’s a book about psychology. When Itadori began to open Megumi’s drawers, a pillow was thrown to his head.

“Ahhh Fushiguro, your room is so clean… Where’s all the posters?” Itadori asks. He’s peering over Megumi’s shoulder. Math homework peer right back at him.

”What posters?” Megumi attempts to shrug the other away. Itadori stays and gestures around the room. “You know, like, really hot girls in bikinis! And big butts! Like Jennifer Lawrence.”

Megumi’s face turns red. “Hell no!” And he finally swats Itadori away.

Megumi resumes his work for a few minutes longer before looking over to Itadori. He’s, again, snooping around. Megumi’s eyebrow ticks. “Put that down.” Itadori’s holding a picture frame before flipping it to green eyes. ”Who is this? Your mom or something?”

Soon-to-be. Right. Gojo and you are engaged. Have been for about a month. The wedding will happen in about three weeks from now.

Feigning boredom, Megumi looks back to his papers. “Gojo-sensei hasn’t told you about her yet? I figured he would blab about her every second he could,” he mutters. Itadori appears a bit skittish after hearing that.

”I mean, he talks about his fiancée…”

”Yeah.”

”Oh… OH!” Itadori jumps up and Megumi can practically see the cogwheels turning in his head. “So she will be your mom! Wow, okay!” Itadori turns back to the picture frame. Suddenly, a mouth manifests out of Itadori’s cheek and laughs.

”I’m sure she’ll make a great meal!”

Megumi barely suppresses the punch heading for Itadori’s face.

A runaway bride is what you are. Fleeing the night before the wedding.

Gojo has held a stifling quiet for the past 32 hours. His eyes are dull. Megumi wants to reach out and offer some sort of comfort. Instead, he says simply, “It’s probably just some misunderstanding.”

Gojo doesn’t look up. Doesn’t react, doesn’t move, and Megumi would think that he were dead if not for the gentle rising and falling of his chest.

”I’m tired of her running away,” Gojo says after a pregnant pause. “I know what she wants and she knows what I want. It’s not like I’m going to kill her.”

Megumi’s stomach rolls and it reminds him of being a kid, sneaking around and trying to get into Gojo’s room because he thinks someone’s trapped in there. It’s silly, looking back on it, but his stomach is rolling all the same again.

He makes his way back to the school. He dreams of his warm bed and warm shower and warm clothes. He’s tired of the fighting. He’s tired of Tsumiki not waking up and nagging him. He’s tired of the looks of his friends, each exhausted and on the brink of death after each mission. He’s tired of it all.

As Megumi passes a local store, he smells something like Tsumiki. Floral-ish, like flowers, like how most girls smell. It smells nice and comforting and like you.

He turns to the store. His heart seems to stop in his chest and his mouth dries.

You notice him back. Your eyes lock with wide green ones.

Megumi is right in front of you in half a second. His arms are stretched wide, a hugging gesture, but you don’t take it. You shuffle, holding a wrinkled bag in your hands. Megumi drops his arms.

”Hi,” he whispers. He doesn’t know if you’re real or if it’s just the hysteria creeping into him. He wants to touch and feel, maybe poke and prod while he’s at it. You look like you, but are you really? You smell like you, but is this fake lying?

”Hi Megumi,” you whisper back and Megumi hugs you. You’re stiff (and you shouldn’t be) but you manage to wrap your arms around his middle. Your hair tickles his mouth and he just hugs you closer.

”I missed you so much,” he says into the top of your head. He pauses for a moment to inhale. You tense up like you’re waiting for bad news—and for good reason. Gojo-sensei has been in his quiet, anger mood for far too long. Megumi can’t wait for it to end.

“We want you back home.” He inhales your scent again. Sweet. Comforting. Home.

”I know,” you say into his jacket. (Despair.)

#x reader #female reader #24 #yandere jjk #yandere gojo satoru x reader #yandere gojo satoru

[ncistivaparis]

As usual I’m starving for Tiva scenes. And recently I realized one could find “Tiva” scenes in other episodes! That’s currently what I’m doing!

Let me tell you about 11x08:

In this episode someone is driving Tony to Quantico since he doesn’t have any car due to the car crash in 10x22. (I personally think this shows how hard it is for him to move on from the previous time, an implicit reference to Ziva). Anyway, in 11x08 Mcgee assumes that a lady has been driving Tony to the crime scene, he talks about it with Abby. Later on, Gibbs assigns Tony to go talk to a magnificent woman (once again to cheer up Tony). However, later on McGee finds out Tony has been taking public transports all along, which he notes is weird for Tony.

Finally, Tony and Mcgee end up in front of a church, that Tony apparently knows a lot about! Here is the scene:

Reverend Miller: Anthony! What are you doing here? Your meeting’s not until tonight.

Tony: Reverend Miller, I, um

Reverend: Bringing a new member?

Tony: Um.. He’s thinking about it. A little gun-shy. McGee, the Rev.

Rev: (to mcgee) please join us, it’s a very safe place. All are welcome

(Reverend goes away, Mcgee turns to Tony)

Mcgee: Tony, what’s going on? Do you have a drinking problem?

Tony: (laughing) No. No I just… (very seriously) I joined this men’s support group. Meets in the church hall 2 nights a week.

Mcgee: you serious?

Tony: Mm-hmm. I know it…it doesn’t sound like me, but… (sighs) with the past year, I just…wanted to shake things up a little bit. Meet some new people. This guy at the gym told me about the group, and I thought it sounded like a good idea. And it..it is fun. (Mcgee’s in disbelief) the Rev drove me to Quantico the other morning. Interesting guy. He’s helping me being less judgmental.

…

(Tony walks away, while Mcgee stands once again in disbelief )

Let me rephrase it, Tony went twice a week to a group support in a church, trying to move on and to accept the fact that Ziva left him. At the beginning of 11x09, he even talks alone about a woman he apparently met. And as another agent is doing her stuff, she tells him she hasn’t been listening, but tells him to start over in order to listen to him. Then he litterly begs her to have a reaction to what he said, to be at least “sarcastic”!

Now this is a lonely man. This is a lonely man missing his partner, his best friend, the woman he’s in love with. And so people, Gibbs, Mcgee, other NCIS agent try to pay more attention to him, to listen to him, to give him work he’s supposed to like (Gibbs telling him to go talk to a lady he finds beautiful) so that he feels less lonely.

Hence this is the reason why you can see, even after Ziva’s gone, how much she means to him. One could call it an “almost Tiva scene”.

And you know everytime Tony felt bad, Ziva tried to do her best to cheer him up, to make him laugh, to bring him back to his normal self. That’s the reason why I think if she knew how lonely he was feeling, she would have just hold him in her arms. Had she known how lonely he felt, she might have come back.

#tiva #tony dinozzo #ziva david #tony x ziva #ncis #tiva spinoff #im not okay #im not crying you are

[mortuarywriting]

well hell. wip wednesday and i havent written much of anything so im just gonna share what I've got for chapter 2 i guess? poor reader is very tired and uh. exhausted to say the least.

Morbid below!

You just level a very tired look back to muttonchops, "is this the part where I'm taken out back like Ol' Yeller?" The big one tilts his head a bit, your gaze tracks the movement and you just sigh, "what? Bullets are cheap. I'm sure you have an allocated training amount for range days, I'm an easy target," at this you gesture inward, nobody would accuse you of being Small or Petite or any of that bullshit, "and it's not hard to move the brass from whatever secondary location to the range. Hell, knives are even cheaper," as you say it you know you have a goddamn preference.  You don't wanna die like this of all ways but you don't exactly know how many rights you have since you are very publicly dead. Like in a perfect world you somehow get slipped back to your bedroom, you're fine, there's no bruising and you just had a wild dream. Second best you'll take a weird sleepwalking incident- mortifying in it's own way but a fun anecdote for later. You don't want to be talking about how easily they can kill you. How even if they let you off base what the hell could you do? You're entirely at their whims and that's sixteen levels of horrifying. "Don't think from the article there was enough left of me for uh, an open casket," you nervously fiddle with your hands, kinda all you could do with them, "and hell, cremation isn't exactly the hardest thing. Makes me more portable than I ever have been in life." You huff as you lean back, meeting the eyes of mutton chops and just. Matching his gaze. You know exhaustion is written in every line of your being. You just keep his gaze as long as the three of you sit quietly. You're half convinced there's some level of scent warfare you're still missing, but you can't find yourself to give half a damn. "Medical's initial assessment is back." You blink, that's not where you were expecting this to go, "okay? Can I talk with her about them or-" "You don't have scent glands. They want to do x-rays to analyze your sinuses-" "Wait aren't there laws about healthcare information privacy-" "- among other select tests, and we will make decisions upon further results." You go to jerk your hands up in exasperation, "awesome. I've been voluntold for more needlework. Joy of joys, is it a dissection or still a vivisection if I'm only legally dead?" He levels an unimpressed look at you, and you level your own right back. You can't help yourself from grumbling, "need to know just how much of my medical history gets to stay private with this bullshit." "I get access to records as your alpha-" You scoff, "I didn't vote for you." The big one shifts from foot to foot, but muttonchops continues as if you hadn't spoken up, "-assigned to your case and determining how to classify your presence on this base." Your brows furrow, "why would you need to be my assigned alpha for that, or granted my medical information. The way someone smells is no basis for a system of-" "Are you quite done," he sounds like he's at a resigned tired stage- which, fair- and the big one is looking at muttonchops… expectantly?

#rambles from the morgue #happy wip wednesday *confetti*

[yourimagines]

Hi, can you perhaps write a one shot about the new fallout series. Perhaps about Maximus?

love your stories ❤️

Sure, I really like the series, as a gamer myself.

I hope you like this one ❤️

Wanderer

* English is not my first language I apologise

* Gif is not mine

* Triggers: Swearing, Blood, and Fluff

Y/N POV

The sun was shining down on me as I walked through the desert waste land. Sweat and blood were dripping down my skin, a bullet hole was on my right side of my shoulder and the headache I was having was getting worse by the minute. “I think I’m going crazy…” A loud explosion was heard in the distance, a shot of pain shoot through my head, causing me to shut my eyes. “Ahh…” my hand went up to my face as I fell down on my knees. “Please don’t let me die…” I slowly opened my eyes, trying to stay awake. My vision was blurry and my knees started to hurt from all the hot sand beneath them. I slowly fell flat down on my chest as a shadow started to cover me, I tilted my head up and saw something standing close to me. My eyes slowly rolled back and my face fell down again as I lost my consciousness.

Everything was pitch black, a weird uncomfortable feeling was flowing through my body. I felt heavy but also light, as something was carrying me. I tried everything, moving my arms, opening my eyes but nothing happened so panic started to creep in. I felt trapped in my own body without knowing what was happening to me.

Maximus POV

I saw a beautiful young woman wandering all alone under the desert sun, she was almost passed out when I spotted her. She’s probably wounded and dehydrated from all the heat. So I thought let’s go help her out, look if she needs some help but when I finally got to her she fell down, losing her consciousness. “I’ve got you.” I carefully picked her up and carried her out of the burning sun. She looked beautiful, she’s not from up here as her blue, yellow clothing and she wasn’t smelling bad, she had access to water. She could be from a vault or something.

I lay her down on the cold floor and checked her for some injuries. She had a view cuts and one bullet hole on the right side of her shoulder. I carefully took a better look at her shoulder and saw that the bullet went all the way through her shoulder, meaning it wasn’t there anymore. “You need a sting pack immediately.” I got out of my suit and grabbed the sting pack from my left arm. I kneeled down next to her and carefully injected the needle into her soft skin. “You’re going to be okay.”

Y/N POV

I woke up all alone in an old building with a sore shoulder. “Urgh…” my head was still pounding from all the heat and dehydration. I slowly sat up and saw a young man sitting in front of me, smiling at me. “Hi.” His voice sounded low and soft as he greeted me. “Hi.” My voice sounded a bit hoarse and not so sweet as usual. “You passed out because you were wounded, I fixed that problem for you.” He pointed at my shoulder. “Thank you….” “Maximus. My name is Maximus.” I nodded and took a look at my shoulder. “Why? Why did you help me, Maximus?” My shoulder was still hurting but the wound itself was looking way better than it was before. “Why not?” I looked back at him, he looked a bit confused. “Because we don’t know each other, I could have killed you.” He shrugged his shoulders and looks down at his hands. “Maybe but you needed help. And I do the right thing by helping people.”

Maximus POV

She was right but that’s not how I want to be, ignoring the people who need my help. I’m a knight now and I should help them. “Okay, well maybe I can help you out then, so tell me where are you heading?” “Las Vegas, I’m on a mission to save the world.” I saw her lips curl up, trying not to laugh. “Yeah, Yeah, I know it sounds stupid…” she shook her head as her cheeks got a rosy colour. “No it’s not, I-I’m also on my way to Las Vegas.” I was surprised, she was going to the same place. “Why?” “To find the person who shot me.” She pointed at her shoulder. “Okay, well we could go together, I mean it’s better than travelling alone.” She nodded and stood up. “Okay, let’s go then.” I smiled and stood up as well. “Have you ever flown before?”

She was clinging onto the suit as I flew us through the air. “Are you okay?” She had her eyes closed, probably afraid of falling down. She only nodded and I knew that I needed to land. I slowly went down and wrapped my arm around her as my feet touched the ground. She carefully opened her eyes and saw we were back on the ground. “We walk the rest.” I slowly placed her down on the ground. She nods and starts to walk.

Y/N POV

Max was a great companion to have in these harsh conditions. The loneliness was getting to my head and everyone I met wanted to kill me, just because I’m from a vault. “We should take a rest.” His robotic voice said to me. “Yeah, my legs hurt.” I sat down against an old wall, just out of the sun. He did the same but still in his suit. “You should take some sleep, you need it for your shoulder.” I wasn’t sure about that one, sleeping with a stranger. Yes he saved me but who says he doesn’t do anything to me, like selling me for caps. “I won’t do anything to you, I trust you and you should trust me. We are companions now.” I nodded and tried to get comfortable but everything felt uncomfortable. “I can’t, my shoulder hurts and the sand irritates my skin.” I felt a mental breakdown coming up as my eyes started to prick. “Come here.” He patted on his lap and I got shy. “Uhh you sure?” He nods and moved his legs a bit, getting comfortable by himself. I moved shyly to him and crawled into his lap. “Better right?” I was blushing very hard and hide my face against his metal chest. “I’ll keep watch, just rest a bit.”

I don’t want to admit it but I slept very good on his metal suit. His suit was cold outside the sun and it made me feel better. “Are you okay?” He asks me as we walked through the dessert again. “Yes, are you?” He nods and looks around. “I think we are almost there.” I stayed close to him as we walked over a hill. “I think we are here.” I said as I pointed to the city down the hill. “Well, thank you for your company Maximus.” I said to him, he nodded slowly and looked back at the town. “You sure you want to do this on your own?” I sighed and nodded. “Yes, we both have a different mission to achieve, but after this I would love to be your companion again.” He walks over to me and his large robotic hand moved up to my head. “Be careful.” I smiled up at him, feeling the butterflies in my stomach. “I will, be careful as well Max.” With that I walked away from him, heading to my own battle I had to fight as he flew over me, to fight his battle on his own.

#fallout x reader #maximus fallout #fallout #fallout imagine #fallout tv series #maximus #Maximus x reader #fallout tv show x reader #reqs open #imagines #imagine #x reader #x y/n #y/n x character #x you #reader x character #y/n imagines #x y/n fluff #x you fluff #fluff x reader #fluff imagine #fallout fanfic #fallout fic #fallout maximus #aaron moten #Aaron moten x reader

[kkatastrophic]

role-swapped: sokka, and either fire sibling

made an account solely for this, but i feel like sokka role swapped with either sibling (either zuko or azula) makes some sort of sense. call me crazy (if anyone is even seeing this to call me crazy at all, then hello) all you want, but i don't know, i feel like it makes sense. though to be fair, i do really um, overanalyze things and might just be making my explanation sound really ooc and weird and too 'he's me i'm giving him my issues'. not sure. just here to be overdramatic i guess. sorta relate to all three of these characters so. take my 'it makes sense!!!11111!!11!!' with a grain of salt. also scared i got the characters all wrong. so. yeah

firstly, the similarities.

sokka and zuko:

sokka and zuko are both insecure fellas who want to prove to someone that they are honorable and worthy people; zuko wants to show his father and his nation that he is a worthy prince that should return to his rightful place for the throne, and sokka wants to show his father and his tribe that he is a strong and manly warrior, that he can protect katara and the tribe. they both have something to prove, something they want to become. they are both overshadowed by their prodigious sister and they both find themselves feeling lesser by it, just in different ways. sokka doesn't feel as useful as he wants to be and zuko feels like a failure compared to azula. they both don't quite like the fact that their skills aren't the best they believe they could be. the two of them both solve an issue between themselves: sokka learns how to overcome obstacles without bending, and zuko learns how to follow his own destiny and stand up for himself. they both have lost their mother, they both have distant fathers (except hakoda isn't distant because he wants to be, nor is he abusive, but that doesn't mean he isn't distant), and these similarities made me write this whole thing. it would be interesting to see how much would change and how much would stay the same, what life would be like for zuko and what life would be like for sokka. would their personalities swap as well? sokka's would change drastically, but i think zuko's would not change extremely.

sokka and azula:

don't get me wrong, sokka is insecure and everything, but he's also much like azula, at least, in my eyes he is. azula and sokka are both crippling perfectionists, excelling at a specific thing: azula's firebending and battle (plus regular) intelligence, and sokka's skillful planning, his own battle (and regular) intelligence, and inventing. they both see their father in a bright light, they both were heavily affected by his actions and again, they both lost their mother. due to their need to succeed and win, they both become irrational and heavily emotional when they do not. sokka blames himself for the loss during the eclipse raid, and azula has a mental breakdown when she loses against katara and zuko during sozin's comet. when they've been defeated, they break down in one way or another. and back to the first sentence, azula is insecure too. she feels unlovable and has major trust issues, and more that if i said, would make this already somewhat long thing even longer.

—

now: onto what i feel like the characters would be with roles swapped. zuko role-swapped with sokka: an insecure sixteen-year-old, angsty boy with a crippling need to be useful for his family. he misses his father dearly and wishes he could have spent more time with his mother, whose face he can't even remember. he looks like a trash bender compared to his younger sister, azula, who has blue fire and a natural, raw talent. he wants to be a warrior like his father, fighting against the monstrous water tribes. he's insecure about his unimpressive bending but learns to improve his skill and find new techniques instead of letting his self-hatred get the best of him. he helps aang, the avatar, defeat the water tribes, and while on adventures with the gaang, he learns to accept himself. he becomes more than just a planning, brooding, awkward guy; instead of making himself feel worse with his less-than-average firebending skills, he focuses more on using double swords, becoming very good at it. he rarely uses his firebending because of it, realizing that he doesn't need to be a good bender to be a good fighter/warrior. sokka role-swapped with zuko: a self-hating fifteen-year-old who misses his tribe and misses his honor. he is worthless, weak, and a failure, horrible at waterbending, unlike his gifted sister, katara. his father gave his left eye frost burn, and he is partially deaf and blind on the left side of his face due to it, but he deserved it; he spoke out of line, disrespected his elder, disrespected Ice (or water) Lord Hakoda, his own dad. ever since he was twelve, he has been looking for the missing avatar to bring back to his tribe to make his father (and tribe) proud and love him again. he travels with his honorary uncle bato, who helps him eventually turn a new leaf. bato helps him learn new skills and new techniques that help him improve his waterbending quickly, being patient with him and supporting him through his darkest moments. he realizes that what he is doing is wrong and he abandons his home and his father to help aang, the avatar whom he had been hunting constantly, learn waterbending. he learns from his mistakes and successfully becomes the Ice / Water Lord, helping aang defeat his father and simultaneously helping azula defeat his maniacal sister, katara. —

sokka role-swapped with azula: either thirteen or fifteen-year-old.(katara as zuko is aged up if sokka is fifteen, sokka as azula is aged down if he is thirteen) he is an extremely impressive waterbender, gifted and prodigious, unlike his poor older sister, katara. if he wants something he gets it, and he will go at any length to win, to defeat, to conquer. he, much like his talented father, never fail, they never fail, and they never will! he doesn't need anyone's trust or love; spirits, he doesn't need anyone. sokka'll use peoples' fear of him to get whatever the hell he wants, no matter what. his mother was right; he is a monster, and he- he takes pride in it! after his so-called 'friends' betrayed him, one for looooove and the other for, well, the one in love. ((can you tell i have no clue who to make his friends? maybe suki and yue?)) he saw her once again, taunting him while he grew furious with his stupid long hair. (stupid wolftails.) he messes his hair up, messes up once again, and throws the scissors in the mirror to try and make his dead, naive, stupid mom go away. but that's not all: even though he's perfect, even though he's supposed to be, he fucks it up. his father was supposed to be the Ocean King, and sokka himself was supposed to be the new Ice/Water Lord, but of course, his stupid sister and her stupid fire-bending friend got in the way of the water tribe's supposed-to-be success and defeated him, humiliated him. and that was the straw that broke the camel's back. he breaks down, crying nonstop and feeling utterly defeated.

azula role-swapped with sokka: she's the genius. she's the one who does the planning, it's azula. not zuko with his amazing firebending, not aang with his... dumb avatar-ness, not toph with her scary earthbending; no, it's sixteen-year old ((aged up to be oldest in the gaang like sokka is, but she can still be fourteen if u want i don't know.)) azula, the bad bender. agni, she's basically a non-bender anyway, with the way her fire can barely light a torch. but her uselessness doesn't stop her from trying to be perfect, of course it doesn't! she's useful, she knows it, she just has to figure out how. she can't strive to be anything less, not when she wants to protect her brother and her friends. not when she wants to be the next chief of the fire nation when this is all over. instead of wallowing in her own self-hatred, she decides to try something new; she decides to try bows and arrows. and agni, she's good. she decides that she doesn't need to be a master bender like zuko, aang, and toph are, because she's a master in her own way and doesn't need her firebending to be useful. she can still protect her friends and brother without relying on her bending. and while azula sometimes wishes that she were as talented as zuko is with firebending, she also understands that she is just as talented as he is without firebending, but with her bow. she accepts herself and her flaws.

—

while i think zuko and sokka's role-swap would make sense and works better, i also think that azula and sokka's role-swap works too, just a little... reachy. i guess. i don't know!!!! i just. sorta been thinking about this for too long. ahaaa i don't think this is gonna be read at ALLLL so hey guys! hey fruity gang! #awesome!

might post art idk? blegh ... SORRY TO WHOEVER READS THIS LIKE THIS IS SERIOUSLY DEF OOC IDK.

#sokka #atla #avatar the last airbender #azula #role swap au #hi... #first post #hello tumblr #whats cracka-lackin'

[dykeza]

Ichigo being a stay at home dad who works online is so in character for him actually…… he’s the type of dad to enforce 1 hour of no screen time outside playing in the yard and/or playground. He texts Orihime goofy pictures of Kazui jumping around in some water fixture in the local park and carries him home soaked to the bone and shivering with the biggest smile on his face and then they eat ice cream and wait for Orihime to get home so they can have family game night.

#I cannot see how someone can dislike ichihime and their beloved baby boy #they’re so silly!! #honestly I think a lot of it comes from forgetting Ichigo isn’t Just his badassery and trauma and stubbornness #Ichigo is goofy and funny and likes playing games and has shown how genuinely warm and welcomed/welcoming he is around Hime #and a lot of the times when I see posts referencing how Orihime is bad for him or is like… a creep or whatever #I can’t help but notice that it just. doesn’t sound like Ichigo at all #Ichigo Kurosaki is full of love and compassion and he adores everything around him #he loves and honors even the most evil of people and recognizes others struggles even if he can’t relate #there isn’t a single thing about him that conveys this supposed dislike for Orihime or this discontent with his life #Ichigo is like. a happy person #he suffers and he endures so much and he keeps finding new ways to love and understand others #he fights so hard to be happy… so why can’t people except that maybe he is? #at some point you just have to accept that a character can be content #Ichigo is married to Orihime. he works from home. he adores his son and his wife and his family #and like. that’s okay? there doesn’t need to be some deep reason. you don’t need to try and drag even more character out of him #he has enough!!!!!! he has more than enough character to go around!! #please let Ichigo Kurosaki love his wife and his son… and also let Rukia do the same #I know I just now mention her but this tangent is directed towards the Weird ichirukis I see poking around on twt and tumblr #Rukia is happy with her husband!!! she likes Renji!!!! she likes him so much in fact that she married him and had a kid with him #Rukia and Ichigo both are very hardheaded characters and if they’re unhappy with their circumstances THEYLL DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT #they’re not scared to be honest with themselves and others anymore!! they’re very vocal about their opinions if you haven’t noticed yet #some of the first things we learn about both of them is that they aren’t scared to speak their mind #I am fucking certain that if they happened to Not Want to end up with their respective spouses they would’ve just. not married them #idk what copium ichirukis that don’t like Renji and/or Orihime are smoking I really don’t #you love these characters so much and yet you discredit one of their most recognizable traits!!! their readiness to DO WHAT THEY WANT!!!!!! #they’ve proven time and time again thag they do whatever they want within reason #there is not a possible universe where either of these characters would sit quietly and let themselves be unhappy for the sake of the others #because they’ve learned. and they’ve grown. and they trust Renji/Orihime enough to understand their decisions becuase it’s in the fucking— #—text how much they respect and trust them to understand their feelings #this ramble is too long I’ve reached 30 tags URASHIN CANON GOODNIHHT AMERICAAAAAAAAAAAA

[sky-kenobye]

I'm reading a sci-fi book that is so obviously inspired by star wars (and I'm not saying that as a negative thing) that I get weirded out every time a normal word is used instead of the star wars equivalent.

What do you mean a cleaning "bot", that's a droid.

"Contact gel"? Do you mean bacta?

"Dorétoile"? "Drugs"??? Ma'am that's spice.

#also i may have read too many star wars fic instead of other books lol #and it doesnt help that im reading in french for once #(i cringed so hard the barest hint of “”“smut”“”) #(it was just a vaguely heated kiss and a 'nice ass' and a mention of making someone come) #(that's so laughably tame i dont know why i find it so awkward in french #everything sounds either super childish or super vulgar #even though im perfectly fine with smut in english 🤷🤷) #(actually im curious #for people who have english as a second language: can you read smut in your first language or do you find it too weird?)

[skitskatdacat63]

you don’t have to post this but i just want you to know i totally relate i rbed an ask game post today and got no asks :/ it sucks even if it’s just a silly little tumblr game

Yeahhhhh :(( I'm glad I'm not alone, anon. This made me feel a bit better, so thank you <3

#I feel pretty lonely in general atm #and it's not fun when you try to make an attempt to get out of your shell and it just. Doesn't do anything. #I already feel weirdly desperate for attention when I reblog those #like it's one of those things that still make me feel weird for some reason #And it doesn't help when you feel like you don't get acknowledged #again im probably being super whiney rn but #i feel like im having trouble attracting interest? is that bad to say? idk :/ #i just wanna talk about anything and i just have trouble finding ways to get people to engage ig #thats not to blame anyone at all. i just dont know how to get that :') #its just a weird thing to kinda feel like youre losing your footing like this #ughhhh sry i sound so insecure #but idk. i wanna talk about art and such. or get peoples opinions or questions. #but I just dont even want to reblog them bcs it makes me feel emptier than not reblogging #and you see other people's blogs and theyre getting a lot of asks and idk what to do in that situation #they deserve those asks and im very glad for them but like. am i doing smth wrong :/ #my constant insecurity is that im being annoying. and unfortunately things like this just make me feel like people are fed up w me ig #SORRY AGAIN. its my blog i can complain ik that. but still. am i being whiney idk #catie.asks.

[rttenboy]

god i'm so confused

#i've been showing more dissociative symptoms recently #and it's probably because moving and living alone in a quiet place is triggering me #but i keep #feeling like someone else is in my body with me #i'll try to speak but it's not me speaking and its not my words #it doesnt sound like me #my handwriting changes #theres #more #but i just #dont know what to do #mentioned osdd to my psychiatrist when i saw him last n he was kinda dismissive and convinced that the dissociation is just bc of past traum #but osdd is a specific kind of dissociation caused by trauma? which i have plenty of lol #i don't know #it's so fucking weird and i feel like i'm slowly losing my mind #i can't find any answers #i just want to know what's going on #i'm scared to join any spaces for multiples to ask questions because it isn't their job to help me #but i need help so bad #this is really scaring me #dissociation #dissociation cw

[bee-turtle-kind]

just got mad for a second seeing a rise of the TMNT gif and realizing I don't have it memorized..... ,

#this sounds stupid but i #memorized the first few seasons of tmnt 1987 and tmnt 2012 #not intentionally i just really get focused on it since it excites me and from rewatching it a lot over the years #i didnt rewatch tmnt 2012 for a long time and when i finally did rewatch some eps again i realized how its just. oh #turtles literally live in my brain #but ive never rewatched rise of the tmnt #my brain is just. oh yeah its NEW still so its fine and i forget it came out in 2018 lmao #and i usually look at tmnt 2012 or 1987 content before bed most nights like go through old blogs to find gif sets or live blogs #its a habit ive had since i was 14 so it helps with stuff like memorizing episode order especially but idk rises order at all honestly #part of that is the fact time is wild and i always hoped it would get another season somehow #maybe once the movie comes out this summer and we get some closure ill be able to start memorizing it? #i just feel weird about having it Not Memorized like damn thats my brains main function howd it forget to do that #rambles #august squawks #tag rambles #i just woke up since ive been going to bed too early so i dont know how much this makes sensr probably delete later

[stergeon]

for the writer ask

💭🚦💛 💌

💭 What inspires you and your writing?

this is a real marketing major-ass answer (from your local marketing major), but i love sharing knowledge and telling stories. writing’s one of those things that’s a bit of a compulsion for me—i’m always writing something. i took a five-year break from fiction writing before i stumbled ass-first into fanfic last year, but even in those years when i was focusing on my career, i was writing guides and trainings and a ton of other stuff—just not anything fun, lol.

writing is also so cathartic. sometimes i set out to tell a specific story, but at other times, a particular emotion gets me in a vice grip and i have to put it to words before it’ll go away. my stories tend to wind up as emotional dumping grounds as a result.

i don’t write things pulled directly from my own life, but there are bits and pieces of myself and things that have happened to me scattered throughout stuff i’ve written, and usually when i’m about 75% of the way through a piece, i’ll realize it’s absolutely related to something i’m currently going through. funny how art works that way, even when you don’t intend for it to.

and occasionally i just have a fire lit under my ass about an issue and i get so hot about it that i gotta compile my thoughts. looking at you, silver snow

🚦 What sort of endings do you prefer to write: ambiguous, bad, happily ever after, etc.?

look, i would love nothing more for them girls (pick whichever girls you please) to have a happy ending where they kiss and are stupid in love for the rest of forever. i love reading those kinds of stories. but in my heart of hearts, i love an ambiguous ending. i like when there are still questions after the story ends. i like thinking about where things could go or how the characters will go on after the events of the story. like, shared space could be read as having a happy ending, but i don’t really think it is. and with the victors; the vestiges, well. you’ll see :0)

come to think of it, i’m not sure i’ve ever written a happily-ever-after, but i don’t think i’ve ever written a 100% bad ending, either. i read too many bury-your-gays stories and watched too many sad european queer coming-of-age films in my youth to ever be happy putting that kinda thing out into the world. i want to write about love with all its ugliness, but not despair or hopelessness. i think what most appeals to me about an ambiguous ending is that lingering feeling of hope. it’s not the same as the kind you get from a happily-ever-after, and something about it speaks to me.

💛 What is the most impactful lesson you’ve learned about writing?

honestly? how to take criticism. i took a creative writing class in high school where we had to read our work out loud and then receive feedback on it from the other writers in the class, and that did a lot for me. going into that class, i’d already been writing for forever and had won some little local writing contests and such, so i was a wee bit of a pretentious douche. but i’d never gotten real critique before beyond, essentially, spelling and grammar checks. it humbled me lol. it made me grow so much as a writer, and i could see where i needed to improve or where my head was wedged way too far up my own ass for others to follow. it also helped me recognize strengths i didn’t know i had, and that was huge. it’s easy to get into a self-doubt spiral when making creative work, and good, constructive criticism can do so much to help avoid that.

to this day i love critique. i like knowing what worked or didn’t work so that i can continue to improve as a writer and do better next time. did my themes land? did something really work, but another part fall flat? i’d love to know!! i try to treat everything i write as practice for the next thing, and frankly that’s helped take some of the pressure off so i don’t go into total Perfectionist Mode.

i know critique is kind of a sensitive topic in fan spaces, but i think that’s because a lot of people have gotten unsolicited criticism that is purely critical and isn’t constructive. but getting good, constructive criticism will do so much to help a person grow as a writer. it’s scary, and sometimes it hurts! writing is very personal for most people, and it stings when things aren’t received the way you think they will be. but i know i’ve grown more from having my failures pointed out (and, very importantly, having the good things about those efforts acknowledged) than anything else.

💌 Is there a favorite trope you like to write?

actually Just answered this in another ask!

#sterge.eml #foxyjeongin #thank you for playing my little game and letting me talk about stories (and about me lmao) #sorry this is kind of a long post #i talk too much #i think i sound pretentious in this ask whoops. sorry #unfortunately i kind of am. i’m working on it. #… ​i guess the short answer to that first question is ‘emotions and mental illness’ lol #if you follow me on twitter (not recommended as it’s just me complaining about the weather and not being able to ride my motorcycle) #you know that every time i bring up my writing in therapy my therapist rocks my shit by revealing the story is #in fact. #NOT about what i thought it was about #or more accurately ​it’s ALSO secretly about whatever’s going on with me in real life lmao #y’know what’s really fun? looking back at something you wrote in a manic or depressive episode and going ah. hm. interesting. #the signs were. in fact. there. #(this is in fact not fun and i don’t like it. but it always happens.) #everything i write is accidentally Also about being bipolar. no getting around that #i tend to have issues organizing my thoughts and feelings to even figure out how tf i’m feeling #(forget making any attempt at doing so verbally. i have chronic foot-in-mouth disorder and accidentally say shit i don’t mean all the time) #but writing stuff down has always helped me sort through whatever mess is going on in my noggin and i love it for that #learning how to take critique is my no. 1 piece of writing advice but no. 2 is to read #read the classics. find out why they’re classics. read weird shit. read shit you don’t like. find things you like about em anyway. #and importantly: figure out WHY you do or don’t like it #it’s funny to re-read a book i haven’t read in a long time and discover OH. that’s where i get that technique from. #or that’s where i got that idea. or that’s why i had X thing happen in this story. #or why i like this type of character or scenario #nothing’s truly new and original #we’re all an amalgamation of influences and that ruuuuules #celebrate it!!!

[mothocean]

Fuck i think i forgot something at school yesterday but what was it

#idk i have just this sense that i forgot something??? and like id ignore it as just my anxiety #but my gut is sinking in a way that makes methink it was probably something really important #but i can't remember what it is.. #i almost want to hope its just me mistaking a dream for reality? ive had pretty weird dreams these past few days #and i sometimes do accidentally think things that happened in my dreams actually happened in reality if they sound plausible enough #but i don't know. and now im scared. aaaaaa #guess I'll find out on sunday? #i want to think that because i haven't realized i forgot it until now it's not that important but. i don't know. help #roseflower.txt