#waiting (patiently) for cloudy to tell me i can post about this

[silliestsakura]

two autistic dumbasses in love

@cloudymistedskies

no further context will be given. dont even ask. I won't say a word.

#ocs #art #drawing #oc art #oc #artists on tumblr #waiting (patiently) for cloudy to tell me i can post about this #pls hurry #HURRYYYJGJD #/j #dw im not evil #maybe #maybe i am #maybe im not #marikura.. #SJDJCJFJFNS

[mirkwoodmunson]

Hi. I’m struggling a lot and I was wondering if you could write a Eddie comfort fic?

Im sorry if that’s too deep. My dad died a year ago and the holidays are really hard. Anyway. I’m sorry this is awkward lol i really like your writing.

hello! first off i am truly deeply sorry for your loss, i hope you are doing well and finding your way through the grief. second of all, thank you so much for this request and for your kind words, and for trusting my ability to at least attempt to do this request justice — i really hope i do. third of all, i'm so sorry you've had to wait and thank you for being patient with me, i wanted to make sure i was in a good headspace to tackle this but also wanted to make sure i got to it before the next holiday. i hope, again, that i do your request justice and that you find comfort in this fic. this is for you, sweet anon!

post divider by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

you turn your head at the squeeze of your shoulder, meeting a soft gaze that regards you carefully yet sweetly, big doe eyes that manage to catch your attention and pull it away from your cloudy thoughts. a smile just for you, and you do your best to return it, but eddie’s expression twists a little more into sympathy when it falters on you almost immediately.

“hey. you with me? we can go, if you wanna-“

“i’m alright,” you assure him quickly, resting a hand over his and returning the comforting squeeze. “promise.”

you turn your head away, looking back towards the commotion. steve had put together quite the party, everyone in attendance; you watch him and robin bicker over something likely not that deep, yet both are firmly planted in their views, exchanging exasperated expressions and words that are tinged with humor and desperation. robin sees you watching, waves, and when you only manage a quirk of the corner of your mouth she falters slightly, glancing at eddie and then smiling at you again before turning back to steve.

eddie, who’d kept his eyes on you, meets eye with robin and you feel another squeeze before he leaves your side to approach them. they talk quietly, trying to make it not obvious they were talking about you, but steve’s worried glance your way spills the beans. you can’t help a soft sigh, lowering your head a little.

there’s a moment of guilt. you didn’t want them to feel bad for you. you didn’t want them to worry, least of all eddie; whether you wanted him to or not that boy was going to worry for you. you hold yourself at the middle, can’t help that shrinking feeling, heaviness in your gut.

the three share smiles and nods, and then eddie turns away and heads back to you, keeping his touch light and easy as he fixes a little bit of your hair, “think i’ve hit that time, sweet thing. mind if we head out?”

your heart beats a hard pump and your throat clenches. he so badly doesn’t want to make you feel bad, wants you to feel like it’s on his terms, wants you to feel okay with leaving early. eddie can read you so easily, and you’re both thankful for that and pained by it. you want to tell him again that it’s okay, if he’s really having fun you didn’t mind staying a while longer. but words die on your tongue as he pulls in closer, makes sure his eyes are all you can see, wants you to really hear him.

“it’s okay. i promise.”

just as your eyes start to water, he pecks your forehead and wraps an arm around your shoulders, leans you into him so you can hide yourself there.

“sayonara, goblins!” eddie throws up devil horns and wags his hand, the party bid their goodbyes joyfully behind you as eddie leads you out the front door, helps you up into the passenger seat of the van before driving you to the trailer.

he’d taken you right down to his room, laid down on the sheets and let you lay yourself on him, petting your hair while you hid your face in his neck and vented tears and frustration. when talking becomes too hard he rests lips against your temple and gives soft pecks, murmurs to you gently, reassuring words.

“you’re okay… i’m here… just let it out, baby, that’s it… i’ve got you…”

his love is present in everything he gives you, and even though you feel so empty, eddie is adamant in helping you feel more full with that love. you didn’t have to be okay for him, eddie would always take you as you were; there was never any pressure to put on that mask around him, because to him the mask was glass. he’d learn to see you, through and through, and you him. when everyone else heard ‘i’m fine,’ eddie could hear the ‘please help.’ and eddie would always help.

after a while you’re both sat up on the bed, cheeks since dried and now you were dressed in one of eddie’s baggy old corroded coffin t-shirts and a pair of his ratty plaid sweatpants. you have his headphones over your ears, holding the muffs firmly against you to let the music envelop you. eddie watches with a warm smile and shining eyes.

you see his gaze flit up to something behind you, a grin spreads, but before you can react there’s a light tap on your shoulder. pulling away the headphones and turning, you see wayne standing at the bedside almost shyly, looking right at you and smiling as he holds something behind his back.

“know it’s pretty early but, uhh… seemed like you could use a pick-me-up… thought i’d give you this now…”

from behind his back he procures a small-ish, colorfully wrapped box, offering it to you.

you crack a genuine smile, carefully taking the box and looking up at wayne who nods at you to say ‘go on now, open it up!’

you tear into it with a light giggle, eddie and his uncle watching with bright eyes as from within the box you pull out… one of wayne’s mugs, from the wall. your favorite one.

looking back up at him you swallow another growing knot in your throat, smiling wide but it trembles.

"now you, uhh... you c'n use it here, if you like. that's your special mug now. or-or if you'd wanna bring it home..."

“th- … thank you, wayne.”

he rubs the back of his neck, relieved you like the gift.

“don’t mention it, kid…”

#i really hope it's alright wayne is here too!! i thought of him giving you the mug cause he's not good at words but wants to make you happy #anon i truly hope this is comforting for you and that i did your request justice; i hope you’re doing okay!!! #ty to knucklehoagie for giving me some advice and reading my ramble 🥺🥺 #eddie munson #wayne munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson request #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson comfort #wayne munson comfort #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #mine

[vibrantpixels]

gosh, i wanted to be an author so bad when i was a kid. i went to delete my old abandoned email when i noticed the storage drive had a folder with all my book ideas and i want to share the most fleshed-out, non-fanfic, one here because i have nowhere else to post it and i want to immortalize it in some way. im sorry for the cringe but this is entirely for me

"Ofelia… (WHY I CHOSE MY OWN INTERNET NAME IDK)

…Is what they called her and she didn’t know why.

As she opened her eyes for what felt like the first time in her life, the brown-eyed girl was met with faces she couldn’t recognize but knew she should have. Ofelia, she heard called out over and over again in the background while tears of joy fell from the eyes of a middle-aged man sat at her bedside, who wore harsh laugh lines on both corners of his mouth and had splotches of blue, green, and purple staining the thin skin beneath his cloudy gray eyes; the tears dampening the cotton blue sheets that encompassed the girl’s fragile limbs. (I STILL LOVE RUN-ON SENTENCES)

Those eyes of his in which she saw pain, hopelessness, and fear; the color, lacking any saturation; so pale and unblemished that they would appear to fade into the white canvas surrounding the iris if it weren’t for the fine blue tint that outlined the gray. Those eyes that she intrinsically knew and brought her immediate comfort. Not the calling of her name, which should sound familiar, or the tight and welcoming embraces from her supposed “loved ones,” but the haunted eyes of a man who claimed to be her father.

While trying to piece together the broken fragments of her memory, the girl named Ofelia discovers terrible truths about herself and the world she lives in.

~PLOT~

Ofelia. No last name. Father is a visionary. (Can perceive future events in dreams or while in a trance) Government makes everyone who is a suspected visionary undergo rigorous testing. If they are found as a positive subject, the patient’s melanin is drained from their eyes (they turn pale gray) in order to be identified (naturally gray eyes do not exist for the purpose of this plot) in public. These people are protected at all times and are well respected in society (though they are strictly prohibited from discussing any visions with anyone but government officials in exchange for said protection), but can be targeted by border-hopping criminals (their intentions are to save the people from their corrupt government, but the government makes them the enemy and their people follow). Border-hoppers want to capture visionaries to prove to the other citizens that their future is bleak under their government’s rule. Subjects who test negative are not spared. These people are killed because the conditions in which they are treated and the tests they go through reveal too much about the corrupt ways of the government that they couldn’t risk letting them go free. Ofelia is a visionary and gets scary dreams often so her father requests for the tests to be performed on her (her father is one so it is common that children inherit this “gift”). When Ofelia takes the tests, she doesn’t take them seriously and fails, not knowing of the consequences. While waiting on death row (she does not know that she is awaiting her death), at the same time, her father is trying to convince the president to give his daughter another chance. Just as the president is about to agree, the room where the ‘negative’ visionaries are held until their death gets a tranquilizing vapor siphoned through the air vents, and they are all dragged out by the Border Hoppers. Ofelia begs to be taken back home, but she is knocked out. When she awakens, she meets a girl she once knew dressed in border-hopper-attire [WHATEVER THAT IS LOL, I CAN'T PICTURE IT]. Ofelia feels betrayed. The girl tells Ofelia what her government does to those that fail the test and that it was going to happen to her. Ofelia doesn’t believe her so they show her hidden security footage that the border-hoppers stole from the government building (they had an inside man; her father) and she cries. Her father shows up briefly to reassure her and ask her to help the border-hoppers destroy their government. She was the key. Ofelia only gets visions in her sleep, so she is sedated for most of the day, only conscious to eat and use the restroom. She almost gives up because she is so weak and tired from being under all the time. Then she encounters a boy, a boy she knew was still living on the other side. They were speaking through their visions but he was not found as a visionary yet. Together, they slowly reveal all of their government’s secrets and manage to tear down the wall that separated the two states. But it is not over yet.

FIRST OF ALL, I smell the Divergent trilogy influence as it was one of my favorite book series during this time (2014!!!! can u believe??!?!?) like killing all divergents and tris' mom being in on the whole shebang

Sprinkle in some divided nations specifically from the legend series by Marie Lu (god i loved those books; i bought champion and rebel years ago but have yet to read them :| )

And you see how I set up the idea for a sequel when i never even wrote a single chapter for this one????? i was CONFIDENT

if you read all this, im sorry

#i am turning 24 #this was from about ten years ago #i know this is a sims blog but #this was necessary #non sims

[soramei]

Intentional - Part 2

Pairing: Bang Chan x Reader (she/her)

Summary: Landing your first real job at JYPE was something short of a miracle. You were prepared to face the new struggles of this elusive career whilst moving to a new country, however, nothing could have prepared you for him. Will stolen glances, secret touches, and hushed nights spent in the recording room ever be enough for the both of you?

Genre: idol!bang chan au, forbidden relationship, coworkers to eventual lovers, slow burn

Warnings: none right now, eventual smut,

Word Count: 5.2k

Masterlist

A/N: o my god i did not expect so many people to have read the first part… even if only one person reads im still happy :D anyways heres the second part (i swear bang chan wont just be a side character later on hhahaha)

The insistent beeping of the alarm on your phone was what first woke you up from your dazed sleep. Your head still pounded from the night before, and frankly, you were ready to get fired for an extra five minutes of sleep. Tapping the ‘cancel’ button on your phone, you flipped over head down on your pillow to find the beautiful dreamland you were in. However, after just five more minutes, the triggering beeping of your backup alarm took you out of your slumber again, this time really waking you up. 

You trudge towards your bathroom, still dreading the day, on your way to take a shower. Thankfully, the steam from the warm shower combined with the fragrant smell of your conditioner slightly woke you up and dampened the aching in your head. 

Being drastically more awake than before, you made your way over to your kitchen to prepare breakfast. You opened the fridge, mind blank, just staring at the empty shelves. I seriously need to do some grocery shopping, you thought before grabbing an egg. 

You struggled to turn on the stove, not knowing which knob correlated to which burner. Turning a random one, you flinched when an excessive amount of fire appeared. However, after an embarrassingly long amount of time, you finally figured out the stove. Why are there still gas range stoves when electrical stoves exist? You wondered. 

You looked at the sad cooked egg in front of you. 

Was this really how you were going to live from now on? You cursed your whole family for spoiling you so much back home. Sure you were grateful for being able to live with your family for twenty three years, but the consequences of your mother making a fuss when you tried to cook for yourself was really showing now. 

You were about to dig into your lonely meal when your phone buzzed all of a sudden. Taking a quick peek at it, you saw Na-eun’s name flash up. You beamed with joy. Although you already worked up the nerve to be the first one to contact her, you were thankful she did first to break the tension. However, there was a small — microscopic even — part of you that wondered: what if that were Bang Chan?

You unlocked your phone. 

Na-eun: Hey! I know it’s kinda last minute, but do you wanna meet for breakfast?

Na-eun: There’s a café five minutes away from the building. 

Na-eun: ^-^

Smiling to yourself, you quickly typed a reply.

Y/n: Sure! My breakfast looks too sad to eat… 

Y/n: ^-^

In a flash, you stuffed your egg into a plastic tupperware container and put it in the empty fridge before booking it out your door, making sure to carefully enter the passcode to lock it before running to the staircase. You almost tripped over the stairs going down as you tried to sprint and text Na-eun at the same time. Checking the maps app on your phone, you told her how long it would take for you to arrive at the café. 

Na-eun: Do you mind if I bring my roommate? She keeps complaining about how boring it is at home haha.... 

Na-eun: She’s really nice though! ^^;

You happily agreed since you weren’t in the position to turn down another potential friend. Already two potential friends? You were so excited. 

There was a bounce in your steps as you made your way down to the subway. Scanning your card, you made your way to the big group of people on the platform and waited for your train. Taking the subway was so new, yet refreshing. There was something exciting about seeing a brand new set of people board the cart every stop, it was almost like refreshing your Instagram feed over and over again. 

After just a couple minutes more of waiting, your subway came. You naturally found your way in by shuffling along with the flock of people and found a good place to stand. 

You surveyed your cart. Some high school students, a few elderly, and many many businesspeople dressed in attire very similar to you. They all seemed to be busy on their cellular devices, so you quickly pulled yours out as well, eager to blend in. Your little Tamagotchi friend was happy to see you. 

The sound of the automated woman’s voice was what drew you out of your concentration, as she announced that the subway would be stopping at your destination next. When the subway stopped, the sea of people rushed out in a big tidal wave and you just went along with the flow. 

The map posted on a big pillar in the station was difficult to read at first, but after embarrassingly asking a station officer, you were confident you knew where you were going. The station was big with many interwoven hallways, each connecting to a different location. It had a couple shops and convenience stores located along the sides where students running late could buy some bread or tired businesspeople could inject their early morning dose of caffeine. 

You weaved your way through the long halls, confident that you could remember how you got out the right exit yesterday. Finally, after passing by many familiar stores and signs, you eventually made it above ground at the right exit. It was a cloudy September morning, the wind flew past you at just the right speed to elicit a slight shiver. You curse yourself for not bringing a jacket in your rush to the café. The streets were busy with cars zooming by, but it was nowhere near as congested as the subway traffic.

You started following your phone’s GPS to the marked location, and after a couple minutes, you spot the café. You immediately recognized it as a chain café as you’ve seen a few more of these scattered around the city as you got around. This one, however, appeared to be larger than the others (presumably because it was near so many big name companies) as it had three floors in total. 

You texted Na-eun, telling her you’ve arrived. She let you know that they were both in one of the booths on the second floor, so you decided to order before heading up. Walking over to the cashier, you scanned their massive menu, trying to find what you were looking for.

“One mango juice, please.” You politely ordered. “And also a slice of the red velvet cake.”  

After you had paid, you waited patiently, hands folded in front of you for your food. Because it wasn’t busy in the morning, it wasn’t that long until one of the baristas handed your food to you on a tiny plastic tray and you started making your way up. You reached the top floor and scanned your eyes around the room to find a familiar face. 

“Y/n!” Na-eun waved.

You waved back and made your way over. She was in the booth, and there was another girl sitting beside her. 

“Y/n, this is my roommate Yoojin.” She smiled at you and made a gesture towards the smaller girl sitting beside her. She was a fluffy haired girl. Her appearance was puppy-like, with her wide eyes and a large smile that was almost too big for her face. 

“Hi Yoojin.” You said as you sat down. 

“Hi Y/n! Na-eun told me about you yesterday. It seems like you have similar jobs.” She looked back at you with wide eyes. “But I think you got luckier because you actually get to interact with the idols.” 

“I think both of us are lucky to even be working there,” you chuckled, “plus, I don’t actually get to be working directly with the artists. I could only wish.” You joked. 

“Still extremely lucky, Na-eun told me she saw Bang Chan and Felix from Stray Kids at your building’s cafeteria yesterday.” Her hair bounced. “Finally, now I can say I’ve indirectly met famous people.” 

You and Na-eun both laughed. Although Yoojin looked the same age as you, there was something about the way she acted that just seemed so precious and innocent — like a little sister. How old was she anyway?

“Yoojin’s younger than me by a few years,” Na-eun said as if she read your thoughts, “She graduated university a year early. Top of her programming class. She knows everything about technology; one time, I stupidly forgot the passcode to my P.O. box and she cracked it for me in less than fifteen minutes.”

“Stop it.” Yoojin whined, looking down and playfully hitting Na-eun on the shoulder. “I told you before that I don’t like it when you talk about me. Let’s talk about Y/n instead. Na-eun told me you’re not from here, what do you do at JYPE then?” 

“I’m an assistant to help market some of the artists in China.” You leaned in a bit. “Actually, to be honest, I’m working on a secret project and Bang Chan from Stray Kids is technically part of the team.” 

Both Yoojin and Na-eun’s eyes widened. “No way, you’re so lucky.” Yoojin said. “Why can’t you have a job like that?” She poked at Na-eun.

“Get your own job first,” Na-eun smirked, “then we can talk about mine.”  

“Hey! I do have a job.” Yoojin clenched her jaw, looking at her plate and avoiding eye contact.

“I’m not sure if talking to people online all day counts as a job.” 

“Whatever.” Yoojin swirled her fork on her plate, stabbing at a piece of her cake. The scraping of metal on ceramic made all of you wince. 

“Anyways,” you started, trying to change the atmosphere, “did anybody watch the first episode of that new drama?” 

The two girls seemed to have a mood switch, looking relieved to start a new conversation. They gladly added their input and opinions on the new drama, talking about both the plot and the actors. Time passed by twice as fast as the three of you sat at the booth talking about the most random things. However, it was soon time to go to work for both you and Na-eun. 

“Hey, before you leave, could I get your number?” Yoojin asked. “We should hang out again sometime.”  

You gladly typed your contact into her phone, excited to hang out with Yoojin again. She was so full of energy, it reminded you of your university days. Not to mention that fluffy curly hair. It was so cute. 

You and Na-eun both made it out of the café and walked side-by-side over to your building before parting ways at the elevator corridor. It was a miracle that you managed to arrive at your cubicle in time, without getting lost. There was a pile of papers on your desk; they were the files you worked on yesterday. You remember that yesterday Manager Chen marked some improvements that could be made to the papers, but you checked your email just to be sure. 

Hello Y/n,

I put the documents from yesterday on your desk for some final edits. I’ve also added a few more. Could you finish them all by the end of the day?

Best, 

Manager Chen

You flipped through the stack of documents, and sure enough, there were about five more letters that needed to be worked on. Feeling determined, you gritted your teeth, got out your pen, and started to do your job. 

There were more corrections to make than what you expected, plus, you wanted to make sure your work was perfect this time. You skipped a trip to the cafeteria for lunch and ate something from the vending machine at your desk instead. You tried your best to work diligently, but because of your inexperience, it was taking longer than expected. You lost track of time as the hours passed by. 

“Your team is working hard today, Manager Chen.” A voice came from across the room. You looked up from your stack of documents to see Manager Kim walking over towards Manager Chen, who was standing casually outside her office doors. 

“What can I say, I keep them busy.” She replied. “Are you heading home now?” 

“Yes, and so should you.” Manaker Kim stopped at your cubicle, putting a hand on the wall. It was cat-like the way he looked at you. “Y/n, you’re working hard. Are you going home now? I’ll give you a ride.” 

You couldn’t head home now, not with the amount of work you still had with the new letters Manager Chen added to the pile. “Thank you for the offer, Manager Kim, but I’ll stay later today. I need to finish this work by today.” 

“Let her be, Manager Kim, you know how new employees are.” Manager Chen nagged and crossed her arms. “Come, I’ll walk you to the parking lot.” 

You bowed at both your managers and stretched your back before getting back to your work. The black lines of both languages started to blur into one as you strained your eyes to hold a tighter focus on the documents. It wasn’t until two more gruesome hours later when you finished your work. You did a long deserved stretch of the arms and checked the clock for the time, praying that it wasn’t too late. Thankfully, with the time being only eight, it wasn’t that dark out. You took a quick peek at your phone to check your notifications before leaving the office. 

There were only two texts sent fifteen minutes ago. Both from Bang Chan. 

Your chest tightened when you unlocked your phone. 

Bang Chan: Hey, I know it’s a bit late, but I have some ideas for the project and I was thinking we could meet up to discuss them

Bang Chan: Only if you want that is…

Your brain was in jumbles as you thought of what to text back. There were a couple staff that wrote you emails about their ideas for the project, but none of them asked to meet in person. And now, the first person who asked you to have a meeting in person was Bang Chan. Whom you rode back to your apartment drunk with. On your first day at work. And now you missed his work-related text by fifteen minutes. However, even though it was late, you still felt like you needed to take his ideas in. After all, like Manager Chen said, you know how new employees are. 

Y/n: Hi, sorry my reply is late… Are you still free? 

You anxiously stared at the blue-lit screen of your phone, jumping in and out of the text app waiting for a reply. After less than a minute, you saw the little dots at the bottom which indicated that he was typing. It disappeared for a moment, only to come back less than a second later. Your thumbs started unconsciously fiddling with one another in front of your phone screen as you waited for what felt like eternity. 

Bang Chan: It’s alright haha 

Bang Chan: There’s a cafe about 5 minutes from our building, wanna meet there? 

You immediately knew which café he was talking about as you conveniently hung out with Na-eun there this morning. You texted Bang Chan back, letting him know that you would be there as soon as possible. You grabbed your bag, along with your trusty pen and notebook,  before leaving your desk for the elevators. The elevator ride was unusually fast as it was already well past working hours for most people.  

Once you were out of the building, you made your way down the familiar sidewalk, passing by the familiar street shops as you felt the bite of the wind against your face. The sky was becoming dim as the sun made its descent, but the illumination coming from the streetlamps helped guide you there. After five minutes of a brisk walk, you saw the familiar sign of the café. You also saw a familiar person standing outside the door, dressed in all black, with his head down looking at his phone. 

You tried to make your footsteps slightly louder the closer you got to him in order to make your presence known. It seemed to have worked, as Bang Chan heard you and turned his head up. He immediately gave you a boyish grin, putting his phone in the pocket of his hoodie and pulling his face mask down to his chin. 

“Hey,” You waved awkwardly, “did I make you wait long?”

“Not at all.” Bang Chan said as he held open the door, “Let’s go in, it’s pretty chilly today.” 

You thanked him and walked inside. You both made your way to the cashier and looked up at the menu, deciding on what to buy. 

“I think I’ll get an iced americano.” Bang Chan said. “Are you getting anything?”

“Hmm. I might get the mango juice.” You decided and lined up behind Bang Chan, waiting for him to order first. 

Bang Chan walked up to the waiting barista. “Hello, I’ll get an iced americano please.” A second passed. “Also a mango juice.” 

Your eyes widened as you silently tried to stop him from buying your drink, feeling embarrassed that Bang Chan — who was essentially your coworker — was buying your drink. He didn’t seem to notice your quiet protests, as he pulled his card out of his wallet and quickly tapped it on the pin pad. After he was done paying, he turned around and tucked his card back in his wallet, giving you a smug grin. 

“I’ll pay you back later.” You insisted, embarrassed once again that he was doing something for you. 

“Of course, of course.” He casually replied and stood beside you with his hands in the pocket of his hoodie. “I’ll wait for our drinks. You can go find a table.” 

You nodded and left to find a table on the first floor. Surprisingly, there were more people there at night than when you were there in the morning. Some people had their textbooks out to study, some were quietly enjoying a book. Some were on dates. 

Finally, after weaving through many fully filled tables, you found an empty one near the table. You sat down, taking out your pen and notebook to prepare for Bang Chan’s ideas. Not long after, you saw Bang Chan walking around, turning his head left and right to look for you. You caught his eye as you waved at him to come over. He strolled over and put the tray of drinks down on the table, placing yours beside your notebook. 

“So,” You took a sip of your delicious mango juice, “do you wanna get started now?” 

“Sure.” His usually friendly face turned serious. It seemed like he took his work seriously. “So I was thinking, we need to film some content to start promoting our debut right? How about we film content for the Mid-Autumn Festival? It falls on the same day as Chuseok, so we can use this as a small promotion for our debut.” 

You nodded in agreement. Although this idea would be a little last minute to carry out, it was a great opportunity to promote their group in order to gain more popularity before their debut in China. “This is a great idea Bang Chan,” You hurriedly jotted down everything he said, “did you have more to add on?”  

“We could make several episodes of this content. I was thinking we could camp in the mountains and maybe cook some food, make mooncakes.” 

“All of this is really good, we have three weeks until the actual Mid-Autumn Festival. If I rush this idea to Manager Chen, we could have one week to plan it, and two weeks to film and produce it.” You beamed, glad that you could be involved in a potential big production. 

You and Bang Chan kept discussing his idea for content, and as time passed, your conversation turned more casual as it eventually evolved into topics unrelated to work.

“So, why are you having coffee this late anyway?” You tipped your chin towards his glass. 

“There’s this part of a song I’m working on that I just can’t get perfect,” Bang Chan noticeably clenched his jaw, “I wanna figure it out before I leave.” 

“Do you usually stay up late to work?” You asked. 

“I can’t sleep anyways, so I might as well work.” 

“Insomnia?” You questioned. He shrugged his shoulders and took a sip of his coffee. A few seconds of silence passed. “You know, my mom made me pack some of her special tea before leaving. She said it was for jet lag, which is weird because there’s only a time difference of an hour here.” You rambled. 

“Oh?” Bang Chan tipped his head. 

“I could give you some tomorrow.” You said. Your eyes wandered everywhere except to him. “If you want.” 

“Really, you’d do that?” His eyes widened as he stirred his coffee with his straw. 

It may have been your subconscious need to make friends, or just the fact that you mom gave you so much tea for your non-existent jet lag, but you gladly offered your mom’s solve-all remedy. “Of course, anything for a friend.” 

He blinked a couple times. He stopped stirring his coffee. “Thanks.” He looked at you with a slight grin. 

“Plus, this way I can pay you back.” You teased. 

“Okay, fair enough.” He chuckled. A dimple appeared on his cheek as his smile widened. “But seriously, you don’t need to worry about paying me back for anything next time.” 

Next time? You wondered. Of course he would have more ideas for his own group. You wanted to roll your eyes at yourself. It seemed like, despite his easy-going personality, that he cared a lot about not only his job, but the boys he worked with. His work ethic inspired you and made you want to work just as hard as he did. Except you definitely couldn’t stay up as late as he did. 

The two of you kept up the back and forth that was established, talking about whatever came to mind, with a few sprinklings of work-related conversations throughout. You talked about your first day impressions and how well you were adjusting to life in a new country, and he retaliated by sharing his own experiences of moving across the world. You were so enraptured by your riveting conversations that you easily lost track of time. It wasn’t until you had already spent minutes playing around with your straw in the empty glass that you finally remembered how late it was.

“It’s kinda late, I think I should get going now.” You said as you checked your phone for the time. 

“Are you taking the subway?” He asked as he started gathering the empty glasses. “It’s pretty dark now — I could walk you there.”

“It’s alright. I don’t wanna take time from your work” You said, gathering your notebook and pen. 

“It’s no problem, really, it’s just a five minute walk.” He stood up with the tray of empty glasses in one hand and pulled up his face mask with the other.

The two of you left the café and walked the short distance to the subway stairs.  There, you parted ways and you started your trek home. Taking the subway at night was vastly different from morning; the morning rush was filled with rows and rows of busy people, whereas the night train had a completely different feeling to it. There were actually available seats, to begin with. You found an empty seat and took out your phone to kill time. You checked your missed notifications.

Yoojin: Hi Y/n!! ^-~ Today was so fun, we should go again sometime! 

You smiled at the little text from Yoojin, visioning her wide smile stretch across her face. Texting a quick reply back, you were about to put your phone back down when another notification popped up. 

Unknown: Stay away from him. This is a warning.  

A flash of panic rushed through your body making your chest tighten. Your heart was coming out of your chest, the beating was so hard you could hear it even in the running subway. Completely fixated on the bright white of your phone, your eyes strained from the light. Adrenaline filled your blood, and in the spur of the moment, you quickly blocked the number and deleted the text chain. It had to just be a prank text, after all, you have gotten pranked through text multiple times before in your past. 

You put your phone down slowly, turning your head to survey your subway cart for any suspicious acting people. There was only a grandma with her cane and a few middle school girls comparing their new lip tints. Your thumbs naturally started fiddling with each other. Your eyebrows knit together as you clutched your bag tight to your body for the rest of the subway ride. 

The walk back to your apartment was done carefully. You chose the side of the sidewalk with more light as you kept your senses open, trying to remember the face of every person that walked past you. Although it was more likely than not that the text was just a prank, you were still somebody living alone with very few connections in a new country. Your legs quickened at the thought and you hurried your way back.

Arriving at your apartment door, you carefully entered your lock combination and slammed your door shut, double checking that it was locked. Your home was dark, with only the moon casting long shadows on your furniture. You quickly switched your light on. You tried to put this text to the back of your mind as you got ready to sleep, but it loomed, feeling like a shadow cast by the moon. The shadow in your mind stayed as you closed your eyes, waiting for your sleep to chase it away. 

The next morning, you woke up to the obnoxious beeping of your alarm. You sleepily sat up, getting ready to perform your familiar morning routine. Everything felt like routine, so monotonous that the text from last night was completely forgotten. You opened the fridge and ate your suspicious egg from yesterday morning. 

Before leaving, you suddenly remembered to bring your mom’s magical tea. You rummaged through the cupboards until you found the ridiculous packaging your mom insisted on using. 

The route to work was already starting to feel familiar as you mindlessly made your way from your quaint apartment all the way to the opulent blue building. You entered the office and sat at your desk, checking for new emails. After nothing of immediate importance came up, you got out your notebook and started to type up your notes from yesterday. 

You were in a trance. The repetitive task of reading and typing completely hypnotised you as hours passed by without you even noticing. What broke you out of your trance, however, was the voice of your boss. 

“Bang Chan.” Manager Chen called out. You looked up from your monitor and peeked up from your cubicle to see the familiar hair of a certain man you knew. Assuming he was here for a meeting with Manager Chen, you went back to your hypnotising work. The walls of your cubicle were too high for him to see you anyways — something about eliminating distractions to maximise work efficiency. 

You hit ‘enter’ on your keyboard to start a new paragraph when all of a sudden, you spotted an object appear on your desk from the corner of your eye. 

A bottle of mango juice. 

Quickly turning your head around, you were met with Bang Chan’s back. He was already making strides towards Manager Chen, but something about the sway of his broad shoulders and the way his right hand stretched open told you that it was him who gave you this little bottle of happiness. You unscrewed the lid and took a sip before getting back to work.  

Thankfully, the gift you received was enough sugar content to keep you working efficiently for the rest of the day. You had finished all your work and could hopefully pitch Manager Chen the idea by tomorrow. You found your mom’s tea in your bag while gathering your stuff, remembering your promise to Bang Chan. 

Y/n: Hey, I have my mom’s tea — I could give it to you right now?

There was a reply almost immediately. 

Bang Chan: Sure ^^ I’m in a practice room on floor X right now, I’ll wait by the elevators. 

You made your way over to the elevators and tapped your nails on the package of tea whilst silently waiting for an elevator to arrive. The silence, however, was promptly cut off as your phone started to ring. It was from Yoojin. She probably wants to hang out soon, you thought as you happily answered right away. 

“Y/n!” Yoojin yelled into the phone, she sounded worried. 

“Yoojin, is there something wrong?” You frowned, concerned for the girl. 

“I-I was in the parking lot near your building, a-and I fell down the stairs.” She sniffed. “I think I sprained my ankle or something — I can’t stand up. It hurts so much.” 

“Oh god, Yoojin, do you want me to come help?” You were in the elevator by now, already pressing the button for the main floor. 

“If you’re not far, I don’t want to trouble you.” You heard sounds of her wincing. 

“It’s no trouble Yoojin,” You exclaimed, “your ankle is much more important now. I’ll be right there.” 

“Thank you Y/n.” You heard her sniff again through the phone. 

You bolted out of the elevator as soon as it reached the main floor, stuffing your forgotten package in your bag. Ignoring the looks of confusion of the people you sprinted past, you located the parking lot building as soon as you left the main doors of the JYPE building. Your chest burned and your breaths were heavy. 

You were worried for Yoojin. She seemed like such a sweet girl that it pained you to even imagine her hurt in any sort of way. With her fluffy hair and wide eyes, it made you feel like you were helping an injured puppy. 

Your legs felt like concrete after a while of running, but you finally made it to the parking lot building. Entering the parking lot, you looked for any sign of a staircase where Yoojin said she fell on. There were none. 

“Excuse me, where are the stairs to this parking lot?” You asked the parking lot attendant, assuming it was just hidden somewhere. 

“There are no stairs here,” He said, “if you want to get to the second floor, there is an elevator over there.” He pointed to the other side of the lot. 

You thanked the man and ran to the elevator, hoping Yoojin wasn’t too hurt by now. You’ve experienced injuries like these before whilst playing sports back home, they hurt like hell. Your breathing was staggered by the time you reached the elevator, however, you didn’t give up and kept looking around trying to find the girl. There was nobody. You were about to call Yoojin again just to make sure you were in the correct place, but a voice interrupted you. 

“Y/n.” 

It was Manager Kim.

#stray kids #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst #bang chan #bang chan smut #bang chan fluff #bang chan scenarios #bang chan imagines #bang chan angst

[lightsinthedistancee]

Darkness : Poe Dameron x Reader

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Reader

Words: 1.4k

Excerpt: “Darkness is a time of peace for you. A time to crawl into soft sheets, to curl up against your pilot. Some nights, to feel him lazily press a soft kiss to your forehead before his breath levels out in sleep. Others, to feel his hands roaming your body, feel him inside you.”

Summary: A short talk to Poe is always enough to cure a case of loneliness.

Warnings: Some sexual references

A/N: This is for @autumnleaves1991-blog Writer Wednesday. I actually originally meant for this to be a perhaps 500 word-ish Drabble but it ended up way longer obviously. But I’m really proud of it and love the concept of Writer Wednesday, so hope you guys enjoy! (Also, we’re just gonna pretend that phones and phone booths exist in the Star Wars universe...).

You’ve always found something lovely in darkness.

It’s simple, quiet, a constant that never changes, that rolls around at roughly the same time each night. Settles over cities and towns and every being in the galaxy in a thin blanket. Darkens faces into comforting anonymity, conceals the activities of lovers, provides peace in slumber for the weary.

There is a saying: One should not be afraid of the dark, but of what lies in it.

And after years of life, years of travel, years of experiencing the galaxy, you know that nothing sinister hides beneath darkness. No monsters, no demons, no ghosts. It is something that simply exists with no ulterior motive, something that is debatably hard to come by these days.

Darkness is a time of peace for you. A time to crawl into soft sheets, to curl up against your pilot. Some nights, to feel him lazily press a soft kiss to your forehead before his breath levels out in sleep. Others, to feel his hands roaming your body, feel him inside you.

In those times, darkness is there, still a constant. Hiding his features, hiding those eyes you adore during the daytime, allowing you to become entirely tactile, to simply feel him to the fullest, void of the distraction one’s most used method of perception, sight,  provides.

Yet tonight is a rare night. Your feet hit pavement as you walk quickly, hands in your coat, head bent towards the ground. You’ve been on this Outer Rim planet for nearly two months, gathering intelligence undercover, maintaining little to no contact with the Resistance, and therefore, Poe.

The darkness seems stronger than ever tonight. It slithers up and down the sides of buildings, seems to wrap around you in strings. In this moment, it is not simply a cover—it is suffocating.

The loneliness had been getting to you. Too many days going by a name that is not your own, too many days living in constant fear, too many days away from the touch of someone that’s always able to take your mind off of everything.

And that’s exactly what you need right now. A distraction. A brief moment to bind you back to everything you know, something you are slowly, imperceptibly slipping away from in your mind. The buildings seem to tower over you, to dwarf you. It’s an intimidation act, and you feel it’s working.

It feels as if you can sink into the asphalt, become one with the soil that had been so cruelly compressed by man-made rock. As if you can sink beneath and become one with the dead, the figurative and the literal that had most likely been so barbarously worked to death to build this historic city in the dark days of the galaxy.

You round a bend, turning onto the main street, and your eyes, adjusted to the dark, flare painfully as light hits you. You snap them shut on instinct, flinching. However, the object of your discomfort is not an unknown. This route had been walked by you every day the last two months, and the light is the same phone booth you’d been using to transmit information back to the Resistance due to the anonymous, unmonitored, and therefore, rare quality of it.

It is hardly used anymore, for everyone has their own personal holos, and this one is particularly beat up. It’s translucent walls are cloudy, it’s metal backing dented. Nowadays, it is probable that is it only frequented by drunks and Spice addicts and, well…you.

There is something ironic about the fact that this small, dilapidated booth is your only connection back to D’Qar.

But not ironically, perhaps in a poetically symbolic manner, it also shines bright in the darkness, eradicates the very thing that had been suffocating you moments earlier. It is almost a physical embodiment of hope.

It is also a universal rule that hope births more hope, and an unwise desire comes over you. One that could put the whole operation at risk. But resisting the temptation, it hurts. It’s agonizing, and you want to give in to it. You want to hear one voice. One voice that can wrap you in softness, encourage your imagination to conjure up the sensation of his touch.

And before you know it, you’re in the booth, dialing a long string of numbers you’ve memorized by now. A voice of a communications officer sounds.

You state your name.

“Security code?” the officer asks.

“Six nine eight oh seven three.”

Your eyes nervously glance around. Despite having done this a few times, the experience still makes your heart race. You can only hope that any observer would see only an ordinary lone figure, silhouetted in the light, making an emergency call to a friend because she drank too much or got her wallet stolen.

“You got information?”

“No,” you respond, letting out a soft breath and lying through your teeth. “I need you to transfer me to Commander Dameron. I have a hunch regarding something naval, and I need his opinion.”

You silently chide yourself at your quickness to over explain.

But luckily, the communication officer says nothing. “Transferring now,” he says.

You thank him, leaning against the inner wall of the booth, hovering the phone directly next to your ear. Moments of silence pass before a voice breaks it.

“Hello?” says Poe.

Every point of tension in you seemed to relax in a moment as your eyes slowly close. The timbre of his voice washes over you, through you. “Hey,” you whisper.

“Sweetheart?” He sounds confused. Above all, tired.

“Did I wake you?” you ask, feeling bad all of a sudden. The high that had been coursing through your veins moments earlier plunges back to the ground. The intensity with which you feel it is irrational, yet nothing in you mind is steady.

“Yeah, but that’s okay,” he replies, a slight urgency to his voice. “Is something wrong?”

You picture him in your shared bed back on D’Qar, shirt off like usual. Propped up on one elbow, sheets falling to his waist, holo to his ear, concern on his features. Concern at his love calling him in the middle of the night, her voice shaking.

“Nothing’s wrong…I just…I….” Your voice trails off, and a silence a bit too long elapses.

“Baby?” he asks.

Your breath trembles slightly as you let it out. “This was a mistake,” you mumble. “I’m sorry, just—“

He interjects at the tone of finality in your voice. “Hey…don’t go, sweetheart.” You hear him shift, perhaps sitting up. “Just talk to me. What’s wrong?”

“I miss you,” you blurt out. You’d meant to say it more eloquently, less directly, but that’s not something you have the energy for right now. “I miss everyone back on D’Qar. This assignment…it’s the most least contact with base I’ve ever had, and—why am I even telling you that? You know that.” You let out a frustrated breath, gathering your thoughts. He patiently waits, something you’re grateful for. “I’m just…having a hard time. That’s all.”

His energy transmits well through the phone. He’s thinking, the gears in his mind turning. You can feel the helplessness, for there is undeniably little he can do. “I miss you, too,” he finally says. “It’s a few more weeks, baby. I know you’ve got it in you…”

It’s a simple sentence, yet nearly reinvigorating in a way. Nothing that immediately lifts your mood, but perhaps something that briefly abates the hollow feeling within you.

“I’ll be there the moment you’re back.” His tone is soft, a little raspy with tiredness, slightly reminiscent of the way he tells you how much he loves and how amazing you are in a post-sex haze of exhaustion. It’s an odd relation, but the sense of peace that both tones hold is something you always cling to. “I’ll be there to kiss you. To hold you.” He pauses. “To take you to bed….”

The way his voice, on the last statement, walks the line between humorous and genuinely seductive makes you laugh quietly. It’s neither a common nor desirable combination.

“There’s that beautiful laugh,” he says softly, letting out a breath, returning to his previous demeanor. “I’ll be there, baby. I know you know that.”

You nod even though he can’t see you. Air brushes past your lips as your eyes flutter shut. “I know.”

..::::.. ..::::.. ..::::.. ..::::..

Taglist (for everything): @dark-academics-and-florals @theultimateslashgirl

Taglist (for Poe): @synical-paradox @spider-starry @paper-n-ashes

If you wish to be tagged on any of my future works, just let me know or do the form on my Masterlist if that’s easier!

Based on this Writer Wednesday pic:

#Writer Wednesday #poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #star wars #star wars fanfiction #poe dameron fanfiction

[bts-reveries]

mini me | 10

(images alternating between text)

“Youngjae and his dad are almost here, but I reeeeeallllyy need to go to the restroom,” you say to Rina, getting out of your seat. “When you see them can you just let them know that I’ll be back?” Rina laughs, nodding her head and gesturing for you to go. You were on your second cup of mango iced tea after all. 

“Mommy is Youngjae almost here?” Sian asks. He has been here with his mom for about half an hour already, waiting for his friend to come so they can play. He had just been walking around the shop this whole time.

“Almost, just be a little more patient okay?” Rina answers him. He walks up to his mom, climbing on her lap. 

“Let’s call daddy please, while we wait,” he says. At the time, Jungkook was out on a scheduled photoshoot. He was the photographer for a recently engaged couple. 

“Okay, but I don’t know if daddy’s busy at this moment so let me text him first.” Rina says, holding the phone in front of Sian since he was on her lap, as she texts his dad.

At the exact time the two were distracted, Youngjae came pushing through the door. A huge smile on his face. Taehyung was just about to go on his break, taking off his apron and hanging it on the wall, then he stepped out from behind the counter.

“UNCLE CUPCAKE!” 

Taehyung turned to the voice who called him, seeing Youngjae run with a huge smile on his face towards him. Taehyung couldn’t help but smile, spreading his arms open for Youngjae to come into it. He pulls Youngjae into a big hug, picking him up. 

“Hey I missed you--”

“So you’re the famous ‘Uncle Cupcake’ my son’s been talking about.” Youngdo says, smiling at Taehyung. He holds his hand out for him to shake.

“Choi Youngdo, I’m his dad,” he introduces. Looking from Taehyung to Youngdo’s face, they were very different in appearance. While Taehyung had soft features, Youngdo was the opposite. While Taehyung’s smile looked sweet, Youngdo’s was more of a smirk.

“Kim Taehyung,” he reaches out his hand and shakes the man’s hand. 

“My best friend,” Youngjae says, hugging Taehyung even tighter. Taehyung smiles, hugging him back. Youngdo’s smile faltered slightly.

“Yn told me to drop him off here, but, I don’t see her,” Youngdo says, looking around. He then takes out his phone from his pocket, calling you. 

“Are you looking for Yn?” Rina says suddenly, causing Youngdo to turn towards her. “She’s in the restroom right now.” Sian looks up to see Youngjae and he quickly gets off of his mom’s lap, excitedly running towards Taehyung.

“Hi Youngjae!” He yells up. “Come play with me!” Sian reaches up for him, making Youngjae wiggle out of Taehyung’s arms. Excited to be with his friend once again.

“Well I guess he’s in good hands,” Youngdo says, he checks the time on his watch. “Ah. I have to get going, just let Yn know that I left.” Youngdo says, turning around to leave. 

“Youngjae,” Rina calls, “Your dad is leaving.” Youngjae looks up, walking away from Sian and his toys, to give his dad a hug before leaving. You had just gotten out of the restroom at this time, there had been a line, and you were surprised to see your son hugging his dad. They weren’t that close, he was usually quiet around him. So you wondered if he really did have fun during the weekend.

“Wait!” You yell as Youngdo was about to walk out the door. He turns around, smiling when he sees you. 

“Where’s his things?” You ask, not seeing any of the stuff Youngjae left with. Youngdo looks at you confused before it clicked in his mind.

“Oh-- yeah, it’s in the car. I’ll get it so you can put it in yours,” He says, walking out of the door.

“I’ll just come with and you can tell me what went on in the weekend, because you suck at updating me,” you say, annoyed. The only text messages you got from him was when they got to his place after he picked him up from your house and when they left this morning to drop him off at the bakery. 

You walked with him to where his car was parked and he took out one too many bags that Youngjae left with. 

“What’s this?” You say, looking in the bag. 

“He wanted to paint, so we bought some and painted together,” he says. “Where did you park?” He says, holding the rest of Youngjae’s things.

“Over there,” you pointed. The two of you began walking to your car and you ask him, “you bought him new things?” 

“Don’t I always?” He says. I mean, he did always buy Youngjae toys, but that was only so his son can keep himself occupied while he’s spending the weekend with his dad.

“But you actually used it with him.” Youngdo laughs at your response. You open your trunk, putting his bag in while Youngdo does the same. 

“Surprised?”

mini me

ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ part ten: best friend ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

pairings: artist!taehyung x singlemom!reader

a/n: double update hehe i hope some of you know who choi yeongdo is LOL he’s a character from the drama “the heirs” or “the inheritors” we thought he’d be a good fit for the role of youngjae’s dad. this also won’t be the last you’ll see of him

taglist: @heartfeltscribblings @taexmichi @prdshobi @smarshere @i-swear-im-a-soft-stan @igotarmyofarohas @butterflylion @miagracegrande @casspirit0705 @ephyra1230 @cosmicdaylight @bbyjoonies @betysotelo18 @strwberry-jam @rjsmochii @chocobetterknot @notmontae97 @alpaca1612 @yoongistruth @dragonqueen01 @silentlyimpractical @hecticwonderer @joanc24 @angjeon @momma-said-that-it-was-oke @sweetmoonlight9  @samros95 @dreamcatcherjiah @sonderkook @taekookcaneatme @listless-losers @kookietsukkie @goldenchemistry @salty-for-suga @peoplejustcanthandlemywierdness @softboyfriendtae @raplineh0e @ess-place @callmepaopao @ggukvii @ramyagovindraj @yoongiverse @mipetronella @cloudy-skys @jikachoo @nxtrogers @kookoo-kachoo @taestannie @hispoutylips @hallofbtsmasterlist

TAGLIST IS CLOSED!

to be notified when i post, please turn on my notifications! thank youu~

#bts-reveries #bts x reader #bts fluff #bts #bts au #bts smau #bts social media au #bts x you #bts dad au #dad bts au #taehyung x reader #taehyung x you #taehyung fluff #taehyung au #taehyung social media au #taehyung dad au #dad taehyung au #taehyung smau #namjoon smau #jin smau #yoongi smau #hoseok smau #jimin smau #jungkook smau

[euphoricsunflowers]

my love — yoo kihyun (kinktober day 26)

a/n: i’m so sorry i haven’t posted much! i’m been going through it but i wish you all the best and if i don’t end up posting more kinktober, know that it’s just me trying to care for my mental health. i love you <3

a/n: gUYS I ACTUALLY WROTE SOMETHING GOOD AND ITS ACTUALLY A DECENT LENGTH I FEEL SO ACCOMPLISHED

word count: 1.6k

content: fem!reader, siren!kihyun, dom/sub themes are pretty light in this one, riding, uhm warning he does kinda try to kill you(?), singing, voice kink we’re kinda living

taglist: @skjdln @lovingonrepeat @maknaeronix @neosincity

you had to admit: it was overall a bad idea, but that didn’t make it any less enticing. the waters were just so pretty, and while you may not be the best swimmer, you had only planned to swim a bit! you just wanted to float around and maybe say hi to a crab. maybe… but then you heard it. you heard him.

his voice had you in a trance, it felt heavenly, just focusing on nothing other than those pretty notes and how some parts were powerful, almost overwhelming, and some were soft and subtle.

you reach out, longing to touch, to love, to do something more than just allow yourself to drown. you grasp his arm finally, and he shrieks. (maybe he wasn’t used to people being able to do more than just allow the music take over and destroy them) the pause in his vocals allowed you a small second of mental clarity, and you realize it: you’re drowning.

there’s a struggle, you push and punch and kick and just do anything you can to get free and get oxygen. you can feel yourself becoming more and more lightheaded, the burning feeling of not getting oxygen slowly disappearing as you stop being able to feel much of anything. everything goes black, and something in the back of your head is furious at how everything you did was in vain.

but then you breach the surface, your lungs desperately taking in the air you barely got the chance to breathe. everything is unrecognizable, but you find a small rock by a cave you use to climb out of water and sit on as you finally have the chance to relax. despite being stranded in the middle of nowhere, you have a moment of peace.

and though his singing voice was entrancing, his talking voice was a million times better. when he sung, everything felt cloudy and thoughtless, but you could fully appreciate just how beautiful, how incredibly luscious his voice truly was.

“hey, you,” he calls out, grasping your attention once more, but in truth, he never lost it, “how did you… do that?”

“do what?” you muse, a small smile on your face. it’s so confusing how you even felt the need to be cocky, but everything about this was confusing. you could blame the lack of fear (now that you weren’t dying) on the unconscious calming effect of his voice.

“how did you escape me?” he’s been leaning on a rock to prop himself out of water, but he pulls himself up. his tail is barely seen before legs materialize out it, leaving you, once again, so utterly lost.

“i don’t know,” you shrug, but you weren’t even sure what you were referring to. you didn’t know a lot of things currently, “come here.”

“e-excuse me?” he stutters, and it feels beautiful, his cheeks and nose are already a rose color but his cheeks darker and it’s absolutely adorable.

“are you going to kill me?” you ask, but it seems to be the wrong move. he smirks.

“hm, i haven’t decided. why? are you scared?”

“come here, siren,” you order, and oddly enough, he wordlessly steps forward, sitting in front of you. the view you have makes you recognize that he’s definitely naked, but you have to keep your cool.

“a prey that fights so hard to survive,” he murmurs, “is admirable.”

“am i the prey here?” you regret the words the second they leave your mouth, and you can’t, for the life of you, figure out why they do. you assume he’d aggressively try to assert himself, because he definitely could kill you at any second.

but he doesn’t, “i hear that my voice tends to make people say and do things they wouldn’t normally do.”

“i suppose that makes sense. tell me, though, can i have your name?”

“no,” he smirks again. he seems to do that a lot, “but i suppose you can call me kihyun. what could i call you?”

you move closer, and again his rosey cheeks darken, your lips barely graze his, and he’s stuttering at the boldness, doing his best to form a response, but he just can’t, so you respond for him, “call me your love.”

he doesn’t have time to even think to question you, because your hands cup his cheeks so softly and you kiss him once more, and then again, and again. each time is more aggressive until you finally pull back and you’re both lying on the floor with you on top. you worry for a second about his back, because the rock he’s lying on would definitely not be comfortable, but he doesn’t pay any mind, so you don’t either.

“love,” he whispers, flustered at the way he feels so weak and yet so safe in your hold. he’s not used to the feeling, but that’s what makes it so intense. he’s always been the predator, the killer, the one who makes it out alive, smirking at the dead body who tried to seduce him, but his mind feels just about as clouded as yours, and it feels like nothing exists but you and your hands tightly gripping his waist as your head lowers to press faint, faint kisses on his sharp collarbones.

“yes, my siren?” you don’t lift your head enough to look him in the eye, instead nuzzling your nose against his neck, and he shivers.

“could you please… help me? please, please, please let me feel you,” he begs, and you’re more than happy to oblige. it’s not like you could do much to harm him, nor could you really sneak away. besides, the way he begs, especially with that soft, whiney voice, is just so, so beautiful.

“of course,” you mumble as you stand to remove your clothes. you hadn’t realized until now that they weren’t swimming clothes, and you probably ruined your favorite sweater.

“you know,” he starts, grabbing your attention away from your wet clothes, “this wasn’t the plan.”

“oh?”

“you were… really, really pretty underwater like that. no one has ever looked so… ethereal, letting themselves drown for me,” his eyes finally meet yours, and he smiles, “maybe that’s why i got too close. i was just so—”

“hypnotized by me?” you smirk, the irony not escaping either of you, “i’m sure you know all about that,” you finish getting undressed, straddling his hips as he lays there, gazing up at you as if you were a goddess, the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“tell me, siren—”

“please,” he cuts you off, but he just sounds so weak for you to actually get upset, “stop calling me siren. you asked for my name, and i just… i need to hear you say it,” his request is barely audible, but you’re happy to fulfill it.

“kihyun, my dear,” your hand rubs soothingly on his stomach, and he waits patiently for you to finish your thought, “would you like it if i rode you?”

“yes,” he whispers lowly, but it’s not enough. you’ll never get enough of that voice.

“beg for me, kihyun,” your hand goes from soothing to probably leaving bruises in a matter of seconds as you grip his waist, trying to pull a physical reaction out him. he trembles in your hold, whimpering loudly and the way it sounded made you want to moan in ecstasy.

“please, my love, i need you. i need you so, so much. i’ve never felt this way before, let alone because of a human. please just… make me feel alive.”

“alright,” you concede. without thinking, because that’s nearly impossible at this point, you position yourself just below his hips, and you allow yourself to sink down on him. he cries out, and it’s music to your ears. as much as you want to drag this out and really make it perfect, you just can’t help the way you need to feel more and more.

as every second passes, he feels weaker and weaker, that burning heat in his stomach becoming so unbearable, he’s so close, and you don’t seem to be doing much different. you’re chasing your high like nothing before. you hand reaches out for his, and he wanted to feel flustered at the sudden intimacy, but he can’t find it in him to pay it any mind.

“cum with me, my kihyun,” you barely get out before he nods intensely, his moans louder and louder and as incredible as they make you feel, you wonder if he’s hurting his throat. he’s been practically screaming for a few minutes now, and it all peaks as he finally lets go. his body seized up as he arches his back so, so perfectly and he cums with a glorious cry.

of course you follow suit, cursing softly to yourself, using him to ride out your orgasm. you rest your body atop of his, feeling his pounding heartbeat and his chest rise and fall.

“i have a question,” you whisper, your lips grazing his neck but there’s no force or pressure.

“yes?”

you frown, “what now? i still have family and friends who probably want to see me?”

“i’ll take you to them soon, but for now you’re mine. can i sing you to sleep?”

you shake your head, he doesn’t see it but he does feel it, “how do i know you won’t kill me?”

“i suppose you don’t, but if i let you live, you have to promise me to come back to me sometimes, because… you’re my love, right?”

you feel the slightest bit flustered at how you had asked him to call you that, and even more so that he did, “do you even know what love is?”

“i could.”

#monsta x #sub monsta x #monsta x x reader #monsta x drabbles #monsta x smut drabbles #monsta x smut #yoo kihyun #yoo kihyun x reader #kihyun #kihyun x reader #kihyun smut #sub kihyun #monsta x hard hours #kinktober #kinktober 2020

[imaginesandinserts]

Irreverent Pt. 51 - Eye of a Hurricane

Title: Irreverent Pt. 51 - Eye of a Hurricane

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader Rating: M Words: ~3K

Trigger Warning: Torture, Canon Typical Violence

A/N: I’m posting Chapters 51 and 52 at the same time. Make sure you read them in order. And if you haven’t read 50 (posted yesterday) definitely read that first. 

Irreverent Series Masterlist

It's a sluggishly slow progression towards consciousness as you battle a heavy head and dazed mind, both serving only to deter coherent thought. Your awareness is comprised only of sensation – a cold and dark room, hard chair, your mouth was dry. As you attempt to move, you come to realize that your wrists are bound behind your back and your ankles are tied to the legs of a chair, while the same rough material was corded around your torso, keeping you tied and upright in the chair. What should have been a terrifying realization, was dulled by the presence of some drug you'd been injected with. It would account for all of the symptoms you're experiencing, especially how your mouth felt like it could compete with the Sahara for driest places known to man.

Your mind reels, attempting to piece together how you had come to be in your current predicament. You'd been awaiting Easter at your agreed upon spot for your check-in. You'd stood with your back to the wall, aware of your surroundings. It had been a complete ambush, a gun from nowhere pressed to the side of your head, three large men, all armed, as they forced you into an alley way. They'd been able to get the jump on you as you were severely outnumbered. The last thing you can recall with any degree of clarity is the sharp sting of a needle, pressed to the side of your neck. It would explain quite a bit about how you're feeling at the moment.

Blinking slowly, carefully, you allow your sensitive eyes to adjust to the dim yellow lighting of the room. Keeping your head tilted downwards still, you take in the concrete grey flooring and walls. You focus on taking in as much as you can without alerting your captors to the fact that you're awake. That would immediately tip the scales in their favor.

There is a stale smell lingering in the room, as though from a lack of use. Dust is collecting in the crevices. It's not cared for. Likely a spare room or basement. There are no windows as far as you're able to tell. Behind you, there is a clock that ticks, the sound of it echoing loudly in the quiet of the room.

How long had you been there?

Cautiously lifting your head, you appraise the room you're in. There, in front of you about three feet away, is a table with what looked like various weapons on it. From your position, you can make out knives, a baseball bat, what appears to be a taser, and what could be a fire poker.

You had to get out.

Your bindings have no give, you quickly learn. You couldn't wriggle out of them if you tried.

If you move quickly, you could inch your way towards the table. You might be able to bend down and grab one of the knives with your mouth and use it – somehow – to cut the rope or at least loosen it enough to be able to escape. After you've accomplished that, you'd have to get out of wherever you were being held.

Figuring out why you'd been taken in the first place would have to wait.

You clench, tensing your body and using the leverage of your feet pressed to the floor to jump up and forward in the chair, attempting to drag it forward with you, in the direction of the table. It moves about an inch or two.

With a frustrated sigh, you tense once more, preparing to repeat the action. Just as the balls of your feet have pressed into the ground, there's a clicking sound from behind you and you can hear the door opening. You freeze in place. You should've known they were watching.

Heavy footsteps reverberate against the concrete flooring while you refuse to turn around. Let them come and face you themselves.

"Good, you're awake." The deep voice carries with it a shot of dread that you hadn't quite felt yet since you'd awoken. It cuts through the dullness of feeling and thought, jumpstarting the dormant panic into full gear.

A large man with dark hair and crystal light eyes stands before you, blocking your pathway towards the table you had been inching your way towards. He's dressed casually in dark clothing, there's a scar running down his neck. In his hands is a gun, held almost casually, as though it were merely an afterthought. As though he's quite confident in his ability to over power you without it.

You watch apprehensively, body tensed up, as he leans one hip against the table, perching on it lightly. His cold, steely eyes pore into you, running over your body and taking in your state. His gaze feels predatory as it runs over you in the worst of ways, causing a chill to run down your spine. He watches you as though you're prey and he's a hunter – the kind that collects trophies to hang up above the mantle. He lingers on your eyes, and you can tell he's checking to see if you're still drugged or if you were fully capable now.

You remain quiet, waiting for him to speak first, the two of you locked in and staring at one another. You don't know why you're here, why they took you. You surely don't recognize him. Behind him, you can see a dark glass pane that you hadn't noticed before, beyond which you assume his partners wait, watching both you and him.

"I am going to ask you questions," he says evenly, breaking the silence once more, his eyes boring into yours. "Every time you don't answer or you lie to me, you will regret it. Am I clear?" His voice, low and dark, matches the tone of the room. It's not exactly threatening, more clinical in a way. It's like he's playing a part, doing a job. Like you're his last patient of the day and he's eager to get home early and catch the game. You want to say his heart isn't quite in it, but that wasn't right either. It's more so that he has better things to do than waste his time with you, and yet here is.

You don't acknowledge or answer his question asking if you'd understood, and you can tell he doesn't like to be ignored. His brow furrows ever so slightly, nostrils flaring as he mutters low under his breath, turning and placing the gun on the table behind him. He sets it down and then turns back towards you and you can see he'd grabbed something from the table. Brass knuckles by the looks of it, as he slides them on, flexing his large muscular hands as he does. It's meant to intimidate you, scare you. It does its job.

You take a deep breath, still watching him quietly as you mentally reassure yourself that it would all be alright. That Clyde would of course be looking for you. He'd know you were missing when you hadn't been there waiting for him. He would find you and rescue you from whatever this was. Until then, you had only one job: survival. They wouldn't break you.

He strides forward until he's right up against you, his knees brushing against yours. You can feel the heat radiating off of him, feel the coarse denim of his jeans against your bare knees. The dress that you'd been wearing undercover is bunched up underneath your thighs.

You look up at him defiantly as he stands before you in silence, as though still waiting for you to speak. You wouldn't. You needed to know how much they knew first. He asks for your name first and you provide him with the fake name on the ID in your bag. That earns you a quick, sharp jab to the side that has you keeling over and grunting in pain as the hard metal ridges of the brass knuckles connects with your ribcage. You try to absorb the hit, try to remember everything you've learned from sparring with both Derek and Clyde. Try to stifle your pained groan.

You take a breath and look back at him, ignoring the bruised and burning pain in your side. If you're not mistaken, there's a chance he just cracked a rib.

They know who you are.

The realization causes your panicked brain to go into overdrive as you sift through who could possibly want to use you to get to any information. What they would do with it.

He asks next about Project Atlantis. He asks who else has access to the list. Who else is on the list. How to gain access to it.

Every lie you tell, every time you stay silent, he rewards you with another hit. Another part of your body bruised and broken as he goes through a litany of questions, marking you up as he goes. The tears slip unwanted. The cries come out despite any attempt to not give him the satisfaction.

Where the hell was Clyde?!

Each time, you force yourself to look back at him. To let him know that he hasn't beat you. To let him know that it wouldn't be so easy. To challenge him to do worse.

He does.

Your body becomes a work of art, painted with the red of your blood, the deep purple bruising of your skin. The colors meld and blend together with the salt of your tears.

It hurts to breathe. He's bruised a couple of ribs and shallow breaths are all you can manage through the excruciating pain of drawing a single breath in properly. If he doesn't stop soon, you'll start to hyperventilate. You can't do that. You can't let him win that way. You blink through the tears welled up in your eyes. You couldn't stop those if you tried. It hurts. It all hurts too much.

There is no escape from the constant barrage of questions and from the assault that follows. In the back of your mind there lingers a silent, crying hope that Clyde is out there looking for you but that is it. Otherwise it's all you can do to remain present and conscious to resist simply giving him what he wants in exchange for a respite.

After a certain point, the pain wasn't even really pain anymore. It was as though your body knew, that in order to survive, it had to shield you from feeling the full thrust of all that he had inflicted on you. It knew that if you were to stand a chance, you had to not feel it. The numbness settles in through a haze as your mind goes cloudy once more. You're barely meeting his eyes anymore, try as you might. Your body strains and struggles to stay aware. In the brief moments of respite that he offers you, as he changes from the brass knuckles to the poker, you can't even bring it in yourself to fear what's coming next.

Your mind flits to Aaron. The last time you'd seen him, as you kissed him goodbye and walked out to the waiting cab. He wouldn't know to worry. He'd think you were busy with work. He'd think that you'd return his calls soon enough. He'd think you were alright.

Thinking of him and Jack is the only thing that has you even trying to lift your head once more. Keeps you coming back each time. Keeps you looking your captor in the eye.

You had to make it through. You had to keep bouncing back. You had to endure and persist.

For them.

For him.

Not again.

They can't go through that again.

It's that thought that has you lifting your head, meeting those stony grey eyes once more.

*------------*

Emily would want the Birkins.

That was the first coherent thought that came to mind when you'd become conscious once more. He'd stopped once you'd become unresponsive.

Thoughts of escaping had long since abandoned you. It would be pointless. You were entirely unmatched. Even if you could defeat them, you'd first have to stand, and you're not entirely sure that's a feat you're capable of any longer. Keeping your eyes open was far too difficult a task on its own.

Your mind behaves oddly. Thoughts fleetingly temporary and confused as you contend with the notion that you might not escape. That you might die here.

Aaron would have to pick an outfit for the funeral. He'd have to go to your closet and pick out something to wear for you to be buried in.

Jack would need a new suit.

The bike – that should go to John.

The house was Aaron's.

The rest was Jack's.

There was no one else.

Would he get a body? Or would he bury an empty coffin with your name on the headstone?

If he knew what you were thinking – how you were thinking – he'd be furious.

You're next woken with a jolt as two pairs of uncaring and callous hands work together to lift you up. You thrash and scream, your voice horrifically hoarse as you feel them place you down on the table you'd noticed off to the side earlier. Thick, rough, leather restraints bind you down and hold you to the table.

You can't move. Try as you might, you can't get out.

He asks you again, giving you a final chance. Your stomach coils in fear and panic as tears well in your eyes and stream down your cheeks anew.

You beg them to not do this. You beg them to let you go. I have a son, please. I have son! Please let me go. Please don’t –

You know what's coming next.

His frosty, pale eyes are the last thing you see before a coarse rag covers your face. You prepare yourself. Remind yourself that you won't die. Not like this.

You'll be alright. You'll be alright. You'll be al –

The first onslaught of harsh, cold water beating down on your head has the force of a current rippling through your veins.

You can't breathe.

There's a warbled scream that shouts out and it takes you far too long to realize it was your own.

Your heart is beating faster than ever as the unrelenting assault continues. Blood pounding in your head as you thrash about as much as possible.

Frigid water fills your nose, your throat, leaving you gasping for air.

Your fingers claw at the table, catching splinters of wood in the nailbed.

Your head feels full as though it's floating in the ocean during a storm.

Gasping and screaming when you could manage it, lungs drowning underneath the punishing weight as it rained down upon you, your body fighting against the riptide.

It went on and it went on.

Unrelenting.

Neverending.

Right at the precipice – when your screams were silent, your limbs motionless, the cruel waves kept drowning you underneath the tide  – right as you became certain of one thing and one thing only: this was the end. Just as you arrived at that conclusion – it all went away. Dissipated into thin air.

You were floating into a fog, light as could be.

The dulcet tones of singing children at Jack's spring recital, as he waves at you from the stage.

The team at Karaoke night, drunk as can be, singing out of sync.

The rooftop in Ibiza, legs dangling as you sat between John and Julian, a bottle passed between the three of you.

Ricky picking you up at midnight, watching the sun rise over the sea with the boys huddled around you.

Aaron in the kitchen, his beautiful voice humming along to the music.

Aaron on the plane next to you, his hand held tightly in yours.

Aaron peacefully asleep beside you, his chest rising and falling, the richness of his warmth enveloping you entirely.

His face was the last thing you saw.

#aaron hotchner #criminal minds #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds reader insert #irreverentseries #hotch x you #hotch x reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid

[dorki-c]

My Guardian Demon| Chapter 1, Part 3: Inheritance

Relationship: Izuku Midoriya X (Reader)

Rating: 16+

A/N: I thought writing this part would be really hard...Nope. Not at all. I’m surprised! I hope you all enjoy!

TW: Brief mention of Fire, Swearing 

[Masterlist] [<— Previous| Next —>]

(Song recommendation for this chapter: All the good girl’s go to hell By Billie Eilish)

PROMPT QUESTION FOR THIS STORY ARC: Are all demons ‘bad’?

“But I’m not giving up on my dream, if you aren’t going to give up on yours.”

Alas, the gloriously golden sun highlighted the features of the old dusk that was soon turning into their new dawn.

(And might I say, if society got in their way, they will pay their dues the hard way.)

The two of them knew they had to paint the sky a fresh light blue, to develop the painting of the environment with creative splatters of white to resemble the clouds.

With the sun almost sliding to horizon’s edge, a cloudy vermillion mist (that was his demon) slipped into the view of the sun, highlighting their features but not letting a shadow smudge the surface of the pretty earth that the star ruled over.

“I know you won’t give up on your dream.” Even from three footsteps away, Izuku could still make out the multitude of voices mixed together. 

“So, I won’t give up on my own dream.” Although, even if one voice is made up of many sounds, that doesn’t mean it can’t resonate with tenacity.

“Got it!”

From a roof top of an apartment building to the lonesome streets below, it was still unbelievable to the middle schooler that he…literally met All Might.

(And that he had learned of All Might’s weakness.)

Nonetheless, after every battle we grow stronger.

(Right?)

------------------------------------

The days of our years always past through fingertips that have soaked in sin.

Yet, those who want to fight are the ones who shoulder said sins like an unlucky medal garnished in pure gold.

And how this medal got passed into Izuku’s somehow capable hand, who knows?

Where the demon stood at the back of the mass of people surrounding them, Izuku was at front of the crowd. A racing horse of many thoughts drowned his selfish needs and his demon’s hopeless demands.

How can he prove to society that he is capable to be a hero?  

How can he do it?

The scene of a filthy crime, the stage was set with a hostage and villain. One of them had manifested as a flaxen haired male, maybe around Izuku’s age? Though the moment the green-haired boy saw a familiar dandelion crackling outlining the big BOOM destroying the landscape around the hostage—he just started moving too fast for his demon’s claws to catch.

(T-That’s—that’s the same villain who attacked him!)

At first, a cold breeze of (what he believes might be) your hands about to catch him. Were you about to halter or allow him to write a new beginning?

(No, you weren’t stopping Izuku. Did you want to see this event play out?)

Sure, when the main act was about to end, maybe another new role can rush in and save the show.

Why were you staying behind? Did you approve of his actions? Izuku thought you hated it when he played the saviour role. Was he wrong?

(Izuku has never been a clairvoyant, however, he can be a saviour.)

Knocking and shoving past the innocently confused bystanders, visions of red scorching the surface of the road, the sight of that same gloopy villain cackling in satisfaction at the catch they managed to reel in.

“None of us have the right quirks to stop a villain like this!” The false heroes would always say.

“I’m not a real hero…” The Symbol of Peace may whisper to himself after saving many people.

“I want to be a hero!” Is the cry of a boy whose been doubted for his whole life.

Will he be successful in his attempt of grabbing “KACCHAN!” out of the sludge after throwing his yellow bag straight at the target?

(He ends up hitting the villain’s eye! Whoop! Whoop! Bullseye! )

If it wasn’t the summer sun of this fateful day.

Then it was the memories of childhood youth coming to ride the sailing riptide of the small green-haired boys kindness.

Where pebbles tumbled down the riverway above the stream of shallow river water travelling downwards was a large tree trunk pretending to be a safe bridge for the five children carelessly bumbling across it.

As the ringleader lost his footing and slipping down, down, down into the small riptide, if it wasn’t for the cicadas- clicking away with their summery sounds whilst they hide in the bushes- then a small splosh of water could’ve sounded like splashing into a large rain puddle.

(But it didn’t, instead the sound was nearly as silent as a dormouse sneaking into your fridge for cheese.)

Underneath Mother Nature’s bridge, casted a shadow blanketing the vermillion mist where the desolate being stood waiting for its owner to notice them, but the owner ignores the mist like he usually did and opts for helping the blonde-haired ringleader.

(He’s always helped people. (Y/n) can’t tell you when he hasn’t helped anybody.)

Extending his chubby baby hands, the green haired boy asked the blonde one “are you alright?” Though the demon knows that Izuku didn’t intend for that sentence to make the other child to narrow their crimson eyes.

However, whoever anybody is, Izuku will always extend a hand.

This does not exempt from his childhood friend, Bakugo Katsuki.

(This is what it means to be a saviour. Not a hero.)

The performance of a brave act had concluded with a boring aftermath.

(Like how can a demon say that watching All Might change the weather was exciting?)

Clobbered around Izuku’s tired form was a few (false) heroes who lectured him about how he should “be careful, because you could’ve easily died” to that villain.

(Though the demon had the audacity to scoff at the shitty remarks, if those heroes did their jobs properly and pulled Bakugo out of the villain’s grasps, then Izuku wouldn’t have had to.)

Let’s not forget, that Izuku was the one who had the guts to do what the heroes couldn’t do and that Bakugou was praised for his bravery.

What ‘bravery’ was there to show? If anything, those vermillion eyes showcased fifty shades of fear and that’s not tipping the iceberg of what those falsities had said about bravery.

(They were only boosting his ego.)

------------------------------------

“Do you think I did the right thing, (y/n)?” Izuku muttered out loud, although his demon was occupied with ignoring the ‘demon therapy’ poster that hung desolate on a lamp post and instead had the goal of catching a freaking butterfly.

When their hand reached out to grab it. They halted, turned towards Izuku, then asked “were you talking” because they were highly busy trying to catch an insignificant insect to notice that Izuku said something out loud.

“N-no! Don’t worr—” A rough, maybe a tad bit too loud of a bark cut Izuku off when he heard the familiar insult of “DEKU!” from the distance.

“Oh god, what does Bakugo want?” Izuku simply shrugged. Nobody really knows what Bakugo wants anymore. Is it validation? Pride? A sense of superiority?

Nobody, not even Izuku’s demon, could make out what he wanted by his little prompt speech about not owing Izuku a dime of gratefulness. With his whole act of calling Izuku a “quirkless failure who wouldn’t cut out to be a shitty rent-a-cop, even if he tried.”

Furthermore, how dare the blonde-haired boy think that Izuku was looking down on him. He first calls Izuku a “weakling” after all he had done, then accuses him that “he did nothing to help,” and then decided to strut off like the moody teenager he is.

(But what if you were mistaken to think he was moody?)

----------------------------------

When passing maybe two, perhaps three corners of rows with houses lined down the sides of the passageways, with boxed in backyards and the sun starting to lay its weary head down for a long desolate nap, Izuku was once again setting his mind straight and into autopilot.

“Hey Izuku?” You were asking the questions and he was answering back with his answers. Usually, you either stayed quiet or screamed at anybody (besides his mom) who dared to touch his precious face, so if he was guessing why you were asking him a question; it was because you were asking him an ‘important’ question (or so you labelled them to be important, because they seriously aren’t).

“Y-Yes (Y/n)?”

And of course, Izuku isn’t clairvoyant, so how would he know that your upcoming question was “what were the colours of the sky?” since your quite forgetful at times.

What? Why were you asking that question again? He’s told you a couple times before “there’s only one colour of the sky, its blue” but knowing you and your airheaded attitude, he has to stay patient. With your small nod to his answer, you seemed satisfied with the small talk until—

“I AM HERE!” Booms behind the green-haired boy (unexpectedly).

If it wasn’t for puberty, then Izuku could’ve lost his voice by the singlehanded scream of “ALL MIGHT! WHERE DID YOU COME FROM?!”

(And what’s the point of saying “I stand for justice!” when you can’t stand up in your hero form for five minutes before spewing blood from your mouth?)

All joking aside, when the pro-hero stood in front of Izuku in his rawest form, he had a statement to say for the green-haired boy.

“Young man, I came here to thank you and discuss your question.” What? All Might was giving up his time and energy to speak to him? A quirkless nobody?

Well…colour his demon’s pointed look at the worn-down man, in the richest colours of a rainbow. What does this pro-hero want with Izuku? .

.

.

“If you hadn’t told me about your life or had run into that fight, then I would have been a worthless bystander.” With the movement of his face allowing the thin-skinned cheek muscles to stretch his lips up to his onyx encircled blue eyes, All Might had presented the most sincerely painful smile he could muster in this small snippet of time.

Though, not surprisingly enough, this caught Izuku off guard. His expression paling as he frantically waved his hands about and only managing to utter the words of “N-no! No! It was my fault to begin with! If I hadn’t wasted your time and made you drop the villain t-then--!”

All Might cutting Izuku off mid-sentence was like a miracle out of the ninth circle of hell for (Y/n).

“I’m not done talking,” Hushing the 14 year old, All Might had continued his statement from earlier, “You told me you were powerless, so when I was standing in the crowd—watching this timid, quirkless kid rush into danger.”

The pro-hero paused in trying to find the right words.

“That inspired me to act as well.”

With a hand on his heart, the moment was truly overwhelming for Izuku.

“AND WITH THAT!”

All Might had poofed back into his hero form as soon as the sent his exclamation out to the world.

“I HAVE DEEMED YOU WORTHY OF INHERITING MY POWER!”

(Wait…what?)

The revelation of what the hero had unveiled to both the green-haired boy and his red demon was very confusing to process.

(And when did heroes become so self-righteous? Like jeez, calm down on that ego of yours All Might!)

Taglist:

@glitterfreezed, @izukubabe​, @sweater-weather-seven, @nyanyabisjjj, @quietlegends, @dragonsdreamoffire​, @candybabey​, @honeylavender13​​

CREDITS:

All content and art used within this story belongs to their respective owners. PLAGARISM WILL NOT BE TOLERATED!

Art credits: Dorki-C and @glitterfreezed​

[MASTERLIST OF “My Guardian Demon”]​ [MAIN MASTERLIST]

#Izuku midoriya #Izuku midoriya mha #Izuku midoriya bnha #Toshinori Yagi mha #All Might bnha #all might mha #Izuku midoriya x y/n #Izuku Midoriya X you #Izuku Midoriya X Demon! Reader

[violetnotez]

Dabi x reader

This is loosely...LOOSELY based off the myth of Persephone and Hades-honestly, I tried to do the fic based off the legend and it just turned into a yandere Dabi, so enjoy!😘😘

⤷ Genre: Yandere, angst+fluff

⤷ Word Count: 2898

⤷ Warnings: cursing, abduction, mentions of spicy themes 🔥

⤷ Synopsis: You wake up in a new place, feeling tired, achy, and not understanding a single clue of how you got there-until you realize you have been taken prisoner by non other than Dabi, who has seemed to take a strange liking to you.

Song Recs: ⤷Tourniquet-Evanescence⤷Hollywood’s Bleeding-Post Malone ⤷The Reaper-Chainsmokers

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ

You groaned, your eyes barely opening to slits as your mind awoke from its foggy state.

Everything felt numbingly painful: your joints ache as if they were rusted metal, unmovable and thick with time. Your feet tingled with exhaustion and your arms were heavy with fatigue, your forehead throbbing slightly from your uncomfortable nap. Your chapped lips parted, the skin detaching itself from being molded together for so long as you began to try and awaken yourself.

Feet-then legs- then hips-then arms- then head.

You began to pick apart each piece of body, the connection running slowly as you moved each ligament and limb, awakening them from their ill rested sleep.

What the hell had even happened to you?

Nothing was familiar to you- this room you were able to slowly piece together was foreign and solemn, almost akin to a warm dungeon with its steely brick walls and frugally decorated exterior. The only thing that seemed remotely comfortable was the bed you were laying on, the cool black sheets chilling your bare skin.

Your heart skipped a beat as your heavy head lazily looked down at your body: these were not even your clothes, if you could call it even that

You could sense on your skin that you were still wearing your undergarments, but the only thing covering you was a thin white shirt, the fabric charred at the top with gaping holes and flowing just past your upper thigh.

Everything was so strange-this foreign scenery, these clothes that were hastily thrown on you, your aching body....

The shock of the newnness couldn't seem to feel frightening. Your senses and survival instincts were cloudy and murky, your mind slowly trying to piece together the situation in front of you.

But it was like trudging through a river upstream-the rush of the water was too powerful, slowly pushing you as you climbed desperately to fight your fatigue and understand your situation.

“Oh good, your finally awake-thought you’d be out for another hour,” a voice drawled out from the shadows, sending a shiver through your thoughts.

Your body stiffened instantly at the sound, your heart beating against your chest like a hammer pounding against a nail. The voice seemed to speak from the shadows of the room, a body less phantom, it’s voice low and bored sounding as it slowly came closer to your fragile body.

“-seems your body didn’t like the drug Kurogiri made- youve been out for a while now,” it continued, a smile eminent in the voice’s tone as it creeped in the darkness.

What the hell was going on? Who was Kurogiri? And what freak drugged you?

And why couldn’t you remember anything from the last night?

Questions swarmed your brain, each one more complex and confused than the last. You were completely awake now, your eyes wide with shock as they darted across the room, trying to find the source of the voice.

You took a deep swallow through your dry mouth, coating your tongue with thick saliva as you willed your beating heart to squeeze out any courage it could.

“Who-who’s there?,” you stammered, your voice craggily and thick like sleep, “Who are you? Where am I?”

A low chuckle tumbled against the room, turning your blood ice cold.

“Slow down dollface, introductions first. Cant be demanding things when someone welcomes you into their home,”

“I never asked to be brought into your home-”

“And I never asked to like you so damn much, but here we are,”

Like...you? Your shocked eyes turned into confusion, trying to decipher the meaning of that sentence.

Who even was this guy-and what did he want with you?

Steel boots on wood floor pounded against the wall, small details finally being able to be seen. Fear pooled in your stomach, making it difficult for you to look and see who your captor was.

You started gazing at the bottom of his tall stature: boots, black and worn….black pants to match, a trench coat inky and dirty in spots with dirt…..a white shirt, looking painfully identical to yours…silver details glinting like knives as it wrapped around your captor’s lean forearms, strangely scarred purple skin….

“the name’s Dabi,”

He gave you a crude smile, those piercings digging into his skin with the motion as his eyes light up with amusement.

Fear gripped your stomach and flooded your whole body, squeezing your lungs painfully and forcing you to be unable to breath. You knew who this was, he was hard not to miss, with his marred skin and piercing blue eyes.

A Villian of the LOV, a dangerous man with an even more dangerous quirk.

You gulped, noticing how the scars ran against his skin for the first time, covering most of his body in a thick film of painful markings.

“Telling by our face, your already know me, dont ya doll?”

If he had those marks because of his own quirk...you shivered at the thought, knowing full well it would be 10 times worse for yourself if he used his fiery power against you.

You had to be careful with this one if you wanted to come out if this on one piece...extremely careful.

His face turned down slightly in annoyance, his blue eyes squinting as he peered at your shivering form.

“Answer me, I don't like being ignored,” he chided, his tone extremely calm and dangerous.

You gulped, shifting quickly so you could sit up and talk to the man directly.

“Yes, yes I know who you are-you're part of the LOV,”

“So you already know? Such a smart girl,”

That thin smile returned, almost like a grimace by how wide it was. He stepped closer, those boots like the ticks of a bomb, ready to explode at any moment.

You couldn’t fathom why this-this Villian, wanted anything to do with you.

You were no hero or sidekick, just a frugal girl going to college in the city. Your quirk wasn’t anything special: it was called Plant Growth, which allowed you to grow plants by merely touching any part of it exterior. You had been told it was strong, but you had never really paid any mind to it, only using it to grow your own garden or help others who couldn’t seem to grow their own.

Was this why you had been kidnapped?

Did the League see something useful in your quirk, something I’d use to them?

“What do you want with me?” You asked, hating how terrified your voice sounded compared to his prideful, calm tone.

“I-Im not going to be apart of your League’s plans if thats why your kidnapping me,”

Dabi chuckled, the sound sending shivers down your spine.

“Oh, the League doesnt know I have you. They think Im still trying to recruit more members at the moment. No, you, you are my dirty and innocent little secret, dollface,”

This was wierd-too wierd.

Why did he sound so possessive, As if he was a child protecting his favorite toy from the other kids? What was wrong with him-you had never talked to this man a day in your life, only knowing him from the occasional news reporting about him.

So why did he treat you as if he owned you?

You grimaced at the way he described you, the words making your skin crawl.

“Please dont call me that-”

“I gonna call you whatever I want to call ya,” he snarled, that disturbing grin still plastered on his face, “youre not in a position to be calling the shots.”

“Can you at least call me by my real name?” You asked, your voice timid and begging,” It’s-“

“Y/n, I know,” he smiled as you stared at him with terrified eyes, your mouth slightly agape.

So you were right-he did know you.

But how?

“How do you-“

Dabi chuckled again, the sound rich and deep rumbling out of his chest.

“Damn, you have hell of a lot of questions“, he sat himself down on the bed, the mattress dipping slightly under his added weight.

The smell of burning wood and whiskey floated to you, your senses going into override from the smell. It confused you how comforting it felt, but the fear was still growing in your stomach.

You instantly brought your feet close to your body, your knees hugging your chest as you tried to grow distance from you and this man.

“Well, you did just kidnap me, so I kind of deserve a few answers,” you remarked, your eyes trained on him.

He seemed so calm, so collected, staring at you with patient and waiting eyes.

“So you wanna bargain with me?” He drawled out, almost sounding bored as he leaned his head forward.

You swallowed, the blood rushing to your ears. That shit eating grin he was sporting seemed so menacing, as if he was secretly playing some cat and mouse game with you.

“What’s the bargain?” You asked hesitantly. The thin shirt pooled against your thighs, sending shivers against your skin.

Even with the strangely warm room, the fright from this situation and this Villian sent up your spine.

You had to admit it to yourself-there was a strange charm to him. He radiates pride and commanded power, from his messy black hair to his piercing blue eyes. His marred skin rippled like infinitely connected rivers, the purple wine color quite pleasing once you got adjusted to the shock of it.

The only thing that showed weakness were the staples: they seemed so painful, the way they pulled taught against his smooth skin and stretched it agonizingly against his skin. A small part of you felt empathy for the Villian and these crude marking adorning his body, but he didn’t seem fazed by them.

He continued to grin, even with those staples stretching his skin to ungodly lengths.

His piercing blue eyes racked into your body, gazing you up and down with a hungry gaze, like a lion looking at a lamb.

“You ask one question-and thats it,” he instructed, his low tone commanding.

One question?! You stared at him in shock-He can look as pretty and ethereal all he wanted with his pale skin and sultry voice-but no way in hell was he going to allow you one question after he kidnapped you-he was out of his mind!

“But that’s not-“ you argued back, your face clearly annoyed by his proposition.

“Not fair??” He cut you off, his voice taunting you, “Well wake the hell up Princess, your under possession of a Villian-‘fair’ doesn’t mean anything,”

You pursed your lips, hating how smug he looked as he peered at your clearly irritated face.

If he wanted to play that game-fine, you could play too.

You turned your head defiantly to the side, your hair cascading across your face as you looked away from Dabi.

It was a risk to be so openly resistant, but if he liked you as much as he seemed to, he might break slightly.

An exasperated sigh came from the Villian, the weight in the bed shifting as he moved slightly closer to you.

“Fine then,” he said exasperatedly,” three,”

A wave of relief flooded your system, a small smile tugging against your lips as you looked again at the Villian. Dabi looked back at you, a change flashing across his face.

He almost looked-relieved? Peaceful? Dreamy?

You couldn’t quite place it, but before you could fully understand it, his expression turned back to its lazy default.

“Now go, before I change my mind,” he instructed, his eyes trained on you as you shifted in your spot.

Three questions? Better but still-not that much.

“How much time has passed?” You asked first, your voice soft and tentative as you stared at the Villian with expecting eyes.

“Time?” He repeated, a grin on his bi-colored lips, “ That’s a short one…it’s been 2 days.”

Your breath caught in your lungs-2 days since you’ve been gone? You felt a small bit of panic flood your system, realizing your life had been unattended to for a whole 48 hours...but you quickly brought yourself from the intial shock. 2 days isn’t that long...it could be worse.

“Okay…” You sucked in a deep breath, willing your body to calm itself “How did I get here?”

“Now that’s a long one….

You watched him sigh slightly, his marred hands rubbing the back of his neck. He seemed slightly vulnerable like this, almost, well, sweet, as he tried to find the right words.

“I’ve been watching you from afar for a while now, and figured out you like to go into your garden before you go to bed for the night.

It was simple-I drugged you with a little sleeping serum I got from another member of the LOV, Kurogiri. Your currently in the LOV headquarters, in my room. Your clothing got dirty getting here, so that’s why you're wearing my clothes.”

Well hell-that was a lot to process. You instantly looked at him with worrying eyes, unable to process all the information. Hes been watching you? And drugged you? And, on top of all that creepiness, saw your in just your underwear and bra? Oh god, maybe even more-

He seemed to already read your mind, a dark laugh coming from his lips.

“Oh don’t worry dollface, I didn’t do anything,” he joked, his voice sultry and dangerous, “you’d feel it if I did,”

You gulped, letting those words register.

So he was a stalker and a flirt-great.

You licked your lips, clearly not finding the remark funny as you continued to stare at him with terrfied eyes.

The room seemed extremely quiet, Dabi’s dominant exterior faltering as your body language oozed fear.

“Why do you want me?” Your voice wa s barely louder than a whisper, your legs wrapped close to your body.

Dabi was the quietest you had seen him from this intial meeting, his inky black bangs cascading across his face and obscuring his eyes.

“Ya know…” he finally said, his voice vulnerable and quiet, “shit, I wish I knew that,”

“I just know that you-you are so whole and innocent, so loving...I-I fell for that. Not many are accepting of me, not just because I’m a Villian. They see my scars and instantly want me gone-but your not like that.”

He turned to you, that sultry smirk framed on his lips as he leaned in slowly, his digits resting gently on your knee.

You stared at that hand, the soft embrace on your bone making your heart jump. He was so gentle with you, so soft and endearing-you knew that he wasn’t like this with everyone. There was something inside him that longed for you, and it made your head spin in confusion.

“I’m not as good of a person as you think I am,” you replied, as if desperately trying to convince him,” I’m sorry people treat you so horribly, but-but I’m not your savior from it.”

He continued to smile at you adoringly, his blue eyes sparkling like diamonds.

“See, your sorry for me. Your-naive like that, and that’s why I like you so much.”

“But I barely know you, I can’t care for you as much as you want me to-“

“But isnt that people like you do-learn to love everyone, for all their traumas and flaws?” His voice became louder, more passionate as he shifted even closer to you. His hand grabbed yours, the staples digging into your cold skin.

He was so warm, his palms radiating a comforting heat as that smell of burning firewood filled your shocked lungs.

“Your so naive to everyone, to the people who dont deserve it-,” he continued, “you love everyone and everything.”

“I promise doll, if you just care for me like I care for you...I won’t hurt you,”

Your breath hitched in your throat, fears and defiance filling your body.

“You took me away from home. That’s hurting me,” you remarked back, desperately trying to fight yourself from leaning into the naturally warm man.

“Falling in love with someone and having them not love you back is hurting too,” his face contorted into anger and some pain, as if your words cut into his ego as his blue eyes pierced into you.

Your lips pursed again, your eyes forming into angry slits.

“I’ll never love you. Never,” you spat back. He may be pretty, and in some ways endearing, but no way in hell would you be his personal side girl, kept against your will to satiate his needs.

But something in your tone flipped a switch in him-no more was the patient, flirty Villian in front of you.

Something changed inside him, a dangerous personality took over, his hand swiftly reaching for your throat and wrapping around it.

All you could see were those expanse of blue, the irises dilated with anger as the staples in his hand dug painfully in your skin. Your eyes blew out in fear, his palm warm and suffocating as your skin became hotter and hotter, until the point of pain as you stared at those icy blue orb.

A sadistic smirk flashed again Dabi’s marred skin, causing a intense chill to spread along your spine.

“Aw you sweet thing, you scared?” He taunted, his voice dripping with amusement and anger,

“ You should be,”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ

Taggings:

@sergeant102105 @weebartistinc @orokayagi @leeeah-loooser @bakarinnie

#bnha #bnha x reader #bnha dabi imagine #bnha dabi x y/n #bnha dabi #dabi x reader #bnha dabi x reader #mha dabi x reader #yandere dabi #yandere dabi x reader #bnha dabi x reader imagine #mha dabi x y/n #mha dabi x you #mha dabi #bnha dabi x you #bnha dabi x y/n imagine

[dokifluffs]

Milk Bread | Oikawa Tōru

Pairing: Oikawa X Reader (gender neutral)

Genre: sweet milk bread fluff

Request: “Can I request baking milk bread with Oikawa” - @tsumtsumsemi​

Author’s Note: Ofc! Thank you for requesting, love 🥰🥰 This was v cute to write and it made me crave milk bread 😋

The two of you were own a mission and it was about time the two of you did this- it was time to make some milk bread

TooRu OiKaWa’s fAvorIte FOod iS mILk BreAD (watch this hehe if you want)

The grocery store was pretty empty since it was early in the afternoon, partially sunny, partially cloudy. Today was his rest day and there was no better way than to make one of his favorites

He was practically heart broken when he went to the convenience store to get some after practice last evening with Iwaizumi, only to find they were sold out for the night

His eyes practically glowed when you suggested to make some and his heart grew double in size when you admitted you planned to make some for awhile now as a little surprise

He wore black joggers with simple sneakers and a light green shirt with a little motif on the left side that said “aliens believe in us” with little embroidery around it

Whereas you wore one of his stolen shirts, his E.T. movie one that covered right over your bottom since it was pretty oversized on him too and shorts with slip on shoes

He pushed the cart behind, following your figure as you went between aisles, looking at the signs to find said aisles. He took pictures of you from behind whenever he thought you looked cute- so almost always- that is until you found him and you instinctively held your hand up beside your face, getting some whines from him

He also recorded you struggling to get something form the taller shelves. You weren’t too short yourself but it was just out of reach you know he sent this video to iwa and iwa called him shittykawa

After some glances from you and the name calling from iwa, he felt attacked he came over from his spot behind the cart and grabbed the ingredient you were trying to reach with ease, of course giving you a little smug smirk, just a little one

When the two of you walked side by side each other through the store, he would occasionally bump his hip into yours, having some fun

He was very excited for today since it meant time with you and milk bread

Luckily, there weren’t too many things to get so the trip was short, but you also picked up little treats that the two of you could also enjoy while making bread

The trip home was nice as the two of you walked side by side to his place, each holding a bag

He talked about recent practices and matches that was played, the antics in practices but also as well as up coming games

But conversations with him always strayed- topics always changed frequently and looking back, you never knew how the topics transitioned. It just happened

Like last time with Iwaizumi, it went from Godzilla to diapers and the three of you all talked as if it was normal, which it really was at this point

You also made sure to ask him if he was resting his knee enough as you glanced down seeing the brace folds barely showing through the pants of his joggers

But sometimes you knew he wouldn’t tell you the truth entirely. You had to ask Iwaizumi to stop him or to let you know if he was over doing it

But recently he had thankfully. You didn’t want him to worsen his knee if he wanted to bring his team to nationals

Arriving at his place, it was time to get right to work. You brought out all the ingredients, pulling up the recipe on his laptop with a random documentary on space playing on another window as he brought out all the pans and utensils you could need

He did some steps ahead of you like combine the wet ingredients while you prepared the dry ingredients in another bowl and then the two of you got together and mixed the ingredients together

So far, things were looking pretty good

Fortunately, there was literally no physical energy that either of you needed to put into making this. For the dough, he borrowed his mother’s stand mixer and it did all the labor for you two

While waiting for it to knead, you stood beside it, looking into the large metal bowl as he sat beside you, immersed in the documentary, commenting about how mind blowing our entire universe was

As nerdy or geeky as it sounded to others, you could honestly listen to him ramble on and on about space and universe or volleyball or anything really

He told you about his past relationships sort of in the beginning in the relationship and at this point after being together for so long, you figured the past s/o just didn’t match his wavelength when it came to what he was really passionate about

You pulled the dough out as it said in the directions and shaped it into a ball, setting it into another bowl

You had to stop oikawa from poking it and ruining the perfect shape as you went to get a rag to cover the bowl with

But of course when you returned, there was two finger indentations

And now it was time for the waiting game for the next 40-60 minutes

In the mean time, you meant to bring Oikawa to the living room where it was more comfortable to watch but he ended up pulling you in between his legs, holding your hands loosely sat in your lap while the two of you watched the documentary

Time passed a lot faster than the two of you realized. Oikawa was the first to notice the dough in the bowl after he peeked under the rag, surprised to see it doubled in size

This time, he wanted to do the next steps so you guided him, kneading the dough and cutting it, shaping it into two balls and letting it rise again for another fifteen minutes

He couldn’t wait to stick these into the oven. He preheated it before he returned to joining you in generously buttering a pan that the loaf would sit in

After following even more steps, the two of you set the logs of dough each of you made, he did his best to mimic your actions and laid them side by side into the buttered pan

And finally it was the third to last waiting game the two of you would have to patiently play through but no worries, this just meant more sitting in oikawa’s lap, his chest to your back, his chin on your shoulder while watching another documentary when the space one ended

He savored this feeling of having you in his arms. The way your fingers danced along his arm tickling his skin, just how close you were to him right now- it felt so nice

After about another roughly 30-40 minutes, he stuck the pan with the doughs into the oven and set a timer for 35 minutes for now but you two would check it to see if you two should wait longer or not

As the loafs baked, the rich scent of the milk bread wafted through his house

He gave you a squeeze in his grasp as he took a deep breath in, taking in the smell of the bread that was so close yet so far away

When the timer went off, he could practically taste it already and very fortunately, it was perfectly golden brown

For the last bit, all you two had to do was wait for it to cool down for about ten minutes

For Oikawa, this literally felt like the longest minutes passing in his life

He just wanted to cut into the plush bread and eat it. It smelled so good and it looked so golden to him. You could hear his head turning back and forth between his laptop and the bread on the counter beside the oven

He was so antsy and you could literally feel it, so to set him free of his waiting, you made your way over to the loaf with him, of course, close behind, peering over your shoulder

His eyes shined brighter than any Christmas lights you’ve seen when you said that you two should probably try it while it’s still pretty warm

He literally said say less

He made a little video of you cutting into the load, the steam rising from the hot bread, his mouth watering just a bit

He sent the video to iwa, who told him to give him some but of course Oikawa refused. This was special for him since it was made by the two of you

If he could, he would preserve this bread for as long as he could til the end of his life. It was one of the best things he had in his life, just like you

~~~~~ Thanks for reading! Masterlist for more! Please do not repost anywhere else!

Note: I based the steps from this: NYT Japanese Milk Bread, so my apologies if it is inaccurate, I just followed this

Tags (let me know if you wanna be tagged for all my haikyuu posts): @yams046  @mazey-chan  @sunboikyo00  @kara-grayson04​  @fortheloveofbakugo​

#haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu headcanons #oikawa #oikawa toru #oikawa x reader #oikawa imagines #oikawa scenarios #oikawa headcanons #oikawa toru headcanons #oikawa toru scenarios #oikawa toru imagines #oikawa toru x reader #dokifluffs #aoba johsai #haikyuu oikawa #haikyuu oikawa tooru #haikyuu!! #haikyuu fluff #oikawa fluff #oikawa tooru fluff

[kerie-prince]

the memory of you pt. 1

Gilderoy Lockhart x Healer!reader

requested: (anon) Omg thank you! If you want to write any kind of Lockhart scenario that suggests NSFW stuff then I'd totally be cool with whatever you come up with 😊 thanks again so much! ❤️

warnings: none

summary: After helping Gilderoy deal with his memory loss and get him out of St. Mungo's, you couldn't help but fall for his charm once more when he finds you on the streets of London.

a/n: I THOUGHT I QUEUED THIS 💀 i sat here at work thinking 'damn, no one liked my post? k 😭' anyways, i'm gonna break this into two parts before it gets too long lmao. bold italics are flashbacks

(gif not mine, cred to owner)

You worked with a certain celebrity for quite a while now. He was brought in one day without knowing who he was, where he came from, and how he ended up in a weird cave. His residence at St. Mungo’s where you worked lasted for a while. Other Healers declared that there was no way to recover his memory, but he didn’t seem to mind. Gilderoy was perfectly content with being happy and healthy even if he didn't know what was going on.

He was so sweet. Never gave you or any of your colleagues any trouble. He took his potions with ease, didn't make a fuss when bringing him from one room to another, and held conversations as normal. His family would visit him on occasion and it pained you to watch him not know them. But overall, he was happy.

After two years at St. Mungos, Gilderoy was let go considering that even though his memories were gone, he had enough mental stability to be out in public. Gilderoy had to go to a private academy to re-learn magic basics in adult classes. You remember the night before he left.

“So nice to start my life tomorrow,” Gilderoy had his signature smile on. He ate his dinner on his own without the help of Healers.

“Your life has already started, you just don't remember is all,” you corrected. You were preparing his bed for the last time. Since it's his last night, you were able to grab an extra pillow for him to be comfortable.

“Yes, but tomorrow I'll start a life I can remember. I'll make new memories.” Gilderoy stood up from his small table and walk to his hospital bed. He always loved the way you prepared his bed. How you fluffed the pillow, folded the blankets back neatly, and made sure the bed was warm. It wasn't special treatment as you did it for all patients, but he appreciated it all the same.

“Good night, Miss Y/L/N,” he said.

“Good night, Mr. Lockhart,” you replied.

Two years later, you're still working at St. Mungos. You've seen patients come and go since then. None quite as cooperative as Gilderoy, but they weren't all bad either.

The London streets were busy as usual today. It was slightly cloudy, but luckily it wasn't raining. And thank Merlin because you didn't have an umbrella with you. Cabs were driving right past you as you stood by the sidewalk trying to catch one. Once one stopped in front of you and you were about to climb in, another hand also grabbed for the handle. “Miss Y/L/N?”

Gilderoy stood next to you, eyes gleaming and wore his charming smile. He looked as happy as he always did. “Mr. Lockhart, hello.” It was a pleasant run in, and you'd love to chat but you had to be at work soon. It seemed that he noticed your uniform as well. “Oh, go ahead. I'll call for another one.”

“Thank you, Mr. Lockhart.” You opened the door but before you could close it, Gilderoy said one last thing. “I hope to see you again!” He waved at you as you left and kept at it until you were out of sight.

His wish was granted three months later; he was walking around the same street for probably the 4th time that week. He wasn't ashamed to admit that after that day he ran into you, he wanted to see you again. You were with a couple of friends at a pub one night celebrating a proper weekend off. Gilderoy followed you in, a bit of people that recognized him stopped him to say ‘hi’ but of course, he doesn't know them. They were fans of his before the memory loss. They took a few pictures and he went walking after you. You were seen sitting at a bar table by yourself waiting for your friends to come back from the restroom.

Gilderoy walked up to you slowly, “Hello, Miss Y/L/N.” You recognized him and by pure habit, you gave him your work smile and voice, “Good evening, Mr. Lockhart.”

“Please, call me Gilderoy,” he requested.

“Gilderoy,” you reached your hand out to shake his, “you can call me Y/N.” His smile changed, not one that you've seen in magazines and papers, but a more humble one. His cheeks became a bit rosy and he looked like he was flustered. “So, how have you been?” he asked. You took a quick sip of the water that was on the table before continuing the conversation, “I’ve been good! Just been working all the time. How about you? I bet so many great things have been going with you?”

“Not really. Since I didn't know much about my life before I was admitted in, I didn't know where to start. So I lived with my mother for a while, but now I’m on my own.” Seeing Gilderoy be so humble was a sight to see. A once self-centered, proud man has turned into a sweet, kind one. You almost wanted to thank whoever did this to him, not knowing it was actually Gilderoy who had accidentally done this to myself. “Well, are you working right now?” you asked him.

“No, I don’t really have anything to offer,” he looked down.

“That’s not true, you…” you stopped to think about what it was that Gilderoy could do. And unfortunately, it wasn't much. When word had gone out that he had actually stolen credit for all the things he had claimed to have done, people wondered if he was good at anything.

Gilderoy laughed at your blank expression. You felt bad. “Well, I’m sure you’re good at something.” You patted his shoulder gently across the table. Your friends came back from the restroom after what felt like twenty minutes. “Oh! It’s Gilderoy Lockhart, so nice to meet you,” each of them shook his hand. “What brings you here?”

Suddenly, he was embarrassed to say that he was spending weeks trying to find you. “Oh, I was just around. I walked inside and recognized Y/N. Thought I’d say hello,” he felt a bit nervous at that moment. “Well I best be going. I don't want to intrude. Have a good evening.” Gilderoy was about to leave until one of your friends called out for him, “No, stay! I’m sure Y/N would love to catch up with you, isn't that right?” You weren't sure if it would be appropriate to hang out with a former patient. Sure, it’s been a couple years since then, but you've never had any patients become even acquaintances, let alone friends. But the look in Gilderoy’s eyes that were basically begging you to say ‘yes’ hit something in you. “If you’re not doing anything else tonight, I'm sure we would like your company tonight.”

Gilderoy was funnier than he seemed to be. Being one of the Healers that worked with him for nearly four years, you never knew about this. He was telling the story of the first time he had used the levitation spell during his adult classes and he accidentally made his professor levitate and not the inanimate object on the table. Slightly tipsy, you and your friends laughed so hard trying to picture the situation. Gilderoy said he panicked and when he tried to let him down, the professor fell from ten feet in the air on his head and passed out. Luckily, he wasn't kicked out to the class but it was certainly something the professor never let him live down.

By the end of the night, your friends had gotten plastered and left for home. You were fine; your tipsy state was gone. You made sure your friends were set in the cab and told the cabbie their addresses. Gilderoy stood behind you and watched as you took care of your friends. It was different than when you worked, but it brought back memories when you took care of him.

When the cab drove off, you turned to look at the blond man. “Well, it was great seeing you, Mr. Lock– Gilderoy,” you quickly corrected yourself. You nodded and started walking down the street before he called for you again. “W-would you like to take a walk?” You thought about it, the same thought from earlier. But you've already shared a few drinks with him, so a walk wouldn't hurt. The sky was clear and although the stars were faint, there were a couple large ones that you could point out. You walked in silence for a couple minutes until you spoke up, “The weather’s nice.” He nodded quietly. It wasn't odd for him, but it was for you. It was odd to see him not as talkative as he used to be. You supposed that when you have your memories wiped, your personality could be affected as well. But he was still somewhat himself when he was a patient, so this change must have happened in the past two years. You hoped that nothing bad happened in that time.

It was getting later and later, but something about Gilderoy was different and you liked being around this sort of new him. He’s more inviting compared to how he was when he was a celebrity. The feeling of it being weird with him outside of work was gone, and something else started. You wanted to get to know him as a person again.

You checked the time on your wristwatch and decided that you should head home eventually. “It was nice seeing you tonight. I hope to see you again,” you grinned. His eyes lit up as he looked at you, “I would love that. Maybe we can have tea sometime?”

“I’d like that. Goodnight, Gilderoy.”

“Good night, Y/N.” He signaled a cab for you and like he did the last time, he waved until he couldn't see you anymore.

—

requests open!

#gilderoy lockhart #gilderoy lockhart imagine #requested #requests open #gilderoy lockhart fluff #gilderoy lockhart smut #gilderoy lockhart x reader #gilderoy lockhart x you #gilderoy lockhart x y/n

[sup-hoes-its-me]

Before You Go (All Might x Reader)

Part One/Part Two

A/N: so, I know you wanted some fluff ...but as always this is an angst blog so a little bit of crying is required. I got so many notes and replies the first night i posted my story so i had the motivation to finish this one pretty fast. Thank you so much for reading and enjoy! (Also, it might be untraditional but this is exactly how i want my boyfriend to propose to me lol minus the heroics of course)

word count: 4200

Aizawa sighed, staring at the ceiling of his bedroom. He received a call that afternoon from the girl who he hadn’t talked to for a couple years. He still missed her, and he knew that he had hurt her feelings when she decided to leave. It was his fault she abandoned him for so long, and he wasn’t angry. He was shocked but relieved to finally see her name pop up on his phone.

She was sobbing when he answered, crying so loudly he almost had to pull the phone away from his ear. ‘Shota-kun, can I come over?’, Y/N had cried to him, and his heart broke. He agreed quickly, and she hung up so she could walk to his family’s house. 

His mother and father were so happy to see her again. His mother gave Y/N the biggest hug and made her a cup of tea immediately. It had been a long time since the girl visited, and they worried Aizawa had lost her as a friend. She was the nicest girl, and after what happened to Oboro, Aizawa needed a good friend more than ever. 

She entered his room and shut the door softly, her eyes never reached his, instead stared down at the ground. 

“Did you need something, Y/N?”

“Shota, I-I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking,” she whispered, shame dripping off her words. “Toshinori never really cared about me. Jesus, you were right the whole time and I was so blind by my fantasies. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“What happened?”

She sat down at the foot of his bed and wiped her eyes of any tears building up. The boy hadn’t looked at her once since she entered, just stared in thought at the ceiling, hands under his head. “He’s leaving tomorrow for America.”

“So?”

“He’s leaving and he never even told me. He’s just up and leaving me for no reason.”

“There’s got to be a reason. He didn’t say?”

“He said that he wanted to tell me, but couldn’t. For some reason, I’m not a good enough friend to know what’s going on,” she complained, and he only shook his head. “What?”

Aizawa sighed, sitting up on his bed to face the girl. She had tears in her eyes, but also so much anger for the boy they spoke about. He cringed, never having seen such betrayal from her. “As much as I hate the guy, I have to ask. Have you considered that maybe there’s a good reason why he never told you? That he really couldn’t tell you or else something bad might have happened to you? I highly doubt he would just leave you voluntarily,” he said, knowing he was right.

For some reason, she couldn’t wrap her mind around that conclusion. Confused, she asked, “What dangerous stuff would Toshinori be involved with? He’s an angel.”

Aizawa rolled his eyes at his oblivious friend. She was always a bit dimwitted at times, but this was just embarrassing. “He’s one of the most powerful students ever to come out of UA, and you think there aren’t people out to get him?”

“I didn’t think about that.”

“Of course you didn’t. Maybe if you did, you wouldn’t be here crying to me,” he grunted. 

She sat quietly for a moment, just thinking about the last moments she had with Toshinori. She turned to Aizawa and confessed, “He said he loved me and I just walked away. I didn’t even reply. I was just so angry.”

“So cruel, L/N. Now you both have broken hearts.”

Her heart beat rapidly in her chest as she thought about the chances she missed when she left Toshinori behind. Aizawa was right. She laid back onto the bed, legs dangling off the edge. She covered her eyes with one of her forearms. “I didn’t think I would fall in love with him. I always admired him, and I had a crush on him. It was never meant to be anything more.”

“But?”

“But seeing how he was, how kind and brave he is- I don’t know I just got too attached. He made me feel special, and now I’ll never see him again.” Her voice faltered, and she caught herself letting out a soft sob. Eyes welled with tears. “I don’t want him to leave, Shota. I don’t want to do this without him.”

He placed a gentle hand on her arm. As much as he hated the reason he was comforting his best friend, the girl he grew up infatuated with,  he couldn’t let her cry. She was always so happy as they grew up together, and he wanted her to be happy now, even if that meant she had to settle for old, second place Aizawa.

“He has to take care of whatever is going on, and for now, you just have to work hard and become something for yourself. You always wanted to be a hero, and Toshinori helped you control your quirk. You have everything set out perfectly for you.”

“He promised me we would do it together, Shota. He promised me,’ she cried, choking on her gasps for air. “I don’t want to be alone.”

Aizawa felt a stab to the heart, but he had to realize that Y/N would never like him like that. If she didn’t love him before then she never would, and that was okay. Being just friends would be okay. Being the shoulder to cry on was more than enough. To be trusted by her was enough, he decided.

“You’ll make it through this, Y/N. He’s just one guy.”

“No one is like Yagi. No one.”

“Yeah, well, tough. No one is quite like Oboro either, but we all have our shit to deal with,” he cursed, feeling his own emotions rising in his chest. He missed his friend. It had only been 6 months since his death, and the guilt and pain was still heavy. “We all have to move on at some point.”

She cried even harder into her hands, the thought of her cloud-like friend coming to mind. He was so kind to her when he was around, and she missed him. The only person to keep her from falling apart after Oboro’s death was Toshinori. She missed them both, and her heart would remain miserable for a long time because of those two boys.

“I’m sorry, Shota. Fuck, I’m so sorry. I fucking hate this world. Why does it have to be so unfair to good people?” 

“It’s not the way of normal people,” he sighed. “We chose this life when we decided to be heroes.”

_____________________________________________

Y/N worked her way up after a couple years to become a powerful sidekick, on a level where if she saved up her salary she could open her own pro hero agency. Losing Toshinori was enough to beat her into shape. She got a great job with a renowned hero, bought an apartment, and took care of herself. Her life was lonely, but it was manageable. Aizawa was still her friend, but they had separated again when they started to work.

She climbed into her bed for the night, just another normal day gone by only to wake up the next day and work.

But then her phone rang. She let it ring, too tired to roll over to the bedside table and pick it up. Then, it rang again. Throwing her hand to the table sleepily, she brought the heavy cord phone to her ear. 

“Hello?”

“Y/N? It’s really you?”

The young woman blinked, shifting to sit up in bed. That voice was one she’d only heard a long time ago. “Yagi?”

“Y/N, I’m so glad I could find your number. I had to ask around a lot to find it. You changed it since I left?”

“Yeah...I moved out of my parent’s house, like last year,” she mentioned offhandedly, but there were more important things on her mind. “What are you calling me for, especially this late at night?”

“Shit, I forgot about time zones.” 

She waited patiently for him to explain himself. She wasn’t even angry at him anymore, in fact she found herself beyond excited that he called her. There was no way for her to contact him. From the moment he left, she wished they handled his departure differently. She wished she hadn’t thrown out his confession so harshly. Life might be drastically different if she had.

He cleared his throat, bringing her out of her own cloudy thoughts. “I want you to come to California.”

“What?!”

“Come to Los Angeles. Be with me here,” he said once again. “Ever since I left Japan, I haven’t gone a day without feeling like I forgot something. I need you with me, Y/N. It’s been tough without you by my side.”

For a minute, she didn’t know what to say. She hadn’t expected him to still care for her after what happened. She thought it was over, that he was furious with her. She surely missed him as well. He was the one who taught her how to be herself, how to control her power and become the person she was meant to be. Her mother and father loved him, asked to this day how he was doing; where that blond kid went…

Truthfully, Y/N missed Toshinori as well. There wasn’t enough success and money in the world that could make her forget about how she felt for him, how his smile made her entire day brighter and his laugh was angelic in her ears. She missed him so much it hurt. 

Her voice was soft, not knowing how to reply. “Yagi, I have a life here in Japan, though.”

“I know, and I can’t make you leave, but Y/N, if you come with me, I can give you everything. We can start our own hero agency from the ground up.” She bit her lip, trying to think about her options. “I don’t want to do this without you. I want your name up there beside mine, L/N.”

“Yagi-kun-”

“Please.”

“You can’t just expect me to make this life-altering decision in a couple minutes! We haven’t spoken in years, and you want me to drop everything and go be with you? I really don’t know what to do here.”

“I know, my new friend told me you would say that. He thinks he knows women…” he mumbled. “Y/N, for those years we had together, you were my whole world. I’ve been so lost without you by my side. When I left, I was devastated, but it was Gran Torino’s order that I leave. I needed to train somewhere safe, and if that meant leaving everything I ever knew, that’s what I had to do. But you have never left my mind. You are my biggest regret, Y/N. If we weren’t so young, I would have asked you to come with me right then.”

“Why did you leave me in the first place? Why would Gran Torino want you to run away like that? I just don’t get it.”

“It’s a long story, but basically I’m a threat to All For One and that means I have a target on my head. I’m safe here, and I’ve trained harder than ever to protect the world and those I care about.”

“Okay. Why does he want you so badly? What makes you special? Like, I know you’re powerful and all, but-”

“I really can’t talk about it over the phone, but I promise I will tell you everything if you come to California.”

“Are you sure this is a good idea? You’re serious?”

“More than I’ve ever been.” He paused, and she felt a soft smile coming onto her lips. Hearing his voice, imagining his face talking on the other end, it made her happier than she’d felt in those two empty years. “Y/N, I meant it back then when I said I loved you. You’re the most extraordinary woman I’ve ever met.”

Maybe it was crazy to just up and leave her home and everything she knew in Japan. But what kind of life is it to live wishing you’d gone back and took that chance, been with the person who made you feel alive, made you feel something, anything other than numb and bored and lonely and broken to shreds from the cruelty of the world. 

“Okay.”

God, she couldn’t believe she could be so impulsive, much less over some boy. It had been years, she didn’t think she loved him anymore. It would be ridiculous to stay hung up on some guy she knew in high school. She was doing this as friends only, friends with business related benefits.

And so she would turn on her lights and start to pack away her belongings and change her entire life

________________________________________ 

The weirdest part was definitely seeing everything around her written in English, and people using their quirks freely in the airport. She walked through the terminal, lugging her heavy suitcase behind her as she walked on American soil for the first time. She couldn’t believe all the amazing quirks around her, none of them particularly powerful, but everyone was free to exercise their gifts anywhere. America was certainly gonna be different from Japan, she realized. 

Maybe it would be harder to adjust than she thought.

Toshinori told her a car would be outside waiting for her, but she hadn’t expected this. A flashy, futuristic red convertible sat beside the curb, and a brunette man in the front seat. 

“Y/N? Y/N L/N, yeah?!” the man shouted, and she hesitantly walked over. She was almost afraid to get near the car; it looked so expensive she might break something. “Hey, Yagi sent me to get you. I’m David.”

“Oh, um, that’s cool. Is this...your car?” 

He laughed. “Yep. It’s still a prototype, but it’s all mine. Thought I’d let you take a ride in it, as a welcome to the States.”

He lifted the trunk just by pressing a button on the dash and she threw in her suitcase, quickly going to sit down so they could get going. She felt bad for holding this man up even a little bit. He didn’t even know her, and he was already giving her a free ride. 

The seat was ginormous, clearly made for bigger people. David looked pretty tall, but even so he seemed a little small in the seat as well. Perhaps this was a car made for heroes of all shapes and sizes, she thought, animal heroes like Orca. 

“All Might has really been dying to see you again. He’s been nervous about it all week since you agreed to come.”

“All Might? So he’s keeping the hero name?”

“Yeah. It really fits him, you know. Just look at him, pretty mighty if you ask me.” When she thought about him, she didn’t really see “mighty”. She knew him in high school, so he’d probably changed. Maybe he got a little more muscle, probably if he’s been working out a lot.. 

“So, David, Toshi’s mentioned you but I’m afraid I don’t know much about you.”

“I’m a scientist, support item designer. In fact, I’ve upgraded All Might’s costume many times. That’s how we met. He saved me, and then I started making him costumes. We attend the same university.”

“Oh. Okay. I guess I should probably tell you a little about me too-”

“I’m gonna be honest, Y/N, I probably know almost everything you’re gonna tell me. Yagi has talked about you quite a few times. He even checks the Japanese news a couple times a week to see how you’re doing with your career, and to make sure you don’t die or anything.”

Her face turned a bright red at the thought of Toshinori continuing to care about her for this long, even after everything that happened. It really made her happy knowing he cared that much, even if it meant that this stranger knew so much about her. “Wow, I had no idea he would still care. That makes me feel good, to be honest.”

“You never forget your first love, you know.”

“I-I know. But we never dated. We were just good friends,” she explained, rubbing the back of her neck with her fingers. They turned down winding streets, flashing lights and people on every sidewalk and at every little store. It felt different, maybe it was because of the country, or maybe because she knew she was close to being with Yagi again. “I mean, I don’t know if he told you about our last time being together. I-I broke his heart.”

“He told me. What you don’t know is that he never resented you for it. He knew what he was doing, and your reaction was completely rational. He told me that he would work hard while he was here so one day you would come back to him. He honestly was more worried about you meeting someone else while he’s here in America than you rejecting him.”

“It’s still not right what I did to him, whether he forgives me or not.”

“Doesn’t matter. That guy loves you. Whether you want to be friends or in a relationship doesn’t matter to him either.”

“Why?”

“Like I said, he loves you. Just being able to protect you is enough to satisfy him.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

He laughed, making a quick turn into a parking garage. Ah, they must be here already. She felt her heart start to race and her hands get a bit clammy. He gave her shoulder a soothing pat, knowing how overwhelmed she must be. “Don’t be nervous.”

She grabbed her bag from the trunk-like compartment and pulled it behind her, entering a glass elevator with her new friend. Floors passed by slowly at first, but as they got closer and closer to floor 10, the one the apartment was on, the elevator seemed to move faster. 

And soon enough they were entering the apartment. 

Immediately, she recognized the smell. It was him. The smell of him had long left the clothes she had of his in her home when he left, so the relief of his scent filling her head once again was nearly intoxicating. She almost didn’t recognize him when he walked into the room. 

Her eyes scanned his body, all the way from the soles of his feet to the spikes in his hair. He was tall and really fucking buff. Like really, really buff. He looked like a giant compared to when she last saw him. “Yagi, you-” Her breath left her body when his gigantic arms circled her body and pressed her to his chest, lifting her nearly a foot off the ground. 

“I’m so glad you decided to come, Y/N.”

“You’re hurting me,” she choked out, feeling the breath leaving her lungs and her chest burn, desperately needing air. His hugs were never this intense, and before she could actually wrap her arms around him, but now she could barely meet fingertips. He was quick to set her on the ground, a look of concern in his eyes. “You’re a lot different since you left.”

“I’ve been training super hard so I can become the symbol of Peace this world needs.”

“Seems the hard work is paying off. You’re literally a giant.”

“Well, you look great as always,” he smiled. “Confidence still looks good on you.”

Her face lit up with heat at his compliment, and she nodded in reply, too choked up to say anything else. It had been so long, but he could still make her feel butterflies in her stomach. This was her life now, a life with Toshinori. Maybe she was blinded by love still, and this was all such a stupid idea...but she knew that as long as she was with Yagi, everything would be okay.

They loved each other, and that’s all they would need to make it.

________________________________________

Y/N huffed, kneeling on the ground after a particularly nasty fight with a few villains. Toshinori fought beside her and took out a few of the criminals while she took care of the rest. Her body felt hot all over, but there were no burns anymore. Overtime, she had perfected damage control. 

Even with blood covering her hands and splattered on her clothing, Toshinori still thought she was the most beautiful woman to ever exist, the most beautiful thing in the entire world. To him, she was perfect. She was strong, brave, and kind. She gave him a second chance after he left her, and he would never forget that kindness. She came to build a life with him, only relying on sheer faith to guide them. 

God, he loved her so much.

“Good job, Y/N.”

“Ha, it wouldn’t have been so easy were we not the dream team,” she sighed, wiping a bit of dust and dirt from her eyes. She accepted his hand to help her from the ground. “Let’s get home. We’ve done enough today and my legs are getting kinda shaky.”

“Well, then let me carry you, my precious Y/N,” he suggested, bending down so she could climb into his ginormous arms. She shook her head, her eyes going wide. He was always offering nice things like this, but carrying her was ridiculously courteous. “But why? To me, you weigh basically nothing.”

“That’s not the point,” she scolded him, “It’s embarrassing. I’m a grown woman who can walk by herself.”

He nodded sadly, disappointed he wasn’t going to hold her in his arms any time soon. He remembered their first meeting when he carried her to the nurse's office. Back then, she really didn’t need to be carried either, yet he felt happiness pump through him when she was tucked against him. 

He shrugged awkwardly, his eyes flickering to her and then back at the building beside them. “Can I hug you then?”

She laughed, opening her arms for the man to walk into. He lifted her a bit off the ground so her head could rest on his shoulder. He buried his nose into her hair, which undeniably smelt like dirt and smoke from the fight earlier. “You love hugs, don’t you, Yagi?”

“Only from you, my princess.”

When he let her down, he noticed that she wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Why do you always call me such sweet things? All I ever call you is your name,” she asked, rubbing the back of her neck nervously. 

“Because that’s how I feel about you. You are my whole world, you know.”

“I know, just the nicknames always make me feel so, well, I don’t know...gushy inside or some shit.”

“I should always make you feel ‘gushy inside’. I am your one true love, after all,” the man laughed, taking the girl’s small hand into his. She nodded, her face heating up at the thought. He was her true love. She’d never felt so strongly for anyone in her whole life, and doubted she ever could. He was her everything as well. Ever since they met, she knew he was the one for her, the kindest and bravest soul to ever walk the planet. 

As she looked at him, his beaming smile radiated an energy she couldn’t explain. It was just so bright and hopeful. She felt safer than ever with him, and he made her feel stronger. His bravery rubbed off on her, and made her a better hero. She got to where she was because of him, because he helped her in second year, because of his kindness. He was a rare breed, that man, and she loved him positively and forever for it.

“Yagi-kun, you make me fall deeper in love with you every day. You really, truly do.”

His heart filled with love for her every time she spoke, and he felt like he might explode with affection. He wanted her to be with him until they grew old, and he and David were preparing for this moment for a long time. She was the love of his life, the woman he was destined to be with. He couldn’t risk letting her go ever again.

“I was waiting for a more opportune moment, but I can’t wait anymore. I’m too excited,” the man chuckled. He reached down to his belt and slipped a ring out of one of the pockets. He knew she didn’t want him to make a huge scene of it, them being pros would cause a lot of media attention. He simply smiled sweetly and held out the glimmering stone. “Wanna get married? David is ordained,” he asked boldly, a bit of red dusting his cheeks as well.

“Yagi...oh my god.” Her eyes stared down at the simple ring held out to her. “Yes, of course. I-I just wasn’t expecting this.” He lifted the hand he held and slipped the ring on her finger, letting her get a good look of it on her hand. It only made her love the ring even more. It was perfect for her, and she knew Toshinori picked it out with pure love in his mind.

He nodded gently, his eyes filling with pure bliss seeing her so happy. “I’ll never let you down, Y./N. you’ll never have to worry as long as you’re with me.”

“Yagi, thank you.”

They went home together and from that day on, they built onto their lives together until the bitter end. Being a hero was hard work, risky work as well. As long as they had each other, all of that was worth it

#all might x reader #all might one shot #all might imagine #all might #toshinori yagi x you #toshinori yagi x reader #toshinori one shot #bnha x reader #bnha oneshot #bnha imagines #mha one shot #mha x reader #mha #bnha #before you go #part two #x reader #boku no hero academia #boku no hero academia x reader #my hero academia

[gypsydanger01]

THE STORM - Part eleven

Fandom: The Boys (Amazon prime tv series)

Pairing: Black Noir x OC

Disclaimer: I don’t own The Boys, only my OC characters and certain pieces of au plot.

Comments, reviews, constructive criticism, and other requests are always more than welcome!

  Posting new chapters on Wednesday and Friday!

 Mallory

The following day started out cloudy but ultimately turned out to be a lovely day. Unfortunately, though, the pale sun in the sky gave little warmth, and Sarah trudged on towards the local park, hands stuffed in the pockets of her coat.

Waking up in a fairly good mood, she decided to go for a walk, and maybe make a trip to the local park. Children’s laughter grew louder and louder until she turned the corner, and there it was. To be honest, it wasn’t much of a park, run down and covered in graffiti, but children are quick to move past that. All that mattered to them was playing, running around, and having fun.

Sarah looked away and sat on a bench, legs crossed one over the other. She checked the time and flipped open the burner phone she kept for contacting Mallory. After five minutes, at precisely eleven o’clock, she selected the only registered number and called.

“Mommy, mommy, look—look at me, mommy,” a little girl called from the swings, her mother smiling and assuring that she, indeed, could see her.

It reminded Sarah so much of her younger self calling out to her mother, and it hurt. She'd visited the playground they used to go to before the Vought trials, but it had become abandoned, all grass and rusty edges. It was sad how it'd been left behind.

She waited for the other end to pick up.

“Hello?” a voice called out, and Sarah smiled lightly.

She paused and breathed out, “Hey Mal, how are you doing?”

Mallory chuckled on the other end, “Well these knees aren’t what they used to be, but I’m okay,” Sarah heard her plop onto the sofa, “More importantly, how are you?”

Sarah ran a hand through the curly tresses that had been blown into her face.

“I guess it’s decent, can’t really complain. I’m still working as a data analyst for the labs, in bioinformatics…,” she trailed off. “But I heard a slot is opening up for a researcher in the developmental biology labs, so I’m going to try and see if they’ll hire me.”

“Please, Sarah—just be careful, keep your eyes open,” she murmured, “always vigilant, alright?”

The young woman stared out at the children crawling over the playground’s castle, tumbling down the slides, running after each other and laughing out of pure, innocent joy.

“Where are you?”

“Neighborhood playground.”

“I thought I heard children. How’s school?”

“Well, actually well, I’ll be finished with my post doc soon enough. They hired me as an assistant professor a couple days ago, I’m teaching a microbiology class for some juniors.”

“That sounds interesting, it would be entertaining to see you teach. You’re a mix of patient and impatient—don’t really know what that would look like in the classroom.”

Sarah snorted lightly, “Fortunately, they seem to be good listeners, quiet and respectful—I don’t know what I’d do if they were a bunch of little arrogant rich kids.”

Mallory too started laughing, thinking back on the young woman’s training. She was proficient in using a great number of weapons and could easily hold her own without one. In an interrogation room, she was skillful in psychologically manipulating a suspect into confessing or giving up information. She spoke multiple languages and was a natural at reading body-language. She had a good eye for meaningful details that are often overlooked. She was the perfect field agent. Mallory had a hard time seeing her as a professor, calmly explaining a powerpoint to a bunch of students.

“I guess it’ll help you further develop that patience of yours,” Mallory surmised.

Sarah couldn’t help but agree.

“Hey, Mallory?” she asked tentatively.

The older woman stilled on the couch, “Yes dear?”

“Do you remember Dr. Roberts? The doctor I saw for my…” she trailed off, searching for a better word, “for my health problems?”

Mallory pursed her lips and stayed silent on the other end.

“I need to contact him—”

Mallory cut in, “What happened? Do you need to come home?”

Worry laced in her voice, the older woman couldn’t help the string of worst scenarios playing in her head. She knew the danger correlated with the young woman’s plan and felt helpless in being left out. If anything happened to the girl, she wouldn’t be able to live with herself.

 When the dust finally settled, there was nothing left but a crater and a little girl lying amid the smoke and ashes. That’s how they found her: curled in a ball, shivering with her skin covered in soot.

When the perimeter was deemed safe enough, Mallory and a team of experts approached the figure. Alive, yet on the brink of death, the little girl had slipped into a coma, and they were quick to have her internalized in a secured section of a local hospital. Only Mallory and few others had the security clearance to access the small room that held her.

Months passed and the room stayed quiet. Mallory went to gather updates from the doctors once a week. At the CIA they had many hypothesis but couldn’t seem to put together the disaster that had been the implosion of that Vought clinic. She had her underlying suspicions and didn’t trust the little girl who had survived. She had to be enhanced, she had to be a supe. There was no other explanation, no other alternative. And yet, she was the only link that would allow them to piece together the accident. The news had presented it as an explosion due to an accidental chemical explosion, but Mallory knew they were far from the truth.

It was an experimental factory for building little supes. And evidently, it had worked.

The proof of that was the little unknown girl lying in her white, pristine cot.

Mallory would look at her with detachment, knowing the child was probably a victim, and yet not feeling any remorse. She had leveled an entire building.

But then one day, as she watched a nurse report her vitals while tucking the little girl in, she opened her eyes. Afraid and trembling, she looked around wildly and fixated on the woman standing at the door.

With her height and professional attire, she was the epitome of rigidness. Blonde hair perfectly pinned back into a bun. Sharp light blue eyes guarded and alert. The two stared at each other, both with underlying dread and a sliver of fear.

And then something twisted in Mallory. Maybe it was the blatant fear in the young girls’ eyes, or maybe it was the innocent tears trailing down her cheeks.

“Where’s my mommy?”

Mallory moved forward, compelled by some unknown force.

She sat at the girl’s side, “She’s not here at the moment, okay?” she explained softly, tension visible in her rigid shoulders. She had no idea what the little one was capable of, and she didn’t want to find out.

The nurse gently took a hold of her bony wrist, taking her vitals once again. “How are you feeling?”

The little girl wiped at her face, “Sleepy.”

“Okay, and can you tell us your name sweetie?”

She looked up at the strict woman beside her, “Marianna,” she said matter-of-factly before adding, “my mommy calls me Mari.”

As the minutes passed, Mari seemed to grow livelier and more awake, her skin less pale and clammy than before.

The nurse pressed a button on the side of the bed, calling the assigned physician, Dr. Roberts.

“Marianna, I’m going to have to get a little bit of blood so we can have it tested and make sure you’re okay. Is that alright?”

The girl pulled her legs into a crisscrossed position and shrugged her shoulders.

“Okay,” she answered as if it were the most normal thing in the world. The nurse hurried to prepare the syringe and test tube, comparing her to the hundreds of kids who cry and scream in vicinity of a needle.

Marianna watched her sterilize the needle, then looked back at Mallory.

“Can I hold your hand?”

Mallory was left speechless and felt like she should distance herself before growing attached. Nevertheless, she nodded and let Marianna’s small fingers grip her own.

 “Mallory?” Sarah called into the phone, suddenly worried.

The woman was brought out of her memories and focused on the task at hand.

“Why are you bringing this up now? I haven’t heard from Dr. Roberts in years.”

Sarah explained, reciting the story she’d come up with, “I know but I have some samples I took that need to be tested,” she explained. “Discreetly,” she stressed.

Mallory thought about it and let go of the tension in her shoulders, “Alright, I thought something happened with you.”

Sarah felt terrible for lying but couldn’t see any alternative. “No, I’m doing alright, I just need to contact him for these samples. I don’t know anyone else who would do it. And he’s trustworthy.”

Mallory nodded to herself, “Alright, I’ll look for his number and email—I’ll send you the info by tonight.”

“Great, thanks Mal.”

Mallory laughed lightly, “Please, you won’t let me get involved, this is the least I can do.”

They chatted for a few more minutes before saying their goodbyes with the usual promise of talking at the same time next Sunday.

Sarah stayed seated on the park bench for a little while longer, trying her best to recall details on Dr. Roberts. She’d met him only a few times at the hospital after she had woken up from the coma.

 Mallory was seated on the edge of her cot, answering Marianna’s flood of questions. Mostly, she tried to avoid answering questions about her parents. Mallory’s heart squeezed tight every time the little one inquired about their whereabouts, and why they hadn’t still been to see her.

They were waiting for word on her final results, and when Dr. Roberts finally entered, they both fell silent.

“Good morning everyone,” he greeted, lively energy in his movements, “how are you doing today, Marianna?”

The little girl looked at Mallory and answered shyly, “M’okay”

“That sounds great,” he smiled, “I have your test results here and everything is looking good. Great, actually.”

He further explained certain details and made sure to indicate what medications she would need to take over the next few weeks.

Finally, he rose and excused himself to speak with Mallory. In the meantime, the little girl put on the clothes the woman had brought for her.

“She’s really doing fine, she must have some regenerative enhancement as well, because she’s healthier than what she should be.”

“And will the other enhancement manifest?”

“I don’t think so. It seems like it’s linked to the amygdala—the center for processing fear, stress, anxiety, and the likes—" he paused. “The accident took its toll, I think. And when she’ll remember, or you tell her, I think it’s going to effectively shut that part of her down.” He thought about it and added, “Think of it as an emotional wall.”

Mallory nodded, processing the information. The little one might have a chance at a semi-normal life.

“Just follow the instructions on the papers I gave you and you all should be fine. She just needs to be looked after and cared for. It’s going to be a shock when she finds out.”

Mallory agreed and her chest squeezed at the thought of the pain the girl would go through.

She thanked the doctor and headed back into the room.

“Are you ready to go, sweetie?”

She watched the little one scramble off the bed in fresh clothes, a small light blue backpack on her shoulders. It contained some items Mallory had brought her over the course of her stay at the clinic. There was a comb for her unruly hair, chap-stick, some crayons, and a small notebook.

“You remember what we talked about?”

The little girl nodded, “My name is Sarah now.”

Mallory smiled, her usually frigid expression melting away. She reminded her of her grandchildren at home.

“Come on, let’s go meet your new friends.”

Marianna, now officially named Sarah Burns, skipped along with her down a hallway and out of the building. As she climbed into the back of her car, Mallory scanned the premises for any watchful eyes. She slipped into the driver’s seat before looking back at Sarah.

“I was almost forgetting—I got you something,” she said reaching into her jacket pocket.

Sarah’s eyes widened at the Snickers bar she extracted. The little girl laughed and clapped her hands.

 Sarah was pulled back into the present as a little girl ran past her—she felt the movement of air in waves. The woman stood and took her leave, heading back home.

MASTERLIST

Tag list: @ateliefloresdaprimaveraa @ellejo @dust-bun @coco724  @proximio-5 @damiminator @omegahighendpro @rpgluvr95 @sweetrabbitteamx

#the boys #the boys tv #black noir #the boys amazon #fanfiction #the boys season 2 #oc story #black noir x oc

[goldeneyedgirl]

JaliceWeek21: Day 8 - Powerswap: Variable Stars 1/3

This is the LAST PROMPT. And such a good one, and I was just... stuck. And it’s only half done, but I thought I’d start posting it now to motivate me. 

This started out as a joke and grew feelings and logic and ugh.  

I hope you enjoy it, and I’ll do a round-up of everything I wrote once it’s finished <3

variable stars.

mary alice brandon. 

What did you think would happen?

The panic is an animal scrambling to get out, pushing against her chest and her throat. She tries not to cry, but she’s shaking and she’s heard the screams that comes out of the room at the end of the hall. 

Her face aches, where the orderly hit her to get her to move faster. She’s ice cold - it might be winter, she’s lost track of time - but other than the ugly brown sweater she’s been given, the one that hangs to her knees because nothing fits her right.

“Please,” she asks in a thin voice. When she was little, she had had a lisp. Her mother had called it ‘darling’, but her father wanted her to speak properly. And when she couldn’t, it was better she stayed quiet. She out-grew it eventually, but sometimes, when she’s tired or frightened, she can hear the ghost of it - another part of her old self that haunts her. 

(She remembers her mama wasting away, lying on the chaise in the sitting room, looking like she was fading away. She’d sing and cuddle the new baby, but Mary Alice got a kiss on the forehead and an apology, “I’m so sorry, my darling. I’m so, so sorry.” She used to think that the apology was for dying and leaving Alice alone without a mother. She knows better now.)

They march her into the room, badly lit and tiny. She is stripped of her sweater and helped roughly onto the bed, with the tight sheet and the rubber rest for her head. The doctor looks at her like a dead thing, and her breathing speeds up. She tries to twist the hem of her clothing in her hands but they are quickly pinned and strapped to the bed, her ankles too (the straps are loose, she’s too small for this bed). 

A hunk of greasy rubber is shoved into her mouth so far she nearly chokes; the taste of it is rancid and nausea swirls as she feels the indentations of other teeth, other mouths. She feels like she’s going to faint, everything is so blurry. But there’s a slap to her face and something is fitted around her head and no one has spoken to her, acknowledged her or explained. 

She’s never been so frightened in her life. She’s shaking and the nurse stares down at her with a bored expression on her face, and there’s three blood drops on the woman’s uniform. 

One, two, three. 

And Mary-Alice Brandon screams. 

—

(She was thirteen years old. A ward of the state. A hopeless case. The perfect little guinea pig for the experimental new treatment. Much more efficient than chasing a screaming child around, to force the Metrazol down her throat.)

(They should have waited until she was older, of course. But the doctor’s ego and arrogance were too much, made him too impatient to wait. It wasn’t so much that the future changed - it did, of course - but that the girl who was little Mary-Alice was altered, irreversibly and forever. And that made all the difference.)

—

Three. Three becomes her number. 

It took three men to drag her from home in the dead of night (one broke her arm. How pleased her father must have been that they were in such a large house where there were no close neighbours to hear her screams.) 

She was thirteen - one-three - when they first push electricity into her poor brain. (Unlucky Mary-Alice.)

She gets three shots, morning and night, bruises blooming like ink in water. (They made her head swim and the world soft. They make her stomach twist and her bones ache. They make her words slow and run together. They steal all of her away.)

She has three different orderlies - the one that twitches and is cold as ice (he doesn’t hit her); the one that calls her names and threatens her (he hits and slaps and pushes her); and the one that comes in to her cell at night (he touches her too much, and is always the one that takes her to the bath.) 

Three times a week, she’s marched to the door at the end of the hall and they hook her into the machine and they look at her like she’s something wrong and foul. (She screams and cries and vomits and wets herself. She breaks an ankle because the loops are too loose and she thrashes. They were never fitted to hold a child down.) 

She starts looking for threes. She’s broken two bones, she needs to break another. She sees two doctors who shake their heads and write down notes, and she wonders when they’ll bring in a third. She counts the bites of her food to keep them down, curdled and sour in her belly. She counts her steps everywhere she goes, counts the slaps and pinches and shoves they give her. 

Three, three, three. 

—

The fizz and pop of the machine steals things. It takes her awhile to realise that. At first, it was just time; hours vanish like smoke. Then it was words - she stammers and mumbles and slurs. Then it was memories, what happened before the room.

Then it’s her family, her mother’s face vanishing and her sister’s laughter fading. 

(Someone said sorry to her a long time ago. It doesn’t soothe the hurt.)

Then it’s her full name. Mary-Alice Brandon. Mary-Alice.

Mary. 

Alice. 

(She doesn’t answer to Alice, only to Mary.) 

Then it’s her vision. It goes blurry and dark around the edges, and even when she wakes up in her cot, it doesn’t go away. When she tells someone, they huff and shrug and dismiss it - it stops the pictures in her brain so it is worth giving up her sight. 

They call her schizophrenic, a word that sounds like static, and a lot of other things. She hasn’t mentioned the visions in a long time; what good are they when she is locked up in cell? When she is convulsing in pain and forgetting everything she ever loved, and shivering in the dark? 

(She learns to live without her sight. She relies on her visions sometimes, but mostly, herself. Fingers tracing walls, feet gingerly testing out uneven floor. They let her stumble, and mutter about her blank, cloudy stare. A doctor does examine her eyes, but there is nothing to be done. Perhaps they can prevent this happening to another patient, but for Mary-Alice Brandon, it’s just unfortunate.)

It steals everything except fear. It feeds the fear well, and she knows she’s going to die in this place, hollowed out so that the fear can fill her up. She can see the graves from the window of the laundry, where other patients have died. She has no illusions; those are the dead from the other wards. People who might have gotten to go home again, people who get to eat in a dining room, and take pills instead of shots, who knit for the soldiers and write letters to their loved ones.  

People from the basement ward go on to their next life via the boiler room. She knows the stench of that intimately. 

(Three people come to the hospital one day - a man, a woman, and a child; the day between her sessions. They are very important because she gets an extra bath and clean clothes, and the orderly brings her in a wheelchair. She cannot see them properly, just shadows and shapes in her gaze. The doctor makes them sit behind her as she answers questions and gives her puzzles to solve. She doesn’t know much, and she can’t get her hands to move properly or stop shaking. The man behind her keeps telling the doctor how ‘good’ it is, and she has a grim feeling her failure pleases him.) 

(She’s going to die here, and end up being swept away with a broom.)

—

Three years. 

It takes three years for them to break her, to curdle the fear in her heart to rage. To let hate swell in her heart. She fights back sometimes, learns to bite and scratch. 

(They break her other arm, and there’s the third broken bone. That’s just fine with her, the heavy plaster cast makes a lovely noise against the face of the orderly who won’t stop touching her.) 

She spits and swears and tells everyone the truth. A husband will die, a wife will run away. A child will drown. Debt, loss, prison, she spits her fortunes out with relish, and there are more shots and more slaps, but she doesn’t care.

(She fights like a feral cat when they take her to the room now, fights away from the pain of the device lighting up her brain. It can do nothing more for her, she knows that, than it already has and now they are just using it to cook her brain a little more, until she is soft and pliable like their other victims. She won’t go down like that, won’t let them make her into those people. She gets a few good hits in, and she’s sure they make the machine hurt her worse.)

The cold orderly is the only one who can manage her these days, and she is grateful when she becomes his problem. No more touching, no more hitting. He talks to her in a low, calm voice - “I cannot stop them or any of this yet, little one. But I can try to stop the worst of it.”

She lets him help. She is quiet and docile when he escorts her places. She takes her medications and does as she’s bid and it works, a little. She cannot escape the room at the end of the hallway, cannot stop all the slaps, but some of her bruises get to heal. 

(When the cold sets in, he brings her clothes warm from the laundry; he smuggles her mugs of weak tea in tin cups, and swaps rancid porridge for an extra bit of stale bread on her tray. He lies to the doctors that she was ill, and unfit for her ice bath. He makes things a little better for her. In her dreams, she thinks about him falling in love with her, taking her away and marrying her. She doesn’t love him, but she sees her freedom in his kindness, and there are far worse ways to live than quietly married to such a man. If she ever had dreams for her life, the machine has eaten them all away and that’s comforting, because she would hate to realise how far she’s fallen.)

The shock therapy still demands its pound of flesh, and her memory gets worse. He writes her name in big black letters on the wall next to her pillow, but she certainly cannot see it to read it. So he carefully chips it into the wall, where her fingers can feel out the letters.

Mary-Alice. Mary-Alice. She is Mary-Alice.

(Sometimes he reads her things from her file. She’s sixteen years old. She’s from Biloxi, Mississippi. She is a ward of the state with no family - her surname is redacted in the earliest papers, and she is referred to as Miss Smith in all the later ones. She became blind when she was fourteen and a half. She is in the hospital for a laundry list of conditions that are, according to her doctors, incurable. 

She has been here since she was twelve.)

The rage finds a good home inside of her. It wraps around the grief and fear, and it is comforting in a new way. It lays roots to remake her into something else, something she might be, could be. Nothing better nor worse.

Just different.

—

It all goes wrong on a Wednesday. She knows it is a Wednesday because it is a treatment day. It is also bath day, and the day the priest comes round to pray at their doors, too cowardly to venture closer to the insane, the stricken as if they are contagious or tainted, somehow. 

(There are few in the basement that are truly terrible. They struggle and fight because of their fear of the pain, of the suffering, not for any other reason. Most of the patients are soft and dull, drugged and crippled into quiet obedience. There is no reason to fear them, truly. They’re all half-dead, anyway.)

It’s also a dreadful day because her orderly is not here, and they’ve been forced to deal with her alone. Her head rings from the hits she took, her shoulder aching. Her throat is sore and her stomach is churning and she is sick of hearing how God will forgive her and welcome her into His house. She has done nothing that requires forgiveness, her orderly assured her of that.

(She cannot remember his name, no matter how many times he tells her. He tells her it is okay. She will remember one day.)

“Shut up!” she finally screams at the priest, who is hidden in the hallway with his Bible and his sermon. “There is no God!” She means to say ‘here’, in this place, where an orderly held her under the water of her bath this morning to punish her, as she thrashed and struggled. Her chest still aches and she wishes she had drowned. She screams it over and over again, hot tears on her cheeks as her brain and mouth stutter and struggle to get the words out as she means them. 

“God is dead (here)!”

“G-God is dead!”

“God dead!”

She can’t get it right, can’t untangle her words and thoughts to make sense and the frustration and weakness makes her cry harder, makes the words harder. 

It’s the wrong thing to say anyhow, because then another orderly comes, and the priest is yelling at her, condemning her and then there are two nurses and a doctor and she gets to go to her standing appointment early because she’s behaving so badly, her arms bent behind her so she has to hunch over. The priest makes the sign of the cross over her and she spits and screams when one of the nurses slaps her.

(God is dead and so is logic. She never understood why they bathed her before they shocked her; she almost always wets herself, bites through her lip, or gets a nose bleed. She is always a reeking mess afterwards, and they act like they haven’t set her up for failure.) 

She’s hurled on the bed, and held down, and the doctor holds her jaw so tight she knows there will be finger prints on her cheeks. 

“We may have to increase your treatments, Mary, if you do not remember your manners,” he says, a cool and arrogant voice washing over her - he is just a wobbly shadow in her corrupted gaze. 

She manages to spit on him, sort of, and he slaps her too, and jams the rubber mouth guard into her mouth, holding it there and forcing her to choke. She writhes and kicks and no one has tied her down yet. 

They manage to restrain her, and she can feel the doctor’s pleasure as he pulls the lever and the pain…

… it is a wild thing, roaring through her like a fire. It burns like a fire too, and sinks into her brain, her bones, her mind and soul. It cripples her and changes her. It rattles around in her and all she can think is that one day she will hurt this doctor, hurt these people just as bad. She will burn the doctor to blistered flesh, to ragged charcoal, to see how fair and fine such treatment is. She has survived so long with this experimental treatment, with having different voltages, different wires and placements and techniques, without any gratitude or assurance. 

Just the never-ending rolling pain and fear. 

(And she opens her arms and her heart to that anger, that righteous fury, the power, and the creeping fear. It nestles deep and close, finally and indelibly rewrites Mary-Alice and what she will become.)

—

Her speech is nearly gone after. She slurs and mumbles and doesn’t get up off of her cot. It’s over for her, the last flicker of herself realises. They move her around like a marionette; she is just a bunch of loose limbs and dead eyes. They stick her with needles and smile at her, satisfied that she’s finally broken and docile. 

(One step closer to the boiler in the basement.)

They watch her body arch in pain at the shock of an ice bath, watch her twitch and shake with another seizure, ones that have made her their home over the last few years. But these are getting worse, and sometimes there are only minutes before the next one wracks through her. 

(They hurt her, make her body ache worse and her mouth taste like blood.)

Her cold orderly has returned, and he is still kind. He keeps her clean and warm, patiently feeds her dainty bites of inedible food. He talks to her and comforts her. When he thinks she is asleep, he tells her how unforgivable the state in which she lives is; that this was cruel and pointless, and she deserves so much better, so much more. He tells her of gardens and oceans, castles and beaches. He brings a flower, a leaf, some slightly greasy sheep’s wool that he guides her hands over so that she can remember good things. 

(She dreams of a boy offering her a flower; it’s white.)

It’s only after she dreams of the man with the red eyes that she tries to talk again. She sees the man with ruby eyes, his mouth smeared scarlet. She hears screaming, desperate screaming and babbling, and then nothing. She sees her own body, her throat torn to meat, laid out in the surgical room in front of frowning doctors. They mutter and murmur and try to translate the mess of her throat, her broken legs, her cracked and torn nails, the three broken vertebrae. 

Her nudity upon her discovery. 

(Of course, it’s easy to say that the girl was insane, escaping and discarding her clothing getting attacked by wild animals - perhaps she fell, broke her legs and her back and that’s when the animals arrived on the hunt. Anyhow, it truly doesn’t matter. The girl is really a woman, and has been a ward of the state so long that only the very oldest workers recall her full name. She is wrapped up and sent to the basement, nothing more than a footnote in the day’s happenings.)

She wakes up panicking, and the nurses do not like her noise, and so they have extra shots for her, a straitjacket and a stern lecture. She gasps and croaks and tries to explain. 

The cold orderly is there, trying to protect her from the rough treatment but disguised as trying to wrangle her. She tries to tell him, tries to explain there’s a hunter in their midst, a hunter coming for her to start with and maybe others but her head and tongue are muddled, so it just comes out as croaks of, “Red man, red man, red man.”

The shots pierce her flesh and she wails like a child because she doesn’t want to die like that. 

Doesn’t want to die. 

(She just wants to live. Just once. Just for a little while.)

—

The orderly is no fool. 

But neither is the hunter. 

The future ripples and changes once more.

—

Down south, amongst the dust and blood of the Wars, a soldier goes rogue, a Major deserts, and the Lady of Monterrey rages. 

Up north, a family packs their things, ready to move on. Again. 

And in the mud and mire of Mississippi, the girl who was supposed to be Alice Cullen stares dead-eyed into the stars as the venom creeps through her, changing her fate once and forever. 

#jaliceweek #alice cullen #jasper hale #jalice #twilight fic #twilight renaissance #alicexjasper #my fic: variable stars #romance #angst #drama #AU #Alice loses her visions #and gains something else...

[taste-in-music]

taste-in-music’s Year End Wrap-Up

Hello everybody! We’ve finally reached the end of 2020. While I’m glad to leave this miserable year behind, one of things that undeniably got me through it was the vast amount of awesome music we got. In past years I’ve made favorite album and EP lists, but this time around I’m going to tackle them all in one go, giving reviews on the projects that had some significances to me over the course of the year. I’m going to make a post for my favorite songs too, so keep an eye out for that in coming days. Now, without further ado, let’s get started, shall we?

folklore by Taylor Swift: This was an incredible year of growth for Taylor Swift. As much as I’ve enjoyed her past music, the way she constantly felt the need to address what people thought of her always irked me, (though after watching her documentary, I do understand why she did it.) It wasn’t Taylor Swift the public persona that was most interesting, I thought. It was Taylor Swift the artist, the songwriter, the storyteller. What I wanted was an album focused on that. This year, I got one, (well... more on that later,) and it’s my favorite project she’s ever done. The tales Swift spins on folklore span across love triangles, heiresses, and battlefields, and she nails each and every one. While the chilly indie-folk influence from the likes of Aaron Dessner and Justin Vernon is prominent, Swift’s warmth and charisma always cuts through the fog like a beam of sunlight. So yeah, this is my undeniable album of the year.

Fetch The Bolt Cutters by Fiona Apple: I only started listening to Fiona Apple last year and had thoroughly enjoyed her music, but this album cemented her as one of my favorite songwriters and performers of all time. Everything about Fetch The Bolt Cutters is so idiosyncratic yet fits together in just the right way, like watching an entire house being dropped from the sky and falling perfectly into place. It is a testament to the creative process, emotional honesty, and breaking free from all the cages you may find yourself in, whether they be societal, personal, or those of your own making. And in a year that was so isolating, it felt like Apple was whispering everything I needed to hear right into my ear, just when I needed it. In short, my boltcutters have been motherfucking fetched. 

Punisher by Phoebe Bridgers: When Punisher was announced, I had no clue how Phoebe Bridgers would match the quality of Stranger In The Alps. Upon first listen, I wasn’t sure she had. By the fifteenth time I was listening to this album and every lyric was hitting like Cupid’s arrow to the jugular, I knew she’d surpassed it. Punisher presents a sonic scope that both comforts and crushes all at once, like with the upbeat yet mournful horns on “Kyoto” or the cathartic swell on standout “I Know The End.” In my opinion, Bridgers is one of the greatest songwriters of our generation in the making, and I can’t wait to see what the future brings for her. She may know the end, but she’s far from it. 

SAWAYAMA by Rina Sawayama: This is the album I see becoming a new shorthand for the true potential of pop excellence, a cult hit that never got its time to shine but is beloved by pop music geeks to the ends of the earth, like EMOTION by Carly Rae Jepsen. SAWAYAMA so effortlessly blends diverse genres and influences like disco, nu metal, and arena rock, and it yet it remains cohesive due to Rina Sawayama’s sheer strength as a performer. She deserves a spot on the pop girlie hierarchy, and one near the top. 

Future Nostalgia by Dua Lipa: I really enjoyed Dua Lipa’s debut album, but even I didn’t expect her to come through with such a fully realized, consistent, downright fantastic follow up. Future Nostalgia is a pop album that feels studied, like Lipa did her research of pop’s past as she made it. The result is an album that synthesizes several different sounds under her vision, one that is always trained ahead, and it simply slaps. In a perfect world, nearly every song on this album got spun off into a hit single. 

evermore by Taylor Swift: 2020 was already my year of listening to Taylor Swift, (I went through her whole discography, cultivated a favorites playlist, and at the end of the year I was in the top 2% of her yearly Spotify listeners.) evermore was a lovely cherry to top it all off. While folklore enchanted me with its stories, evermore captivated me with its melodies. I haven’t been able to get snippets of this album out. of. my. head. for weeks now. It’s a bit less consistent than it’s older sister, (and likely to live in its shadow,) but there is still so much to love. 

I’m Allergic to Dogs! by Remi Wolf: This EP is so much goddamn fun. It’s a blend of many different sounds, indie pop, electronic, maybe hip hop, I think reggae at points? It’s such a colorful, textured, quirky listen bristling with energy and undeniable hooks. “Woo!” conquered my Summer, and months later the bridge of “Photo ID” conquered TikTok. Keep your eye out for Remi Wolf in the coming year, she’s going to make a big splash. 

Good At Being Young by Charli Adams: Good At Being Young was the first EP this year that I could not get enough of. It drifts through dreamy indie-pop sounds, with melancholic guitars and cloudy synths, and Adams has a deep vocal timbre that delivers tales of adolescent tribulations with just the right amount of wistfulness. Overall, it builds the perfect soundscape for a late-night drive.

Cape God by Allie X: Allie X has been keeping us FED with content. It seems like only yesterday that Super Sunset came out, and yet her output remains impressively consistent. This album has impressive highs, some lower moments, but the danceability, duets, and enticing darkness under its shiny pop veneer make it a record you won’t want to skip. 

La vita nuova by Christine and The Queens: Perhaps the biggest flex of 2020 was Christine and The Queens dropping a fantastic EP and accompanying short film right out of the gate. The grooves on this are infectious, wiry, and air-tight, (the Caroline Polachek feature was another added bonus,) but that doesn’t mean there isn’t plenty of emotional weight too. 

Lighter by Donna Missal: This was one of my most anticipated albums of the year, and it’s hard to determine whether it disappointed or not. I think the only thing holding Lighter back is that This Time was such a formative album for me, (my favorite of 2018, to the uninitiated.) In fact, this album flows way better than This Time, more cohesive with its storytelling and more consistent in folk-rock sound. And, of course, Donna Missal’s vocals stun on both the bangers and the ballads. 

SURF by BLACKSTARKIDS: There was no record this year that was more instantly likeable than this one. The blend of low-fi indie pop and hip hop makes for a whirlwind of sunny fun and youthful malaise that would make the perfect soundtrack for a road trip to the beach. Standouts include the opening track “SOUNDS LIKE FUN,” the chill “WIGS,” and blissful title track “MUSIC TO SURF TO.”

The Baby by Samia: I’ve had my eye on Samia since “Milk” dropped years ago. Seeing her live sparked my belief that she was an indie darling in the making, and The Baby confirmed that she definitely was. The lyrics on this album mix quiet contemplation with just enough sardonic wit and raw emotion throughout a varied selection of sunny rock bops and gut wrenching ballads. If you enjoyed Punisher, then I can’t recommend this enough.

Season 2 by Nasty Cherry: Nasty Cherry is a group that I will not stop rooting for. Their EP from last year showed their potential for nailing monster hooks, but this sophomore effort shows just how versatile they can be. This EP covers everything from Dylan Brady produced hyperpop to early-2000s reminiscent pop rock to emotional balladry, and they pull it all off flawlessly. 

A Little Rhythm and a Wicked Feeling by Magdalena Bay: This album became a fast favorite way late in the year, there is such a sweetness to Magdalena Bay’s music that makes it stick in your brain like a piece of blue raspberry bubblegum. This EP is spacey, catchy, and filled with electronic synthpop mastery, with countless catchy hooks that’ll make you feel like drifting and dancing all at once.

Miss Anthropocene by Grimes: The bubblegum bombast of Art Angels fully redefined my taste in pop years ago, so I was fascinated to see how Grimes would follow it up. On Miss Anthropocene, she leans into darker, more industrial textures, but also anchors it back to Earth with acoustic touches and some of her most introspective lyrics to date. Grimes painted a version of a world on the brink of disaster on this album, a picture that was hypnotically beautiful. And in a year where the word was a certified disaster, that was strangely comforting.

Plastic Hearts by Miley Cyrus: I’ve been wanting Miley to go rock for so goddamn long, Plastic Hearts was bound to make this list by pure validation alone. But what can I say? This breed of glossy 80s rock suits Cyrus’s rougher voice so well! I hope she stays in this lane a bit longer, but as we know, she’s one of pop’s most chameleonic figures. Only time will tell. 

Where Does The Devil Hide by Zella Day: I have been patiently awaiting new Zella Day music ever since getting hooked on Kicker back in 2017, so this was one of my most anticipated releases of the year. This EP sounds nothing like Kicker, and I couldn’t be happier. It shows Day leaning even more into her influences from the past, (the 60s/70s vibes are intense with this one,) but also breathing a refreshing new life into them. 

SOUL LADY by Yukika: When I imagine the ideal of pop music, what it would sound like in a perfect world, this is what it sounds like. SOUL LADY is full of pristine, glossy production and catchy hooks that feel like they’ve come down from the clouds. I’ll admit that I can have trouble forming a connection with music when I don’t understand the lyrics, (it’s something I’m working on,) but this album cleared that hurdle with ease. If you’re curious about city pop or K-pop this is a great place to start. 

Heaven Is Without You by Love You Later: Give me lush pop production and heartbroken lyrics finished off with a heaping helping of nostalgia and I’ll eat it up with a spoon. Love You Later has been feeding my addiction to this genre for years, and this latest helping is particularly sweet. 

IN A DREAM by Troye Sivan: Troye Sivan has always supplied the bops, but it was about time that he started experimenting with his sound a little bit more. This EP offers some harder-hitting electronic textures, but also the addictive hooks that’ll keep you coming back for more.

Ungodly Hour by Chloe X Halle: These women are so TALENTED! If there is any word I’d use to describe this album it would be “effortless,” the harmonies, grooves, and chemistry between Chloe and Halle feels so natural and free-flowing. Charisma just rolls off of them in droves, I see full-blown stardom and several Grammys in their future.

Watching You by Robinson: This EP was one of the first on this list to arrive this year, and it still hits months later. Robinson’s confessional lyrics work wonders over the buoyant pop grooves, and “Don’t Say” remains one of the best pop songs of recent years. 

Manic by Halsey: I respect Halsey for dipping her toes into a myriad of different genres, (synth pop, rock, hip hop, and acoustic balladry,) but it does make for a jumbled listening experience. Still, I appreciate that this album features some of Halsey’s strongest tracks and writing to date, offering greater experimentation and emotional imtimacy than album’s past. 

We Don’t Stop by Aly & AJ: Should this count? It’s more a compilation of their past EP and singles... I don’t care, I’m counting it because there’s some new stuff too. This is an excellent display of Aly & AJ’s pop prowess in recent years, the hooks, vocal chemistry, and shimmery production are undeniable. 

Under My Influence by The Aces: The Aces returned in 2020 with a more laid-back, groovier record than their debut, exploring a wider variety of sounds. They’re as magnetic and likeable a group as ever, each member giving it their all, but I think I’ll return to the debut more often. 

Strangers/Lovers by Dagny: I’ve been anticipating a longer Dagny project, as she’s been drip-feeding us singles for a while now. This was a lot of fun, with Dagny pairing her upbeat earnestness with stories of romantic tribulation. While the hooks aren’t as memorable as her past offerings, there is still so much to enjoy. Lead single “Come Over” and “Let Me Cry” are my favorites.

DUALITY by Tatiana Hazel: I came across this via recommendation on Tik Tok and it’s a solid pop record! The music is swooning, synthy, and tinged with disco and Latin influence. The record doesn’t waste a second of its runtime, clocking in at less than half an hour and grooving the whole time.

After Hours by The Weeknd: The sonic palette of After Hours is so engaging, a neon-drenched blend of synthwave, electropop, and R&B. I’ve always felt lukewarm on The Weeknd’s musical persona of brooding, villainous party monster, so the strongest moments on this album tend to be when he subverts that in some way. Still, in full, this album is an undeniable force of smash hits, stadium-shaking ballads, and cinematic flair. I can’t wait for his Super Bowl performance. 

Petrol Bloom by LAUREL: It’s no secret that this year was chock-full of 80s revival albums (there’s what, five others on this list?) LAUREL wasn’t an artist I was expecting to go in that direction after the brooding folk pop of her debut album, but her deeper timbre works great alongside the synthy soundscapes. 

positions by Ariana Grande: I’ve just come to expect that nearly all of Ariana Grande’s albums are going to be growers to me. My first listen to positions was underwhelming, but the songs have grown on me more and more. This album feels like being let in on a giggly, fun slumber party with Grande and her friends. I wouldn’t call this her strongest album by far, and while I tend to prefer when she favors the more powerful parts of her range, (and her enunciations could still use some work,) there is a lot of good material here. 

THE ALBUM by BLACKPINK: We may just have to stan. I checked this out after watching their Netflix documentary, and while this breed of cacophonous, in-your-face electropop isn’t something I can listen to all the time, the hooks and charisma are undeniable. It certainly makes me feel like a bad bitch whenever I’m working out. 

Kid Krow by Conan Gray: Conan Gray burst onto my radar offering dreamy tracks rich with teen malaise and suburban restlessness, and a good amount of that initial appeal carries over onto this album. Kid Krow has both a larger instrumental scope and more stripped-back moments. In the end, it still feels like Gray is finding his voice as an artist, but he's giving up great bops to jam out to as he does.

Petals For Armor by Hayley Williams: Hayley Williams is one of my favorite vocalists, so seeing her venture out for a solo project was exciting. This album offers a mixed bag of danceable jams, emotive moments that showcase Williams’s powerful voice, and a few skips. But overall it showcases Williams’s strength as a performer as she tackles her past with vulnerability and versatility.

Apart by LÉON: Oh, man. This one was kind of disappointing. For context, LÉON’s self-titled debut was my favorite album of last year. This follow-up is by no means bad, but every song on her first album was instantly memorable. This one, not so much. LÉON’s vocals are beautiful, and there are some stand-out tracks, but I don’t see myself returning to this nearly as much. 

Blush by Maya Hawke: Maya Hawke’s Blush was to my 2020 what Tōth’s Practice Magic and Seek Professional Help When Necessary was to my 2019, (and that makes sense, as they’ve collaborated in the past.) This album is so blissful and nonchalant, and Maya Hawke has a gentle, soothing voice that feels wise beyond her years. While the writing isn’t as hard-hitting as, say, the Phoebe Bridgers album, sometimes I just want to listen to something that could rock me off into a dream world. If you like folksy, down-to-earth ballads, you’ve got a solid collection of them right here. 

Dedicated Side B by Carly Rae Jepsen: Of course Queen Carly would pull through with B-sides for Dedicated, did we expect anything less? Jepsen’s brand of controlled yet carefree shimmery poptimism drenched in 80s nostalgia that never fails to put me in a good mood. This album has some lusher, more tropical instrumentation than Dedicated proper, but works great alongside it.

Missing Person by Kelsy Karter: To the Plastic Hearts fans out there, your homework now is to give this record a listen. This rock album presents pop hooks, but a lot of reckless rock fun too. Kelsy Karter has so much irresistible swagger and carefree spirit as a performer, speeding through the emotional highs and lows like she’s burning rubber in a cherry red Cadillac. 

how i’m feeling now by Charli XCX: I’ll admit, this album was a bit abrasive to me on first listen. But tracks like “anthems” and “forever” made me return, and it’s a huge grower. If you listen closely, you’ll find the sugary-sweet hooks and relatable sentiments nestled deep in the crunchy hyperpop textures, begging to be discovered and eventually loved. 

Jaguar by Victoria Monét: If you enjoyed positions, then check out the debut from one of that album’s most prominent co-writers. Jaguar’s concise collection of silky R&B slow-burners show that Victoria Monet’s is a superstar in her own right. 

Some great albums I listened to that didn’t come out this year: Blue by Joni Mitchell, BLACKPINK IN YOUR AREA by BLACKPINK, I Need to Start a Garden by Haley Heynderickx, Plastic Beach by Gorillaz, Out in the Storm by Waxahatchee, 7 by Beach House, Dummy by Portishead, Lovers Fevers by Babygirl, and Red by Taylor Swift. 

Whether you liked, reblogged, or commented on a post, sent me an ask, or interacted with this blog in any way, thank you so much for all the support throughout the year! I can’t express how much I appreciate it. 

What were your favorite albums from this year? Did I miss anything? Send me an ask and let me know. I’ll tell you my thoughts, or put it on my to-listen-to list if I haven’t heard it. 

Here’s to 2021! May it clear the extremely low bar set by this year. 

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