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dazednmatthews · 2 days

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nothing’s sweeter than my baby~ number neighbor!matt x reader part sixteen [finale]

hell nah cause why am i close to crying rn…

this an is gonna be a bit long but i jus have sm to say and sm to thank so bear w me bear w me.

it’s been such a beautiful two months on here fr and it feels like it’s been forever but also like no time has passed at all. from the bottom of my heart, finding this little community has been so special and so fun and so amazing. every single supportive word, comment, reblog, like, ask— it’s all been so incredibly heartwarming and special to me. thank u all for embracing me and making me feel so loved 🥹

i can’t believe it’s over!!! number neighbor you will always be famous to me!!! number neighbor matt i love u so down bad fr. some of my best writing literally ever has been because of this series and this account and will always be so close to my heart. i genuinely can’t even tell yall how much writing this, meeting and interacting with you all and being here has meant.

i hope you all like this ending as much as i do bc i think it’s the perfect way to wrap this up ❤️‍🩹 ahhhh okay i love u thank u again NUMBER NEIGHBOR NATION 4EVER ENJOYYYY <3333

“i’m just saying that it’s entirely possible.” chris says, face contorted in a “duh” expression. nick looks from him to y/n and matt, who are intertwined sweetly on the couch, with wide eyes.

“you’ve absolutely got to be fucking kidding me.”

“i’m absolutely not.”

the two of the had been arguing for the last ten minutes, going back and forth about a made up scenario that chris presented that nick did not take kindly to.

the couple sits in the middle of the debate with amused eyes, following the hilarious and very much loud altercation with slight interest.

“chris has a point, you know.” y/n says, but only low enough that matt can hear. she was having fun being on the outside and would rather die than get in between that shit show right now.

“you only think that because you’re out of your mind in the same unexplainable way he is.” matt chuckles, adjusting his arm that’s wrapped tightly around her waist.

“it’s not our fault that we think outside the box,” she fires back, poking matt in the side. “everyone else is boring.”

matt catches her hand as she keeps poking, using his other one to return fire to the spot he knows gets her every time.

“oh fuck off—“ she says through laughter, struggling against his hands. nick and chris stop their arguing to look at them in disgust.

“ew,” nick says, putting a hand to chris’ face. “i’m going to bed. i’m not arguing with a crazy fuck any longer than i have and i’m not watching whatever the hell this shit is.”

“oh, booooo,” y/n says, rolling her eyes. “we’re not even doing anything.”

chris snorts. “yeah, okay. that’s the second time you’ve used that lie tonight.”

matt only smirks at that, watching y/n turn her face to hide her embarrassment. things had gotten a little louder than expected when she got here, and when they’d walked out into the living room out of breath, disheveled and grinning ear to ear she had said exactly that.

“no idea what you’re talking about.”

chris rolls his eyes and follows nick to his room, leaving the two in the living room with a forgotten movie paused. when y/n turns back to matt after saying goodnight, he’s already looking at her. her legs are thrown over his lap, body tucked into his side.

“what?” she says, pressing her body into his warmth even more.

“nothing.” he says, eyes traveling across her face with a soft, genuine look. “just love having you here.”

she can’t help but smile. “yeah?” she presses a small kiss to his jaw. “how much?”

matt lets out a breathy laugh, hand gripping the flesh of her thigh. “how’d i know you’d take that as an opportunity to boost your ego?”

“opportunity to boost my ego? no. opportunity to make my tough guy boyfriend confess his undying love for me over and over? absolutely.” she send him a grin full of teeth, making his heart skip a beat.

matt doesn’t say anything for a long while, just memorizing the layout of her features. the angle of her nose, the beauty marks placed so delicately on her cheeks, the slope of her eyes— he captures everything in his memory, so that’s her face is always with him. he has to squint a little, because it’s like the sun is rising right in this room. right in this girl.

y/n’s about to say something, undoubtedly about to call him a creeper for staring, but matt ghosts his lips over hers so gently, it has her shakily inhaling a breath. “i’ll tell you any time you wanna hear it. i’ll even tell you when you don’t.”

it makes y/n’s heart swell with love, pumping pure heaven through her veins. this man, that appeared in her life out of nowhere, now means more than he could ever know.

“you can be so fucking cute sometimes.” she says, giving him a peck. “you know, when you’re not telling me how crazy i am every five minutes.”

matt moves her body from his side to his lap, resting both his hands on the swell of her ass. “you are crazy. batshit insane actually.” he peers up at her, looking at her like he wanted nothing more than to always be the object of her affection. “i wouldn’t have it any other way.”

she connects their lips softly, pouring all her feelings into the kiss. it’s funny, being here with him, feeling like it’s exactly where she’s meant to be. matt is unlike any person she’s ever known and she can’t believe that her being bored brought her this.

when they disconnect, her eyes tell him that she has never known a love like this, and she would never want to find another one.

when they disconnect, his eyes tell her that she is light in human form, everything he’s ever wanted and so many things he didn’t know he needed.

“i love you, stupid.” matt says, voice full of emotion, baby blues trained on her like there is not one other thing in this fucking world that he’d ever want to see.

“love you back, stupid.” she says back, voice matching his. sickly sweet, utterly infatuated and forever branded with his touch.

it’s perfect. the moment, and them. nothing could ever get better than this.

END

TAGLIST:

@cottoncandyswisherz @peachmels @sugrhigh @tastesousweet @hollandsangel @sturnolio-luvs @55sturn @chrryclouds @mattsobvimyfav @misscocodiorsblog @pepsiboyy @braindead4l @mxqdii @fawnchives @hearts4chriss @certifiednatelover @nmegamett20 @imaslut4kehlani @faeriedst @wovenribbons @streamermattsgf @pr1ncessmatt @pinksturniolo @yourfavoritefangirl @nickmillersn1gf @freshxsturniolo @sturniolobltch @mattspolitank @alorsxsturn @imwetforyourmom @kiarastromboli @sleepysturnss @mattscoquette @sturncakez @inkyray @simply-a-simper @lanas-doll @wh0resstuff @hypnotizedsturn @riowritesitall @kitaysworld @h3arts4harry @fikefries @conspiracy-ash @matty-bear @always-reading @thehighgrounds @unbruisable @ribread03 @stasiesturn

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keerysfreckles · 18 hours

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lando norris x albon!reader (younger sister) inspired by the content of him alex and george where they answer questions or went karting again was so cute

no shame — LN4

pairing: lando norris x albon!reader

summary: y/n albon goes karting with the 2019 rookies, but lando has to help her during the short race.

warnings: none, just really short :/ not proofread!

a/n: i actually hate this, im just trying to clear out my inbox

masterlist !

⋆ ˚ ｡ ⋆ ୨୧ ˚

y/n albon was always close with her older brother. despite them being almost four years apart, they got along quite well through childhood and after their school years.

when alex started karting y/n couldn't help but feel left out. she was always excited to attend the karting events, but was upset she couldn't get behind the wheel herself. her parents barely had enough money to support their son, so y/n's small dreams of racing had to be put on the back burner.

y/n wonders how her life would've turned out if she had karted with alex. would she still be racing?

well, to put it shortly, y/n was racing again.

she got a call that morning from her brother, asking if she wanted to join a karting video with himself, lando and george. how could she say no?

so the girl was quick to change into the plain racing suit after she met up with the three friends at the circuit.

with her bright pink helmet in hand (one she designed years ago), she ran towards the rookies, who were in the middle of filming the intro to the video. crofty kept explaining how the events would go, while y/n squeezed herself between george and lando.

"ah! here's the other albon," crofty smiles, pointing to y/n.

she waves and smiles, not used to being filmed.

crofty finished explaining the rules, and the four were getting settled in their karts.

as y/n was strapping herself in, lando came up next to her.

"you seemed pretty excited when alex called you earlier," he smiles, picking up the helmet on the floor beside the kart.

y/n nods, "i can't remember the last time i've been in a kart. of course i had to say yes."

"be careful out there, yeah?"

y/n nods again, watching lando tighten the strap above her shoulder before he leaves to go to his own kart.

y/n pushes the helmet onto her head as she hears crofty speak into his microphone. soon enough, crofty and the two cameramen were up above the lights, and y/n was just patiently waiting for them to go out.

y/n couldn't help but laugh as lando jumped the start, and she followed behind the three of them going into the first turn.

she was able to pass george and alex on the inside, but had trouble getting past lando. they stayed in those positions for the next lap, until she finally passed lando going down the straight.

she laughed before turning her head to see the three behind her. at one point she saw alex go into the dirt after hitting a barricade, but she was too busy focusing on beating the trio.

just as the group turned into a small corner, the edge of george's kart hit the side of y/n's. the action caused her to turn involuntary, making her engine stop as she pulled off into the dirt.

she groaned and hit the steering wheel.

"really george!" she yelled as the three crossed the finish line.

she tried turning the kart on again, but had no luck as the engine sputtered out uneven sounds as the kart shook.

she turned, more confused than anything as she watched lando run towards her kart.

"you okay over here love?" lando calls out, a nickname he's used more recently with the girl.

"yeah, some idiot just hit the side of my kart," she laughs, pointing to george who's simply waving from the finish line.

"steer for me, will you?" lando asks once he starts pushing the back of y/n's kart.

y/n does as ordered and helps lando get her kart over the finish line. both herself and the kart were covered in dirt.

"oops?" goerge mumbles as y/n walks over to him.

she simply punches his shoulder, and he can't help but hold his hand over the area.

"that's what you deserve for shoving my sister into the dirt!" alex lsughs.

"you didn't do anything to help her!" george defends.

the three continue to bicker until crofty steps between them, officially announcing lando as the winner. y/n gives him a side hug, him reciprocating while keeping his hand on her back afterwards.

"oh, and for george, a five second time penalty for hitting y/n's kart," crofty states, earning laughs from everyone but the tallest driver.

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cheeseceli · 23 hours

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When you struggle to eat

Pairing: Ot8!skz × Gn!reader (individually)

Genre: hurt/comfort, fluff, reactions

Request: reader thinking she eats "too much" and decides to eat way less for her body image, and how the skz boys would react to that.

Warnings: eating struggles will be discussed; reader has body image issues; mentions of food multiple times; use of petnames in Chan and Changbin's

Disclaimer: this was made with the purpose to comfort anyone who's going through a similar situation. If I made a mistake and made someone uncomfortable/aggravated the situation, please do tell me and I'll correct or delete this post immediately, whatever is preferred. Topics related to eating disorders will be discussed here, please don't read if that's something that triggers you.

Bang Chan - is ready to listen to all your worries

‌We all remember Chan's Room right?

‌He's ready to spend hours if needed just to understand what you're going through ‌and where your insecurities are coming from

‌At the same time, he will never judge you

‌So you know he's your safe place

Constantly checks up on you even if he's far away through texts and calls

And if there's someone who's aggravating the situation or making you insecure, you can bet he's gonna solve the situation himself

"Talk to me baby. What's going on in that mind of yours, hm?"

Lee Know - eats with you

Probably the first to realise something's off, considering food is almost his love language atp

Likes to have as many meals with you as possible

‌He usually makes a mountain of food in his plate, so you don't worry about the amount of food in yours

‌And he also runs errands with you

‌Especially those like buying food

‌You don't even gotta ask, he would be volunteering on the first opportunity

‌Also cooks for you, whatever you want

"Do you want to eat anything? I can cook"

Changbin - Hype man

‌Your personal hype man fr

‌Is ready to compliment you in absolutely everything

‌The best part is that you know that his compliments are always genuine

‌What do you mean you didn't like that trousers?? You looked fantastic in it! That shirt made you look even more gorgeous

‌He has known you for so long and still, he always finds something new to compliment you on

But even if after all the reassurance you want to change the way you look, he will be by your side to help you do it in a safe and healthy way

"You look perfect, baby. I promise. Actually, I still don't believe I managed to pull someone so beautiful like that"

Hyunjin - has all meals with you

‌And with that, I really mean all meals

‌Breakfast, lunch, dinner, you name it

‌Even if you can't really get out of your work place or your university, he's going there then

‌He just doesn't want you to be by yourself

‌He also always has something to say during those meals

‌News about their comeback, gossip at jyp, stories from his childhood...

He never fails to admire you a lot in those moments as well, never letting you forget how much he loves and appreciates you

‌He does that hoping it will distract you from the food, so you can be more at ease

"Have I ever told you about the time Kkami bit my ankle? I think I still have the scar."

Han - makes you feel beautiful

‌He truly doesn't understand how you don't think you're the most beautiful human being to ever set foot on this earth

‌In his eyes, you were born perfect

‌So, naturally, he makes it his mission to make you see yourself in his point of view

‌Compliments and adores you

‌Will make you feel beautiful, pretty, sexy, cute... Whatever you wanna be

‌Above all, he'll make you feel loved

"No matter what size, you'll always be my love. Don't forget that."

Felix - distracts you

‌With that, I mean that he tries to take your attention off food and body image related subjects

‌Before and after eating, he will always bring you along to activities where your mind can be turned off

‌So many fun dates!!

‌Even during the meals he'll have a similar idea to hyunjin and simply won't shut up

‌Most of his compliments don't involve around your body, so you really don't think about it

"I love this hairstyle of yours. It looks wonderful"

Seungmin - protects you

‌In a sense that no one even dares to comment on your looks/habits

Even if he isn't there with you

‌That because he made it very clear that everyone should watch their mouths around you

‌For as long as he's around you, he will do his best and more to protect you from harmful comment

Also tries to experiment a lot of different foods with you all the time, so you never feel like that's a burden or a bad thing

"Hey, have you heard about the new restaurant close to home? The food is peruvian. We could have dinner there tonight."

I.N - physically reassures you

‌He loves you and every single part of you, including your looks

I believe he was a bit lost in the beginning, not exactly sure on how to help you

‌But even if his words aren't exactly his biggest strength, he still wants to reassure you as much as he can

‌So he does that with his touch

‌Holding you on his lap, kissing all of your "imperfections" and tracing patterns in your skin

‌Anything that can ground, reassure and give you comfort at the same time

"Have I ever told you how perfect you are? I should tell you that more."

Masterlist | you'll probably like: when you're overworked (ateez comfort)

Thank you for reading<3 I hope this was able to help someone

» I won't put the taglist on this one as I don't want to tag anyone in something that can possibly trigger them «

Dividers by @/cafekitsune, images 1 2 3

Thank you so much for the beta readers: @duhgurl @beebee18 @applekiwi3202 @elqivxstxr @mrsunshine999 @msauthor

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seeingivy · 2 days

Text

world war sibling

ryomen sukuna x f!reader

**part of my best friend's (older brother) fic

previous part linked here

“you know, you kind of picked the worst spot for your first.” sukuna mumbles.

“that doesn’t help, sukuna. like in the slightest.”

sukuna retreats his original comment as the buzzing of the tattoo gun starts again, accompanied by your death-like grip on his hand and the tears spilling out of your eyes. and he almost feels bad for his slightly snide comment – which was intended to make you laugh – as he leans forward, wiping away the wetness and sweat on your forehead, before pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“you’re actually doing great, princess. i cried like a baby during my first.”

“yeah. it was fucking annoying.” toji mutters.

you laugh, earning you a smile from both toji and sukuna, as the former continues buzzing into your arm.

toji, who you can’t help but find familiar, is sukuna’s most trusted tattoo artist. upon their first meeting, he had bent the rules for sukuna at seventeen (i.e. legally under the age for a tattoo) and since then, had been one of sukuna’s favorite artists in the area.

and you could tell why sukuna liked him. he was quiet and serious – sukuna’s favorite type of person – but here and there, would offer some strange story about sukuna from years prior, that made the both of them smile when he recounted the memory.

long story short, he was yet another undercover sap. you were starting to think that sukuna had a type.

“did he really cry?” you ask.

“that’s rich coming from him – he picked a worse spot than you did. i had to stop and give him a break before i could continue.” toji mutters.

you bite down on your lip as you lean against sukuna’s shoulder, the stinging feeling on the inner part of your wrist making your heart race and your head pulsate, as he whispers into your ear, trying to distract you from the pain.

“are you excited for tonight?” sukuna asks.

“yeah.” you whisper.

“where are you going?” he asks.

you whimper in response, to which sukuna clicks his tongue, before asking again.

“the bar on sixteenth. they….oh my fucking god…they have happy hour after five.”

“figured i might as well ask you now before the four of you are drunk out of your mind.” sukuna scoffs.

after what was a painstakingly awkward conversation between you and yuuji three weeks prior, things were slowly returning back to normal, with the smallest of steps. the two of you went back to studying together, and the week prior, you had returned to your usual weekend plans of going out with him, megumi, and kugisaki again.

now and then he’d send you strange buzzfeed quizzes at three in the morning, you would send back pictures of cute dogs at work, and finally resumed your original plans of dinner at your parents every other week.

yuuji and sukuna had yet to cross paths again, except for the curt greetings they’d give each other when yuuji dropped you off or sukuna came to pick you up. sukuna hadn’t gotten over the fact that yuuji had punched you and yuuji…well, he was almost too embarrassed to show his face, let alone even ask for an apology.

yuuji was always like that, so in his head about whatever it was sukuna was thinking. and while normally, you’d encourage him to just talk it out – knowing how sukuna still felt about the entire thing meant that you had tabled trying to get them to get along for the time being.

“that’s it.” toji states, before pushing off of his rolling chair and rummaging through the drawer at his side.

you sit up, blinking the tears out of your eyes, as sukuna leans over your shoulder, the two of you admiring the bloody mess on the inside of your wrist, of a waterlily.

“it’s perfect, birthday girl.” sukuna whispers.

“you think my mom will kill me?” you ask.

“isn’t that kind of the point?”

you laugh as sukuna helps you off the chair and walks you over to the little stand, where toji wraps the area in plastic before walking over to ring you up. and it’s almost a joke – how quickly sukuna snatches your credit card from your fingers, before offering his own.

“i was going to use that.” you deadpan.

“it’s on me. it’s your birthday.”

“you know i don’t –”

“i know you don’t care about birthdays, doll. but i’m not a piece of shit. toji, i’m paying.”

the novelty of birthdays, parties, and celebrations seemed to wear off around the time that you turned twelve. a few embarrassing mishaps – like inviting twenty people to a bowling alley just to have only yuuji show up or not having anyone to invite at all the following year out of mortification led to an almost disdain towards the day.

and after that, the plan was always simple. the night of, the pair of you would go out – originally for ice cream, but those quickly transitioned into sugar sweet margaritas two years ago when you turned twenty-one. and while the plan with yuuji still standing for tonight, sukuna was afforded the entire morning and afternoon.

it was just another day. meaning you and sukuna were going to eat breakfast together – though you did think the little candle he put in your french toast was a cute touch – before heading to your tattoo appointment. he bought you a new pair of earrings and a ribbon for your hair, but only because he insisted that they reminded him of you earlier this week, and obviously had nothing to do with your birthday.

and it was perfect – you were going to walk over to the little arts and crafts store after your tattoo appointment, so you and sukuna could make bracelets together before you had to go to the bar with yuuji. it was yet another silly trend you had seen on tiktok – picking out beads that looked like your partner's eyes – and making bracelets out of them, and sukuna was all too quick to oblige.

sammy was supposed to stop over briefly at some point to drop off a gift and sukuna was going to tuck you into bed at the end of the night.

you could tell that he was trying really hard to contain it, whatever it was he was feeling over the fact that it was your birthday. because knowing him, if he had his way, he’d be going the entire ten miles and buying you a plethora of gifts and dinners if he could.

but it took a few talks for him to realize it actually made you really uncomfortable. which is the only reason he let you limit him to three gifts (a bridgerton season three mug, a new taylor swift vinyl, and another lingerie set, which he claimed was more for him than it was for you).

and though it was really simple – two red velvet cupcakes on a random park bench and a quiet night out, but you could still feel it. the excessive amounts of kisses he was placing on your shoulder and the way he was opening the doors, that he was trying his best to go above and beyond to make you feel special.

it was sweet. and quiet. just the way you liked it.

you swing open the apartment door to your worst nightmare.

the main room is decked out in streamers, balloons, and a pretty pink banner – all of which sukuna set up the night before when you fell asleep for your breakfast together. you thought it was a little bit over dramatic – decorating the entire place for just the two of you – but you have the slightest hunch that it was more for this.

“did you seriously invite all of them?” you whisper, balling your hands into fists at your side as they all cheer, running over to give you excited hugs.

instead of what you were promised – sammy stopping over briefly to bring you a gift – almost everyone you know is milling around in your apartment. yuuji, kugisaki, and megumi but also maki, gojo, sammy, and shoko.

even megumi’s sister is here.

sukuna mouths i had no idea as sammy walks up to your side, placing a shot in your hand.

“drink up, birthday girl!”

“i’m good, sam. you go ahead.”

“room is really tense. i’d take it if i were you.” sammy mumbles, before walking off.

yuuji walks up to your side, offering you a hug, before pulling back and placing his hands on your shoulders.

“i tried to stop it. but sister dearest insisted.” yuuji whispers.

“oh god, of course she did. did you tell her i would hate this?” you ask.

“i did. and then she said, ‘who hates birthdays?’ and invited everyone anyway.” yuuji responds, perfectly mimicking sammy’s high pitched voice.

you groan.

“did you mention the bowling alley?”

“i did. she responded by saying that means there’s more cake for us.”

yuuji offers you a pinched smile as sukuna snakes his hand across your shoulder, leaning down to whisper in your ear.

“i’m so sorry, angel. i swear i had no idea.” sukuna whispers.

“i know. you know how sammy can be. goes a little overboard…kind of stubborn.” you respond.

“you have another problem.” yuuji states.

the two of you turn to your left, as yuuji lifts his hand and awkwardly scratches at the back of his neck.

“you remember maki’s shitty sister?” yuuji asks.

“yeah.”

“she’s your sister’s girlfriend.”

you feel your throat dry as you dart your head to the left – to where kugisaki and maki are swirling a glass of lemonade in their hands with geto – and to then to the right where sammy is rubbing circles into mai’s back, the two of them talking in hushed tones with gojo.

“this city is too fucking small.” you mumble.

“is it that bad?” sukuna asks, his eyes darting between the two of you.

“that’s the understatement of the year. imagine me and sammy on…on like steroids.” you respond, miserably.

“alright, well. megumi and i did at least get sammy to get a cake from chaupain, so how about you just eat it in the corner while sukuna and i do damage control? we’ll just keep them away from each other and try to get them to leave as soon as possible.” yuuji asks.

yuuji looks past your shoulder to where sukuna is standing, waiting for a vote of approval. and given the fact that he basically feels like a fish in water at the current moment, he agrees.

“let’s see the tattoo.” megumi states.

you all but oblige, holding out your wrist for megumi and tsumiki to admire, watching as their attentive eyes note the needle work.

“this is beautiful. why the waterlily?” tsumiki asks.

you smile.

“like monet’s waterlilies. it’s one of my favorite art pieces.” you respond.

“that’s neat. it’s very pretty.” she responds, giving you a warm smile.

“where’d you get it? yuuji has been thinking about getting one.” megumi asks.

“downtown. there’s a tattoo parlor across from that bar that we did glee trivia at once.”

you watch as tsumiki and megumi give each other a look, the former pulling her soft featherlike touch away from your wrist and crossing her arms over her chest.

“who did your tattoo?” megumi asks.

“oh. he’s just some guy sukuna’s friends with. he’s been going to him since he was like seventeen..”

megumi clenches his jaw, before placing his hands at his side.

“black hair, scar near his lip?”

you pause.

“yeah. his name is toji. do you know him or something?” you ask.

“something like that.” megumi responds, before shuffling off towards the drinks.

tsumiki gives you an almost apologetic smile, before leaning forward and whispering in your ear.

“don’t take it personal. he’s our dad.”

“your…”

“yes, our deadbeat dad. it is rather off putting finding out that he’s had money…or you know, a job this entire time, and friends, when we’ve been trying to make ends meet forever. we always had a hunch that he was there but you know, kind of confirms it if you were there this morning.”

you pinch your eyes shut, before placing a hand on her shoulder.

“i’m so sorry.” you mumble.

“you didn’t know. i’m going to check on megumi, though, if that’s okay? you know how he can be.”

“please.”

you drag your tired legs to the corner of the kitchen island, pouring yourself a shot, before slumping down into the chair. and your very futile efforts of getting a second to yourself are all but squashed when you find satoru at your side, sliding a slice of cake your way.

“hi birthday girl.”

you sigh.

“hi satoru. thank you for coming.”

“i do suppose i should apologize for showing up. i didn’t realize you hate birthdays.”

“i don’t hate them, it’s just…the big party thing. not really my jam. for obvious reasons. i just accidentally brought up someone’s deadbeat dad and somehow brought together the most homicidal pair of sisters in japan into my apartment.” you respond.

satoru smiles in response, looking out to the group of them as well.

“it’s basically world war sibling in here right now. but your boys are handling the sisters decently well. and….getting along for once.”

you smile, looking over at sukuna and sammy on the left.

“i know, right? it’s actually kind of cute. they keep looking over at each other every few minutes and giving each other thumbs up to confirm it’s still going good.” you mumble.

“kind of expected. both of them are half responsible for making your worst nightmare happen on your birthday of all days, it makes sense that they’d put their shit aside for one second to make it at least a little bit better.” satoru states.

sukuna looks over at you, shooting you a weary glance – like he’s trying to gauge how you’re feeling – which you shake off.

“plus, at some point, they’re going to realize that it’s better for both of their interests to get along again. maybe this is when it’ll happen and then something good will come out of your birthday.” satoru adds.

you pause, looking down to continue demolishing the frosting of the cake with the fork.

“you’re quite hopeful.”

“i mean, yeah. they’re brothers and they were starting to get close again and that’s part of it. but at some point, they’re going to understand that it’s going to cause a real block for both of them if they continue acting the way they do. sukuna’s your boyfriend but yuuji’s been the first person you’ve gone to your entire life. can’t exactly give one up for the other.”

you smile.

“you think about this an awful lot, don’t you?”

“suguru and i talk about it in bed every night before we go to sleep. it is riveting.” satoru affirms.

“i’m glad we could provide some entertainment for you.” you respond, giving him a smile.

in the three seconds you look away, whatever tension that was boiling in the room seems to come to a head, when maki and mai seemed to have both reached for the last piece of cake – and both of their guard dogs, kugisaki and sammy, were ready to fight over it.

“just split it in fucking half.” sukuna mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“that’s a great idea! i’ll do it for you guys, here.” yuuji responds, before getting four pairs of irritated eyes staring at him, as he retreats his hands.

you sigh as you walk up to their sides, satoru on your heels, as you take the spot in between sukuna and yuuji. the two of them give you a pinched smile that barely meets their eyes.

“i didn’t eat the slice that gojo brought me yet. you’re more than welcome to take mine.” you offer.

“okay yeah, that’s fine. you guys can take the leftovers.” sammy responds.

kugisaki rolls her eyes.

“why should we take it? we reached for it first.” kugisaki mutters.

mai turns to sammy, shaking her head.

“it’s fine, sammy. you guys have it.” mai responds.

“typical. trying to take the higher ground to look good, aren’t you?” maki asks.

“well, leave it to you to make a scene at your friend’s birthday party.” mai mutters back.

maki scoffs.

“she’s your girlfriend’s sister. you’re just trying to do the right thing to look a certain way, like you always fucking do. it’s the same shit you do with our parents and –” maki starts.

“okay, guys. there’s kind of a time and place for this type of thing and –” yuuji starts.

“shut up, yuuji.” kugisaki and maki shout in unison.

sukuna clenches his jaw.

“okay, seriously. that’s enough. just take a beat and walk away. all four of you.” sukuna mutters, as the two of them walk off.

sukuna’s tone is intimidating enough to get all of them to back off. and you lean back against the counter, watching as they both sulk off into their respective corners, as you rub the sides of your temples. sammy joins you at your side, taking an awkwardly long sip of her lemonade, as you sigh.

“are you going to take yuuji and sukuna’s advice next time? i really do hate birthday parties.” you ask.

sammy turns to her side, her eyes incredulous.

“you can’t be serious. you’re not blaming that on me, right?” sammy asks.

you widen your eyes.

“what?”

“i was just trying to do a nice thing for you. all of these people wanted to see you, for your birthday, and you were just kind of side sweeping all of them. how was i supposed to know that mai’s sister was going to be here?”

you groan.

“i was obviously joking, sammy. trying to lighten the mood and all.”

“you’re the queen of passive aggressiveness. i know you weren’t. god forbid, we can’t all be like your boy toys and spend our entire life trying to read your mind since you can’t seem to say whatever is on it.”

you roll your eyes.

“so what if i wasn’t joking? you clearly need to hear it when all you do is just what you think is best. i wasn’t side sweeping any of them, most of them would have understood if i just wanted to spend the day the way i usually do.”

yuuji tries to interject.

“listen. i think we’re all feeling a lot of things right now –”

“you don’t have to read my mind when there were two people right there telling you that i would have hated it. you just purposely chose not to listen.” you finish.

“you’re shitty. i was just trying to be nice. and then you wonder why i never want to talk to you.”

yuuji can tell it stings from the way your face falls.

“sammy, come on. it’s –” yuuji starts.

you suppose you should be thankful that no one got injured this time. because in the split second that sammy tries to shove yuuji away and tell him to butt out of it, he accidentally backs his elbow into the little rack, sending two of the mugs shattering to the floor.

it takes one peak to realize that one of them is the one sukuna quite literally unboxed for you this morning. you didn’t even have a chance to use it.

you turn to sukuna, who gives you what might be the most irritated look you’ve ever seen him muster, before he shuffles towards the closet for the broom. you’re sure that sammy takes some type of hint that it’s time for her to go and geto’s able to wrangle the rest of them to leave too as sukuna shuffles up the glass.

it’s a quick exodus after that, the room so tense with the heat in the air that almost everyone was scrambling to get out to take a breath. sukuna isn’t halfway to closing the door on geto and gojo when the tears start bubbling out of your eyes, warm and hot on your cheeks.

“oh, angel. come here.” sukuna whispers, opening up his arms as you dig your forehead into his shoulder.

you can hear yuuji shuffling behind the two of you, boxing the last of the leftovers, as you cry into sukuna’s shoulder, making a considerably large snot and tear filled stain on your shirt.

“i hate my birthday. this is…this is so fucking stupid, sukuna.”

sukuna rubs circles into your back, before wrapping his hand around your cheek and wiping the mess of glitter and tears away.

“like, i know i shouldn’t expect much but i just wanted to have a nice day. it’s so stupid that sammy’s so stubborn that she invited everyone. and i know i should have had fun but…but everything just kept going wrong.”

sukuna can tell that you’re subconsciously reaching for your hair, pulling down on your locks and pulling out strays. because while you had left your picking at your skin habits for bad moments, you seemed to angrily pull at your head when you were tense.

“turn around.” sukuna murmurs, as you heave a sigh and continue your rant as sukuna tasks himself with braiding your hair.

“toji is megumi’s dad. and now i’m scared i made him feel like shit by bringing it up. and i know i didn’t do anything wrong but if someone just randomly brought up my deadbeat dad i wouldn’t feel great about it either.”

“i’m sure he’s not mad at you, baby.” sukuna offers.

“and fucking sammy. we were just getting along but…but she always does shit like this. i wasn’t blaming her for what happened, but i damn well could have. if literally the two people who know me the best are teling you that i wouldn’t enjoy this, why would you go ahead and do it anyways? and then on top of that, a whole fucking scene where she ended up yelling at me.”

“do you want me to kill her?”

“would you? she pushed yuuji and it broke our mugs.”

sukuna finishes the end of the braid and secures it with an elastic, before placing his hands on your shoulder and swinging you back around to face him.

“i’ll get you another one.”

“aren’t they limited edition?”

“i’ll bid on ebay. it’s not a big deal.”

“sukuna.”

“i had to bid on the first two on ebay anyways. i can literally just do it again baby, it’s not a big deal.”

two feet away, yuuji feels like he’s intruding. and living in an alternate universe. because it’s the first time he’s seen you like this with someone else – venting so openly, accepting his affections so freely as he presses a kiss to your cheek and pulls at your wrists to stop you from picking at your skin.

and sukuna seems like an entire stranger. brushing his fingers against your cheek so gently, the tone in his voice so uncharacteristically soft as he tries to comfort you. bidding on flowery mugs on ebay, braiding your hair to get you to stop pulling at it.

yuuji feels guilty. maybe he really did have it all wrong. because the things that sukuna was doing were so arbitrary, but they were making all the difference at curbing the tears pouring out of your eyes.

maybe he just didn't get it.

“now mention the good things.” sukuna states.

you glare at him.

“there are no good things.”

sukuna spares a glance over his shoulder to yuuji, gesturing for him to join, before looking back at you.

“really? you can’t even think of one?”

yuuji catches his drift as he walks up to your side, slinging his arm around your shoulder.

“you’re a smart girl. you can figure it out.” yuuji offers.

you roll your eyes.

“and now you two are ganging up on me. is this really the time?”

the two of them laugh, even more delighted when you crack a smile for the first time in hours, before the two of them give each other a nod and wrap both of their arms around you.

“still nothing good?” yuuji asks.

“nope. you’re both crushing me to death. and you smell.”

sukuna presses a kiss to your forehead and yuuji pinches at the side of your cheek.

“how about now?” sukuna asks.

“you guys are kind of annoying, you know that?”

you pull back, placing a hand on both of their shoulders, and darting your eyes between the two of them.

“are you guys being buddies for my birthday or are you actually making up?”

sukuna rolls his eyes.

“obviously the latter. we aren’t sisters.”

“you’re fucking kidding. like the two of you are any better.” you state.

yuuji scoffs.

“they broke two whole fucking ceramic mug. and ruined a birthday party. sisters are a whole different ballpark.”

“you punched me in the face and ruined a family dinner. how is that any different?”

sukuna and yuuji both scoff, before yuuji reaches forward to pinch your cheek.

“are you going to hold that over my head forever?”

“basically. for both of you actually.”

sukuna shuffles over to the fridge, tasking himself with stacking the freshly made boxes of cake in the fridge.

“i think we’ll live.”

three days later, with all the leftover heaviness from your birthday gone, yuuji takes you out for drinks on your birthday. and while sammy gave you a halfhearted apology, you swallowed it down for the tiem being and let it go.

things were well – with yuuji and sukuna getting along and things being somewhat on the come up with sammy. though that feeling only lasts a few hours before sukuna sends you six calls, the seventh of which you finally answer when you make your way out of the bar.

“hi sukuna. you okay?”

you hear a sniffle on the other side of the phone.

“how drunk are you?” he asks, his voice raspy.

“what?”

“can you drive or do i need to come get you guys?”

you cover your free ear with your hand, trying to tune out the blaring music, as you press the phone against your ear harder.

“i can drive, i barely had half of my margarita. is everything –”

“you need to come to my mom’s house. as soon as possible. leave now.”

“is everything fi –”

“my dad is dead. as soon as you can, y/n.”

an: ok my set up was done sorry for this ass chapter again the next few will be considerably better since i've been planning them out properly

taglist: @porridgesblog @k0z3me @sugu-love @yihona-san06 @sweetenertea @skzismyhome @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @shotenvinsoot @itzmeme @gojoswifeyyys-world @cutiejg @chilichopsticks @ghostreadersthings @charlie-xo @whoami-72 @heijihattorisgf @megu-meow @complexivelovely @multiplefandomthings @hoebuns @lzaj19 @glossygreene @ramluvr @sureconfused @najaemism @manduse @imhorn1help @gamergirl5125 @r0ckst4rjk @invisible-mori @isaacdaknight @wishmemel @gyros-cum-sock @wishmemel @suftsunshine @i0099 @cowgirlikets @haitanibros0007 @stuffeddeer @yoontaedotin @ec3lipsy @armani78 @awkwardaardvarkforever @kereseth @leave-rae-alone @ruruvia @princess-ackerman @jjkwritingss @lilkiwikiara @opchara @telepathicheartss @starriesworlds @raechu11 @exprimidordefresas @nxxrxm @aalloochaat @strangehuman101 @tzutology

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mikedfaist · 3 days

Note

hiii lov, can u do mike w a pregnant reader please?🥹

i don't know how this happened but jesus took the wheel on this one. you can probably find the exact point where i had to tell myself to stop and just get to the fucking point of this ask

It was his mom that first had suspicion, having watched you nearly purge your lunch from simply the smell of French onion soup, though she remained reticent of her reservation. So, it became of no surprise to her when she calls her son one afternoon, only to find he’s meandering up and down the aisles of a CVS, in search of some Dramamine to help combat your nausea.

“I think it’s some stomach bug… All she does is sleep and throw up.”

“How long has this been going on for?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. A couple days? It’s worse when she first wakes up but it’s kind of up and down throughout the day.”

“You must have a good immune system if you haven’t caught this bug.” He doesn’t coherently reply, but she can hear him hum in response. “Well, let me know if she needs anything. See if she will try some peppermint tea to help with the nausea.”

She isn’t one to meddle; she’ll let her son figure this one out on his own.

It was on that third morning, for the third time, you found yourself sprawled on the bathroom floor, seeking the frigid linoleum with welcoming arms. You focus your thoughts on the sound of the ceiling fan in your bedroom whirring above, and the light snores coming from your partner, who is lucky not to have had his sleep rudely disrupted.

You think the worst has passed you, but any sudden movements could send you right back into a spiral. You close your eyes and pace your breathing, concentrating on the whirring, when you feel a shift and the bathroom door lightly knocks against your feet.

“Babe?” His voice is deep with sleep, and out of the corner of your eye, you see him peek from the sliver of space in the doorway. “Happening again?”

You murmur an acknowledgement, bringing your knees up to your chest to allow him full entry. He doesn’t say anything this time, not when the days before he’s met with a sharp remark, teeth clenching around unwavering nausea on the brink of collapse.

He shuffles in behind you, knees cracking as he bends down to join you on the floor.

“I need you to do me a favor,” you begin, “and I don’t want to talk about it… Just need you to do it without questions.” He’s staring at you, brows furrowing. “I need you to get me a pregnancy test.”

“You don’t really think—”

“What did I just say?” You bit back, and he instantly retreated. You felt him shift behind you, leaning forward to find your hand and give you a supportive squeeze.

“I’ll be back.”

When he returns, you have finally managed to return to the confines of your bed. He held the plastic bag in his hand, unsure where to put it; passing a glance to you as he met you on your side.

“Do you want to now, or…?”

The anxiety would eat you alive if you chose to wait another second without answers. You sat up, took the bag from his hand, and sauntered back into the bathroom. Mike sat on the edge of the bed, toying with the frayed ends of your blanket. He hasn’t really had time to process what could possibly be this life-altering news. You two had thought children were still a couple years out, though the idea thrilled him to a degree. He could always slow down his career if it meant he’d become a father in some 8 months.

He always imagined the spare bedroom as a nursery. He thought about what color they’d paint it, and if he’d take the risk and build a crib by hand. Who would the baby most resemble? What color hair and eyes? Would it have heterochromia like he did? Probably not.

He’s forced out of his thoughts when the bathroom door opens, and you return to him with the test in your hand.

“It says wait 90 seconds, but I haven’t been counting.” You look down at the test and tap it against your palm. “False positives and negatives can happen, so there’s another test in the box to take later to be sure.”

“What do you want?”

“I want whatever you want.”

“Mike, I don’t…fuck, I don’t do well under pressure.” You tighten your grip around the test to withhold the urge to hurl it across the room.

“Give it to me.” He reaches his hand out, but you hesitate. “It has to of been 90 seconds by now.”

“If I look then it’s real.”

“Babe, it’s real whether we look or not…and maybe you’re not. But if you are, I am here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

And that was the beginning. After a positive test that left you in a mess on the bedroom floor, and a second one later that evening – and ultimately a third one from a doctor – you two were moving onto this new chapter in your lives together, whether you were ready or not. It took a couple days to let that shock wear off, but once it did, you found yourself ordering pregnancy books online, and scrolling forums, and even looking at maternity clothes that you weren’t even ready for yet.

As for Mike, he was quick to understand pregnancy was not going to be an easy feat for you. The morning sickness persisted, and it led him to research online for some medicines that might ease that burden on you. Peppermint tea just wasn’t cutting it. He would also read the pregnancy books you got, because he couldn’t quite grasp the idea that your organs will just casually move out of the way as the baby grows.

“I don’t get it—where are they moving to? How is there room?”

“There just is…I don’t know.”

The cravings are what took him by storm. You’d wake up in the middle of the night to make pancakes, or a quesadilla, or brownies solely for the batter. If you didn’t have what you were desiring the most, you best believe you’re waking him up, ridden with guilt, because you can’t sleep because all you can think about is a Red Baron pizza.

You have an app on your phone that tracks the size of the baby, and compares it to fruit, so every month, the two of you go to the store to get the fruit that is subsequently your baby.

“Is it weird we’re going to eat it?”

“Just don’t think about it…”

He’ll hold the fruit in his hand and be completely mesmerized. His child is actually the size of a mango?

And you best believe he cried hearing the heartbeat on the ultrasound for the first time, and don’t get me started on when he got to see his little bean for the first time, who was merely just a grey blob on the screen.

He’s obsessed with your growing bump. Always wanting to touch it, lay next to it, feel the little kicks from the inside. Countless nights he has fallen asleep beside it. He keeps all the sonogram photos in his wallet, and some on his bedside table. He’ll show them to anyone who dares to ask.

“The size of a mango. Can you believe that?”

You’ll model for him your new maternity dresses that have been in your shopping cart for months. (He loves it all). He’s there for the foot massages when your feet begin to swell. The back rubs when your bump has grown large enough to cause discomfort. The minute panic attacks when your Braxton Hicks contractions hit in the middle of the night. (He was prepared for this one though, thanks to your pregnancy books).

There are hundreds of photos of you on his camera of your growing bump. He alone could fill a scrapbook to completion. Ones of you at farmers market stalls, or walking around the neighborhood, sorting through all of the baby clothes you bought, deeply contemplating the nursery color in the paint section.

He remembers how scared you were in the beginning, but the two of you have really become a proper family.

#mike faist #mike faist imagine #mike faist x reader #mike faist talk

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roonyxx · 2 days

Text

Healing Love: part 1

Summary: You have a normal life as a nurse, and you are content with it. But then a storm called Dean Winchester rolls into it and you get swept away by his charms. But secrets linger and threaten to drown you both.

Pairing: Dean x Witch!nurse!reader

Word count: 2084

Chapter warnings: fluff, wounds and medical stuff (i am no professional and have no idea what the real treatments are)

A/N: This series is dedicated to @deans-spinster-witch she's always been very supportive of my work and I found that she deserved a little treat. She gave me an idea for a new series and i really liked it! so this one is for you @deans-spinster-witch! thank you so much for supporting me! I choose to go with Quinn, i hope that’s okay for you ;)

support me :)

Healing Love Masterlist

My Masterlist

Deviders made by @firefly-graphics, give her some love!

Y/n Pov

You knew you had to buy a new clips for his collar. You don’t have time for him to chase squirrels, you hurry after your dog. Who, usually, listens very well but decided that today he does not…

“Quinn! Get back here!” You jog after him in the street.

It’s the main street, god you hope he doesn’t run into oncoming traffic…

“Quinn!”

You see him running right up to a tall man eating a burger. Which contains Quinn’s biggest addiction, pickles..

You try to yell at the man to warn him but Quinn is faster and jumps up at him, hitting the man right into the thighs and making him loose his balance and fall backwards.

You run faster to get to them, and grab Quinn’s collar as soon as you can grip it and tug him off the man.

“Bad Quinn! oh god, I’m so so-” You look up at the man and are completely lost for words.

Before you is by far the most gorgeous specimen of men you have ever seen.

His green eyes captivate you and pull you in like a new point of gravity. You have never seen this colour of green before in someone’s eyes. They have the colour of forest lit up by sunbeams peeking through the foliage.

His face is dusted entirely with freckles who are more concentrated on his nose and cheeks. His jaw is strong and sharp. And his hair is a dark blond and wildly tossed around by Quinn’s nose currently buried deep within the strands.

“Quinn!” You tug him back to free this beautiful stranger of the assault.

You offer him your other free hand, “I am so sorry, Sir.”

He gives his hand and grabs yours tightly. You tug him to a standing position.

“Oh wow, you got quiet a grip there.” He smile and looks at you, his eyes scanning your face and then quickly going down your body.

“Are you hurt? I am so sorry… Quinn never is like this usually. Are you hurt?” You ask him.

“It’s okay, no really, I should have paid attention.” He glances at your dog and smiles, “He’s lucky he’s cute,” then looks back at you, “And that his owner is cute too.”

You don’t know what to say, your face goes red.

He holds out his hand, “I’m Dean.”

You take his hand and shake it, “Y/n, let me offer you a new burger, I insist.”

Dean looks down at where his burger fells and Quinn is trying to get it. You tug him back.

“It’s okay, I take it as a sign that maybe I should cut down on burgers a little.” He chuckles softly. “But I’m more than okay with taking you out for a coffee, Y/n.”

You like the way he says your name way too much…

“I-“ how can this gorgeous man be asking you out? He seems the type to date super models, your curves are a little more… accentuated than other females. But they help you with the heavy lifting in your job.

Your job that you are currently late for, you gasp and check your watch.

“Shit! I- I would love to but I’m already running late. I need to drop of Quinn before I go to the hospital.”

“Oh right.” He points to your uniform, “I will let you go then, but can I have your number? Perhaps we can do a raincheck?”

He gives me the most dazzling smile and you temporarily forget to breathe.

You make Quinn sit between your legs and clamp him in place. With your now free hand you grab his and grab a pen from one of your many pockets and scribble your number down on his palm.

“There, I’m down for a raincheck.” You smile and grab Quinn’s collar.

“I’ll wait for your call, Dean.” You say as you start walking away.

“I will!” he yells back.

It’s been 3 days and you still didn’t receive a call. You already gave up hope after two days.

Are you surprised? Not really, he’s way out of your league.

So when your phone lights up with an unknown number the third day at almost midnight you pick up thinking it is a spammer.

“Im not interested in what you’re selling.” You answer.

“I- uhm, is this Y/n? It’s me Dean.” He sounds a little out of breath?

“Dean! Oh shit sorry, I have a lot of spammers who call me. Are you alright?” Maybe he’s the workout type of guy?

“I-“ a low grunt that instantly puts you on alert makes you sit up from your couch.

“Dean?”

“I wanted to call you sooner but something got in between, I’m sorry for calling so late but I’m driving around and I might need your nurses skills…”

He sounds in pain… and he’s driving?

“What happened? On what street are you?” You ask in a hurry.

You jump up and put the phone between your cheek and shoulder while you get your first aid kit out and ready.

He gives you the street name and you direct him towards your place.

“Tell me what happened.”

“I have a cut on my shoulder, not very deep but I’m bleeding and will need stitches.” He answers while you hear his car roar in the background.

You note how he doesn’t tell you what happened. But the info he gave is exactly what you need. You start prepping your stitch kit and gauze.

“My house is the one with the green car in front.” You say, and you can hear his car turning into your street.

“I see it.”

You run outside, hanging up the phone as he parks up your driveway.

If he wasn’t bleeding, you would admire his beautiful car. But there are more important things happening now.

You grab the door handle of the driver side and pull open the door.

“Shit.” You say when you see his sleeve drenched in blood, “ You said it wasn’t that deep!”

“It looks worse than it is.” He grunts while turning off the car and grabbing the keys.

You carefully help him out of his car and into your house.

Your hands start tingling at the smell of the blood. The magic inside you is screaming to heal this man, to knit his skin back together and fight of any risk of infection. But you don’t let it surface. You can deal with this the normal way.

You sit him down in your kitchen chair and cut away his shirt.

“Shouldn’t you buy me a drink before ripping of my clothes?” he tries to joke but you can see him wincing and you nod towards the pill and glass with water on the table.

“Take the med, it will help with the pain.”

He takes it without hesitation.

You look closely at the wound while putting on gloves and begin to clean it out.

It is deeper than you thought but stitches will be enough to close it. You do wonder how it happened. It’s a very long, clean cut. Your best guess would be a sword cut.

“So you’re a knight or something? Deep breath, I will start stitching” you warn before you pinch the needle through his skin and begin to sew his skin back together.

“A knight?” he wonders.

“It looks like you got cut by a sword.” You say while focusing carefully. You notice he doesn’t even flinch when you thread the small string through his skin.

“A katana actually, how do you know?” You can feel the prickles on your face from his intense stare searching your face.

“I’ve seen a lot of wounds at work, after a while you start to recognize them.”

“Oh yeah, that makes sense, how long have you been a nurse?” He asks you.

“Seven years in November.”

“Do you like it?” He tilts his head in question.

“It’s hard, physically, emotionally,” you sigh and make a final knot and cut off the thread, then start to wrap up as much as you can, “but yes, I love it, helping people, it’s who I am.”

“There, all finished. No tugging, keep the bandage on for at least a day. Try to keep it dry. The stitches can come out in 10 days.” You explain to him.

“Oh wow, that was fast. Okay, no tugging, no water.” he smiles, “Thank you so much.”

“I guess it makes us even for Quinn attacking your burger.” You chuckle.

At the sound of his name his familiar tipper tapper feet come running towards you and gently nuzzle your thigh. You tug off your gloves and reach down to stroke his black and white head. He peeks up at you with slightly greying eyes. Damn cataracts. He’s a little old, but he’s still perfect. He’s a medium sized dog, a border collie corgie mix. Perfect for training, and he listens well, if… there are no burgers involved.

Dean smiles at Quinn and rubs his face, “He’s so cute. I can’t blame him for wanting a burger. I would take down someone for it too.” He chuckles.

Dean glances up at me, “So I have to wait 10 days to see you again?” He asks.

“You don’t have to wait, I could change the bandage tomorrow if you’d like.” You smile and start putting away all your things.

“I’d like that, but only if you come like that.” He gives you a knowing grin and points to your Viking pyjamas.

You turn red as a beet, with his urgent call you forgot all about the way you were dressed. Your pyjamas are simple, a t-shirt and shorts, an ode to your favorite TV series. You’ve had them for years, they’re all worn out and sit tightly on your body.

With no bra, you can assure there is little left to the imagination…

“Sorry- I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” Dean quickly says “You look beautiful, like really.”

You start smiling at the blush that makes his freckles stand out. Even his ears, that you now noticed are slightly pointy, turn red.

“Thank you, sorry for your shirt…” you tug at his cut of shoulder part.

He shrugs, “It was old.”

You two stare at each other as the tension rises. You glance at his lips, pink and plump, perfect for kisses and many other things.

When you look up you can see his eyes were wandering towards your chest, to your hardened nipples.

He clears his throat and stands up suddenly.

“Thank you, but I should get going. It’s already late and my brother will be worried.”

“Right, yes of course, I have an early shift tomorrow so I shouldn’t be up so late. Can you drive? I can give you a ride?” You offer.

“I can, it feels much better already.” He moves his arm to proof it.

“Here,” you hand him a box with a few meds “One a day for 3 days.”

He takes it and puts in his pocket, thanking you for it.

You guide him towards the door and open it for him to leave.

“So… I see you tomorrow? At seven?”

You smile, “At seven works for me.”

He’s lingering in your door, his eyes on your face.

You take a step closer but don’t move more.

You want to kiss him…

“I – uhm..” he starts.

Quinn takes that as his cue to jump and put his front paws on the back of your kneesw, making you stumble into Dean. You put your hands on his chest to catch yourself.

“Oh! I’m so so-“

Your sentence is cut off by a pair of perfect lips, slanting over yours. His hand cups the side of your face while his tongue brushes your bottom lip, asking for entrance.

Which you grant him. You can’t help the moan that escapes you when his tongue dances with yours.

This kiss feels like the first rays of sun after a long winter. It’s warm, soothing, and hints at hot evenings and sweltering nights.

And then a cloud passes over and the heat slowly disappears as he pulls back.

A low whine falls from your lips as you try to chase his lips.

A chuckle sounds in your ears and makes you look up in those incredible eyes.

“At seven. It’s late and you have an early shift.” He smiles.

You don’t mind the heat crawling over your face and nod as he steps back to his car.

“At seven, drive safe, Dean.” You say when he gets inside.

You stay in your door opening until his car turns out of the street, you turn, close your door and look at Quinn.

“You sneaky little match maker.” You chuckle and bend down to pet him.

His tail is wagging excitedly.

“Thank you, Quinn.”

Forever Tags 2024: @jay-and-dean @flamencodiva @snowlovespie @awkward-and-indecisive @hobby27

Dean tags 2024: @akshi8278 @pink-sparkly-witch @verytoadpapersoul @eevvvaa

Healing Love tags: @deans-spinster-witch @kr804573

send me an ask if you want to be on any of my tag lists! (or if you want to be removed)

#roonyxx #spn fanfic #dean x nurse!reader #dean x y/n #smut #spn #supernatural #supernatural series #dean winchester #sam winchester #roonyxx's supernatural masterlist #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #supernatural fanfiction

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sturnsbabie · 3 days

Text

𝐈 𝐌𝐄𝐀𝐍 𝐈𝐓 -𝐂.𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐎,𝐌.𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐎

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: bf!chris x gf!reader x matt

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: in which chris’ girlfriend goes to his brother when he doesnt satifsy her enough and one day matt gets mad at chris and tells him how hes fucked his girlfriend.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: swearing,cheating,suggestive.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭:815

this is for @sturniololoves shes the one who gave me this idea 😘

if i ever said i fucked your bitch just know i mean it.

matt was currently in the car with his two brothers filming a car video. his brother chris kept pissing him off with everything that kept coming out of his mouth.

“chris can you shut the fuck up because you’re literally making no sense”matt said.

“why you so pressed for?” chris rolled his eyes as he continued talking about whatever topic he was on.

“because youre going on and on about what the fuck ever and nick is over here obviously trying to talk about something and you keep fucking interupting him!” matt said.

“and this is exactly why i have a girlfriend and you dont.” chris laughed.

nick was talking about whatever topic he was on trying to tune out the argument.

matt chuckled. he knew he should keep his mouth shut about this but he couldnt help it. he was about to spill chris’ girlfriend little secret. matt and her have a secret fling going on. he fucks her when chris doesn’t satisfy her enough.

“yeah and thats why she always comes to me because you dont satifsy her enough right?” matt chuckled looking at his brother.

chris had a weird look on his face of confusion. “the fuck does that mean matt?” he asked.

“she comes to me because you dont satifsy her good enough.” matt says shrugging.

nick was going on about something but he stopped and looked at matt to make sure he heard him correctly.

“matt what the fuck are you talking about?” nick asked confused.

“ive fucked chris’ girlfriend thats what the fuck im talking about.” matt said looking at chris with his jaw clenched.

“matt dont fucking lie she would never go after you.” chris said.

“you sure about that?” matt laughed.

“oh 100% i know my girl better then either of you and im all she needs.” chris said looking at matt.

matt just laughs. “thats not what she says when i have her bent over in my bed” matt said.

“quit fucking lying matt!” chris said.

“oh you think im lying?” matt chuckles.

“yes matt thats what the fuck im saying!” chris said.

“oh so you want proof then?” matt said as he was taking his phone out of his pocket.

“matt stop fucking playing you HAVE to be joking” chris said not believing anything that his brother is saying.

“then just let me show you im begging” matt said rolling his eyes.

“then fucking show me buddy” chris said with a sarcastic smile.

“alright bet.” matt said as he went into his camera roll going to his hidden album clicking on a video of him having chris’ girlfriend bent over in his bed.

the video starts out with matt pounding into the girl from behind as she was a moaning mess her gripping hard onto his bed sheets.

nick gasps. “MATT I DONT WANT TO SEE YOUR SEX TAPE” he said.

“then dont fucking look at my phone im trying to prove my point to chris.” matt said as he had the phone in chris’ face.

“what the fuck is this supposed to prove matt this isnt my girlfriend.” chris said.

“chris you can literally see her back tattoo you cant deny it.” matt said.

chris rolled his eyes and continued to watch the video trying to figure out if thats really his girlfriend or not.

“just wait chris and you’ll see.”matt said.

suddenly in the video matt puts the phone in the girls face showing that it was in fact chris’ girlfriend all fucked out from matt.

as he had the phone in the girls face he made a comment. “im fucking your girlfriend chris and theres nothing you can do about it.” he said.

“isnt that right baby?” matt said to the girl.

“mhmmmmm” she moaned out in response.

the sex tape ended and matt turned off his phone placing it back in his pocket.

“told you so buddy” matt laughed.

chris was silent not saying a word but his face was filled with anger as his jaw was clenched.

“i cant believe you would do your own fucking brother like that matt.” nick shook his head dissapointed.

“i have absolutely nothing to say to you other then you’re a absolute fucking dick and you should know better.” nick added.

“thats fucked up matt. i would never do you like that even if your girlfriend came to me” chris started to yell.

“well sorry couldnt help myself.” matt shrugged.

“lets end this video and we can talk inside.” nick said as he leaned over the console grabbing the camera turning it off.

COMMENTS

WHAT

matt??????

thats fucked

SEX TAPE?

MATT FUCKED CHRIS’ GIRLFRIEND

WHY ARE THEY POSTING THIS

THEY MUST OF NOT MEANT TO HAVE THIS IN THE VIDEO CAUSE WHAT

LITERALLY WHAT

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets imagines #chris sturniolo imagine #nicolas sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #christopher sturniolo imagines #matt sturniolo imagines #chris sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo #matthew sturniolo imagines #nate doe smut #nate doe imagines #nate doe

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weasleyreidstyles · 6 hours

Text

Serendipity

chapter eighteen

summary: it was only meant to be a purely transactional relationship. he would help her strengthen her abilities in return for her getting his friends out of his father's nasty path. he didn't mean to fall for her, but loving her was the easiest thing in his dark world.

no use of y/n, but your general nickname is Meadow. all characters are aged up to be over 18.

pairings: mattheo riddle x fem!ravenclaw reader; platonic!slytherins x fem!reader; platonic!golden trio x fem!reader

warning(s): angst, very little fluff (its there but barely!), canonical death, canonical violence, nightmare trope!, mentions of anxiety and allusion to a panic attack

series masterlist; previous part; next part

"Sirius had a brother-" you whisper, your voice betraying your sadness at the thought of the eccentric man.

"Yes. His name was Regulus Black."

"Regulus Black?" Enzo mumbles to himself, as if he was testing the name on his tongue.

"He was Slytherin's star seeker in the seventies." Blaise said in barely restrained awe. "People said that he was an enigma. Always quiet and observing."

"That is a bona fide assessment of my cousin." Andromeda's low voice sounded from the doorway, the head of her husband visible in the room behind where she stood. "He was always calculating something in that brilliant brain of his."

The smile on her face is as reminiscent as it is stricken with grief. Remus turns to her with the same look simmering in his chocolate irises.

"I don't understand." Pansy says quietly. "My father always said that he was enthusiastic about being a Death Eater. Him and his friends. That Voldemort trusted him implicitly. And you're saying he was spy the whole time?"

"That was the whole point of his undercover work." Remus mused with a grim look. "He was so trusted by Voldemort that he didn't even suspect that Regulus might be the one threatening to unravel all of his intricate work."

"If you knew of the horcruxes during the first war, why isn't it a widely known thing now?" Mattheo's deep rasp travels through you like silky butter, sending a shiver down your spine.

"Because we didn't implicitly know what Regulus was searching for. Not until Dumbledore told us of what he and Harry discovered in light of what happened when you," He looked pointedly in your direction, "reacted the way you did to the dark magic swimming in Miss Bell's veins. Every time Regulus would try, his Mark burned. None of us knew just how detrimental his searching was."

"But he succeeded, didn't he? If he found the one you say was a fake." Enzo asked your old professor, eyes alight with curiosity.

"There's more than one." Mattheo says, surprising you all, except Andromeda, who looks as if this information too wasn't new. "Several actually. There was my father's old diary, the ring, this locket-"

He pauses, head swimming with thoughts of the many possibilities.

"Nagini was always whispering about it in the years she'd turn up at Theo's home to torment me. But she always spoke in riddles. There could be more, there probably is more but I don't know what they could be. Something significant to my father, though."

"But how do they work?" Pansy asks, looking between Mattheo and the adults.

"He murdered innocent people to split his soul." Mattheo says resentfully. And though his face is expressionless, you read his shame as if it was there, clear as day.

"So that's how he survived? He severed his soul and tethered himself to the Earth?" Theo's head was slightly tilted to the side, eyes alight with curiosity.

The thought alone sends a wave of colossal dread through you all.

"We believe so, yes. But knowing just how many there are will be crucial if we are to win this war." Andromeda said quietly, before her husband entered the room with a bright smile, despite the stale tension that permeated the air of the tiny kitchen.

"Ready to go, love?" He questions his wife, voice laden with a love that hadn't faded in the years that you'd known the couple through your parents.

"Yes, dear." She mumbles, her hard exterior crumbling from her face for only a split second before the mask has slipped back into place. Ted kisses his wife on the cheek before gently moving her out of the way of the door frame where he comes to being you into a brief hug. One that you fall into without hesitation.

"Will you be alright out here on your own?" He asks you quietly and you nod your head, which is nestled on his shoulder.

"I'll be fine, Ted. Don't worry about me." Please be safe! Your mind is screaming the notion into existence.

Ted is in far more danger than you will ever be; not only was he a muggleborn, but Andromeda had a long list of estranged family members who would not bat an eyelid if Ted Tonks suddenly disappeared. In fact, they'd probably rejoice over his death, before making a martyr out of Andromeda.

He smiles at you in understanding, as if he knows what you don't voice out loud, before he turns you around so that you're both looking out of one of the kitchen windows.

"Just down that hill, about two miles away is a quaint little village. There's a café that is also a bookshop. I think you'd like it there if it ever gets too crowded here."

"Thank you." You say with a grin and he gives you a friendly squeeze before he makes his way back to his wife, who smiles softly at the two of you.

"I'll visit in a few weeks, to see if everything is still standing." Andromeda says, the ghost of a smirk lining her face as she looks between you and your usually raucous friends. Blaise and Enzo share conspiratorial looks, mischief gleaming in their eyes.

"I'll come back in a week with your first assignment. Give you all a chance to settle in." Remus says, nodding at the three newly anointed Order spies, which sobers the mischief, before he too bids farewell.

With a loud crack, they're gone.

~∞~

The following weeks were certainly odd, to say the least. It was almost like the six of you were on a neverending holiday on some days, spending your days roaming the little muggle village, but then on other days, reality would come crashing down, reminding all of you what was at stake.

It was usually Remus who delivered their assignments; it was always Remus who came once you sent your patronus to Headquarters alerting them of the boys' safe return.

About a month in, he'd arrived with Kingsley Shacklebolt, who had eyed you all with barely restrained mistrust as Remus delivered the brief: find out where Charity Burbage was being held captive and do it quickly and carefully. Luckily there was a meeting scheduled for the end of that week that the boys were expected to attend.

They had left within minutes of briefing them and with a crack, Mattheo, Theo and Enzo had left for Malfoy Manor, leaving you, Blaise and Pansy to occupy yourselves in the meantime.

Hours later, after trying to stomach a lacklustre dinner amidst your shared anxieties, the three of you are huddled together in the living room, chatting quietly about the books you were reading, when the mistakable crack of apparition sounded in the silence of night, then three loud knocks branded the front door.

Blaise took it upon himself to see who it was, and upon seeing their sullen faces, let the three boys in.

Immediately you can tell that something bad has happened.

Enzo doesn't bother greeting the three of you like he normally does as he storms off upstairs to his room; Theo heads straight for the garden door, a pack of cigarettes already in his possession and Mattheo looks positively murderous.

Blaise and Pansy seem to come to an understanding and they go in opposite directions, towards where Theo and Enzo disappeared to, leaving you and Mattheo alone. He doesn't even look like he's present in the moment and your heart aches for him.

"Théo?" You ask, voice barely louder than a whisper. But it knocks him from his stupor as he takes hold of your hand in his, soft against his angry callouses. "Lets go upstairs."

He agrees gruffly, voice low and rough, eyes shining with the onslaught on unshed tears.

Slowly the two of you make your way to the bedroom you share, silence engulfing the two of you, leaving only the sound of your breathing to fill the space. When you enter the room, Mattheo practically collapses onto the bed, body spent from the sheer exhaustion of the evening.

"What happened?" You ask softly, sitting against the headboard and guiding his head into your lap. Mattheo keens into you as you run gentle hands through his unruly hair.

The tears flow shortly after you start and your heart breaks for him.

"She's dead." He says, his voice raspy, catching in his throat. "Professor Burbage is dead."

Your breath hitches in your throat as your eyes fill with tears. Professor Burbage was sunshine personified. She always had a smile on her face despite what the Purebloods said about her affliction to muggle culture. She was beloved by all the muggleborns and the staff; was one of Dumbledore's favourites. And she was a valued member of The Orderof the Pheonix, as an emissary to the muggle authorities. She was a valuable member. Now she was gone.

"H-how did she die?" You whisper hesitantly, for you don't know if the closure of knowing would be worth it.

"My father-" Mattheo shuddered. "He set Nagini on her. He didn't even give her the mercy of a quick death."

Whenever his eyes blink shut, he can see the terror behind the teary eyes of the Professor as she stared between the four boys and Severus Snape while Nagini slithered towards her suspended body. He sees the way her eyes fill with dread as no one comes to her aid. Can see the moment of acceptance as her cries suddenly dull to a staggering silence.

He fears that he won't ever sleep peacefully again. The only saving grace is that you'll never have to witness something like it, if he has his way.

"Gods." You say in disbelief, and you hold onto Mattheo a little tighter at the thought. "We need to tell Remus."

"Not yet." He says and he abruptly sits up from his place.

"Why not? He asked you to find out what happened to her. He needs to know." You argue, but you can already see his stubbornness take effect.

"I said not yet." He retorts with anger painting his features. Your brows furrow in offence. He hadn't spoken to you in such a manner in months.

But you can see how his entire resolve has continued to crumble from the moment he stepped over the threshold. Sp instead of arguing back like you want to, for the sake of getting the information to Remus, you agree and wordlessly huide his head to rest in your lap once again.

"Okay. But as soon as we wake in the morning, I'm going to tell him."

Mattheo mumbles his response into the fabric of your leggings, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of your fingers brushing through his hair, lightly scratching at his scalp.

He falls into a light sleep and you're content to fall asleep sat up with him, as long as he was peaceful.

~∞~

He's back there again.

In the seat at the right hand side of his father. When the three of them had arrived at Malfoy Manor for the meeting, Mattheo could feel an unmistakable shift in the air.

The way his father's face twisted into a sinister smirk made his insides curl in dreaded anticipation.

"My loyal followers!" He says, arms outstretched as he addressed the sea of Death Eaters who were watching their master in rapt attention. "I have a special treat for you all tonight."

The feeling of dread made Mattheo's stomach drop even further. He didn't need to look to see that Theo, Enzo and Draco felt the same sense of foreboding.

Voldemort wanders around the table, stopping behind where Lucius was sat, before he snatches the wizard's wand from the table with a deadly snicker of a laugh. Draco does not look at his father's humiliated expression.

"I have brought you all a little...gift of sorts."

With a flourish of Lucius' wand, and to Mattheo's utter horror, Charity Burbage appears in front of their very eyes, arms and legs bound together with a brutal looking rope and mouth magically gagged shut.

He feels sick.

He barely hears as his father mocks her, telling the Death Eaters that she was encouraging young wizards and witches to mate with Muggles, thus polluting the Wizarding World with more Halfbloods and Muggleborns all while she cannot defend herself or ask those she recognises for help.

All Mattheo can comprend is that Nagini has found her way towards her dangling prey and Charity's magically bound gag has been removed.

"Severus.." her pleading eyes fall on her old old. "Please! Help me!"

Snape's eyes have not moved from a spot on the wall behind her flailing body. They don't move from that spot as Nagini prepares to strike.

Mattheo grips the arm rests of his seat as he stares blankly ahead, the sounds of his Professor's shrieks and painful screams as her flesh is torn apart is all his can hear.

And then her screams turn into a familiar tone; instead of his Professor, it's you who is suspended above the snake. Your horrifying screams permeate every corner of his skull until its all he can hear.

You're begging him to help you, but he cannot move. His limbs are glued to his seat as his father laughs manically at your expense.

His mind won't even grant him to ability to block it out. Your screams are all he can hear until his father finally utters the killing blow.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Your body drops to a heap on the floor. And then, Nagini feasts.

Mattheo wakes with a start, only to be met by your wary face staring down at him. Gods he feels like he can't breathe.

"I know. I know." He hears your reassurance as clear as day, but he can't breathe.

You place one of his clammy feeling hands against your chest, where your heart beats calmly despite the gravity of the situation. He feels the way you exaggerate your breathing, hoping he can follow.

He does so and eventually he calms down enough to wipe the sweat from his hands and his forehead.

"You're okay. Your safe." You're still holding his hand to your chest, thumb stroking over the small scars that litter his knuckles.

"It was you." He mumbles breathlessly, tears falling from his onyx eyes. "You were in her place and I did nothing to save you. I couldn't save you."

Your heart breaks for him.

"Oh love." You whisper, pulling his body into your's and wrapping him into a tight hug. "I'm here and I'm safe. I'm not going anywhere."

"It felt so real." He says into the skin of your neck, his hot breath fanning iver your sensitive skin.

"It wasn't real, Mattheo." You reaffirm, moving so that your hands cradled both sides of his face, your eyes meeting his. "It was only a dream. I'm not going anywhere."

"You promise?" He hated that he sounded so weak...so vulnerable. But he could always be himself around you, could always count on you to make him feel anything but empty and numb.

"I promise you, Mattheo Riddle." you say, your lips tilting up with a slight smile that he mirrors. You press a light kiss to his chapped lips which he reciprocates in earnest.

Your souls ignite as one and it feels as if a weight has simultaneously been placed and lifted on your shoulders all at once.

Remus would be alerted in the next few hours, but for now, Mattheo let you guide him to a lying position where he layed safely in your arms.

He did not dream of your screams for the rest of the night, but it would haunt him for the rest of his life. That he was certain of.

~∞~

this one is so so so short but i've actually taken so long to get this one written up

also from this point theres just a whole lot of angst (just a little prewarning🫡)

taglist:

(striked out users are ones that i couldn't tag)

@camille-1019 @lovelyygirl8 @xluansstuff @babeylover @thejadeazalea @undercover-smutlover @adhxmoony @dreamingofonceuponatime @thepassionatereader @urmomsgayforme5 @aphroditeisamilf @devotedlycrookeddonut @purplegirls-posts @nofacenonamelikekira @foxboyapologist @lafrone @lovely-maryj @nromanovaswife @leeknows-wife @dracygf @wildlyobserving @ravenclawprincess33 @melllinaa @vellicora @lantsovheiress @emiliahoward @stunkbiggu @vcosette @prongsprincessworld @mattiesgirl @rachmmb @x-kermit-x @sun-fiower-seed @cas-planet @certaindreampost @weirdowithnobeardo @mikalovesicecream @benwadsworthsgf @rainy-darling @faeriepigeons @lovely-blackinnon @hiireadstuff @gimalo135 @elsafromcabinsix @moonlightreader649 @blueshome @nopedefe @spencerreidsthings @navs-bhat @agent-tempest @magimtz23 @y0urm0m12 @sbrn0905 @leona-hawthorne @whatsupb18

#serendipity series #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle angst #mattheo riddle x you #harry potter #mattheo riddle #blaise zabini #pansy parkinson #enzo berkshire #angst no comfort

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kiryoutann · 2 days

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Before reading, please check series masterlist to read the warning(s), disclaimer, and to make sure you’re on the right chapter. Minors do NOT interact.

SOMETIMES, you'd like to know who your mother was before she became your mother.

You want to know where the acidic and corrosive elements that precede each of her statements come from. Perhaps she acquired it from your father—someone even more poisonous than she was. However, from how it blended with her expression every time she said: “a man’s heart is truly a wretched, wretched thing!” you can't be convinced otherwise that before she met your father, she wasn't like that—that she was once a loving girl before he wrecked her and made her your vengeful mother.

Time heals all wounds, they say. And yet, as far as you know, your mother's is still dripping with blood. Rotten. Maggot infested.

You believed it was exactly what she wanted—so that it wouldn't heal, so that she wouldn't forget how much it burned and constricted her. Those who forget the past are doomed to repeat it, and she will undoubtedly carry it with her until death. “A man's heart is truly a wretched, wretched thing,” she says, as if she's sure you'll forget what happened to her—to both of you. As if losing the love of her life was hereditary. “Don't you see, sweetheart? We are a paradox of contrasts and twins.”

You're still wondering whether it was a warning or a prayer. Good mothers ensure with all their body and soul that the past does not repeat itself, that their daughters do not embody everything they might become – their mothers. God forbid they dragged themselves across the floor, trembling fingers stretched stiffly clawing at doors that had been long since being slammed shut. However, your mother wasn’t always a good mother, and she often swore over her mother's grave that you would feel the same way she did.

And yet, despite her curses and how much you hate her as much as you hate your deadbeat father, apparently a sense of familiarity is what you're searching for.

Perhaps, that’s what made him catch your eye.

Soft footsteps were created when several pairs of ballerina pointe shoes came down the hallway after the performance ended. Smiles and laughter were among them—a familiar sight; the audience was satisfied with their performance, and they were sure that the ballet director had no more notes for them because, firstly, Marie, the main ballerina in the role of Giselle, had become the center of conversation thanks to her gifted movements, leaving no room for talking about little "building" errors for the other dancers. Second, this season has reached its end, which means they won't be showing "Giselle" again for at least the next few months.

“I saw you sneak chocolates before the show, El.” One ballerina teased.

“They're for energy!” Eloise insisted with a grin.

The ornaments on their heads moved as they both laughed. You flashed a smile but didn't dare enter into the conversation. Satin-clad feet kept moving in the direction of the corps de ballet dressing room door. More laughter and gossip ensued as you passed through the door to the small vanity you shared with another dancer.

"So where are you going after this?" someone at the next table asked, not at you.

You turned around, periodically glancing in the mirror to wipe away the last traces of makeup. "I don't know! Somewhere that can help me relieve stress, obviously. Soph?” Claudine directed her question at another, still not you.

“Sorry, girls, but I have to sit this one out. My mamma has been protesting about me coming home late lately ever since she saw some protests on TV. You two have fun without me.” Sophia declines—that leaves Jules and Claudine alone then. You were ready to return to your own thoughts when Sophia's hazel eyes fixed on you and called your name. "What about you?"

Claudine turned to you, her lips forming a teasing smirk. “Gonna go home and practice some more, no doubt,” she teased. “Live a little for once! Come out with us.”

You focused on untying your pointe shoes while the other two laughed. “No thanks, I'm tired. Think I'll just relax tonight.”

Rather than a teasing smirk, now Claudine's lips resembled a declaration that she was correct once more: "Look, I'm right, aren't I? She's still the same boring girl. No surprise that the best role she can get is dancing as a leaf in the background." It's no longer a myth. It is no longer a myth that other dancers—old and new—only see a robot prodigy, soulless in her single-minded pursuit of perfection. Your movements were full of precision, tempered by years of being under the training of a Russian coach your mother sought out for you. And yet your body is sharpened for nothing more than the purpose of being a vessel. Hushed jokes about you selling your soul to the devil for your skills.

“Aww, not even for one night? Loosen up that tight bun of yours?”

You shoved the last of your things hastily into your bag, not paying attention as someone else's hairbrush and chapstick were forced to sit on top of your toiletry bag—you can always return them tomorrow. The other girls are still laughing while you swing the overstuffed duffel over your shoulder.

“Goodnight,” you say tensely, clutching the strap of your bag so tightly your knuckles turn white. Without waiting for a reply, you turned on your shoes and hurried out of the dressing room, their taunts echoing in your ears.

London streets glistened wetly as you made your way down the sidewalk. The recent rain left dark spots on the pavement. You pull your coat tighter around you, shivering in the damp night air. As you passed a rowdy pub, loud voices and laughter spilled out onto the street. Warm light and the smell of beer beckoned from within, but you hurried on without glancing in, not wanting to face anyone's eyes.

The entrance to the subway glimmers under the streetlamps. You descend the stairs slowly, your shoes clicking on the concrete steps. The underground platform was nearly empty at this late hour. A lone figure dozed on one of the wooden benches, and a teenage couple whispered together further down the tiles. Your eyes roam over the tiled walls and ads for shows you'd never see—anything to avoid looking at other people and risking a confrontation.

The screech of brakes announces the arrival of your train, followed by beams of lights illuminating the dark tunnel. You boarded the mostly empty carriage and sat down, watching the dark tunnel walls pass by. On the opposite side, your weary reflection in the glass glances back at you.

Soulless.

Soulless ballerina.

TWENTY-THREE YEARS HAVE GONE BY: Thirteen times, you were part of the corps de ballet in Swan Lake. And now, the new director—whom they “imported” directly from somewhere in France to replace the old one—announces that the next season will be Swan Lake. You don't have anything against it—why should you? Thirteen times. Thirteen times in the corps de ballet, and this time will make no difference to you; just another faceless dancer in the flock, never the Swan Queen—they wouldn't risk a soulless ballerina in the spotlight. But wouldn't audiences grow bored of the same classic retold so often?

"Now now, I know you are all tired of this ballet," he said calmly. "But we will be doing something different - a new interpretation, with a fresh artistic vision. This will be Swan Lake as you have never seen it before. Rehearsals will focus on bringing new emotional depth and dimensionality to these iconic roles. Who knows – maybe some new faces will emerge for leading roles. I’m looking forward to seeing what you all can do. Now let us begin."

The familiar piano notes of our warm-up piece drifted through the studio as you took your place at the barre, fingers curling around the worn wood. You close your eyes and focus on steadying your breathing. Even when your muscles hurt from fatigue, you persist through well-known stretching exercises with a focused effort. Your eyelids flutter open, and out of the corner of your eye, you see the new director watching silently at the edge, his sharp eyes taking in each dancer.

“One.. and.. two.. and..”

As you move on to tendus and plies, you let the rhythm of the count wash over you – “.. three.. and.. four.. and..” Your burning thighs, your stretching calves, your flexing toes. "First position...and plié. Second position...and tendu. Third position...and rond de jambe." and the coach's familiar count. Your mind wanders as the dancers continue, thinking about the director's words about seeking new depths. Stealing a glance through the mirror, your eyes returned to the man—his ringed fingers in front of his lips as he pondered.

The music continues to play, swelling with a crescendo. You concentrate on your movements again, lifting your legs high according to standard and extending your lines through fingertips.

You found your eyes drifting to the director's reflection in the mirror more and more. The coach's voice faded into a blur as you studied his intense expression, watching for any sign of interest or approval. But time and again, his gaze passed over you without pause, lingering instead on Claire or Amelia as they executed perfect pirouettes or graceful penche poses. A familiar ache of longing and envy twisted in your stomach. No matter how hard you focused or how flawlessly you hit each position, you remained invisible to him.

Your breaths are shallow, and your head is whirling. Your eyes couldn't stop following him; he was walking around watching dancers who weren't you. He spoke to the coach, then stepped back with his hands linked behind his back. Still not you. As the music nears the end and the dancers have transitioned into combination movements, he still doesn't look at you.

You know the truth: this will be your fourteenth Swan Lake, and you will once again blend into the anonymous corps de ballet. The reflection of a woman in the mirror—your reflection, somber with lifeless eyes and dull hair pulled back in tight bun. The director stated that he wanted to bring forth new depths and emotional aspects to distinguish his Swan Lake from those of other opera houses, therefore it's fitting that he didn't choose you. As an empty ache expands in your chest, you accept the truth: this is your fourteenth Swan Lake, being another swan for the fourteenth time.

The director won’t choose you.

He won't choose you.

He won't choose...

You.

He chose you. You don't know why or how.

An hour later, you find yourself standing in Studio A, facing uncertainly across the hardwood floor. Five of the girls sat at the end of the room while the director watched Claire give her interpretation of Odette in her white swan act. You watch her movements critically, noting the slight wobble in her lower back and how her port de bras could be straighter. Her pirouettes needed more control and spotting—you counted two extra turns that threw off her balance. Then she launched into the black swan's sinister variations. Gone was the white swan, replaced by a vixenish temptress oozing sensuality from her pores. The director made a few thoughtful comments you didn't quite catch before dismissing her.

The director breathed out your name and you were quick on your feet. He crossed his arms over his chest as you took your place in the center. You looked at the girls behind you through the mirror reflection, then at the director, then signaled the pianist to begin.

The famous White Swan melody plays, and you start. Plie, tendu, glissade—your limbs moved through the steps as they had a thousand times, polished, technically perfect. Your movements rely on muscle memory, analyzing your every move through a critical lens. First pose: left arm extended, back straight, neck long. Check. The second one: right leg stretched to the sky, toes pointed to the max. But was your ankle tilted just now? You furrowed your brows while making a mental note to adjust. Entering another glissade, you land on the ball of my foot, keeping your plie low. One.. and.. two. You count the seconds, nitpicking any imperfections.

“Slow down, dear, find your breath.” The director's voice cuts through your thoughts. Find your breath? You were in complete control of your breathing, hitting every mark precisely as the music demanded. What more should you find?

You barreled ahead through the choreography, unwilling to let up on your own rigid standards even as he continued offering feedback. "Loosen your shoulders...savor each moment rather than rushing to the next...let us see you feel the music, not just hear it."

But you are feeling it. You feel every crescendo and decrescendo—you stay in rhythm with the music as the score enters the ritardando section. How could he say you didn't feel the music when you lived and breathed each score? You knew this piece inside and out. From the opening notes, you have remembered not just the choreography but every key change and tempo variation. By the time you sank into your final pose, you were a bundle of nerves.

“Your technique is superb, but so tightly wound,” the director said. “Try to loosen up your lines and embrace the artistry, not just the steps. Now, show me your Black Swan.”

As the dark notes of the Black Swan coda swirl, you pour all your focus into hitting each precise movement with flawless technique. You arch into an arabesque, extending your working leg to the maximum while maintaining perfect turnout. Your spot was fixed, and your balance was unwavering. You continue through the practiced motions, and you fly into your final fouetté combo. As the last note faded, you struck your ending pose.

Slowly, you straightened your body and lifted your gaze to meet his, pressing your sweaty palms together tightly. The director remained silent, hand in front of his mouth, and looked you up and down in a way that made you want to flee. But, you restrained yourself, waiting patiently for his consideration. The pressure in the room was so intense that it made you suffocate.

After what felt like eternity, he gave a small nod – neither acceptance nor rejection. “Thank you, Mademoiselle, that was… illuminating. Please check the cast list tomorrow morning – we will announce our decisions then.”

The compliment is ambiguous, with two implications that you know tend toward the negative. Your anxiety failed to calm down, and all you could muster was a hushed thank you before you left the studio in a daze, questions still swirling around unanswered like always.

Now here you are, unfortunate enough to be under the wailing sky of London with minimal cover from a shuttered cafe. The dense fog and wind impede your eyesight, making it difficult to see the towering structures. On the left side, several cafes and pubs radiate their orange lights from within, beckoning anyone in need of somewhere to go for a quick drink or two. Anyone but you, apparently.

The city streets felt hauntingly deserted through the deluge of falling water. Shivering even in your coat and tights, you knelt down and tightened your scarf. Puddles of water begin to form in the potholes, and you desperately hope that the rain will stop soon; you still have a long ride home on the subway to prepare for tomorrow.

Just then, a splash of heavy footsteps caught your attention.

Through the sheets of rainfall, you glimpsed a tall figure hurrying down the sidewalk, taking in what little details you could discern. His leather jacket and boots, yet the way he hunched his broad shoulders against the storm conveyed a certain roughness. You squinted to make out his face, only to find it covered by a mask and a hood pulled too low. It's unsettling, but disturbingly, it makes you enthusiastically guess what lies beneath it—was he handsome or scarred? Young or weathered by experience? It intrigued you so much that you didn't realize he was only three steps away from you.

As the stranger approaches, you take more details that should have set off alarms. His all-black leather jacket may have been fine material, but it was worn and faded. And although broad-shouldered, his build spoke more of hardened muscle than gentility. Everything about him screams danger. When he drew up beside you, you intended to duck past and continue on your way.

But something held you rooted to the spot.

Now, two strangers stood side by side, between them were raindrops dragged cruelly by the cold wind. His towering figure was as still as a statue; for a man his size, he was skilled enough to be almost invisible, almost. The scent of him washed over you then—alcohol, but not the refined wines and spirits of high society. This was something rougher, meant to burn away thought rather than enhance it. Beneath that, cigarette smoke and a musky men’s cologne, attempting to cover something.

The man is still silent, and you should've taken this as your second chance to leave. There are only two possibilities for a man like him: a perverted stalker or a serial killer—most likely the latter, because for what reason would he decide to take shelter under the awning of a dark bankrupt cafe with a woman when the surrounding pubs are still serving happy hour?

While the stranger settles against the wall, you notice his large hand drift casually into his pants pocket. Your breath caught in your throat, your heart pounding in panic wondering what weapon he might pull out – a knife, or worse. All instincts screamed to run away, but your feet remained rooted to the ground, frozen.

“Nasty night.”

Your body comes to a complete stop. The air is forgotten, and you wonder if you really heard him speak just now or if you were just hallucinating. He has a roughness to his voice, gravels, and a low range with a hint of timbre muffled by his dark mask. Unknowingly turning toward him, you stared at his side profile until he met your gaze, and you swiftly looked straight forward again.

“Uh, y-yes, quite a storm,” You stuttered in reply, cursing your trembling voice. Gripping your duffel bag tighter, you tried not to say anything that might offend him.

Minutes pass, the rain as the only noise. Finally, he spoke again, "Subway, yeah?" Between the sound of the rain and his muffled ones, you tried hard to make out what he was saying. After fully understanding it, you give it a nod.

“Yes, the subway. Though it may be closed by now with the weather.”

The man pulled out a pack of cigarettes. From the corner of your eye, you knew he was taking off his mask. Your heart beats fast as you resist the urge to turn your head, settling to look at the dark street in front of you instead. Smoke wafts between you both, creating faint, short-lived tendrils in the air.

The two of you were in silence. You wanted to talk to him again but didn't know what there was to say; it could be that he just wants to smoke with a company, a quiet company. He let out a puff of fresh cigarette smoke, and you inhaled it all. Toxins are bad for the skin and lungs, and yet you're better off suffocating than giving the impression that you're disturbed.

“Subway's closed, like you said. No sense waiting in the wet.” He took the last drag and threw the cigarette butt into the gutter. “Come on then. Pub's the best place for now.” His voice muffled again – he had put his mask back on.

You hesitated at his offer, biting your lip as you weighed the options rapidly in your mind. On one hand, the rain shows no signs of letting up, and this awning provides only a little protection at best. But to follow a strange man through the streets, alone, allowing him to take you to a spot where inebriation may be present—where his worst pals might be waiting. Girls your age being spiked is something you hear about a lot.

Shaking your head, you manage a small smile. “Thank you for the kind offer, but I'll be right here. Best not to trouble you further on such a night.”

He tilts his head, his eyes peering from the mask's shadows as if reading your unspoken fears. Does he see the consideration behind your polite refusal—how now you are a vulnerable woman, and this relative anonymity without further conversation is a safe option, despite the discomfort? Within his dark eyes, there was a stirring that you didn't understand. Pity? Or mockery? Under his towering height and massive body, you were nothing but a frightened rabbit.

Gusts of wind drive cold droplets under the awning. You suppressed a shiver, hugging yourself tighter. “Really, I'll be fine. The rain can't last forever." A forced laugh follows your words.

You seize the chance to stare back at him. It was impossible for you to know what calculations were going through his mind, or what emotion lay beneath that mask. It's pretty unfair, you think, that he can hide under a hood that nearly makes him invisible in the dark of night while he can see all of you—a greasy-haired woman hoping the man in front of her will respect her dumb decision. It's the least he can do.

Just when you think this staring game would go on for another minute, he turns his gaze. “Suit yourself, love.” His voice comes out gruff, and your heart drops thinking you've let him down (but, for what?). "But you'll catch your death waiting in the rain."

A pang of guilt crashes into you as he turns his shoe the other way. For safety's sake, you rejected him, thinking you're being sensible; but there's an authoritative voice in the back of your mind telling you, "He's the first nice guy in a long time, and look what you gave in exchange for his kind offer." Self-doubt is playing in your heart. His back was already turning, boots squelching away into the rain.

“Wait!” You called after him, hating how small and frightened you sounded. He paused and searched back, eyes questioning through the mask. Steeling your nerves, you step into the downpour. “I'm coming with you.”

If this guy thinks you're an indecisive woman who can't even commit to a decision for more than five seconds, thank goodness he didn't say anything other than give you another stare. He led the way as he went, holding the door of one of the busy London pubs. More liquor and tobacco smells. You both entered, bringing a burst of damp wind with you. The warmth and noise within are a shock after the storm outside.

He steers you towards the fireplace, shrugging out of his soaked jacket. “Get yourself by the hearth,” he said, nodding to an empty chair. “Dry off.”

You did as he said gratefully, holding your hands out to the flames. The colors returned to your cheeks; fear slowly evaporated away.

“What'll you have, love?” He asked, and you frowned before understanding. Oh, drinks.

“Something light,” is all you say, eyes lowered again. The man gave a nod and went to give the bartender the order.

He returned not long after, setting the drinks down and taking the chair opposite to yours, stretching out his long legs toward the fire. You took the gin with a murmured “thank you.” He settled with his own—whiskey in a glass, neat. You glanced at the remains of rainwater dripping heavily from his clothes in a growing puddle at his boots. The drinks were enjoyed in companionable silence, still trying to find calm after the storm's fury.

The fire crackles merrily as you sit. Finding your voice, you clear your throat gently.

“Thank you, for…” Your fingers tapped nervously on the glass. “Well, for everything, I suppose.”

His eyes lifted from the flames to meet yours, and you offered a small smile. “I’m (Y/N).”

As the name slips out, you berate yourself. How stupid, giving up something as personal as your name! This man was still a stranger, no matter his kindness so far. For all you know, bad intentions could be lurking behind that calm gaze even now. But in the cozy glow of the fire, your sense of awareness wavered, lulled to sleep in a false sense of security.

He merely nodded, moving his hand to the mask hook over his ear without expressing much emotion. Your eyes widened, and your heart was pounding. The breath in your lungs stilled in anticipation as the fabric peeled slowly back, inch by inch. Is he about to...?

The man removed his mask, appearing at ease and lacking in secrecy. He looks at you, and you quickly look aside, pretending to offer him a little privacy. You wait for him to finish, to put it on again, but he never does. Is it okay to look-

Deciding to no longer be the uneasy one (since the guy looks completely unconcerned as he takes a long sip of his drink), you follow suit and allow the liquid to cascade down your throat. There's a slight thump as your glass hits the aged wood. Your curiosity is piqued even more by the fact that he hasn't made any moves to wear it again. Slowly, you raised your gaze, meeting that unveiled gaze – a secret not meant for your eyes.

Blonde eyelashes – pretty. Faint shadows hung under the eyes. Light stubble. Scars dotted his jaw, thin white slashes earned from unknown origins. His nose sat slightly off-center, clearly broken more than once in past altercations—bar fights, perhaps? Though something about the precise thinness of the lines didn't seem right for brawling. Regardless of which one, he is clearly no stranger to violence, and being near him is enough for someone to sense the danger he was capable of.

But, there is something about that powerful jawline, the intensity found only in his hooded eyes, spokes of steel and intricate details that defy explanation. Fire in his eyes. Even after taking off the mask and grasping it between his lengthy fingers—just when you think all the curtains have been exposed—he still remains a mystery.

(And you're just another gullible woman who believes she knows how to solve the puzzle.)

You wait; surely he will offer his own name in return now that you've bared yours. But seconds ticked by in the silence, and still he said nothing.

A flush crept up your neck at the realization that he had no intention of reciprocating. Did you misread this entire meeting? Why did he bring you here if not to talk? You observe his stony profile, wishing you could see past him. Did he intend to remain a mystery—an enigma full of intrigue? Or is it actually a test to see how long your curiosity can last?

Your fingers fidget with the condensation on your glass. Under this new tension, the easy silence fell away. Seeking an escape from the awkwardness, you looked for something, anything. Your gaze landed on a group of regulars in the corner, laughing boisterously.

“Do you, um, come here often?” You ask lamely, cursing your inability to make small talk. But there was an amused glint in his eyes that put you back at ease.

“Aye, I'm 'ere often enough,” he replied, taking another sip. You assume he finds humor in your discomfort, rather than mocking it. The knot in your shoulders loosened, and you relaxed into a smile again.

For good or ill, this man stirred something deep inside you—and you're desperate to scavenge for light, safe conversation topics to continue the conversation.

“So, um, what kind of work do you—” You catch yourself, cheeks warming. Too personal to ask a stranger met by chance. You let out a dry laugh. “Sorry, I don't mean to pry. It’s just… making conversation.”

At the small thud of his glass meeting the scarred wood of the table, your eyes darted up in surprise. Already empty—have you been so lost in thought that you missed him finishing? A swell of questions rose inside you as you watched his movements for a clue. Would he signal the bartender for a refill, extending your time together? Or was this the end—the strange encounter came to a close because you somehow offended him for prying too much?

“Military.”

Unexpectedly, he gave a single-word reply. Military—that explains a lot, from his physique and bearing to the scars and the lingering scents that cling to his coat.

"Oh!" was all you could think of as a response. More questions swim to the surface, demanding to be asked, but you quash them, not wanting to risk being presumptuous a second time.

Feeling indebted, you then offer, "I do ballet, with the Metropolitan Opera." The words slip out before you can check them, and inwardly you curse yourself once again.

Great. Name, job, and workplace. Why don't you give him your address next?

You bit your lip. Risking a glance up, you hope he won't take your openness as foolishness. His quiet acceptance has so far calmed your nerves, and now you find yourself craving that ease again.

“Must be rewarding,” is all he offers—you grow accustomed to his terse responses. Plain, perhaps even half-hearted, but you smile as though he had read you a lovely poetry full of flattery.

“Yeah, it's really rewarding to dance and like, share that joy with others.”

Liar. What can a soulless ballerina have to share? So far, frustration is what you inflict on your director, and criticism is secretly a “reward” for your fellow dancers. You understand perfectly well, from the top of your head to the balls of your toes, that there is no joy that you can share. However, this man didn't know. He doesn't know who or how you are. Since the very beginning, you have spoken truth to him; allow this one deception to pass.

Your fingertips made a gentle squeak as they rubbed across the condensation on your glass. “If I may ask… what inspired you to serve?”

For a moment, he was quiet, considering with eyes turned to the flames.

"It was a calling, I suppose," came the gruff reply. “The world had its darkness even then. Felt a duty to stand against it.”

After providing an answer, the two of you returned to silence. You gazed thoughtfully into the flames, thinking of how you might spark another conversation that didn't rely solely on question and answer. The last thing you want is for him to view you as overbearing or pushy.

“What drew you to ballet, then?”

It was unexpected for him to pose a question, and you were taken aback when he did. Your lips curved into a smile as you thought about the answer, and your mother's role in starting it all.

"Well, I think it started because Mom thought ballet was 'cute'." A tone of amusement permeates your voice. “She had no idea about the art or discipline—she just wanted to see her little girl swirl and spin in frilly costumes. But I had fun dancing, dressing up, and listening to the music...”

Somewhere in your head, your mother's voice echoes again. Bitter and resentful, encased in an everlasting nightmare. Your mother stood in the audience, and you ran towards her, tutu skirt fluttering gently. She wiped her eyes and knelt down in front of you, whispering, "You were marvelous, sweetheart," as she drew you in. She smiles, but it stops short of her eyes. Then a string of apologies, saying that he’s gone—that she knew he had promised you to be here, but he's gone. Dad is gone. And he'll never see what you can do.

“My first real performance, in elementary school… I was so proud when the curtain fell.” You continue, remembering another face that has long been a ghost in the past.

("Why did you let that man walk away?")

You clear your throat softly. “After that, it just felt right, you know? Like I'd found where I belong.”

Liar.

Steering away from the bitter past, you change the direction of the conversation again. “Are you from around here?” It's a simple question, maybe even stupid. His accent alone makes it plain he grew up in this land, but, no matter how long you've lived in England, you have a small grasp of regional dialects within the country.

“I mean, I know you're obviously from here—your accent kind of gives it away.” You waved. “I just meant—is this area home for you? Or are you from elsewhere originally?”

The barest upturn of his lips catches your eye. Was that a smile? On this gruff, grumpy stranger who has only revealed so little so far? Your heart beats at the sight, rare as a summer snowflake. He reached into his pocket, took out a cigarette, and held it between his dry lips. The lighter ignited, and white smoke was blown out.

“Manchester, originally,” he said, intonation hanging. He took another drag of his cigarette before exhaling slowly and adding, “A different world now. You?”

“I've been in the city for years now, but I'm from San Francisco.” You said. “When the chance came up to transfer here from my old opera house back home, I leapt at it. Felt it was time for a fresh start, to spread my wings and live on my own. And maybe get out from under my mom's feet—love her to bits, but she can be a bit much sometimes.”

From your own remarks, you can't help but question if mothers are as harsh on their sons or if this is solely reserved for daughters. Girls are taught to keep close to home and their hearts, while boys are free to roam and explore. Is it any wonder, then, that spreading your wings felt like escaping? You wanted to ask him but ended up lacing your tongue tightly.

The fire's burned low, just embers burning gently in the fireplace. Time passed unnoticed as the two of you sat chatting quietly. But outside, the rain began to subside until it was a fine patter on the roof.

“Storm’s passed, seems.”

As he speaks, you glance up to find his guarded mask has fallen once more into place. The easy openness that had soothed tired nerves now closed again – strangely making you bereft. A feeling of melancholy welled up in your chest at the thought of parting, of kissing away the intimate bubble the two of you had crafted and going back out there into the cold reality where you would be strangers again. Your fingers fidgeted in your lap as you searched for words.

“I suppose you're right… it has eased off some.” Your voice came out small and awkward to your own ears. Licking your dry lips, you added, “thank you, for your company. It was…nice, not to feel alone.”

He stood up, stretching his tall frame. After this, the spell of the evening will evaporate, and everything will return to the reality of loneliness once again.

“C'mon then, let's get you home,” he said gruffly, offering a hand to help you up. His strong hand envelops your smaller one—rough yet tender, sending warmth through your limbs that have little to do with the fire now dying.

Pushing through the heavy doors, the night air is a contrast to the warmth of the pub. Thick fog covered the streets, rain-slick stones glistening under the street lights. He waved at the first cab that passed—and you prayed it wouldn't stop so you could buy a little more time with him.

It stopped. The night was set to end.

He holds it while you slip inside. Through the open window, your eyes met his; he crouched beside the window, broad shoulders hunched. He's talking to the cab driver, but you can't hear it—not when your heart flutters madly in your breast over a single question. The ache of still not knowing his name. It seems wrong, unfair, that he knows you so well, yet you know nothing of him in return.

The cab lurches into motion, snapping the spell. Panic rises in your throat; you can't let him disappear into the night—to the back of your head like another passerby.

“Wait—please! I don't know your name."

Before you can stop yourself, the words tumble out in a desperate rush.

The second ticks by as you wait. He finds you foolish, for sure—just another desperate, nosy girl who wants to play detective the second she sees a puzzle. The clinginess in your request must have given the impression that you were a fool in love—gullible and name-obsessed.

Something shifts in his dark eyes, and you hope it's a wall crumbling away. Then, in his low rumble – “Simon.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, almost parting your lips in question before—

“Name's Simon,” he repeats.

(And the sun breaks through storm clouds.)

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cottagec0relover21 · 2 days

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Ok so, the idea just popped in my mind and I RLLY need someone to write it LMAO

Your Chilchuck fics give me LIFE so you were me go to, no questions asked

Could I get Chilchuck with a reader (preferably male, but gender neutral is also ok!) who miscalculated the ammount of anxiety medication they had left and ended up running out in the middle of the dungeon? Reader is having a hard time with their anxiety ticks and one of the side effects of going a bit too long without them is his body starting to "shut down" and become slightly like a ragdoll. Reader is still talkative and behaves as normal besides their head going to the side aggressively, flopping to the side and body parts just going all weak when they sit, flopping legit like a ragdoll (this os very self indulgent and has happened to me once, it is not good to say the least LMAO)

I completely understand if this makes you uncomfortable to write! And if so, a reader with severe generalized anxiety would work in the place of this request!

Hii! I'm sorry if this took too long ;-; since I have generalized anxiety and therefore I'm more knowledgeable about that subject, I'll write for a reader with severe generalized anxiety. I don't want to fuck up the other option with the ticks and such, because I don't know about the condition and I don't want to offend anyone. So hopefully this is okay!! love y'all thanks for being patient!

(Also changing my POV today) I'm so glad you love the way I write, it means the world to know that💗

"A Comforting Half-ling"

[Chilchuck Tims x gn!reader]

Warnings: none - fluff

Your hands were sweaty. You had been fidgeting with your fingers for a while, feeling a pit at the bottom of your stomach that made you even more anxious that you already were. The slight pang of pain in the chest that came from time to time the more you thought about the problem at hand bothering you as you sat on the corner of one of the rooms of the dungeon that the group had stopped by. Why were you so anxious? Simple. There was another party in that same room, and the rest of the group had decided to be all social and chat for a bit as they sat down to take a break from walking around.

Gosh I must look really weird sitting alone in this corner. I think they didn't hear me when I said "hi." What if they think I'm an asshole? Or a weirdo? Or a weird asshole?! you thought, looking around the room.

—Oh yeah, and that one there is (y/n), they're kinda shy— you jumped, your head snapping back to stare at the middle of the room as Laios pointed a finger back at you. Everyone's eyes were on you. Never had you wanted earth to swallow you whole and never come back so desperately before.

As the conversation resumed, the half-foot's eyes stayed on you, a curious and worried expression on his face as he watched you fidget with your hands.

He excused himself softly and walked up to them.

—Hey, why don't you come with me for a second? I need your help with something— Chilchuck pointed to the door, and your feet hurried to stand up and get out of the room as quickly as possible. Once outside that room, and away from the hearing range of the others, he sat against the wall, patting the space beside him.— What's got you so jumpy?— he looks at you, genuine curiosity in his voice.

Looking at him, you wonder if it's okay to admit out loud how anxious you were about, not just talking to people, but almost anything that had to do with being in public.— You're always behind us when we encounter other parties, and you don't seem to want to be there. I'm starting to think you're not just "shy"— Chilchuck called you out.

Beginning to explain to him how you were always on edge around people wasn't the easiest task. Admitting that, you were afraid of not being seen as capable, but being seen as a bother or even a burden ate you up every second of your life to Chilchuck was hard but worth it, because now you had someone that understood you better than any of the rest of the group. Everyone gets a little anxious at times, but you were a little extra anxious about everything.

Sitting cross-legged and now intently staring at you as you finished your through explanation of how you felt almost all the time, Chilchuck sighed and placed a comforting hand over your shoulder.— I'm really sorry you have to feel like that. I get anxious for five minutes and I hate it, so you being on edge all the damn time must suck— he offered a sympathetic apology, understanding you easily.— Whenever you feel like that, just... uh– try and tell me, or nudge me, whatever works best for you— he smiles softly, and the look on your face makes him huff softly in embarrassment and look away, retrieving his hand from your shoulder. When you give a soft laugh at his reaction he starts protesting and huffing at you, although we all know he wasn't seriously that upset.

When you hug him, however, he falls silent and sighs, taking a moment to return your embrace.

From then on Chilchuck tries his best to comfort you and help you everytime he notices you feeling anxious.

You need to buy something but can't because you're afraid of taking too long and upsetting the line behind you? He'll go with you and hold your hand. Maybe you're afraid of the guy at the stall, selling whatever it is you want to buy. Don't worry, he'll talk for you when you get nervous and start to stutter. Or even if you don't even want to talk at all.

Afraid someone is judging you? He's jokingly rolling his sleeves up and asking "Who? Who is it? Point at them and they'll never see what got them!" (They won't but that's because he's small and he kicks their knee from behind)

If you feel like everyone is judging you, though, he holds your hand and guides you away into a corridor/hallway where it's less crowded

Ever start hyperventilating? The first time he'll panic, and he'll struggle to find the words and actions to properly help you calm down. But it doesn't take him long before he has it memorized.

You're basically the only one on the group who's got Chikchuck breaking his rules about innerparty relationships, because he's grown very close and attached to you.

You're such an amazing person, you shouldn't have to struggle like this.

He gets very happy for you when you manage to do something that makes you anxious on your own. Maybe you spoke up to a whole group of people completely alone, or maybe you went and bought something that you really wanted without struggling at all.

When that happens he's sure to give you a smile and a thumbs up or a pat on your leg (you're taller than him, don't tease him about it or he'll get all red in the face and start mumbling to himself)

Overall, Chilchuck would understand you and try to help. He struggles, and sometimes you might think you're being a bother for him, but he makes sure to tell you that "no, you're not a burden nor a bother. I'm simply... not used to comforting people that often."

+ romantic established relationship headcannons

If you tell him that having him by your side is comforting, even in the slightest, he'll cough and look away, hiding his growing embarrassment.

If you ask to borrow something of his to comfort you, he's scrambling all over his words but eventually giving said item to you gladly.

You hide your face in his scarf after wrapping it around your neck and softly inhale his scent— Ah... you smell so nice. And the scarf is so warm— so is his face. A beautiful tomato red all over his cheeks and ears as he looks at you, genuinely feeling better just by borrowing his scarf.

Or maybe you borrow his gloves (if they fit) and put them on.— Okay... but why my gloves?— he asks curiously, waiting an eyebrow as he looks up at you.

You smile, wiggling your fingers after putting the gloves on— Makes me feel like I'm holding your hand— he falls silent, and he opens his mouth to speak, but the only thing that comes out is a flustered exhale as he turns around and walks away from you as he mumbles a "you're unbelievably.... cute" that you're sure he didn't mean for you to hear.

A few minutes later he'll return by your side as you're walking and extend his hand up, looking ahead— You can just hold my damn hand, you know?— he mumbles, and you notice how his cheeks tint with red once again.

#delicious in dungeon #dungeon meshi #chilchuck tims x reader #fanfic #chilchuck #chilchuk tims

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wolfs-archive · 3 days

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Channie drunk confessions (the angstier the better but fluffy ending) as long as possible PLEASE I BEG

Sorry for the late reply dear anon, Angst has never been my genre, but feel free to see if it suits your taste.

"Stop over stepping your boundaries!!!"

Summary: Chan who was forced to marry Y/N hates her that he still in a relationship with his office mate Reena. Little does time and Y/N's attitude change his perspective of Y/N.

Pairing: Strangers to Lovers ft. forced marriage

Genre: angst, fluff here and there, mentions of drinking, cheating, crying, fainting, blood and horrible writing.

Note: I really felt bad writing this... I can never see Chan or any members as toxic or bad. I'm sorry Chan or Chan staners if it hurt y'all coz it hurt me a lot when I wrote it. This is one reason why I never write angst for any member.

Chan and Y/N were into an arranged marriage. Chan was forced into it just because his parents had their own reason. The reason Chan didn't want to marry Y/N was because he was already in a relationship with his officemate Reena. His parents threatened him and hence he married Y/N. Y/N foresaw the future and accepted her fate just with the thought that marriage would change him and that she could live happily. The initial days of marriage didn't go as expected. Morning she would get up early to prepare breakfast but he would not care to eat it, he would come home late, he would always sleep on the couch. Weekends were even worse, she would slog all day to work and he would litter the place just like a teenage boy. God knows what made Y/N to fall in love with the man who didn't care a bit about her. Y/N would always wait for her husband to arrive to eat dinner even if it was 1:00 AM. Even if she knew he would not have the breakfast she prepared, she would still get up early in the morning.

One day when she askes him as to why he doesn't have breakfast, he says, "Look here Y/N, it's my house, you have no right to question me. To this house, your just a maid. A maid who tends for me. Get it? Stop over stepping your boundaries!!!" as he slammed the door. A crippled Y/N let's out her frustration through tears. Not knowing what to reply, she decides to call her best friend Lia to pour her feelings. "Dude, though he is your husband, he has no right to yell at you like that. How did that bastard have conscience to call you a maid. Did he know how many were behind you or that how rich you are? Was this asshole the reason you left your designing job for?" she asked. After pacifying her, Lia said, how about I come to your home till he comes?" she asked and when Y/N told her to, she cut the call and drove to Y/N's home. When she knocked on the door and did not receive any reply, she opened the door to see a pale Y/N lying on the floor unconscious. Upon taking her to the nearest clinic, the doctor said that she was malnourished and was under great stress. On her way to the home, Lia, "Dude, Y/N, I really don't know what's gotten into you? Just because he doesn't eat doesn't mean you have to starve. How many days has this been going on? Do aunty and uncle know?" she asked. "Lia, he was just forced to marry me, I would react the same way if it was me in his position. I wanted to give him a few days so he would change himself. Don't tell my parents anything" she said. As they reached home, Lia helped Y/N to lay on her bed, "I sleep on the floor, not here" she said. "Since Chan sleeps on the sofa, I sleep here on the floor" she said pointing to the pillow and the bedsheet lying on the floor." "And despite all this you say you love him. Don't you? Such a nutcase...." replied Lia. As she gave meds and put Y/N to sleep on the bed after a whole lot of debate, she decided to prepare soup for her and by the time she was leaving, Chan entered the house. "Chan, I'm Lia, Y/N's best friend. Do you have a minute to spare?" she asked. "Sure" he replied. "I don't know why you treat Y/N like that, and either way she is a nut case to fall for you despite your words today morning. She called me and bawled like a kid and when I came home to console her, she was lying unconscious. Guess what the doctor said, she was stressed and was malnourished. Because she waits for your arrival since you don't eat, she skips food, this applies to breakfast too. Tbh, just because Y/N is my friend I don't mean to say this. She is just stubborn, but a really kind person. She literally fought with her parents to choose designing and when she was about to flourish in her career, she decided to quit just to become a full time house wife and take care of the house. She... She has had a lot of people who courted here, but when I asked her why she never got into a relationship. She said, "Lia, I want to spend all my first's with my husband; my first kiss, my first hug, my first cuddle, with the guy who will be the father to my kids. I don't mind waiting." I don't think you know the fact that she sleeps on the floor just cause you sleep on the couch. Y/N doesn't deserve any of this. If you don't like her, just divorce her instead of making her suffer. That's all I can say, and thanks for listening to me." she says as she proceeds to exit through the door. "Maybe I was wrong I guess" he felt as if a needle pricked his heart. The next morning onwards, he decided to have breakfast just for her sake and left.

The weekend followed and since the cabinets of the store room became loose, he decided to work on it. As he was hammering nails, he hammered his finger and let out a loud, "Ahhhh", listening to her husband, Y/N came to see what had happened. Seeing the broken nail and blood dripping, she started to cry as she went towards him, "Why did you do like this? Do you know how much it'll pain? Wait till I bring ice cubes and a band aid" she said as she ran to grab ice from the kitchen and band aid from the hall. She took him to wash his hands and placed the ice cube. Then applied the band aid and finally left without saying anything but continued sobbing. Chan felt what he had done to her was wrong and decide to end his relationship with his office mate. He thought he was lucky enough to get a wife as Y/N.

The next day, Chan's assistant calls Y/N, "Ma'am, seems like Sir has left his blue folder on his table, since we have an urgent meeting, could you please bring it for him?" "Sure, can you tell me the address?" she asked and proceeded to head to the office. When she reaches the company, she was directed to Chan's office, before knocking on the door to enter, she listened to a female's voice, "Baby, how many more days should I wait? I can't. When are you going to divorce her?" the voice asked. Before Y/N could process anything, she went to the assistant asking him to hand it over and she left with tears. Either side Chan, "Reena, I'm sorry, but I can't do this anymore. The amount of love Y/N has, I cannot cheat her. I'm sorry for hurting you, but I can't hurt Y/N. She is really precious and just now I have understood it" he said "It's okay Chan, I thought you didn't want her, but when I heard your words, I don't think it's good to force you. Have a happy life" she said as he went out of the room. "Sir, Y/N Madam had sent this" the assistant said. "Where is she?" Chan asked. "Ma'am left" he replied.

"Till today, I thought he disliked me only because he was forced, I didn't expect him to cheat me on another girl. Y/N it's not your mistake, you should not cry for such a jerk" she said as she stood in front of the bathroom mirror. When Chan came home, he was given the cold treatment. "Did you come by the office. You could have come in to my room?" he said. "Will that change anything between us?" she asked with a stare. "Y/N, how about we go visit the new restaurant this week?" he asked. "Chan! I'm tired please stop it. No one's forcing you to behave like this to me. If you really want to do something for me, please grant me a divorce" she said. Chan couldn't process the words that came out of the mouth that just cried last week when he got hurt. Frustrated with himself, and the mess he brought himself into, he called his close mate Changbin for a drink.

"Chan, you're really a heartless fellow. How could you do these to Y/N. If you don't like her, just..." "I love her now" Changbin interrupted Chan. "Then why don't you confess?" he asked to which Chan replied. "I asked Y/N to come out with me this weekend, she asked for a divorce, I literally just broke up with Reena today." "I'm literally speechless. I really don't know what to advice you." he said. An hour later, Changbin had to carry an intoxicated Chan to his house. When the door bell rung, Y/N went to attend. "Hey Y/N, you must have seen me during your marriage, I'm Changbin. Chan had too many drinks today, so he isn't in his right state of mind now" he said. "Come in", she said as she helped Chan to lay on their shared bed. "Ok Y/N, I'll leave, but before that I just want to tell you something. Chan is not as bad as you think. Trust me, he is really good at heart. Sometimes he doesn't know to just bring it out. So yea, don't take anything serious" Changbin said as he left. Y/N who went to Chan to remove his shoes and his coat, was stopped when she felt Chan mumble to himself, "Y/N, I'm really sorry, I shouldn't have treated you like that. I now really love you Y/N" he said as he dozed off.

The next morning, a sober Chan is provided lemon water to cure his morning hangover. "Y/N, can I talk to you for a minute" he asked. "Tell me what quickly, I have to go grocery shopping" she said. He kept the lemon water beside and held her hand, "Y/N, I'm really sorry for treating you this bad. I really love you now" he said. A teary eyed Y/N, spoke, "Chan I thought initially you didn't like this marriage and I thought time would change it. Had I know you were still in a relationship, I wouldn't have bothered to disturb you. Did you know the mistake I made? It was falling for you. Now I hate myself for falling for a man who wouldn't reciprocate his feelings. It's not too late even now, I'll tell my parents that it was my fault and hence we got divorced." she said. Chan felt his heart crush into millions of pieces. Till the yesterday, he never thought Y/N would say something like this. "Y/N ah!!! Y/L/N, it's not what you think." he said. "Don't lie Chan, I heard a girl talk to you about divorcing me. See that's exactly what I wish for too." she said. "Y/N, I really broke up with her. I promise you are the only one now in my life. There's no other girl" replied Chan with tears. "Didn't you call me a maid? A maid isn't supposed to love you Christopher" she yelled. Knowing the intensity the name 'Christopher' carried, Chan thought for a few minutes. He then got up, went closer to her, "Y/N, look at me" he said. "Will that chang---" before she could ask for it, she was wrapped around her waist and kissed. Tears flowed down both their eyes remembering what they had done to each other. "Y/N, I get that I was bad, but I promise on our unborn child, there's no other girl in my life apart from you and I'll really love you till death. As you wished for, your first hug was with me, your first kiss; we did it and I promise to be all your first." he said. Seeing the last few words come out of Chan's mouth, she hugged him and said "Sorry Chan" to which he replied, "I should be the one whose sorry." and kissed her again. "Now how about we go grocery shopping as a couple?" he asked. "Sure" she said chuckling like a teenage girl.

Masterlist

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aragaki · 3 days

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Darlin' x Milo.

I know I'm all alone in my little boat here but Darlin x Milo has me in a chokehold and I need to get it out!!

For one, Milo would absolutely call Darlin' Tank instead.

Thinking about Milo and Tank, they've been around each other since they were teenagers. Maybe there was some feelings, some fights. Two stubborn, strong-willed wolves with Asher always going on and on about their will-they-won't-they dynamic, much to Milo's chagrin.

Then they vanish off with some fancy-talking vamp and Milo's left with a yearning he refuses to admit to. He's got other things on his mind. He pretends that Tank's absence from pack meetings doesn't bother him but knowing they're gone, and in a worse place, weighs on him.

Then he finds them, battered and bloody, crumpled outside on his way home. They're hurt. They're half-delirious from blood loss and couldn't help themselves from going somewhere familiar - to someone familiar.

Milo patching them up as best he can, trying to get information out of them but they fight him tooth and nail at every turn. Just like the old days. All he knows is there's someone they're out for, someone they want to kill, and Milo can't tell anyone they're back in Dahlia. And just like Milo says to Sweetheart, as long as it doesn't affect the pack, he can do what he wants.

But it does and he doesn't know it.

Milo's place becoming Tank's safehouse, Milo trying to help Tank as much as he can but they're so tight-lipped about who they're hunting. But the two of them are getting closer. And Milo learns just how out of place Tank felt in the pack, with them, never feeling like they were really accepted.

David confronting Milo, absolutely pissed that two members of his pack are going behind his back. Milo and David, who are at this point more distant after the death of Gabe, and Milo having something to prove to David but has disappointed him.

Milo telling David that Tank doesn't think of themselves as a member of the Shaw pack, and hasn't in a long time, even before they left. Milo having to tell David that he didn't ask who it was Tank was hunting, scared that if he pushed or if he told David and they found out, they'd probably run and they'd never get them back and he doesn't want to lose them again.

Tank confronting Milo at the pack meeting, convinced he was the one who told, furious, hurt, and betrayed again, so tried of being betrayed, but Milo defending himself. Making it clear that he didn't tell David and Tank didn't tell him about Quinn either.

Tank's body being covered in scars from fights and Quinn. Being ashamed and disgusted as Milo, who spills compliments like a fountain, kisses each one of them. Milo's body-worshipping habits coming out at every unhappy frown Tank makes when they see themselves.

Milo buying Tank good looking clothes, fully at his wit's end with their unironed white tank top and jeans. Tank liking the clothes but never wearing them cause they seem so expensive, they should be for a special occasion. Milo's insistence that mulberry silk or not a shirt is a shirt so please fucking wEAR IT.

Asher's vindication when Milo and Tank finally make the leap into being mates. He's been on this train since they were teens, he's been suffering from an IRL slow-burn romance for half of his life!! Will not shut up about the fact that the "pack scrappers" finally got together.

"Bite me, Milo. 😒" "Not in public, sweets."

#redacted audio #redacted asmr #redacted milo #milo greer #redacted darlin #redacted tank #redactedverse #these are all just plot bunnies I have in my brain #that I know I'll never write #if anyone else wants to take a crack at any of these feel free #I'm just happy to finally get these out of my brain it's been days and I haven't known peace #darlin just continues to be the hottest redacted character they're so shippable I could make a bunch of these

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lady-of-endless · 10 hours

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Risotto Nero romantic headcanons (sfw+nsfw)

Author's Note: Sorry for being an old-school romantic and writing headcanons like these, don't come at me. I wanted to take my time with Risotto as he is so complex. I really hope that those are not too far-fetched. I hope you'll enjoy it! The lovely gif is not mine, I'm thanking the owners for it.

P.S. Prosciutto will be next. I just have to calm down from the feels I have for the husband, I mean Prosciutto.

SFW

- The most beneficial context for your relationship is for it to start off as a partnership, a team. This way, you go through many critical and dramatic experiences together and that will only bring you closer and strengthen your connection. Even after confessing, this dynamic remains, you are still a team, watching for each other.

- Everything about him indicates a slow burn. From obtaining his trust first and then his heart. Even after those two are won, he's still reluctant to the new dynamic. He will never deny those feelings even if he thinks that someone in his position should. Risotto is not just rationally intelligent but also emotionally intelligent so he knows that such desires of the heart cannot be stopped. He doesn't deny the feelings but he suppresses them. He knows how complex those emotions are and that's the problem, it complicates everything around him and you. But little by little, he starts giving in and surrendering to his love.

- At first, he analyzed you only from a strategic point of view (regarding your abilities and how you can work with his team) and in time, it escalated into a deeper and more emotional point of view. Because of this and because Risotto values other opinions and perspectives from his teammates, he seeks advice. No, he won't ask directly but he'll be more attentive when the others talk about you. However, the only one who Risotto might ask for an opinion is Prosciutto because he shares some morals and principles with him. Surprisingly, Prosciutto will put his rational arguments aside a little bit because more than the respect and admiration he holds for Risotto, he wants him to experience this sort of happiness.

- Risotto will not know how to react when receiving your affection, at first. There are many thoughts and morals that don't let him receive affection right. Many of those thoughts are regarding his line of work. He has made peace with the fact that he's not a good man, that he doesn't deserve good things. He's okay with it now, he did what he had to do.

- His preferred love language is acts of service. He's used to doing things for others (but even so he doesn't see how selfless he is) so acts of service are his way to show his feelings. He would do anything for his close ones so for you, his loved one, he would die for you, kill for you, protect you, anything, you name it. Plus, Risotto is always very observant and because his interest is your well-being, he pays extra attention to your needs. About receiving, it can be anything. Again, he doesn't see himself worthy of love.

- He rarely smiles so when you finally catch a glimpse of this rare occasion and compliment him, Risotto is lost. Any sort of comment like this will have him feel things he never felt before, in a good way. As a result, he starts smiling softly more at you in privacy.

- If you get severely injured on a mission, he still keeps his composure in your presence while helping you, patching you up, and even trying to heal you with Metallica. He's serious while doing it but it will be the only time in which his hands start trembling. After helping you, while you rest, he's still there watching over you fully neglecting his need for rest. As you sleep and he looks at your injuries, that's when his composure breaks. The guilt he's feeling is heavy in his heart, thinking how this way of life is not what you deserve and it's his fault.

- He's capable of many things, he's also a strategist but that doesn't mean that he doesn't have moments in which it all gets too much to process. That's where you come to the rescue. He doesn't want to pass his difficulties to you so it will take a lot for him to let himself tell you what's wrong.

- Secrecy and subtility are a must. But he'll get you (he'll make it), a dainty and thin silver bracelet with a charm that resembles some sort of blade. Whenever he's thinking of you and wants to let you know it, you'll feel that bracelet move a bit from his magnetism, as a reminder.

- As subtle as he thought he was, in time, every member of La Squadra will know what his feelings are towards you. Melone was the first to notice the way Risotto looked at you. Since his discovery, Melone couldn't keep it for himself and since then, they all started behaving suspiciously. They smirk every time you talk to Risotto about missions and other formal details, they try to let the two of you alone more, and so on.

NSFW

- Contrary to popular belief, he's not rough (not every time at least) or freaky behind closed doors. His usual and favorite approach is slow and deep. He likes to take his time with it as he sees sex as not just a way to get pleasure but a moment of deepening the connection you have already.

- He never wants to use sex as an outlet for his pent-up frustrations and stress but if you give him the green light, he might give into it when things get too much to bear. But he still holds back a little bit, worried about how rough he can easily get. If you're into this rough approach as well and it's noticeable, he'll feel less guilty but still careful.

- He can go on with the foreplay for hours. Risotto likes to feel the tension build. Enjoying the reactions and the growing desire gives him the most pleasure, more than the act itself. Because of this, he might sometimes slip into trying orgasm denial with you.

- At first, he doesn't see the point of experimenting with kinks because he's so touch-starved. He only needs you. However, gradually he will start asking you for consent about some ideas he has. Watch out for your hands. If you get them close to the metal bars of the bed, your wrists will get caught in metal bindings in the blink of an eye.

- Quiet in the beginning but soon you'll see him losing his composure and start grunting and growling close to your ear as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. Not only that but you'll hear sweet words of affirmation, unheard before as he gets lost in the feeling of you.

- Aftercare is obligatory. It always gets intense, sometimes even rough, and he's aware of his size too so calming you down and taking care of you is both a way of showing his gratitude and also a duty (don't get this one wrong, he sees the act of aftercare as important as the rest of his duties, that's it). The aftercare always ends with him holding your hand and kissing it as another silent expression of his gratefulness and adoration for you. It's his unbreakable habit.

- He has to admit, he likes to mark you. Not in a possessive way, that's why those marks will only be on parts that are not usually visible. But because he loves the image and concept of your skin reacting to his affection. You can leave marks on him as long as they're not visible, again, it's about secrecy and subtility. He might feel a bit proud, just a bit, when he looks in the mirror at the scratches you left on his back.

- Doesn't get bored of being on top. After all of that slow burn and build-up of your deep connection, of course, he wants to look into your eyes when you both let yourselves be engulfed in the pleasure. Might even get a little mischievous with it when he's in a good mood. "If you look away, I'll stop."

The only situations in which you are the one on top are when you simply ask for it or when you tell him you want to help him relax. Hearing those words coming from you while you start touching him with care and warmth is going to be the death of him.

- Not a fan of quickies. He needs the whole thing. As mentioned before, he needs to feel the tension built and loves taking his time with it. But also, above all, he wants to treat you right so a quickie will never be enough for this.

#jjba #risotto nero #jjba risotto #risottonero #risotto nero x reader #la squadra #la squadra esecuzioni #jjba part 5 #jojo bizarre adventure #golden wind #vento aureo #jjba x reader #jjba headcanons #jjba fanfic

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archivalofsins · 2 days

Text

During the break in Milgram content I've mostly been relaxing and using the time to creatively work out my feelings on Milgram as a series. Admittedly writing that oc milgram with Star has actually been really helpful with doing that. It made me really think about what it would be like for people to be in this sort of situation and had me looking at the characters and the audiences behavior in brand new ways.

Given the theme of what we're writing heavily being rooted in self-forgiveness I've been thinking of the many ways people forgive and I've come to some interesting conclusion.

Firstly to the surprise of no one I still don't like the way the fandom uses forgiveness when it comes to the series. I never really did. People highlighting that this isn't about Guilt or Innocence it's about forgiving or not forgiving is really fucking dumb.

Like not to be blunt as hell but anyone really viewing this solely from a point of forgiving or not forgiving others is missing a lot of the point. Viewing Milgram through that lense alone or even just through the framing of guilt or innocence is only really touching the surface.

Milgram showcases the issue with only viewing things through these framings alone over the course of trial one.

Mainly through the lyrics sprinkled throughout the first trial songs that call to attention these ways of looking at the situations presented to us.

The songs actually hit on judging someone as being guilty or justified first,

"Am I a bad girl? Please don’t answer."

This line later serves to contrast both Haruka and Mu's trial two lyrics,

"I just want to be your good boy. I will keep on killing to be a good boy."

Haruka's line can be used to highlight the juxtaposition of his mindset and Yuno's. Both characters continuing to contrast and highlight each others strengths and flaws through how close in proximity their songs are.

So when Yuno gets upset over being caressed with the words good girl it actively highlights a titular part of Milgram,

What will work with one person won't always work with another. This is what Haruka wants and the type of dotting attention he enjoys but Yuno is not the same way.

Meanwhile Mu's line in It's not my fault is more of a direct parallel to what Yuno said,

"Hey, what if- If I am a bad girl? Don’t hate me."

This line servers to show the difference in Yuno and Mu's mentalities. Yuno doesn't want an answer. She doesn't want the label of good or bad. Continuing to state as much in her second trial song.

In contrast Mu despite singing about how it's not her fault recognizes that she is in fact the bad.

She's not asking am I a bad girl. No she's going,

"So, hey what if i am this thing? What if I presented myself as not being x but I really am? Will you still like me?"

Which makes perfect sense for her narrative because she just spent her entire first two voice dramas framing herself as a victim of bullying and someone who'd never bully others. Despite knowing full and well what she's done.

Mu like Kazui, Mahiru, Amane, and Kotoko all want their wrongs to be recognized and forgiven. They know what they did was wrong and have made it apparent that they do. Yet they still want to be forgiven all the same.

This is something Amane and Kotoko do blatantly. Displaying very little shame or hesitance around discussing their wrong doings over the course of the trials.

Kazui and Mu on the other hand are more ashamed of what they did. Along with being terrified by the idea of possibly getting hurt again if they open up. So they try to present themselves in more human and palatable ways.

They both do this by selfishly highlighting their own feelings and using the other parties around them as nothing more than props-

Yuno and Mikoto are very much mind your business or believe what I'm saying. If you can't do that then shut up and go away-

Mikoto

"All I did was dream, so you find me INNOCENT, it’s that simple right? Come to know me as an honest man, eat your words, gulp them down." "Please tell me it’s a mistake, that’s it’s a lie. That I’m right, I’ll forgive you if you tell me now."

Yuno

"Just shut it, will you? You know it all. Caressing me with your “Good girl” Who needs your self-righteous pardon?" "Please don’t answer."

Yuno goes to great lengths to explain how people treating her certain ways has never done anything for her. In both her first and second voice dramas.

Yuno First Voice Drama 5:29,

"That's right. You know those people who just want to convince themselves. So, they intrude on other people's affairs even though it's not their place? I despise them. That's what I was saying."

"So, nauseating...so, creepy...will you please disappear." - "Please don't answer." - "Just shut it, will you? You know it all."

"I don’t need to be lectured to like that. Do you just want to make yourself feel even better?" - "Who needs your self-righteous pardon?"

Yuno's songs highlight how being judged by another persons standards ultimately does nothing to change how someone feels internally. Not only that but it can actual cause more damage even if the person only has positives or sympathetic things to say to the other party. So, it's best to just do what the audience showed Futa to do through the first trial verdict-

Mind your own business. Instead of intruding on other people's affairs when it's not one's place to. Yuno even states in the same voice drama that there's no limit to how others will judge the people around them outside of the law.

Futa follows after her introducing the sort of tactics the first trial will end on. Highlighting that there are people who do wrong that go unchecked and at times socially rewarded for the things they've done. Just getting a slap on the wrist and spoken poorly about as a result. At times never even apologizing for the way their selfish actions have inconvenienced the rest of society.

Very similar to the mindset Kotoko showcases at the end of Milgram except she highlights the most extreme example of wrongdoing. Yet she also highlights a bunch of petty crimes just like Futa one literally being bike theft.

Both songs show that Futa and Kotoko both believe strongly in the guilty or innocent framework. That if someone does something wrong they should pay for it. Especially if it's a repeated pattern of behavior.

Yet with Mu and Shidou is where things get interesting. Mu's story highlights the seemingly never ending grief that comes from not being able to apologize to a person you've wronged. Because they're not their to apologize to anymore.

Orihime's first arc in Bleach highlights this feeling well so I'll just link the scene

Look I'm gonna need to to follow like these instructions exactly because there is no clip of this scene go here and then skip to 18:30 you can do dub or sub just watch the scene in it's entirety to 19:33 to get my point. Then come back here so this hurts more.

Hey, did you see the closure Mu will never have? Let's continue now under that emotional understanding for context. Experiencing Bleach when I was like fucking ten really did some shit.

Because when I saw After Pain and saw these lyrics,

"“I’m sorry” won’t reach anyone."

Coupled with this imagery-

I was like damn whatever we do this person is fucked. Because you can apologize to corpses all day but they're not going to get back up and start walking.

"Oh, shit you're sorry for stabbing me that changes everything!" Mu's victim's heart restarts, and they hug it out.

Sorry Mu even though you talk like a Pokémon doesn't mean your tears have the same effect. I was watching another video recently that discussed an episode of Buffy The Vampire Slayer called the body and like you just gotta see the discussion.

Spider-Man Lotus - A Film Born From Spite The Cosmonaut Variety hour 28:12 to 34:24.

Then when you have even more emotional information follow me on this. Really think about this with me-

Does being forgiven by strangers who have nothing to do with the situation really give someone in Mu's position closure? No, and that's why even though she was forgiven, her second song is her very rapidly spiraling into self-doubt and hate.

Because no amount of outward validation will be enough for Mu. She'll only need more because the one person whose words would matter in this situation isn't alive to speak anymore. No amount of apologizing or people going I understand what you're going through will help.

Because no, they don't. No one really understands what it's like for someone to die when you are not on speaking terms with them or you feel you've done them wrong other than people who have lived through that. Which is already traumatic enough without adding into the mix, "Oh wait, you're the reason they're dead too."

Which is the point of her and Futa being paired together.

Because there two people who took very mundane situations way too far.

"It’s going great, we’re gonna punish you until you cry. If you get off now, you're a traitor."/"Don’t you think it’s wonderful to control them with my gentle sting? If you want to betray from jealousy- You know what’s gonna happen ON YOU!"

After Mu, Shidou comes in to basically say the quiet part aloud when it comes to viewing this under a forgive or not forgive framework,

“Throw down” ethics is a delusion I’m still guilty even if the morning comes. - "Please, don’t forgive me. That’s why I want this to end."

Regardless of if Shidou is forgiven by the audience or anyone else around him. Even if the sun comes up again that guilt doesn't just disappear. He can't stay away- He'll always be stuck trying to atone for his past mistakes trying to do it again this time but better.

Because all of that couldn't have been for nothing. He's indispensable even if it's unpleasant it's up to him you know- There are lives that need saving. So, he'll do the same thing again and again because there will always be lives that need safeguarding.

Gif provided and made by @apatchworkstar

How far can forgiveness or pursuing another persons innocence go- If those people aren't willing to forgive or view themselves as innocent? If they can't move passed it. If they've made their permanent home address turmoil.

Whose opinion of ourselves really matters more than our own?

Just like Mu second voice drama said to Es,

"Guard-san, we call you "Guard" because that's what you are, right?

I was assigned to be a prisoner, but that doesn't mean my heart will become just that of a "prisoner" too. After all, I'm still me."

even though she's here she's still Mu.

#milgram

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