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a-dumb-sarcastic-bisexual · 11 months

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Nimona headcanons cause I love this chaotic little family

I’ve seen a lot of people say Ambrosius is a morning person and Bal is a night owl

And I have to respectfully disagree

Will Bal pull some all-nighters in the lab? Absolutely

But this man is the most early bird coded character I’ve ever seen in my entire life

When he isn't fully invested in a project he can't stay up past 10 pm

He wakes up at 6 am refreshed and barely needs caffeine

I’ve also seen a lot of people say he’s a dedicated coffee drinker but something about this man screams “Coffee gives me migraines”

Ambrosius on the other hand

That’s an insomniac if I’ve ever seen one

He’ll get ready for bed around 9 and then stay up til 3 in the morning

Poor babe needs coffee in an IV

He used to wake up really early back in the institute cause he was forced to run a mile every minute he was late to class

And he’s a heavy sleeper so after the wall came down and he quit being a knight he wouldn't wake up before 1 pm even with Bals help

And Nimona is just as bad

Most nights Ambrosius will leave the room because he moves a lot when he can’t sleep and Bal is a light sleeper

He’ll sit in the living room watching tv while trying to sleep and most of the time Nimona will join him

Every once and a while Bal will find them laying on top of each other on the couch and will take them back to their respective beds

And if you’re wondering what their favorite show to watch together is it’s those house-flipping shows

But not for the reason you think

Most people watch those shows cause they think it’s inspiring

Ambrosius and Nimona talk about how terrible these people are at their jobs

They’ll go on hour-long rants about how these people are stripping the houses of everything that made them a home

(Ambrosius is a sentimental bitch and would be a maximalist after leaving the institute prove me wrong)

When Nimona is bored she’ll go into the city disguised as Bal or Ambrosius

And she’ll fool literally everyone it’s a pretty common occurrence for the boys to be at home and then they hear the other swearing like a damn sailor because there are already news articles about it

The only people she can’t fool are Bal and Ambrosius

Bal will shut them down almost immediately

They’ll walk over to Bal and won’t even get a word out before Bal says “Shift back Nim you’re freaking me out”

They always make a big deal out of being caught making big decorations like “I’m getting better and one day I’ll fool you”

And he’ll hum in agreement but he knows that it doesn’t matter how good he gets or how observant he is he’ll be able to fully copy every little detail

The details that Bal has spent the past decade and a half remembering

You know the little things like how he can’t say Bal or Nimona’s names without smiling even when he’s pissed

Or how he scrunches his nose when he laughs

Ambrosius always acts like Nimona tricked him

He’ll let them get comfortable in the character and then he’ll drop the bomb

Something small and inconspicuous like “Hey Nim do you want pizza for dinner?” and they’ll excitedly proclaim “Hell yeah pizza!”

It takes them a second to realize they’ve been played and when they do they never make a big deal about it

They normally just mumble a curse or two and walk away with their tail between their legs (literally)

The first time Nimona tried to trick Ambrosius was when he was having one of those days

You know the days when even breathing feels like a fucking battle

This was in a really awkward period too

Like right after Nimona and Ambrosius started trusting each other but right before they really started to get to know each other

But she knew the boys well enough to know if Bal came home to a sad Ambrosius then he’d be in a bad mood for the rest of the day

And she knows that the only thing that can cure a mopey Ambrosius is Bal

She walked into the room and started talking to Ambrosius and was kind of surprised and a little bit peeved about how well she was fooling him

Until he said “You can drop the act Nim I know it’s you”

They kind of just sat in that silence for a minute until Nimona said the first thing that came to her mind

“You want me to find my sax?”

Bal shouldn’t have been surprised to find Nimona disguised as him serenading Ambrosius with the worst freestyle jazz he’s ever heard (which is saying something)

He didn’t even say anything he just sat down and cuddled the love of his life while watching their kid try and play the sax while breakdancing

#nimona 2023 #nimona movie #nimona headcanon #nimona #ballister boldheart #ambrosius goldenloin #ballister x ambrosius #goldenheart #those dorks know each other better than they know themselves #I'm fully convinced Bal has spent days counting the freckles and beauty marks on Ambrosius' face #Cause they're sappy like that #Nimona isn't the best at comforting people #it's a real learning curve #especially cause these boys have a sadness that runs crazy deep #I'm sending all of these poor traumatized bubs to therapy #this is so long #I think it’s the longest post I’ve made in a while

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foolforharrry · 1 year

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Bunnies And Buckets

Word count: 2.8k words

Summary: Protective Harry to just pure fluff at the end.

This doesn't really make all that much sense. Again. It went a lil away from what I had planned initially.

But i hope you like it anyway. And if you wanna read more of my work, I have it all linked on my masterlist.

Any feedback would be greatly appreciated and if you have any requests please feel free to give them to me and I will do my absolute best to do it.

I love you 🫵🏻

“You’re imagining things, darling.”

“Am not!”, I protest, scowling up at him accusingly. “You totally fell asleep.”

Harry rolls his eyes, “I could tell you everything that happened at any time during the movie. Name a scene and I’ll prove it.”

“What did they do to the rabbit?”, I inquire. He tries his best to make it seem like he’s just building suspense and proving me wrong. We both know it’s useless because Harry dosed off exactly around that scene of ‘Now You See Me’.

The fluffy curls around his ears sway with the same wind that’s turned the tip of his perfect nose red and tinted his cheeks in the same colour. His arm is draped across my shoulders, keeping me tucked into his side as we stroll through the quiet park. The barely illuminated short cut peaceful and inviting despite my fear of the dangers that lurk in the darkness.

There hasn’t been one moment since we started down this gravely path where I’ve felt an ounce of fear or anxiety. The warmth and comfort of being so close to Harry quiet my mind in a way I had never experienced before him.

“It was turned into a pigeon.”

I almost feel bad for shaking my head, with how confident he seems in his answer. Magic tricks have never really been Harry’s thing, so I’m not exactly sure why he was so intent on going to see this movie in the first place. He has a habit of falling asleep if whatever movie or show we’re watching isn’t engaging him enough.

“Better luck next time pretty boy.”, I quip at him, momentarily tightening my arms around his waist.

If it weren’t for the way Harry is guiding us both, I would probably have tripped over my own two feet from how much I keep looking at his gorgeous face.

“Last time I’m taking you to the cinema, I swear.” The slight upturn to his mouth gives away that he’s not serious, but nevertheless, I give him my best pout, “Do you not want your girlfriend to be happy anymore?”

Harry opens his mouth to reply, but he’s interrupted by an unfamiliar voice popping our bubble.

“What are you doing out so late at night, sweetheart?”

Turning around at the speed of light, Harry keeps me behind him protectively, my own body tensing up with the immediate discomfort that settled in the pit of my stomach the second that sleazy voice spoke up.

“She’s with me. Now leave please.” Harry is curt and crystal clear, shoulders broad and tense as he stares at the man who’s leisurely closing the space between himself and Harry and me.

Everything about this stranger feels wrong.

From the way his eyes drag up and down my body to how he’s clearly intoxicated. The brown paper bag disguising alcohol gripped tightly in his hand and the way he’s stumbling every other step. He looks to be in his twenties. Dark messy hair and an expensive-looking suit.

“C’mon, popstar. Don’t be like that.” He slurs out, directing his attention to Harry now. “Big star like you? Bet your little whore wouldn’t mind being shared a little, huh.”

My nose wrinkles in disgust and I feel like I could throw up when his droopy eyes meet mine. The way he looks at me makes my skin crawl. I’m about to tell Harry that I just want to leave, but before I get the chance to he’s taking a strong step forward, making the man stop in his tracks.

“What the fuck did you just say?”, he snaps in a tone I’ve never heard from him before. It’s low and angry and he sounds dangerous.

But in the fucked-up state of mind, the stranger just laughs maniacally as if Harry had just delivered the funniest joke he’s heard in his life.

“Harry, leave it.”, I beg Harry quietly, gripping his arm to get his attention. “He’s not worth it.”

I’m not even sure if he heard what I said as he doesn’t budge when I tug on his jacket.

Instead, Harry takes another step forward, leaving me to wrap my arms around my body as a sort of shield from the anxiety that’s making it difficult to catch my breath.

“I’m gonna give you one chance to get the fuck out of here before I break your nose.”

The man stops laughing, instead straightening himself, gesturing to me, “You willing to ruin your squeaky-clean record for some cheap slut?”

Before I can even process what’s happening, the man is on the ground and Harry is standing over him with his whole body vibrating with anger. I can see Harry’s mouth moving, forming words at him, but all I hear is noise.

I can feel my own body shake with all the strong emotions ravaging my veins.

Our night changed so quickly that I’m not even sure how we ended up here.

One moment I was teasing Harry about how he had fallen asleep at the cinema, feeling so safe and serene, just disgustingly content. And now I’m frozen. From fright or shock or disgust or all three, I don’t know.

It isn’t until Harry’s face morphs from fury to concern when he looks at me that I realise that there are tears tumbling down my cheeks.

“Oh, baby c’mere.” Harry wraps me up in his arms and I fall into him instantly with a sob. Clinging to his back as if he would disappear if I were to let go of him even for a second. My face is smushed into his firm chest, no doubt staining his jacket with salty tears and mascara.

Shushing me, Harry keeps a protective hand on the back of my head as he rubs my back to help me calm down all while coaxing me to walk with him.

And I do, blindly setting one foot behind the other and trusting him to not let me fall.

“I’m fine, I promise.” Harry steps in front of me, blocking my access to the staircase.

“You’re not.”, I tell him. “You need to ice that hand.”

As he’s about to protest again, I grab his wrist before gently brushing my fingertips against his knuckles. The contact has Harry whining in pain and ripping his hand away from me, cradling it to his chest. “Ow! What’d you do that for?”

“If you want that to get better faster, you have to ice it for a bit.”, I explain even though I know he knows it. “Acting tough doesn’t help.”

Harry considers it for a moment before he steps aside, “Ok, you win.”

Cupping his jaw, I stand on my tippy toes to plant a kiss on his lips, Harry’s hand automatically going to the small of my back. “Good boy.”, I say jokingly before giving him a last peck and bouncing down the stairs to fetch him his frozen back of peas along with a tea towel.

The “You’re lucky I love you” that was sent my way nearly had me tumbling down the last couple of steps from laughter.

Harry is in the exact spot I left him, a grumpy pout on his lips.

“Here.” I hand him the towel-wrapped bag of peas, which he accepts, a small thank you mumbled as we make our way down the hallway, turning right and into our bedroom.

Even though we don’t officially live together, it might as well be ours considering that every time Harry has time off, he stays here.

At first, I was shocked he even wanted to come visit, let alone sleep here since I have two roommates. Now, a year and a half later, he adores them and they’re equally fond of him. It’s gotten to the point that Lauren said she and Vera would kick me out on my ass and give my room and space in the fridge to Harry if it came down to it.

Can’t say I blame them.

Harry wraps his arms around my waist from behind, pulling me out of my thoughts as I relax into him and his familiar scent. That is until I feel a freezing cold hand sneak under my shirt and lay flat on my tummy.

The stark contrast in temperature has me screeching and pushing his hands off me, careful not to hurt his bruised one.

The words die on my tongue as I watch Harry double over in laughter, bracing himself on his knees to keep upright. Any frustration I had at him for that freezing cold hand dissipates and turns into swarming butterflies as I can’t help but join him, my demonic laughter joining his.

Once we’ve both calmed down, Harry hugs me again, this time without the cold. Instead, the loving kiss he places on top of my head has a warmth travelling through my whole body.

“I love you, and I’m so sorry about what happened.”, he murmurs, nose buried in my hair.

I shake my head. “There is nothing to be sorry about, my love.”, I tell him for what feels like the hundredth time.

He has been apologising so many times for punching that man ever since it happened.

“No, there is.”, Harry protests, pulling away enough to look me in the eye, his hands cupping my face tenderly. “I don’t know what came over me. I was so scared for you just thinking about what could’ve happened if you were alone. And when he said those things, I just snapped. And I shouldn’t have. I should’ve gotten us out of there and not escalated it. I scared you and I fucking hate myself for-”

“Hey, stop that.”, I interrupt him, “I get why you did it, baby. If he spoke about you like that I would’ve punched him too.”

Harry laughs at that, and the sound tugs a smile on my face automatically.

Still, I tell him seriously; “But you didn’t scare me. He scared me. People like him scare me. What people like him do scares me. Never you. You’re the person I feel safest with than anyone else on this whole, stupid planet.”

“Do you promise?” He searches my eyes as if to see if I’m lying when I tell him yes. The relief that washes over his face when he believes that I’m being 100% honest is like someone just smoothed out all the unusually harsh lines that contoured his features.

“Plus. You defending my honour was kinda hot. I’m not gonna lie.”

Shaking his head, Harry rolls his eyes playfully, “You’re fucking impossible.” “You love it though.”

“I do.”, Harry nods, dipping down and connecting our lips in a sweet kiss, my eyes fluttering close as I hum into it.

I’m never going to get tired of the feeling of his soft lips on mine.

“Ok, wanna make that bucket list now?”, Harry asks once he pulls away, caressing my cheek with the pad of his thumb. Nuzzling into his hand, I nod, “Yeah. Let’s do it.”

Reaching into my nightstand drawer, I pull out my journal and pencil case while Harry lights the lavender-scented candle on my desk, sending me a sweet smile when our eyes meet. While I’ve always been a sucker for scented candles, my love for them is nothing compared to Harry’s.

Almost as if he read my mind, Harry says; “We need to order some more candles. I found some online the other day if you want to try something new.”

“What were you thinking?”, I ask as I slide onto the bed, my back against the various pastel-coloured throw pillows. Shuffling in next to me, head on my shoulder Harry lets out a relieved sigh as he holds the cold peas to his hand.

“I thought cherry, pomegranate or pumpkin sounded pretty nice.”, he tells me.

Kissing the top of his head, I hum in agreement. “Yeah, let’s buy those.”

“Now. Let’s get this bucket list going, shall we?” The excitement in his voice is infectious and I can’t help but smile as I flip to the first free page in my tattered, leather-bound journal.

I write ‘Bucket list’ in large letters on top of the lined page. My heart swells in my chest when Harry takes the black pen from my grasp and takes a minute doodling flowers and small hearts with a line across the middle. His tongue pokes out in concentration and the only sounds in the room come from the tip of the pen dragging across the paper and Harry’s soft hums.

“You’re so damn adorable.”, I speak my mind, making Harry stop what he’s doing, a half-smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he lifts his head from my shoulder to look at me. “Yeah? You think so?”

“The cutest.”, I confirm, booping his nose with my pointer finger. A squeal leaves my mouth when Harry tickles my stomach. A smile bright enough to light up the world on his face as I firmly plant his hand back on his thigh, my cheeks flush with colour.

Harry kisses my shoulder as he settles his head back against it. “And you call me the cutest.” He says it as if it’s one of the most ridiculous things I’ve ever uttered out loud.

As soon as we get started on the list, it grows with points neither of us even considered until now. Everything from wanting to adopt a pet bunny and name it Dora to parachuting. It’s as if the second we let ourselves just say all of our little hopes and big dreams without judgement crossing either of our minds.

“Are you serious, Harry?”, I ask him through tears of laughter. The shock of what came out of his mouth had me clutching my stomach from laughter for the past few minutes while Harry just observed as I tried to catch my breath with amusement and fondness on his face any time I managed to keep my eyes open for long enough.

Once I’ve calmed down, Harry kisses my burning cheek lovingly before he says matter of factly, “Anyone would want to have sex on a pile of money.”

“Whatever you say.” I don’t question it anymore and write his wish down right below dog sledding. “I can’t think of anything else right now.”, I confess.

Harry smiles softly at me. “Me neither. But I think we did pretty good.”

“Me too.”, I agree. “Where were you thinking of crashing a wedding though?”

He thinks for a second, the crease between his eyebrows deepening in thought, “I haven’t thought that far ahead yet. But I wanna give a speech to the happy couple.”

“What would be in this speech?”

“Seeing that we would wait to crash this wedding for a few years, I would reminisce about the time I got married to my loving wife, Helga. Throw in some words about how I hope they have a marriage as happy as ours. And of course to remember that if either of them snores as bad as Helga, earplugs are their new best friend.”

I brush the curls that have fallen in front of his eyes back off of his forehead again. “And who is this Helga you’re married to in the future?”

“We can’t use our real names, now, can we?”

I’m not quite sure if it’s the meaning behind his words or the way he’s looking at me as if I hung the moon for him or both but before I know it, my throat is tight with emotion and I’m burying my face in the crook of Harry’s neck to hide the tears that are leaking from my eyes.

“Hey, darling. What’s wrong?”, Harry asks, wrapping his arms around me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“You can’t just say shit like that and expect me not to.”, I whine, more tears wetting the warm his soft, warm skin.

“Oh, my love.”, Harry chuckles, “I thought I’d made it obvious that I wanted to put a ring on you someday.”

Detaching my face from his damp neck, I warn him; “That’s not fucking funny, Harry.”

“I’m not fucking joking.” The impossible warmth that spreads from my heart and fills my whole chest from his words as he swipes the tear streaks off my cheeks with his thumbs has more falling from my eyes. The pure sincerity and love bathing in his sage green eyes make me feel like I’m floating on a pink cloud, and I never want to get off.

What if I don’t ever want to marry you?”, I ask teasingly.

Harry doesn’t miss a beat, “Then I’ll keep asking until you’re so sick of hearing ‘Will make me the happiest man alive and marry me?’, that you’ll just have to say yes.”

#harry #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles blurb #harry styles fluff #harry styles masterlist #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles #one direction #fanfiction #masterlist #fluff #hs fluff #protective harry

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lieutenantdeputysharkbradshaw · 9 months

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Dating Justin Russo headcanon

He will always make sure you have everything you could possibly ever need or want, even if it required him to use magic

He brags about you all the time to anyone who will listen. His friends thought you were made up until they met you, and from there your new group of friends was inseparable

Your relationship with Theresa is amazing. She calls you Mijita and you call her Momma Russo. She can’t wait for you and Justin to get married one day

He’s always the responsible one. He makes sure that you’ve eaten today and will whip something up for you if he finds out you haven’t

Be prepared for so many corny jokes and nerdy references that even though you don’t have a clue what he’s talking about, they never fail to make you smile

One of Justin’s favorite things to do is watch the Harry Potter movies and point out all the inaccuracies in the movie series

He’s super clingy, but not in a bad way, he just loves being around you. He invites you everywhere even if he knows you can’t come because he wants you to know he’s always thinking about you.

Justin Russo is an absolute cuddle bug. He loves to lay with you with your head on his chests while he plays with your silky locks of hair. This often seeps out into public places in the form of soft touches. Whether it’s holding your hand or touching the small of your back or sitting close enough that your thighs touch, Justin has to be touching you at all times

He gets jealous sometimes because he fears he’s not enough for you. After Juliet, he was worried that he’d never be good enough for someone to stay around long enough, so every time he sees you and Mason goofing around, he gets a little territorial. You guys have talked about it though and it’s never gone past the point of him doing something he’d regret. It just means you have to cuddle him and reassure him a little extra that day

He’s the most loyal guy you’ll ever meet. He’s been though so much in his life that he would never do anything that would risk you leaving him. Even if you guys are arguing he always tries to be as understanding and accommodating as possible because he hates seeing you upset and wants to quit arguing as soon as possible

Authors note:

I’ve been rewatching wizards lately and I realized how few Justin x reader fics are out there so what do we do on tumblr when we can’t find a fic we’re looking for? Write it ourselves. This is my first time writing on here so, let me know if you like it. Also, feel free to submit requests and I’ll try my best to get to them !

#justin russo #justin russo x reader #wizards of waverly place #headcanon

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rizzyu · 8 months

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▵▿— Someone Who Loves You

Pairing: Giyuu Tomioka x gn! Reader

Category: Fluff, angst (if you squint hard enough)

Warning: Confession, sight mentions of Giyuu’s backstory, that type of nostalgic feeling at the end

Summary: You’ve always been particularly friendly towards Giyuu, so much that he began developing feelings towards you over the years you’ve been comrades together. The day where you two were paired on a mission had arrived, maybe he can finally confess his feelings?

A/N: Poor boy needs some therapy

Ever since the death of his best friend Sabito, Giyuu had become reserved, isolating himself and his emotions from the rest of the world. No matter how much he wanted to befriend others, to be liked or needed by others, he stopped himself from doing so. Because he knew, as a Demon Slayer, there wasn’t a guarantee where he or people he loves will return alive tomorrow. So he tried not to get attached to anyone.

Until you came into his life.

You joined the Demon Slayer Corps a few years after Giyuu did, and you rose though the ranks quickly. Due to your dedication of saving people from demons, you soon became a Hashira. On the day when you were officially ranked as a Hashira, on the day you were introduced to all of your fellow Hashira comrades, was the day Giyuu met you. You had a smile as bright as sunshine, and a voice as sweet as honey. Your lively and friendly personality was naturally attractive, allowing you to captivate new friends and admirers left and right, like flies to light. For years, you and Giyuu were Hashiras together. And despite how quiet and reserved Giyuu was, you still tried to engage with him. Occasionally bringing him deserts or treating him to salmon daikon. It became harder and harder for him to not develop feelings for you. You were always so kind and friendly to him. And despite all the bad gossips about him from other Hashiras, you ignored them and still tried to bond with him. It was as if you knew Giyuu’s desire to befriend others.

Things were never the same since that one day, on that one mission.

You were paired with Giyuu on a mission after receiving reports of demons lurking in a mountain quite far away from HQ. As you travelled with Giyuu, you kept trying to talk to him. But it seemed that he was even more quiet than usual. You didn’t pay much attention though, thinking you might treat him to some salmon daikon again later. Night approached sooner than you expected, so you decided to make a pit stop at a nearby Wisteria House before continuing travelling tomorrow. An old lady came to greet you when you knocked on the gates. “Oh hello, you two are Demon Slayers, correct? Come on in.” The old lady showed you to a room within the Wisteria House and you wasted absolutely no time setting up your futon and getting ready for rest. Afterall, you were exhausted from travelling today. Giyuu, on the other hand, stayed awake. Sitting on the edge of the engawa outside of your room, he stared at the moon which ever so gracefully lit up everything beneath it. “Giyuu…?” He turned around to see you tiptoeing towards him. “What are you doing up so late?” You asked as you sat down next to him on the engawa, drowsiness still mixed in with your voice. “Mmmm… Just thinking.” “Don’t you think it’s a bit too late at night to think?” “For Demon Slayers, it’s never too late at night to think.” You divert your eyes towards the moon hung above you. A comforting silence filled the air around you, chirping or crickets or the calls of night birds occasionally breaking the silence. You basked in the comforting presence of him, until he spoke up. “Yknow… I’ve been wanting to say this for a while…” Giyuu whispered in the softest voice, eyes still fixed on the moon. “I love you. You’ve always been so nice and kind to me. And it was as if you knew about the pain I felt about the deaths of my sister and best friend, you’ve always tried to cheer me up.” He looked down, refusing to look at you in the eyes. “It’s alright if you don’t feel the same way as I do–“ Giyuu’s words were cut short when you gently yet quickly cradled his face in your hands and pressed your lips to his. The kiss was short but sweet. When you pulled away, Giyuu could only stare into your eyes in shock, cheeks dusted in light pink. “Yknow I’ve been wanting to say the same thing to you too for a long time now.” “Does that mean we’re…?” Giyuu was hesitated to ask, still trying to confirm if this was all real. You smiled at him brightly, eyes forming into two crescent moons.

Ever since his best friend and sister died from protecting him, Giyuu fell into an endless loop of regret and guilt. You were the one who broke through that loop and held a hand out for him. And for the first him in years, a smile was plastered on Giyuu’s face.

Bonus: the other hashiras were literally like ⓿_⓿ when they say you come back from your mission holding hands with Giyuu.

#riyugu writing #yorutenshi riyugu #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer #kny #kny x reader #giyuu x reader #giyuu tomioka

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lysa1201-saucy · 3 months

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hi can i request body worship with jumin han? tyyy <3

Hiiii sorry this is super late, life is crazy and I’m still trying to learn how to write NSFW better (which is why I’ve taken these requests lol) and also trying to learn how to write GN reader to be more inclusive!

I hope this is good or at least is good enough LMAO I tried my best 🙏 Thank you SO much for the request 🥰

if it’s bad, no it wasn’t, it’s my birthday, be nice 2 me

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Never Seen Anything More Perfect - Jumin Han x GN!Reader

18+ ONLY

Genre: Fluff, Smut

Warnings: body worship (obviously lol, unless I’m a terrible writer and did it wrong cuz oops), oral but I keep body parts ✨ambiguous✨, marking, and some hand stuff idk handjob i guess idk

Word Count: 418

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Jumin was quite the attentive man. Always spoiling you, caring for you. Too cold? New jacket for you, a new blanket, want a heater? He’s got it. Bored? Here’s a new TV, some games, subscriptions to your favorite streaming services, quite anything you like.

He loves to spoil you. However, he has one area he likes to spoil most.

Your body.

God, he loves your body. Your eyes, your nose, your lips, your hair, your ears, your neck, your chest, your arms, your hands, your ass, your thighs, God the list can go on and on. He’s in love with you.

Every single part of you. Every inch. And he loves to show you that.

He had you moaning on his bed, sucking where you’re most sensitive as he went down on you, making sure you feel the absolute best. You look so perfect when he’s making you feel so good. You tug at his hair, confused on whether you want him to pull away and fuck you, or to keep going and let you cum all over his face.

“You’re so amazing,” he would praise you, leaving kisses all around your pleasurable space. “So perfect… can never get tired of how wonderful you are. Your sounds, the way you blush, the way you cum… always so satisfying. My favorite thing is you.” He would go on, kissing all over your body. Your thighs, your hips, your chest, a small suck and nibble on your nibbles, and his favorite part: your neck.

God, he loved your neck. Sucking on it, biting it, kissing it. And your jaw. He needed all of you, who was he kidding? “I could stare at your body all day. I want to kiss it all, mark it all, you’re so fucking perfect.”

“More perfect than Elizabeth the 3rd?” You chuckled a bit, testing him. In response, he moved his hand down to your groin to start playing with you, causing your chuckle to be replaced by a moan.

Jumin smirks. “More perfect than Elizabeth the 3rd… just don’t tell her I said that.” He smirks as he leads his kisses up to your ear, nibbling on the earlobe. You try to let out another giggle, but all he does is increase his speed and the pressure of his hand to once again replace it with a moan.

Finally, his lips moved to yours so sensually, his hands moving around to touch all of you. He loved you. Everything about you. Inside and out.

++++

I accept constructive criticism, just be nice im sensitive and it’s birthday you legally HAVE to be nice to me today

#mystic messenger #mystic messenger smut #jumin han x mc #jumin han x reader #jumin han #jumin han smut

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lucky-peoqle · 2 years

Text

when the truth comes out - tory nichols

request: hello :) i was so excited to see that you take requests for tory, could i please request s5 tory x fem!reader (either an imagine or headcanons) where reader is a member of miyagi do/eagle fang and maybe she tells reader the truth about cobra kai and being forced to break the stone because terry and kim brought up reader? honestly whatever you’d like to write is totally fine with me 💖 thanks so much!

warning(s): swearing, blood(?), scars, angst and fluff hah

word count: n/a

pairing: tory nichols x fem!reader

a/n: finally writing these, sorry schools kinda pushing back schedules due to me missing a few days :/ i had to rewatch this episode but i absolutely love this idea !! also new dividers for fall !! woohoo 💗💗💗 this also feels so rushed im sorry, not proof read btw

it was late, like really late. sensei larusso, chozen, and lawrence had made classes go way over then they were supposed to and then hawk and miguel just needed you to go grab something to eat with them.

you didn’t mind though, you loved spending time with those goofs, but they wore you out.

you joined the miyagi-do/eagle fang dojo with robby earlier in the summer. he had convinced you since you weren’t going to deal with silver’s bullshit. you didn’t miss cobra kai one bit, but there was someone you missed.

that person? was tory.

due to going to separate dojos, you had a falling out and it lead you to break up. it hit you hard, you wouldn’t talk to anyone do anything for days on end until robby checked up on you. you missed her a lot, and you hadn’t see her since miguel’s party where her and sam got into an argument. you tried to chase after her, but she had gotten away before you could.

you had just gotten out of the shower, putting on a clean pair of pajamas shorts and one of tory’s old t-shirts you never gave back. you wouldn’t dare give it back, it’s one of the only things you have left of hers.

walking into your room, drying your h/c hair with an extra towel, you let out a sigh. practice today was tiring, most had been recently. thank goodness your parent’s weren’t home for the weekend so you could have to whole house to yourself.

you almost didn’t hear the frantic knocking at your door, but you did. it made you jump a little, who in the world would be knocking at this hour?

you slowly crept downstairs, the knocking still going. “i’m coming, i’m coming,” you mumble to no one really.

making your way to the front door, you let out a slightly shaky breathe, reaching out to turn the knob and slowly open the door. you opened the door excessively slow, peaking out until you released who was standing in your doorway.

“tory…?” you muttered.

she looked up at you, slightly teary eyed. “hey.”

“tory! what are you- uh. what are you doing here?”

the blonde let’s out a sigh, looking around outside before looking back at you, “can i come in?” she asked.

“yeah, of course-,” you start, before noticing her knuckles, which she had been rubbing gently. “oh my god, what happened to your hand?”

“that’s what i came here for.”

“okay, uh… follow me.” you say, getting out of her way to let her in, shutting the door and leading her to the kitchen.

she sits at the counter, watching you grab an ice pack from the freezer and hand it to her. she rests it on her knuckles.

“so…,” you rock back and forth on your heels, “what’s up?”

tory let’s out a shaky breathe, “my whole life is a fucking lie.”

you quirk an eyebrow, “what.”

“everything is a lie. i’m living a lie. silver paid off the refs at the all-valley last year. cobra kai cheated so i could win against sam.”

“tory- slow down, i can’t keep up. silver paid off the refs?”

“yes! and it’s been eating me alive for months. i wanted to get back at him so bad. i’ve been visiting kreese in prison and all he’s been telling me is lies! i’ve been telling him everything for nothing! i feel like a fraud. my life is a living hell, i’ve lost all of my friends, and more importantly; you.”

you walk up to her and kneel in front of her, looking up at her. “hey, hey, hey, you haven’t lost me,” you say, “i’m not going away at all. we, miyagi-go and eagle fang, can help you. they went to stingray earlier. he basically admitted that silver assaulted him. he’s too afraid to go to the police.

“i knew silver was involved, i just didn’t think he did it with his own hands,” she said quietly.

“yeah, but we don’t have anything to prove it.”

“if it happened at the old dojo, maybe we can..”

“really? are you sure?”

“yeah, but can we not talk about this right now. i need a break for at least a night. can i stay here tonight? i don’t want to be alone.”

you nod, “of course, you don’t even have to ask. just tell me one thing; what happened to your hand?”

“they made me break pure stone, y/n, but i couldn’t. until they brought up our break up… then bam! instant break,” she said, voice breaking at the end of her sentence. “i regret breaking up with you so much. i miss you.”

your heart broke at the sight of her sounding so weak and broken. “hey, it’s okay. it’s okay. those people are sick. i miss you too, and maybe once we go through with out plan, we can try again okay? when we broke up i was broken, but i want us to try again, please.”

tory nodded, “yeah, i’d like that a lot. the worst thing about cobra kai was losing you and i refuse to let you go that easy.”

she placed a chaste kiss to your forehead before you giggled, standing up. “we’ve gotta keep this a secret for a bit, how romantic.”

“this is why i won’t let you get away too easy, juilet,” tory gave you a smile.

“come on, let’s go upstairs romeo. we’ve got quality cuddle time to make up for.”

#tory nichols x reader #cobra kai #cobra kai imagine #cobra kai x reader #tory nichols #peyton list #peyton list x reader

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plasticflwrs · 4 months

Text

⠀⠀ ⠀┈─ ANATOMY ⠀⠀／ ⠀⠀ an oliver song story ( 2020 ).

It's just anatomy and you're only half of me, but still, you don't know me at all. You've been my missing piece, so why aren't you missing me? Guess I meant less than I thought. — Anatomy, Kenzie.

WORD COUNT. 4.1k words. WARNINGS / NOTES. this is a very heavy piece. not only does it deal with the death of oliver's father, which was an overdose. please let me know if you need a summary and stay safe! other mentions include alcohol and substance abuse, cigarettes, suicidal ideation, fighting, crying, family problems. please let me know if i missed anything. most of this was written in 2023 as apart of a longer piece but due to timeline issues, they've been split and added to.

MARCH 1, 2019 ... 09:29 KST — SUPERBLOOM MEDIA HEADQUARTERS.

Oliver swears he will never forget that last phone call. As the phone rang, he considered letting it go to voicemail to avoid whatever spiral his father was falling down and calling him later in the day, when Oliver knew that he would be asleep. It was morning in Seoul, which meant in Boston, it was the previous night and that was when his father got bad. Something about the loneliness and paranoia his mother tried to justify. After seeing Minghui’s glance in his direction, Oliver stepped out of the room as the call connected.

His hand trembled slightly as he held the phone to his ear. It had been months since their last attempt at a conversation and each call was bringing up that childhood anger Oliver could never truly let go of. He wanted to confront his father, tell him everything he had done wrong in Oliver’s life, but the words always died on his tongue and left him feeling cowardly. His heart pounded in his chest, waiting for his father to finally say something.

Finally, a familiar voice cleared his throat through the line, thick with emotions Oliver couldn’t place. “Oliver, my boy!” the voice sounded joyful, but he knew that it wouldn’t last very long. “How are you?”

“I’m—uh—I’m good,” he struggles with the words, pulling at the belt loop of his favorite pair of jeans. “Been a bit busy lately with album preparation, nothing out of the ordinary…” He trails off, not knowing what exactly to say in the moment. Oliver had rehearsed the moment in his head so many times and each time, he would win but real life was a different story. He hated the sound of his father’s yelling and often ended the call prematurely just to end it. “Any reason that you called?”

“Can’t a father call his favorite son?” Thomas asked, laughing to himself. “Don’t tell Liam that, promise?”

“Um, yeah, of course,” Oliver tries to match his tone, but it just falls completely flat.

“What? Still scared of calling your dad?”

Without thinking, Oliver blurts out, “just scared that you’re calling for money.” That wasn’t the right thing to say and he knows it. His heartbeat literally stutters as he waits for an answer and he feels like he’s about to pass out right then and there.

"What was that, Oli?" his father finally said, his tone guarded, completely shifting from how he had greeted Oliver.

“I mean—that’s why you called right?” There was no going back now, Oliver needed to get this off of his chest and move on from whatever nightmares his father caused. There was no reason to be almost eighteen years old and still scared of his father’s temper and phone calls. “To ask me money for drugs and when I say no, you’ll just remind me that I’m worthless and mean absolutely nothing to you?”

Another pause, longer this time, filled with a heavy silence that seemed to stretch on for an eternity.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Oliver," his father replied, his voice low and defensive. "I’ve never done that before."

But Oliver wasn't about to let him off the hook that easily. Years of pent-up frustration and hurt bubbled to the surface, fueling his resolve to speak his truth, no matter the consequences.

"No, Dad,” he spits out the word, as if it was choking him. “That's not a good enough excuse anymore." Oliver said, his voice rising as he hopes that no employees find him in this hallway, shouting at his father. "It’s always been about you and your issues. You were always too busy with your own problems, too wrapped up in your own life to care about mine. What about me, huh? Wanna heart about my problems? How much of my life you’ve ruined?"

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line, followed by a tense silence that seemed to hang between them like a heavy fog. This is probably the longest he’s ever spoken to his father in a very long time. Time almost moves slowly as he waits for his father to reply, hopefully something just as mena so Oliver doesn’t feel as nasty about this conversation.

“You think you're so perfect, don't you?” his father spat, his voice dripping with disdain and anger. “Well, newsflash, son – you're not. You're just like me, a failure, a disappointment.”

“I'm not like you,” Oliver snaps back, holding his ground for once though his eyes start to water against his wishes. He had been doing so well, holding back those tears. Thomas is going to know that he’s crying and it will only feel his rage further. “I refuse to let myself become the person you want me to be. I deserve better than that, we both do.”

“You'll never be good enough, Oliver,” his father said, his voice filled with a twisted sense of satisfaction. “This whole music thing—it’s gonna collapse under you and you’re gonna be just like me. You don’t think Mom tells me everything? I know that you’ve been drinking… how did she put it? Excessively to fit into your little band of friends and the losers you hang out with. You’re not even of age… you’re just as bad as me.”

“God, you’re such a hypocrite!”

Oliver can’t find it in himself to say anymore, his mind is racing too fast for any thought to come through coherently. The silence that passes between them is tense, only broken by his father chuckling on the other side of the line.

“C’mon, Oli… you wanted a fight, why are you giving up now? Scared I’m gonna win?” his father taunts and he can see the sick smile on his face clearly.

He shakes his head and tries to recenter himself, but its too hard. All of his emotions are hitting him like a truck, though anxiety seems to be winning. “No, I don’t wanna fight with a drug addict. I’m not stooping that low.”

With that, he hangs up the phone without a second thought. His father calls back for the rest of the day, leaving voicemails that switch between anger and sadness within mere minutes. Thomas apologizes in one voicemail, but the next is yelling about how awful of a son Oliver is. When his bandmates ask about it, it makes him feel embarrassed and he ends up blocking the number to end the onslaught of texts and phone calls coming from Boston.

He feels guilty about it from the moment he hits the button, but its for the best.

Sadly though, Oliver would never get the chance to talk to his father again.

DECEMBER 11, 2020 … 22:20 KST — CHEEKY'S BAR AND LIVE MUSIC.

Oliver feels invincible when he walks onto the stage, however, when the lights stop focusing on him and he has to return to reality, everything gets bad again.

There was no other way to describe it—things were just bad for Oliver Song, as they had been for months now. On stage, He can feel his heart beating in his chest, the sweat from both running around the bar and the lights directly on him, constantly feeling out of breath. He also realizes that the alcohol in his system has something to do with it as he trips over his feet and the growing headache from each sweet drink he tosses back.

They are scheduled to perform until midnight and he wishes that it could go on longer. They were the best act that Cheeky’s had, but their closing spot had been given to some up-and-coming losers from Busan trying to make it big. He didn’t like them. The lead singer, Haemin, had given him a nasty look the first time they had met and since then, Oliver never wanted to see the members of Fender again. As he trips over the staircase leading to the stage, laughing as Jiyeon attempts to steady him, a staff member says that his manager needs to talk to him.

He frowns at Garam from across the room, who is giving some sort of direction to her army of minions, and doesn’t meet Oliver’s gaze. Deurim pats him on the back and assures him that things will be fine. If he’s not back in time, the band will just play some requests that didn’t involve him. He tries to smile at the reassurance, thanking her, and Oliver walks over to his manager. In a weird change of pace, he’s handed his phone, a black Apple product with a shitty case that barely keeps it from cracking each time it falls from his hands. He gives Garam a weird look and she says, “I’ve gotten six missed calls from your mother. I think you need to call her.”

“I’m sorry?” he asks, the sound of rock music still playing in their absence and screaming from the audience makes it harder for him to understand what she is saying. And the alcohol, of course.

Garam sighs, bringing him away from the stage and back into the green room with an annoyed look, dark brown eyebrows furrowed together. “I said that your family called me and you need to call them back. They can’t keep blowing up my phone because you don’t want to answer.”

At that moment, Oliver is reminded of why he never really liked Garam. While she put on that caring front and seemed to enjoy her job, there was always some bitterness behind her words and she hated having to take care of their career. She wanted an easy way into the talent industry but Oliver, having heard her singing in the rides back to their apartment, knew that she would never make it as a singer. Actress, maybe, but not a singer. He exhales, carefully, not wanting to set off his temper.

“I’ve been on stage for the last three hours. Fucking sue me or something,” he hisses back at Garam and takes his phone from her hand. Her eyebrows raise as if surprised that he could even fight back. “Tell Salem she can do whatever. Just don’t play the new track or I’ll be pissed.”

“Whatever, Oliver,” Garam says and leaves the room, slamming the door behind her. He tried not to flinch at such a loud noise, showing that it startled him, but was glad her back was turned away.

That’s when the good feelings associated with adrenaline and being on stage start to sour. A cramp in his side that Oliver had never felt before fucking hurts and he can feel his throat begin to close around itself. He can only imagine what’s going on the other side of the world as he stands in Seoul, alone, facing yet another challenge that may be his final straw. He clears his throat and takes a long sip of the water bottle on the makeup vanity next to him. He stares at himself in the mirror, as if that would sober him up.

Ten phone calls from his mother and older sister.

Nothing new, he supposed, but it was never a good sign when they called him more than twice in a single period of twenty-four hours. They tried to respect his time and the time change, but some things were too important to allow Oliver to shut out the world around him.

He hits the first notification with a trembling hand and brings it to his ear. “Mom,” he tries to sound hopeful for her, pulling a small smile even though she can’t see him in the hopes of making her feel better. “Hey, is everything doing okay over there?”

“Oliver,” Mom sighs in relief and he can hear Ivy in the background, annoyed that he didn’t pick up earlier. “Where are you?”

“The bar? We always play on the weekend,” he responds. It was Friday night, which always drew in the best crowd for Plastic Flowers as people were desperate for a drink and good music after the long work week. He couldn’t blame them and was always glad he never worked a regular job. Making his schedule was the only perk of music.

“I need you to sit down, okay?” she says and Oliver does as she says, sitting in the armchair that was next to the door. It was where Junyeong always sat when they came, but, Oliver didn’t care at that moment. “It’s about your father… He’s been in the hospital for the last three nights after an accidental overdose of alcohol. We, uh, had to cut the life support a few hours ago.” The phone made it hard to tell, but he knew that his mother was crying. He hears her sniffle and presses harshly against his skin, as if wiping away the tears, before letting her arms fall harshly against her side.

That’s when the static takes over.

Oliver can feel his mind racing, imagining every single scenario that could have happened to his father. Thomas Song was never… right. He came from a rough home life, served in an active military campaign, and never really recovered from anything that happened to him. He was just like his paternal grandfather—a loser. There was no fight in either of those men as they drowned themselves away in any substance they could get their hands on.

She continues, stammering with each word and trying to remain strong for her children. “I’m sorry that you couldn’t say goodbye. You guys weren’t close but I know you would have wanted to be there… Ivy and I didn’t want him to be in any more pain. Keeping him alive was only making it worse for him.”

Oliver’s parents never married due to his addiction issues. They went through phases of trying to portray a happy family to the world, but those that knew them well knew it was all an act. At least once a year, Oliver would be told his father was taking a “business trip” for a few months and would call him once he got the chance. As he got older, Oliver realized that it was just code for going back into a rehab program and trying to get clean for the next few months. It was always that exact cycle—get clean, move back into their apartment, start drinking again, Kathleen kicks him out, and then it starts again.

At a eleven years old, Thomas Song lost complete custody of his children and was forced into supervised visits by the state after he had hurt Liam. He claimed it was an accident, but Oliver was never sure since he had been with his mother at the time. After a few visits, it all just stopped. He got phone calls and promises of Christmas visits, but they never came. He learned to stop expecting anything from Thomas Song.

Oliver, however, knew that he was never coming back to them and he had made every member of his family cry too many times to ask for forgiveness. They had each given him so many chances and he refused to take them, promising that he’ll come back once he gets better. He never got better.

Things only got worse as Oliver got many drunk calls and text messages begging for money. It ramped up as his fame increased and suddenly, his father was accusing him of awful things and he was forced to deal with it because his father was ‘sick’ in the eyes of everyone else around him. He was called a ‘worthless son’ for not giving him money for whatever substance he was hooked on at that moment and demanded that Oliver take some responsibility in ruining his life. Whatever that fucking meant. Thankfully, Oliver was never forced to give him the money but, he was still left with these awful voicemails until Oliver had to block his number on his eighteenth birthday.

It seemed karma had finally caught up to Thomas Song.

“Yeah, I’ve been telling you that for news now,” Oliver interrupts, using the sleeve of his sweater to dry his eyes with an annoyed sigh, waiting for her lecture.

“C’mon, love. You know he tried his best to get better,” she sighs and even over the phone he can see her annoyed expression. “Addiction is a disease. It changed how his brain worked from such a young age and he’s been struggling ever since then. He made progress but something would always trigger him back into that state. He couldn’t help it. But, your feelings about him are also fair. I just want you to remember him as a good person, not the man he was in the last few years.”

Hearing her defend his father makes any sadness Oliver had turn into annoyance. If anyone should be angry about his selfishness it's his mother. He had cheated on Kathleen multiple times and Oliver knew he had random step-siblings all across the country. He wanted nothing to do with them and while Ivy enjoyed playing happy family with them, he was content with never even knowing their names. He only knew of one—Grayson—who had tried to direct message Oliver after seeing an advertisement for Plastic Flowers on Youtube. Oliver never replied, but he still check Grayson’s Instagram often, seeing pictures of him and Thomas Song smiling like a happy family. They shouldn’t even exist, especially the one born just a few months before Liam. It made him feel sick to even think about her.

His father was not a good person no matter how much his mother attempted to convince him. He was happy to leave his children with nothing and screw up anything he could. There was no love in that man, only the need to make himself happy. It was all about Thomas Song, there was nothing anyone else could do about it.

“It’s not fair, though,” he retorts. “Dad can hurt me for almost two decades straight and just get away with it because he was an addict?”

“That’s not what I’m saying, Oliver. I just want you to picture his side of the story for a second. He had a rough life and this was the only way he could cope with it all. It sucks, I get that, but it’s not fair to him to write off how much of a good person he was. You see the situation in such a different light and that’s okay.”

“Except he wasn’t!” Oliver exclaims. “If he were a good person, he would have chosen us and at least tried to make an effort. Instead, he was fucking other women all across the United States and calling me for some extra money!”

She sniffles on the other side and Oliver immediately feels bad. He hates upsetting his mother. “He did try, though. He didn’t want you three to see him at his lowest and was about to get into another rehab program. He wanted to try this time.”

“Well, it’s too late now.”

“I know that,” she sighs again. “I don’t want to fight about this any longer, though. I know he wouldn’t want a funeral but did you want to come to the celebration of life? We can plan around your schedule or I’m sure such circumstances would allow you to come home.”

“No. I don’t want to celebrate with him. Don’t worry about me being there,” Oliver scoffed, waving away whoever was coming to check on him.

His mother responded easily, “And that’s fine. I’ll keep some things for you. I’m sorry for taking so much of your time, Oliver, but don’t hesitate to call me, alright? I’ll always be here for you. These next few days will be rough, even with your poor relationship and it’s okay to feel upset about him and what happened. Just… keep me in the loop. Please?”

“I will,” he lies through his teeth.

He was going to deal with this on his own.

Just like everything else going on in Oliver’s life.

The call ends with both of them saying that they love each other and promising to call another day, when they had let the anger go. Oliver stays in his place for a moment. He was fine, there was nothing to worry about right now. He had been feeling good this entire night and of course, his father had to ruin yet another thing.

He hates Thomas Song and honestly hopes that he rots in whatever hell he gets to.

On his walk inside of the building, he passes their personal belongings and Oliver grabs the package of menthol cigarettes from Salem’s jacket pocket and makes a mental note to buy her a new one tomorrow. He’s going to need this package for the next few days. With the package in hand, he goes right back outside, glaring at the team member who tried to usher him back onto the stage.

His trembling hands clutch a pack of cigarettes, and his fingers nervously tap against the cardboard. The cold fall air hits him instantly and he remembers those September mornings walking to school with his father and falls against the wall behind him with a sob.

The weight of the news he received just a few minutes ago, that his father has passed away, weighs heavily on him alongside the rest of his problems. His breath is ragged as each inhale and exhale grounds him further to the news and weeks of anxiety come back to him. He raises a cigarette to his lips, and the flame from his lighter quivers as he tries to ignite it. His hands shake uncontrollably, and it takes several attempts before the tip of the cigarette catches fire. He inhales deeply; a long, trembling drag.

Maybe this wasn’t worth it anymore. Oliver leans his head against the bricks, much harder than he intended, and doesn’t even flinch. That awful voice in the back of his mind tells him that he deserves it, deserves to feel the same pain that he caused everyone else for his selfishness. He almost calls his mom back, to apologize, but knows that she’ll be better without him anyway. Ivy and Liam could talk about his place in family photos and they would stop thinking that he was their mother’s favorite. They didn’t need him anymore.

No one needed him.

The smoke fills his lungs, and he exhales slowly, releasing a cloud of despair into the room. Tears glisten in his eyes as he stares blankly at the many couples walking around the dark streets of Gangnam. He knows that if any of them notice and recognize him, the company deals with it so he remains where he stands. He takes another drag, each inhalation a futile attempt to drown out the pain. The cigarette burns steadily, casting shadows on his tear-stained face.

There was a bottle of acetaminophen in his shared bathroom with Junyeong. Completely unopened and he knew it was cowardly to go out. Peacefully, in his sleep, waiting for someone to notice and completely change the trajectory of their career. He wondered how they would react if the others would even feel sad that he was gone. Shaking his head, Oliver burns his hand with the cigarette for an immediate change in focus. It’s not held there long, just enough to hold the light and cause just enough pain, leaving a mark on his left wrist.

At that moment, the world felt so small. Having ruined his relationships with everyone around him, it’s just Oliver, his cigarette, and thoughts against the world. A dangerous combination with two of those forces ready to kill him at any moment.

As the minutes pass, the cigarette turns to ash, and Oliver lets it fall to the floor, forgotten.

He pulls the door open, plasters a fake smile on his face, and goes back on stage like nothing even happened. The fans welcome him with a resounding cheer. Maybe this is why he did it—the attention. Salem gives him a confused glance as he walks back out, he knows it's obvious that he has been crying and instead smiles back, shaking his head. She nods, though he knows that she’s going to try to get some information out of him later. At least she still cared about him.

He loves the feeling of the spotlight directly pointing at him and clutches the microphone so tight that his hands begin to turn white.

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glazesunflower · 2 years

Text

Them Snapping At Their SO And The Apologies That Come After. Pt. 2

Characters: Kaeya & Yae Miko (separate).

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, verbal fighting and heavy emotions. With comfort after!

Notes: This is my first time writing for Kaeya, and all I have to say is that he’s very hot and he desperately needs therapy.

Part 1, in case you’re interested, is in (this link!)

To say Kaeya was having a bad day would be an understatement.

He’s a professional man, so he can handle whatever problems he encounters in his line of work quite well, always ready to manage the situation before any problem escalates enough to be a bother for him later on, all the more so before Jean even hears of it.

So after a long (and exceptionally tiring) day of being the renowned Cavalry Captain, he thought he deserved a proper rest, so he headed to Angel’s Share with Rosaria to unwind, like he usually did.

Make it a quick drink, Rosaria had said, and Kaeya nodded. He had a date with you, after all.

It wasn’t a rare occurrence for the both of you to have dates, even after your honeymoon phase had long since ended, but you still enjoyed each other’s company and Kaeya insisted on adding his special touch to all of your meetings, so the two of you always ended up calling it a date and having a wonderful time together.

This one was special, of course. It was your anniversary. So Kaeya promised himself he’d have a quick drink and he’d head home to you.

It had started as a simple discussion, as it often happened whenever Kaeya walked in Angel’s Share and Diluc was behind the counter, serving for another night. To say the two of them had a complicated history would be another understatement, and Kaeya has never been too open about his emotions towards his brother to you, if at all. He liked to keep his secrets.

But the argument with Diluc grew, and soon they were throwing spiteful words at each other over the counter, Kaeya’s drink spilling and Diluc’s face getting redder in anger by the minute. Rosaria was too used to the situation to try and intervene, so she stood aside and let the storm rage and pass on its own, as it often did.

Let’s go to the Cat’s Tail. I’m yet to enjoy having a drink today, Kaeya told Rosaria as he stormed off Angel’s Share, Rosaria following closely behind.

It’s late. You should go home, Rosaria tried to argue back to no use.

Let’s go, Kaeya insisted, and Rosaria wasn’t one to engage in pointless confrontations.

It was well past midnight when you heard the door creak open. At that exact moment you learned three things. One, Kaeya was home very late. Two, by the careless way of him opening the door, he was clearly drunk. And third, he had stood you up on your anniversary to get drunk and arrive home late.

So you walk up to the corridor and switch on the lights, your arms crossed on your chest and resentment boiling inside your chest.

“I hope you have a good excuse.” Your voice is cold as ice.

“I’ve had a terrible day, okay? I apologize for the state I’m in, but— Can we talk about this in the morning?”

“No. We absolutely can’t, Kaeya.” You block his way, feeling every nerve and inch of your skin light on fire. “What were you even doing? Did the thought of me waiting here for you even crossed your mind?”

“You’re always on my mind, my love.” He tries to flirt his way out of the situation, but your stern expression doesn’t flinch even a little, so he sighs. “If you must know, I had an unpleasant encounter with my brother. It’s him you should be blaming, really. He kept me at his bar sputtering nonsense.”

“Kaeya—” You take a deep breath. “You can’t keep doing this. You can’t possibly keep blaming your brother for everything that’s wrong in your life. At some point you’re going to have to take responsibility—”

Kaeya freezes, his eyes growing darker as he frowns, looking down at you with his eyes overflowing with disgust.

“What do you even know about us, huh? You have no idea of what he did, no idea of what I went through. So don’t talk as if you knew anything!” He raises his voice, sending chills down your spine. He walks up to you with big steps, and somehow he looks bigger, like the anger bubbling in his chest is making him larger, the smell of alcohol stronger the closer he is to you. And for a moment, you’re scared. “You’re too privileged to even phandom what kind of horrors I’ve had to witness, how much pain I’ve had to bear. But then again, you’re not that interested in knowing, are you? After all, your world revolves around you, doesn’t it, darling?” The twist in his voice, from anger to sweet and frivolous makes you sick to your stomach. He’s too close to you, leaning over your face like a predator, and you’re shivering. “We’ll talk in the morning.”

He says, and he stomps to the bedroom, closing the door behind him. You’re left in the corridor, your blood frozen inside your veins. You run past the front door, not looking back.

Kaeya wakes up the next morning with the worst of headaches. He makes it to the kitchen to make himself some breakfast when it hits him. Everything he said last night to you, the look of utter terror written all over your eyes, and he feels positively terrible. He knew he wasn’t a good person, he’s always been painfully aware. But whenever he brought it up half jokingly, you’d hold his face in your hands, fingers in his hair as you tell him, No. You have a good heart, Kaeya. And he never wanted to believe anyone’s words until you arrived.

And now, he’s been a terrible person to you. He’s hurt you deeply, and the worst part is, he can’t excuse his actions and promise he won’t do it again.

So he waits for you to come back, his chest heavy as he cleans the house, scattering his brain to find some words of comfort, of absolution, anything to make you stay. That is, if you ever come back to him. A small, cowardly part of him would understand if you didn’t, though it’d crush his soul into a million pieces.

It’s not until the seventh day that you decide to return.

Kaeya finds you on the couch, waiting for him. It’s late at night, and Kaeya is afraid of approaching you. Or hurting you again with his words.

So he watches in silence as you turn around, your eyes big and sad all over him.

“You didn’t mean what you said.”

It’s what leaves your lips, and Kaeya takes a second to gather his thoughts. He takes a big breath.

“I could agree with that. In fact, I should. I should say that I didn’t mean what I said, and that I’m sorry. Would that make us even?” He lets out a weak chuckle, too embarrassed of himself to even look at you as he speaks. “The thing is, I believed myself to be more chivalrous than that. I owe you the truth, at the very least. The ugly truth, if I may add.”

“And what is that ugly truth you fight so hard to always keep to yourself?”

You don’t even sound mad anymore, and that’s what breaks Kaeya’s heart the most. Maybe that’s what pushes him to make his way to you, one step at a time, until he’s right in front of you.

“There are many things I haven’t told you. Some of them because I’m ashamed of them. Most of them because they don’t represent the man that I am anymore.” He says. “All of them because I don’t want you to change the way you look at me. But I supposed I ruined that on my own, didn’t I?”

“Kaeya.” He closes his eyes, his name sounding so achingly familiar coming from your lips. He can almost hear you say, You have a good heart, Kaeya. He feels his fingers trembling. “I love you for who you are. Not for who you’ve been, or for who you are with somebody else that isn’t me. I love you. In the good days and on the bad ones. But you have to stop pushing me away. Please.”

Kaeya sits on the couch by your side, and he swears he might just crumble down when you place your hands on his cheeks, softly brushing the skin that meets you under.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Kaeya says, melts into your touch, his frozen heart melting in your hands, a thousand flowers blooming where you’ve touched him last. “I will tell you everything, but do something for me as well. Don’t change the way you look at me after. It’s a promise.”

I know it’s selfish, but don’t leave me.

Don’t change the affection in your eyes when you look at me.

Don’t stop holding me with your small hands.

Don’t stop smiling like you’re the sun, and all I’ve ever been is the moon that circles you until the end of the universe.

“I won’t. I promise, I won’t.”

You say, and that night, Kaeya discloses all of his demons for you. His monsters and all their angles and shapes, their scars and their hidden memories. You help him through it, your hands gentle on him, leaving butterfly kisses over his cheeks.

Despite the sorry state of his heart, Kaeya would swear he has never felt happier.

The rain was pouring over the Grand Narukami Shrine. Miko watched the raindrops rush from the heavens to the soil beneath their feet, crashing to the ground and dissolving into tiny puddles of water. How pitiful.

The other Shrine maidens knew better than to speak to the Guuji when she was angry. And she was, oh, she was angry.

They were planning a huge festival, one to lighten up the town and bring joy to the residents of Inazuma. But of course, it had to rain. And of course, they had to leave all the decorations outside of the Shrine, right where the rain is pouring right now. Miko doesn’t think there’s anything useful in those boxes. Not anymore, at least. We’ll have to start over.

It’s no one’s fault it started raining, Miko knows this. Still, she can’t help but feel her blood boiling down her veins. She was looking forward to that festival.

She makes it home to a delicious smell tickling her nose. She finds you in the kitchen, cooking her favorite meal - Fried Tofu, just the way she had taught you how to make it. You can’t really explain why, but you felt the urge to make something today that Miko would especially enjoy. How fortunate of her.

Miko walks up to you, slowly wrapping her arms around your waist, hiding her face in your hair. It smells like home.

“Had a long day, my love?” Your voice comes out gentle, soothing her heart at the sound.

She nods to your hair, “Unfortunately so. Incredibly gifted as I am, I still happen to not be able to control the weather. This devilish rain has undermined everything I’ve worked for for the past weeks.”

“Hm, if it’s the weather you’re having trouble with, why don’t you ask the Raiden Shogun to dismiss of it?” You say, innocent and gentle in your demeanor. “You’re friends with her, aren’t you? It shouldn’t be too hard for her to do this one thing for you.”

There’s a silence.

Maybe it’s the simple-mindedness in which you said it, maybe it’s the rain drilling on the kitchen window reminding her of her useless efforts, or maybe it’s the fact that yes, she’s friends with the Raiden Shogun, the same Raiden Shogun that hasn’t left her plane of Euthymia for eons, the same friend that didn’t bother to say her goodbyes before disappearing without a word, to this day.

It shouldn’t be too hard for her to do this one thing for you, Miko can almost laugh at the thought. What has the Raiden Shogun done for her, besides push her away with not so much as a word of apology, an explanation?

Maybe it’s the rain outside, or maybe it’s her own kind of storm raging on inside what bites back at you.

“You think it’s that simple, little one? Hah, you must be right.” Miko lets go of you, taking a step back. There’s something in her voice that sounds almost dangerous. You feel your fingers shivering. “Now I have complete certainty that, were I to have a word with my dearest Ei, all the things I worked so hard for won’t be rotting under the rain anymore, isn’t that right? You must think I’m a complete moron for not thinking of this before. Am I wrong, little one?”

You turn to her, and you’re met with lilac eyes sharpening around their edges, piercing you with her stare. You feel a shiver run down your spine.

“I don’t think I understand…” You try, your throat dry. “Did I say something wrong?”

“You must think I’m some kind of fool. And maybe you’re right, hm? Sharing my precious time with lowly humans who can’t even begin to comprehend the endeavor us Yokais must go through in order to live, our efforts often easily discarded. How utterly disheartening.” Miko goes on, her gaze sharp and threatening on yours, her blood boiling with too many unsaid things, things she knows you’re not even a part of. But you’re here, and it’s just so easy to let the words fall down her lips, one after the other. “You speak of the Raiden Shogun as if you knew anything. Your very existence in the first place is but a fleeting moment in our presence. Do yourself a favor, little one, and never speak again if all you have to share are witless words. Ugh, why am I even wasting my time here.”

Miko turns on her heels and leaves the house, leaving you there shaking, tears running down your face, wondering why in the world she would treat you like that.

By the time Miko returns home, her hair and clothes drenched in the rain, her raging heart much calmer now, you’re nowhere to be found.

Miko knows she overstepped and went too far. She dragged you along with her rushing emotions and half-assed accusations, knowing full-well you’re the only one who has been by her side through thick and thin, through her sunny days and her storms inside.

That’s why she’s confident that you’ll return. You’ll cool off and come back home, like she has. And then, she’ll wrap her arms around you, she’ll kiss the shell of your ear and, well, you’ll get the apology, won’t you?

Miko is not surprised when she doesn’t see you on the next day, either. A little annoyed, perhaps. She’s gone over the situation in her head all over again, and again. Every time she remembers her mean words to you, she feels a small stab pain in her chest.

She would apologize, if only you came home to her!

You’re just making this harder for yourself than it needs to be, really.

On the third day, Miko starts growing annoyed. How can she possibly wish to repair things with you if you just won’t come home to her?

And it’s not like she’s going to go out there looking for you. She’s the Guuji of the Grand Narukami Shrine, and as such, she has a great deal of responsibilities to attend to. She can’t just leave all of that and go after you, and you know this.

She just can’t be that irresponsible.

Or can she?

It’s the fifth day and her bed is starting to feel a little too big for her liking. She once liked to have space for herself, but now it just feels suffocating.

Why aren’t you coming back? You’re trying to punish her, surely.

Well, Miko won’t play along with your games. She can be just as mad as you are. Let’s see who breaks in first.

On the seventh day, Miko isn’t able to sleep. She’s tossing and turning in her all too big bed, the thought of you plaguing her mind in a way she won’t ever admit out loud.

When she hears the front door opening, her fox ears fling up. She follows your steps down the corridor, but she makes no move when you sit on the other side of the bed, the mattress sinking under your weight in the darkness of the room.

Miko waits. And waits. And waits for you to say something.

The silence grows deafening in her beautiful pink fox ears. So she swallows her courage and opens her mouth, only a little,

“You’re late.”

Your response came after a big pause, so long that Miko thought you’d never say anything to her again, her heart clenching at the thought.

“I thought of never coming back, actually. I was mad at you.” You sound so tired, Miko feels something small stir inside her chest. “Then, I wasn’t anymore. But I thought you’d be better off without me. As you said, I’m a human. I can’t understand you to the extent that I’d like.” Miko frowns at your words. She almost opens her mouth again to fight you back, when you speak again. “But then I thought of you. I thought of the way you smiled when you dressed me up as a Shrine maiden. I thought of the spark in your eyes when you tell me about the new light novel you’re publishing. And I thought of how you’d probably think that this bed is too big for you alone, if I’m gone.”

That’s why I came back, it’s what you don’t voice, but Miko hears it loud and clear. For you.

There’s a silence that follows, one that Miko doesn’t know how to fill. She’s never been good at apologies.

“I am mad at you.” She says, her back turned to you in the darkness of the room, but she doesn’t sound mad at all in your ears.

You don’t say anything, and Miko feels the bed dipping when you lay next to her. She lets you wrap your arms around her, doesn’t voice how good it feels to be back in your arms. She feels a strange tightness in her chest, her vision growing blurry at the corners; like a kid that’s been lost for too long and is finally able to return home.

How utterly close she’s been to losing that home forever.

Miko turns in your arms, and you let her find her favorite place in the world - tucked under your chin, in the gap between your jaw and your clavicle, all too close to the beating of your heart underneath your skin.

Miko stays there, her ear pressed to your chest, and she’d swear she can hear the sound of windflowers blooming.

“I must apologize, little one. My words came rooted in despair, a fate that I’ve been carrying for longer than I dare to voice.” Her voice comes out muffled by your skin, and you let your fingers lose their way into her silky pink hair, listening to her words. “Still, nothing in me is as deeply rooted as the affection that I hold for you. I trust that you know of this, of course.”

“Of course.” You leave a kiss on the crown of her head, closing your eyes in the motion. “I wouldn’t leave you, Miko. Not now, and probably not ever. I love you too much to let you go.”

“Is that so?” You can hear the smile in her voice. “Hm, then I suppose I shall grant you my love as well. Make good use of it, little one. After all, it’s meant for you only.”

If you enjoyed this, please consider liking or reblogging it <3!

You can check more of my writing on (this link!). Thank you!

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #genshin headcanons #kaeya #kaeya x you #kaeya x gender neutral reader #kaeya x reader #yae miko #yae miko x reader #yae miko x you #yae miko x y/n #kaeya x y/n

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breakerwhiskey · 17 days

Text

217 - TWO HUNDRED SEVENTEEN

Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey.

Transcript under the cut. For more episodes, click here.

[click, static]

Breaker, breaker, this is Whiskey Alpha Romeo calling out for anyone else who might be out there.

[click, static]

Maybe my mistake this whole time was not staying in the Northeast—everything is so close here, and now that I know why—or at least, I have an idea why certain people are here and others aren’t—it stands to reason that most of the people who’d be in this place would be in the Northeast. That’s where most of my life was centered and…

Well, I guess there’s no point in using any callsign or code name. If I have other enemies out there beside Junior…well, I’m not sure who they’d be and I’m not sure how it gets worse, so…

[click, static]

Breaker, breaker, Channel 19, this is Abi Rogers driving through New England, looking for other survivors.

[click, static]

Maybe it’s strange to use that word. What did we survive? The last seven years living on our own I guess. Survivors of my mistake.

In any case, I’m zig-zagging as I move up north, just to be safe, and I’m going to be on this channel all day on the off chance I come into someone’s radius. A long shot, I know, but I’ve been feeling more optimistic lately.

It’s odd, isn’t it? Not too long ago, I came face to face with a man who wanted to kill me and then one of my mysterious fair weather friends tried to repeat that particularly unpleasant encounter. By all accounts, I should be feeling the most downtrodden and scared that I’ve felt since I got arrested.

But finding an old friend, someone I truly never thought I would see again…it’s like air in my lungs. Despite being alone, Donnie really is so much the same person he was when we first met. It’s like a warm cup of coffee, talking to him, hearing his ridiculous stories, being teased by him. It’s easy to fall back into the regular patterns.

The other day I said he thought I was softer than I was, but what he actually said was “you seem sadder than you were, Abi”. Which I guess I can’t fault him for noticing. Even with how happy I was to see him, there’s still this cloud…

I don’t know if I realized how much it had sunk into who I am. Loneliness isn’t new for me, hardship, fear—while there have been new kinds of challenges these last seven years, the fundamentals of who I am haven’t encountered anything they can’t bear.

I have been missing people more than I thought I would. As in—if you’d told me a decade ago that I’d be stuck in a place without strangers, a place where I just had to focus on living, and I could technically do whatever I want, I’m not sure I would’ve seen that as a bad deal. But the reality…well, being with Don has just put into stark focus just how much I miss talking to people. Being in New York reminded me just how much I loved getting lost in a crowd.

So there was bound to be some change in demeanor, I think that’s pretty normal. I have no idea how Donnie was able to stay sane by himself all these years, how he was able to stay so much the same.

I think being around Harry has been making me sad for a really long time. It’s a funny thing, that. When I first told Donnie that that’s where I’ve been—that Harry and I have been hiding out—he made a joke that I’d won the top prize in this shitty world. That he often felt like locking the two of us in a room until we could work things out.

I had no idea—that our…dynamic was so apparent to other people. But according to him, it was a point of discussion amongst the other three. Which is absolutely mortifying and also, strangely validating. So he was plenty happy for me that I’d finally been given the time and space to knock down whatever wall was holding us back. He couldn’t comprehend why, over six years, we never managed to do it.

And, of course, I can’t really tell him why, can I. I didn’t understand why myself until the months before I left, didn’t understand why Harry kept herself at arm’s length, I took her coldness for disinterest, not guilt. So I just told Donnie that we’re both too stubborn to make the first step. After all, that’s not exactly wrong.

(sigh) I don’t know, maybe it’ll be different this time. Maybe now that everything’s out in the open, now that we know why we’re here, that it was my fault, now that we’ve got a little bit of the gang back together…

I’m not saying I’m over it. I’m not saying forgiveness is that easy, but maybe…maybe we can move forward.

Either way, I don’t feel sad anymore. Not like I have been. The loneliness that I felt with Harry, that got worse these past months as I’ve driven all around this country, that was at it’s most engulfing when I found Leann…it’s like that weight has been lifted off of me. Moving forward shouldn’t be so hard now that I’m not dragging it.

[click, static]

#breaker whiskey #audio drama #episode #transcript #Spotify

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sebsxphia · 6 months

Note

Hey sebby angel,

I realized after I sent you the very rushed ask (more like statement, my apologies) about Jake being Lavender Haze coded, that I didn't explain anything. I dropped that thought and split like the devil(I was walking into work, but still).

So my thought: Jake Seresin is Lavender Haze coded (idk if anyone has thrown this thought around but I listened to Lavender Haze bc of a tik tok and that blonde himbo popped up into my head)

My reasoning:

I feel like Jake is from a well off Texas socialite family (oil money or something). He's always had these huge expectations on his shoulders. Go to college, get married, take over the business, and pop out an heir or two. Love doesn't matter, it's all business in the end.

That isn't Jake. While he feels like he's too young (he's just about a HS graduate here in this time line) for marriage and kids, he knows what he doesn't want. He doesn't want the stiff politeness his parents have. He doesn't want his potential children to fear seeking him out for anything. He doesn't go to his parents for anything. Instead of going to college he goes to the flight academy which causes a rift between him and his family. I think during this time Hangman is created as a mask. He plays the mister "love them and leave em," too cool to settle down. He does this rinse and repeat until after the mission. (Actually I feel like he's starting to slow down and re-think a lot of stuff regarding his life when the mission is announced but that's another thesis in itself).

He meets you. (Maybe at the Hard Deck or on base, idk) You sneak in under his defences until it's too late and you're all over his heart and I think he panics when he realizes he loves you. He's never loved anyone like this before and I think he tries to rapidly destroy everything around y'all so you know how bad of an idea it actually is to love him. (It's not but generational trauma sucks). The fear of settling catches up to him again bc "no deal, the 1950s shit the want from me." He just wants to stay in the "lavender haze" y'all have created. Drown in all the endorphins you're flooding his senses with. This space where he felt like he could start letting Jake through and let you see through the shell he wore but it wasn't so serious he felt "trapped."

He doesn't expect you to stay. To be persistent about your love and how you want to meet him in the middle. You don't care for societal expectations. You just want him to be happy and healthy in your life. Even if that means going back to friends. I don't think you'd tolerate him playing with your emotions bc he's insecure but I think you know enough about Jake to know why he's like this. I think you and Javy sit down and talk to him. (He has had issues accepting the unconditional love Javy gives him too).

(I know I'm missing plot points, I apologize)

Idk in the end I think he realizes he can stay in the lavender haze, doesn't have to get married, do the kids thing if he doesn't want to. But he can put down roots, find a home in you. He doesn't want to love and leave you.

(thank you for listening to my Ted talk)

Xo,

Beck 💚

BECK!!!!!!!!!!! i’m so in awe of this masterpiece that you’ve created and i’m absolutely hanging off every word! 🥹🥰

I think during this time Hangman is created as a mask. He plays the mister "love them and leave em," too cool to settle down. He does this rinse and repeat until after the mission. (Actually I feel like he's starting to slow down and re-think a lot of stuff regarding his life when the mission is announced but that's another thesis in itself).

so firstly, this! yes! the mask of hangman being created is absolutely something jake would do to protect himself from harm and i’ve always believed this is how jake is. he’s tough hangman on the outside, but gooey, soft and vulnerable jake on the inside. but the mission thesis is something i’m SO into! he gets incredibly close to his squad and let’s down his guard ever so slightly in the lead up to the mission, that he thinks, “maybe i can let myself love. at least for these guys. because i think i love them.”

He just wants to stay in the "lavender haze" y'all have created. Drown in all the endorphins you're flooding his senses with. This space where he felt like he could start letting Jake through and let you see through the shell he wore but it wasn't so serious he felt "trapped."

THIS RIGHT HERE IS POETRY BECK! 🥺 he found this lavender haze, this sweet spot, this daze, and he felt safe for the first time in his entire life.

I think you and Javy sit down and talk to him. (He has had issues accepting the unconditional love Javy gives him too).

REAL! going back to my first point, i couldn’t agree more with this!

yes, yes, yes! and i’ve always believed that you and jake would never have a traditional relationship, and it would be whatever you find works for you both.

goddddd beck! i’m so incredibly in love with this idea! thank you so, so much for blessing me with your beautiful and wonderful mind and thought! mwah mwah mwah! ilysm! 🥹🥰💗🫶🏼

#💌you’ve got mail #beck-things <33 #💐 these are for you!!#jake hangman seresin #sebs masterlist

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batmanisagatewaydrug · 10 months

Note

Hi! I sent an ask before, earlier in the year.

here’s some real ent info about me before I ask my question:

I’m 15. I’ve had my period for a year. My mother and my bio aunt were both (very) late bloomers in that regard, but were never diagnosed with anything that may have caused that. I’ve had ‘crushes’ before, which I suspect may have been me masking because I didn’t actually like anyone. I’ve tried mastrubation before, but it’s never really done anything? I don’t do anything involving penetration (because ouch) but I do other things outside of that, ti absolutely no result.

Okay. Now relevant info out of the way. I have questions now;

Is it possible I’m ace? How does one find that out?

is it possible I’m aro? How does one figure *that* out?

Do you think there’s a reason mastrubation doesn’t work for me? Is that a thing that can be fixed?

Is there a reason why penetration hurts so much for me? Even just my pinky finger or a tampon hurts enough that I cried the first few times I tried (I use pads now and avoid penetration).

is there any important information that I should be given? I’m attending a Catholic school so sex ed is pretty much “literally just don’t do it.”

sorry for the barrage of questions. Thank you so much for running this blog, you have no idea how helpful it is. I’m not 100% sure if I turned on anon properly, so if this isn’t an anon please don’t answer it.

hi anon,

oh boy!! so much to work with here!! a veritable buffet of curiosity

this one wasn't even on your question list but I'll throw it in for free: there's not really any reason to worry about finding a diagnosis for starting your period at 15. while the average age that menstruation begins these days is around 12, anywhere from 10-16 is perfectly normal.

it's completely possible that you're ace and/or aro, because it's possible that anybody could be ace and/or aro. do you want to be? because that's pretty much what it comes down to. would calling yourself asexual or aromantic feel right? would it provide any sense of security or clarity to conceptualize yourself that way? the words don't define what you are; you pick which words you like and want to use to make sense of yourself.

god okay I have no idea how to say this without sounding redundant but if you don't feel good when you're masturbating it's probably because you don't like what you're doing. are you trying to jack off because you're horny and want to touch yourself or because you feel like you're supposed to masturbate? if it's the former then damn, try something else. literally anything, anything and everything can be masturbation if it feels good. get crazy with it. if it's the latter and you're just kind of going through the motions out of a vague sense that you're supposed to be masturbating, knock that shit off and dedicate that time to literally anything else that you enjoy. life is too short.

penetration is probably uncomfortable for the same reason it's uncomfortable for a lot of people our age: lack of practice and CRITICAL lack of lubricant. some people find that using a lube on their tampon applicator can help, but also no one is making you use tampons and if pads are more comfortable you can keep doing that forever. personally I haven't used a tampon since middle school and I'm thriving. invest in some reusable pads; you'll save so much money. penetration is 100% optional literally just living without that shit is fine.

as much as I would love to run an intensive and all-encompassing course on all of human sexuality for you right here right now (and I mean that sincerely, I wish this was the proper platform for that. should I write a book? let me know in the comments), I'll keep the info short: whenever you feel like there's something wrong with you, in any way, really think about what's making you feel that way, and who benefits from you feeling bad about yourself. because 99.9% of the time when people send in asks about something about their sexuality or gender that makes them feel bad, what they tell me about is something completely harmless that's just a little different than the common norm. the norm is nothing; as long as no one is being harmed, you do you.

for more specific questions, I'm literally always on this website answering q's, and I'd also really recommend checking out Dr. Lindsey Doe's youtube channel Sexplanations and the forum Scarleteen, which is run specifically for young people to address questions about sexuality.

#sex edventures 2023

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jackielati · 2 years

Text

Everything : JTH

Hello !! This is my first ever Jack Harlow imagine. I’ve been obsessed with him lately and had to write something. I hope you guys enjoy this 🥰

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Genre: Angst

Word count: 1.4K

Warnings: some profanity

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Months. Hell, it's been years. You waited for this day for years. So much time, money, promises. Of course it overwhelmed you when it was actually the day of your wedding. You've been with Jack for over three years now. Of course you would feel off because all this years led up to this day. Of course your getting stupid thoughts because it's stressful. Very stressful.

"You look absolutely beautiful and the dress isn't even on, yet!" Neelam claps with joy and you muster up the best smile you could give her.

She frowns before kneeling down in front of you as you slouched back on the couch, placing a comforting hand on your knee.

"Is everything okay? You've been a little out of it since we got here" she asks quietly and cautiously.

Shit. It's so evident that others are noticing now.

"Yeah. Just the nerves!" You giggled, waving her off and she smiled, nodding as she understood your gloominess to be normal.

But as she left off, your heart just got heavier. It got so heavy that it felt like air was only getting scarcer.

What is wrong with me?

You push those thoughts away. You force every happy memory of you and Jack to play through your head. You're about to ease up, but then you realize that you're not being genuine at all.

You're terrified to admit that you're not happy with this ending.

You fight everything within you to not get up right at that moment, so abruptly and out of the blue, turn on everyone and just ran way from it all. From everyone. From Jack. Jack who loved you with all his heart. Jack who changed himself for you. Jack who took overseas flights to be with you when you needed him. Jack who wants no other person in the world but you. You can't just leave him at the alter like that.

You start getting dizzy as the weight of thoughts just got heavier. You felt so alone at such a lively place. You wanted to scream so loud, but you couldn't. You just couldn't ruin such a beautiful day for everyone. Even when it all revolved around you.

"God" Urban sighs as soon as he walks into the bridal suite, standing there in awe. You tried to smile at him, but it was a bit shaky. You quickly steadied yourself, shutting up your inner thoughts by giving them excuses.

"Too bad your best friend beat you to all this" you twirl when you stand up, showcasing all the work done so far; make up and hair.

"He'd beat my ass for this, but let me tell you. He's head over heals back there. Man's dropping shit and being all clumsy. He almost ruined his suit. Never in my life have I seen him this nervous and giddy. You're truly the one for him, Y/N" Urban tells you in the warmest tone ever, slightly smiling as he spoke. It's getting harder by the second to keep faking smiles, but you manage to do so one more time before looking away.

"Well, you better not go in there and snitch on me. I want him to be surprised. Don't even give him any minor details of what you just saw" you warn, trying to get into your bridal spirt. But there was nothing. You feel nothing but void.

Time moves faster than you realize and you're already in the dress you've dreamt about wearing, behind the doors that lead up to the aisle Jack would be waiting at the end of. Your heart felt as if it was going to give out at any second as you held on to your dad's arm.

It will all go away once I see him. I know it will. It has to.

But when you reach the end of the aisle and he holds your hands and you look into those eyes that you've never seen anyone but yourself in, it all comes crashing down. There's no hiding that you've lost what was once the best thing you've ever had.

You quickly look down, placing a hand on your chest to steady your breathing. You look at the worried guests, you look at your confused friends, then at your almost husband.

"You okay?" He whispers. It kills you that he looks concerned. He wants nothing but the best for you.

He would understand, right?

You just shake your head, carry the front of your dress with your shaky hands, and ran away from the alter and back into the building you just left.

You stop in the middle of the main hall, sobbing your heart out, trying to figure out what went wrong. What caused all this? And why today? Why now?

"Y/N!" He yelled your name. You could hear from his heavy breathing that he's very concerned. You weren't ready to confront him.

You slowly turn around and see him a few feet away. His expression softens as he realizes you're crying. Your makeup is ruined and the hem of your dress got darker with the dirt from running.

"Oh, no, what's wrong?" He asks quietly, cupping your face and wiping the black streams of mascara and tears off your cheeks. You just sob at his question. How could you tell him something like this? In your wedding dress. At the venue you've always dreamt of getting married at.

"Jack, I" you start, desperately trying to find the right words. You squeeze your eyes shut as you think, holding back the tears from interrupting you.

"I...I don't think I'm happy, Jack" your lips quiver as soon as the words leave your mouth. You know he knows exactly what you mean, but, understandably, he's in denial.

"With what? The wedding? Your hair? Make up? You look gorgeous, and I won't give a fuck anyway-"

"Jack, I can't marry you. I just..." you have to let out a sob before going on. You avoid looking at his face. It would just break you beyond repair.

"I just can't see myself with you anymore. I can't imagine us on our honeymoon, or having our first child, or renovating our home 50 years from now. I don't see it!" You just break down, finally looking at his face.

His brows furrow and his lips part a little as he shakes his head. He holds your shoulders, desperately looking into your eyes for anything besides what you've just said.

"No, no, you're just stressed. We were fine, perfect even! Where did all of this come from?! And why now?! After everything!" He started getting understandably upset. You'd be angry, too. But you hated the relief you've felt now that you've finally confronted him.

"I'm sorry" you whisper, shutting your eyes and lowering your head in shame.

You suddenly felt familiar warmth, familiar safety. He pulled you to him, wrapping his arms around your trembling body.

"Don't be sorry. You shouldn't be. I just don't want you to make a decision because you're confused, or stressed. We can cancel this wedding right now. Take your time and come back to me. Please come back to me. You're the only one I've ever envisioned my life with. I see only you laughing at something dumb I've said on our honeymoon, I see only you carrying my children, and I can see only you renovating our home 50 years from now with me. You're the only one I see now, and you're the only one forever, Y/N" he mumbles into your hair. You can hear how his voice starts to tremble and it tears you to a million pieces.

"I'm so sorry, Jack. Thank you for everything you've done for me. I might not feel the same now, but I know my feelings for you were very real when they were. You deserve someone better. Someone who'd do all those things with you and actually love you through it all" you say through your tears after pulling away from him. He just stands there, his shoulders falling from the crashing world around him.

And with that, you turn away from everything, not the wedding, or lost time, or wasted money, or confused guests. You walk away from your first love, late night video calls, dancing in the moon light, candle dinners by the lake outside your shared home, secret confessions of admirations that no one knew of.

Everything. Just everything.

#jack harlow #jack harlow imagines #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow scenarios #jack harlow scenario #jack harlow fanfiction #jack harlow fanfic #jack harlow angst

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vizthedatum · 3 months

Text

CW: vent post that includes mention of abuse and suicidal ideation (I’m having flashbacks and nightmares)

—

I can’t sleep. The more I’m safer and the more I actually realize how much better off I am, the more my brain comes online. Which means, I can access my memories and feel them.

I’m feeling all of it lately.

My period came in earlier today, and I also had therapy.

I am full on sobbing now… again.

In the fall/winter of 2022, I was teetering between giving up everything and trying to survive.

I’m sobbing because (and some of my close friends, my last three therapists, and my psychiatrist know this) if I hadn’t left my ex-spouse when I did (reluctantly and with the help of my friends), I would have absolutely killed myself.

I thought my life was over. I tried my best, this was the best it was ever going to get, and I was going to alienate all my friends, the people I was in love with, my family, and everyone else… to try to be with them and then eventually end it all.

Sometimes I felt like that’s what they wanted.

I remember the last week I was with them - they yelled and said so many hateful things to me, almost drove me out our home by inching me towards the door… after they were done, I retreated upstairs to the bathroom while they called their mom to complain about me. They were worried I was going to abuse my medication and wanted to take it away. Their mom told me they couldn’t take away my medication.

I mean, yeah, the level of psychosis and control and insecurity has gotten out of control. I felt so unsafe all the time. I was in a complete state of dysregulation myself - pleasure seeking and holding down my emotions while trying to figure out my next steps.

My whole body had a reaction. I was in autoimmune shock most of the time.

I couldn’t function when I was with them without self-medicating and being on so many psychiatric medications.

I loved them.

I felt so selfish wanting to end it all. I had another partner!!! I loved so many other people. How could I leave when I had begged my brother for the past decade to not kill himself?! How could I dare??

They wanted me to isolate for 30 days when I was last with them. They didn’t see me as a person at that point - they hurled contradictory statements.

I tried to be considerate of their mental health but they were painting me out to be the one who needed help and intervention… when I was having a reaction to them.

I loved them with all that I had.

And I loved other people who were letting me just be me - and a part of me resented that.

I hated who I was because it felt like my very being was the thing my ex-spouse couldn’t stand.

—

I’m crying less now. After writing all that.

I don’t hate myself now, and while life is still hard… it’s not like that. I don’t have someone actively hating and demeaning me.

And I have left so many old friends and flames who even hinted at disrespecting me.

I��ve been protecting myself. Hard.

It’s just that… I’m safe now and I don’t need to protect myself that hard anymore.

I’m letting go and integrating all at the same time. It’s painful because I realize how bad it was but how good it is now and how good it can be.

But I’m still heartbroken - I always will be. I’m heartbroken because I was so close to ending it all after all that I had survived (worse things than that relationship). I’m heartbroken because I’d have left and not told the person I loved that I loved them (and I guess I never did anyway because I was immature and knew it would end our friendship).

I’m heartbroken because I lost that person… my best friend, the supposed love of my life, and spouse… to save myself.

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fridayisbestday · 2 years

Note

“I’ve never seen such gorgeous eyes before.”

“Midge, there’s something I need to tell you.” Lenny drunkenly slurred, his forehead rested on her shoulder.

“Yeah what is it?” She asked, her hand holding his arm that hung over her neck.

Midge stood there by the curb waiting for a cab for them as she held him up, “Do you know how facking pretty your eyes are?” He lifted his head slightly, the ends of his hair tickled the side of her neck.

“You’re asking me.” She corrected, doing her best to keep her eyes on the road.

“Interrogative, statement, pfft same thing if youu ask a cop.” He shrugged weakly, “You needdd to understand Midge, I’ve seen a lot of eyes in my longggggggg life, some pretty and some pretty fucked up,” he pointed at her with his free hand, “but, I’ve never seen such gorrrgeous eyes before.”

“You’re sweet, but you are also very loaded right now.” She laughed.

“That I am," He confirmed and laid his eyes back onto the empty street, "but, I am telling the truth! And nothing but the truth, your ‘onour!” His speech still slurred as he announced to the street.

“Shhh! Lenny! It’s late! People are sleeping!”

“People sleep?”

“Yes.”

“Huh. Why?”

“They’re normal.”

“Aren’t we normal?”

“You wanna be normal?”

“Fair point.”

Midge gazed down at her very, very drunk husband and or brother with heart shaped eyes, he turned his head to face her, looking into her eyes wistfully, she saw her own silhouette in his eyes reflecting back at her.

She turned her eyes back onto the road, “You’re one to talk.”

“Hmm?”

“You with your eyes," She mussed.

She then caught a sight of a playful boyish, almost naive grin she's never seen on him before, his chin resting on her shoulder, pressing into her numbingly, "and that smile.”

“But 'm sserious,” She chuckled at his sudden change of expression: his eyebrows knitted together, eyes narrow, wearing a 'very serious' frown, “your eyes does this weird fucking thing-”

“-And here I thought I was getting a compliment-”

“-During the day, it’s a soft blue that makes me warm and fuzzy inside, but during the night, it’s like that blue colour you see when the sun’s abouta raise and the moons abouta set,” she let out a soft laugh at the specifics, "but when light hits them," he shifts the both of them slightly to the left.

He smiled fondly and tilted his head cutely, “they make me forget everything fucked in the world.”

“And right now,"

He gazed deeply into her eyes, "they’re like,” he pondered for a moment, “sapphires," he observed, using the same tone as he did in front of a certain motel room in Miami, "absolutely", sensational, "beautiful," he breathed as he continued to admire them, the two words merged into one, overlapping onto one another.

Of course she’s been called beautiful, pretty and other similar compliment before, but the way he says it, despite being so plastered. For once it made the word feel, real. Not something he said just so he could get something out of it or because he couldn’t think of anything else to say.

Just because he wanted to, even in his drunken state.

He’s always done that with words and phrases, however mundane they were before, forever altering her perception of them.

Bring an umbrella.

Sensational.

Always.

"I can just stare into them forever.”

He said it with such softness and earnestness that made her heart flutter in a way she hasn't felt since-never, never had her heart flutter like this before. Not the first time she held her boyfriend’s hand, or her first kiss, or-

She took a breath, not realising that she was holding her breath, “Lenny, if you do this with every pretty eyed lady, you’re gonna creep ‘em out.” She tried to brush it off as a joke, “Then you can’t keep up with that bad boy-”

“-But your eyes are the only eyes I wanna stare creepily into for the rest of my life.” He cut in, his only salvation. There was something in his tone that made her feel...what was it she was feeling?

She smiled sadly, “Are you always like this when you’re plastered?”

"Like what?"

"This smooth."

"For your information, Mrs Maisel, I am always 'this smooth'."

"Sure."

"Is that a hint of sarcasm I hear?" "More than a hint."

"Fine." He confessed, "I’m usually too blitzed to remember.”

“So you’re not gonna remember any of this.”

“Probably not.”

She inhaled sharply, “Good to know.”

“Midge.” His cheek resting onto her shoulder.

“Yeah?”

He breathed out, she felt his breath brush softly passed her cheek, “I need to tell you something.”

"There's more?" She asked humorously.

He turned his head, his face rubbed against her shoulder, “You’ve got very soft fingers.” He complimented as he reached for her hand.

'It feels nice' she noted, as he fiddled with her fingers with catlike curiosity, gently squeezing and pressing, and softly pinching the pads of her fingers.

"That's a compliment I've never gotten before."

"What?!" He exclaimed in disbelief.

"Yep."

"Midge, you need to know you've got really soft and warm hands-"

"That's 'cause your hands are always so damn cold."

He closed his eyes and placed her hand on the other side of his cheek, "So soft." He breathed, his cheek felt cool to the touch, his stubble scratching her, "'S feels so nice." He pressed her hand impossibly closer to his cheek, then looked up at her again.

"You've got four heads."

"Really?" She laughed.

"Uhuh," He let go one of his hands and brushed her cheek, pressing his face into her neck, his breath felt hot against her skin.

"I wanna kiss 'em."

"Not with that vomit breath you're not mister."

"Midgeeeeeee." He begged.

"Nope."

"Pleaseeee." He pleaded and moved his head back a little, gazing up at her and revealing those puppy dog eyes.

"Nope."

"Fine." She swears she saw him pout, "But first thing tomorrow, I'm coming for those faces."

"I look forward to your morning breath."

"That's the spirit." His lips curved into a triumphant smile.

"Midge," he called for her again as he tucked his head back into the nook of her neck, his voice sounded more tired.

"What is it this time?"

"You smell nice."

This continued until they were back at her apartment, getting weirder and weirder as he (she thinks) began running out of material. She came to that conclusion when Lenny compliment on how pretty her ears were, earned very weird looks from the cab driver.

#tmmm #midge maisel #lenny bruce #midgelenny #midge x lenny

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