#I made this in a sleep-deprived daze

[thefourchimes]

i didnt remember all this time cause im still grieving and half blocked out everything soul crushing that happened in v2

but i got reminded earlier about something

we all know that happy memories is the way to beating vecna’s curse, with memorable and meaningful music to the victim being the key to opening a way out

then i remembered how vecna basically trapped max with her own plan, telling her how he knew all of it all along and showed her everything that was going on with the others, like nancy, robin, and steve getting choked by vines, eddie and dustin getting surrounded by bats, lucas and erica getting cornered by the jocks, and everything else with the hawkins gang

and just before that, vecna corrupted her happiest memory of the snowball

but she still had to beat his curse

unfortunately, music was out (no) thanks to jason, so we only have the memories now

but combining everything mentioned above, vecna was basically overpowering all the good memories by showing the bad ones happening and ones that probably will happen

which makes max even more vulnerable to his curse and claws, with literally no way out

pain

#im in pain #this is so depressing #i was about to sleep but then— #i hate this #why brain #im slightly sleep deprived and depressed and dazed rn so idk if i made any sense but i hope i did somehow #sigh im going to sleep i cant do this anymore #max mayfield #nancy wheeler #robin buckley #steve harrington #eddie munson #dustin henderson #lucas sinclair #erica sinclair #stranger things

[whumptober]

Whumptober 2022

Welcome to Whumptober 2022, in its fifth year of running!

To those of you who participated last year, welcome back! To everyone new, WELCOME!

Please make sure to read the Event Info carefully, as most of your questions will be answered there already. For everything else, you are welcome to come to our ask box or ask questions in our Discord server here.

This year’s AO3 Collection can be found here.

With that being said, we’re very excited to see the community come together once more and be a wild, chaotic bunch of creators and consumers of whump. Go wild with the prompts, and support your fellow creators, see what juicy whump they’ve created too! We wish you all the fun!

(All 31 Themes + Prompts, Event Information and FAQs are posted below the cut!)

Whumptober 2022 Prompt List

No. 1 A LITTLE OUT OF THE ORDINARY

Adverse Effects | Unconventional Restraints | "This wasn't supposed to happen"

No. 2 NOWHERE TO RUN

Cornered | Caged | Confrontation

No. 3 A HAIR’S BREADTH FROM DEATH

Gun to Temple | “Say goodbye.” | Impaled

No. 4 DEAD ON YOUR FEET

Hidden Injury | Waking Up Disoriented | Can’t Pass Out

No. 5 EVERY WHUMPEE’S NEEDS

Blood Loss | Running Out of Air | Hyperthermia

No. 6 PROOF OF LIFE

Ransom Video | “I’ve got a pulse” | Screams from Across the Hall

No. 7 THE WAY YOU SHAKE AND SHIVER

Shaking Hands | Seizures | Silent Panic Attack

No. 8 EVERYTHING HURTS AND I’M DYING

Stomach Pain | Head Trauma | Back from the Dead

No. 9 THE VERY NOISY NIGHT

Sleeping in Shifts | Tossing and Turning | Caught in a Storm

No. 10 POOR UNFORTUNATE SOULS

Taser | Whipping | Waterboarding

No. 11 “911, WHAT’S YOUR EMERGENCY?”

Sloppy Bandages | Self-Done First Aid | Makeshift Splint

No. 12 WHAT COULD GO WRONG?

“Mayday, mayday!” | Cave In | Rusty Nail

No. 13 CAN’T MAKE AN OMELETTE WITHOUT BREAKING A FEW LEGS

Fracture | Dislocation | “Are you here to break me out?”

No. 14 DIE A HERO OR LIVE LONG ENOUGH TO BECOME A VILLAIN

Desperate Measures | Failed escape | “I’ll be right behind you.”

No. 15 EMOTIONAL DAMAGE

Lies | New Scars | Breathing through the Pain

No. 16 NO WAY OUT

Mind Control | Paralytic Drugs | “No one’s coming.”

No. 17 HANGING BY A THREAT

Breaking Point | Stress Positions | Reluctant Caretaker

No. 18 LET’S BREAK THE ICE

"Just get it over with." |  Treading Water | "Take my Coat"

No. 19 ENOUGH IS ENOUGH

Knees Buckling | Repeatedly Passing Out | Head Lolling

No. 20 IT’S BEEN A LONG DAY

Going into Shock | Fetal Position | Prisoner Trade

No. 21 FAMOUS LAST WORDS

Coughing up Blood | “You’re safe now.” | “Take me instead.”

No. 22 PICK YOUR POISON

Toxic | Withdrawal | Allergic Reaction

No. 23 AT THE END OF THEIR ROPE

Forced to Kneel | Tied to a Table | “Hold them down.”

No. 24 FIGHT, FLIGHT OR FREEZE

Blood Covered Hands | Catatonic | “I don’t want to do this anymore.”

No. 25 SILENCE IS GOLDEN

Lost Voice | Duct Tape | “You better start talking.”

No. 26 NO ONE LEFT BEHIND

Separated | Rope Burns | “Why did you save me?”

No. 27 PUSHED TO THE LIMIT

Muffled Screams | Stumbling | Magical Exhaustion

No. 28 IT'S JUST THE TIP OF THE ICEBERG

Anger Born of Worry | Punching the Wall | Headache

No. 29 WHAT DOESN'T KILL ME…

Sleep Deprivation | Defiance | “Better me than you.”

No. 30 NOTE TO SELF: DON'T GET KIDNAPPED

Manhandled | Hair Grabbing | “Please don’t touch me.”

Alternative Prompts List

No. 31 A LIGHT AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL

Comfort | Bedside Vigil | “You can rest now.”

Ringing Ears

Whimpering

Dazed and Confused

Touch Starved

Ambushed

Sensory Overload

Protective

Made to Watch

Quicksand

Adrenaline Crash

Stabbed

Carried to Safety

Crutches

Emergency Blanket

Tears

Event Info & Rules

~ Please read our extensive event info posts before sending us an ask - A link can be found at the end of this post. ~

WHUMPTOBER is a month-long, prompt-based creation challenge (think: Inktober, but whumpier). There are 31 official themes this year - one for each day of the month - which can be used, skipped, or combined in any way you’d like. They are meant to serve as inspiration without being taken literally (e.g. you don’t have to include the exact wording of prompts into your work). Feel free to run rampant on interpretation. For example, if the prompt is “bee”, you can create something about bees, about yellow and black striped baseball bats or bees on bandaids. It’s up to you.

Additionally, there are 3 prompts for each theme.  These are optional suggestions and can be used in conjunction with the theme, or as options/alternatives.  We want to give everyone as much creative freedom as possible, as well as increase event accessibility for folks with triggers and squicks.

Creators can PRODUCE work in any media they choose, including but not limited to: writing, visual artwork, photo/video/audio edits, paper crafts and elaborate recommendation lists (not just a list of links). Creators can PARTICIPATE as much or as little as they want (i.e. you don’t have to do ALL the prompts if you don’t want to) and prompts can be used in any order. They are also free to use even after the event ends.

When uploading Whumptober content to your blog, be sure to tag the with:

#whumptober2022 …..(the event tag)

#no.1, #no.2, #no.3, …..(theme number)

#bruises, #stabbing,  …..(the theme or specific prompt you chose)

#fandom or #OC, … (ironman, originalcontent, oc …)

#medium …..(gifs, fic, podcast, art, etc.)

#teeth, #etc …..(trigger warnings & any additional tags. Keep in mind not to add “tw” in front but only use the word/trigger itself, because tumblr sucks)

#nsfwhump …..(only for nsfw content)

#your own tags go here

PLEASE BE DILIGENT WITH YOUR TAGGING. Only properly tagged posts are considered for archiving on the official @whumptober-archive blog. They must be tagged in the order above. An elaborate post about our tagging system can be found [here]

Unfortunately, due to the sheer number of participants in recent years, we cannot guarantee your work will be archived. A random selection of properly tagged posts from all genres will be reblogged each day.

Whumpers who produce content for 31 total theme days are considered event completionists and will be tagged in a masterpost at the end of the month. A form will be published at the beginning of November asking you to tell us, if you completed. This is based on trust and we will not check this.

Questions not addressed in one of our many event info posts can be directed to this blog. We will not answer any questions that have been answered in the FAQs or rules already.

Frequently Asked Questions

Q. Is [specific anything] allowed?

When in doubt: JUST DO IT!

Q. Do I have to do all 31 days?

Participate as much or little as you like! Just be sure to tag your posts properly (ex. #no.14, #underpressure). If you post works for 31 total theme days you will become a completionist. But apart from that, there are no repercussions if you don’t fill prompts for each day.

Q. Can I post early/late?

Yes, you can post whenever you want. We will only reblog posts during October, but you can use our prompts all year round. The day you post will only affect your probability of being reblogged.

Q. Will you reblog my post?

Due to the sheer number of content posted during Whumptober we can’t promise to reblog every single post. We will make a random selection trying to capture a wide variety of content. The following will increase your chances at being reblogged:

tag your post properly

post within 2-3 days of the theme you want to fill: if you fill the prompt for Day 1 your chances of being reblogged during October 1st to 3rd are highest and will go towards zero afterwards.

Q. What if I don’t understand a theme?

Send us an ask! We’re happy to help with wild, unhelpful clarifications or brainstorming. That being said, the themes are entirely up for interpretation :) Don’t take them too literally. For example: You can be choking on a cherry, someone else can choke you or you could be choked up on emotions, etc.

Q. What kind of content can I make? Can it be NSFW?

This is a MIXED MEDIA event! You can write fic, post meta, doodle or paint, create a gifset or photo edit, link a song, or get crafty with video - anything goes. As for NSFW, make what you like, we just hope that you’ll tag your work accordingly so that others participating in the event can stay safe :)

Q. Can I combine Whumptober with other creation challenges?

Absolutely! That’s like shooting two whumpees with one bullet :)

Q. Can I upload/repost my Whumptober content to other social media platforms?

Of course! You can post your own content wherever you like (or you can opt to not publish it at all). Additionally we’ve created an AO3 Collection to archive any fics posted there. It can be accessed here. The tumblr blog @whumptober-archive is the official archive, so please respect the boundaries of any closeted whumpers in your social circle :)

Q. Can I use prompts to write a new chapter for an existing fic?

Yes.

Q. An existing fic I am currently writing contains many of the Whumptober prompts, can I use it?

If you are actively writing this fic at the moment with the Whumptober prompts in mind, yes. If it just conveniently checks the boxes, then please don’t. You can, however, add new chapters using one or more of the prompts.

Q. What kind of characters can I write for?

Fandom characters, OC characters, human, furry, alien, cyborg, whoever you like to whump.

Q. Can I use a prompt multiple times?

Yes,  but it only counts once

Q. If I’m not comfortable with one day’s prompts can I use a prompt of a different day as a substitute and still be a completionist?

No, you can’t exchange prompts for different days. However, if all four prompts of a specific day make you uncomfortable, we have created an alternate prompts list that you can draw from. You can exchange any prompt with these, but please make sure not to use them twice.

Q. Where can I post my work?

Post where and how you want. You don’t have to (cross)post it to Tumblr or at all. Just keep in mind if it’s not on Tumblr we will not be able to add it to the blog archive.

Q. Can I start posting early?

You can, but this is an October event and wouldn’t it be more fun with everyone doing it at the same time? That being said, you can post early, but we won’t be reblogging any work predating October 1st.

Q. Do I have to finish a fic I started/can I post WIP’s?

Yes you can post WIPs. And you’re not obligated to finish it in October for it to count towards being a completionist.  

Q. Is co-writing allowed?

Yes, absolutely, and it would count towards being a completionist for both/all of you :)

Q. Do I have to create 31 standalone pieces to be considered a completionist or can I write one continuous story?

One continuous story is fine.  The challenge is to write something for 31 prompts. If that’s spread over 31 fics or just one, you are still considered a completionist. (The same goes for every other media you choose.)

Q. Is there a min/max limit on word count?

There is no limit.

Q. Can I combine prompts? Is there a limit on how many?

No limit and combine as many as you’d like.

Q. Is a hc/angst focus ok?

Of course!

Q. What’s considered nsfw?

See this post

Q. What is whump?

See this post

Q. My interpretation of the prompt isn’t whumpy at all, does that count?

No, sorry, but keep in mind that whump [see definition] is something very nuanced and different for everyone and emotional whump/angst is just as much part of it, as is physical whump and torture. So before you dismiss your idea, think about this.

Q. Can I start working on the prompts before October?

Absolutely! That’s why we posted the prompts a month in advance. We recognise how difficult it can be creating for 31 days in “real time” so feel free to start writing early!

Q. How do I tag triggers?

Just tag the word, ex. emeto

Q. Do I have to use your tags?

If you want your work archived on the blog, then yes. If not, feel free to use whatever tags you want.  

Q. Does combining prompts count towards completion?

Yes

Q. Can we @ you?

Yes but we mostly rely on the #whumptober2022 tag

Q. Is there anything we are absolutely not allowed to write?

There are no rules, but please make sure to properly tag your trigger warnings. And keep in mind Tumblr’s policies if you are posting it here (or the policies for whatever site you use).

Q. Where can I go for brainstorming help?

Here on Discord or come into our ask box :)

Q. My characters are minors, is that ok?

Yes, but as with everything else, tags are your best friend.

Q. Can I cross post on other blogs?

Yes, multiple platforms and blogs are perfectly acceptable. You can also post different works to different accounts under different names, without posting them everywhere at once.

Note: This is a creation challenge, please don’t repost your old work under our tags (unless it’s been changed or edited for the event).

Thanks for reading, and happy whumping!

#whumptober2022 #promptlist2022 #event info 2022 #event info #whumptober

[sommerflue-22]

Pretty Boy | Obanai Iguro x Reader

Content Warning: MDNI, graphic depictions of sexual acts, gn!reader, submissive Obanai, dominant reader, foreplay, slight choking, pet names, praise/degradation, creampie, multiple orgasms

Word Count: 0.6k

A/n: in my obanai brainrot era. i wrote this at 5am in the morning, hella deprived of sleep. can't really see him as a dom tbh, obanai is a sub through and through. IN THIS ESSAY I WILL—

──────────────────────────────────────────

Clouded eyes gazed up at you, so dazed and stripped off any common sense. Glistening lips parted, panting, letting out small whimpers. Such a pretty face turning crimson, beads of sweats were forming on his temple. You smirked. How could someone who acts so harsh around other people be so submissive and pliant? Wrapped around your fingers like his life depends on every word you say, every order you give.

You smiled, rather nonchalantly. One of your hand held him across his torso, fingers playing with one of his nipple, as another hand fondled his balls oh so slowly. He arched his back, urging you to touch him more. That wouldn't do. You stopped teasing his nipples, moving your hand up to wrap it around his neck. You put a little bit of pressure on it, causing his eyes to roll back in ecstasy.

"What do you want?" You asked, voice unwavering as your pretty little boytoy sat on your lap, his back against your chest.

No answer. Instead, his turquoise and yellow orbs met yours, teary and desperate.

"Answer me."

He whimpered.

"Fine, if the high and almighty Obanai Iguro won't tell me what he needs..." you retracted both of your hands from his body.

He stopped you, holding both of your hands in his.

You stared down at him. "What the fuck do you want, then? Use your words, pretty boy."

The nickname was enough to send shiver down his spine.

"Want you. Please." He croaked out.

"Where do you want me?"

"Anywhere, please..." Obanai swiftly turned, now straddling you. "Just touch me, please... please..."

You let him hide his face on the crook of your neck as he started grinding down on your thigh. His cock was fully erect, leaking pre-cum.

"I barely even touched you and your pathetic cock's already leaking?" You sneered.

He whined so close to your ear. Oh how you loved teasing him, watching as his arrogant and ruthless persona crumbled down, exposing his true nature: a fucking touch-starved man. What could his colleagues possibly say if they knew how much of a pillow princess he actually was? He knew nothing about how to pleasure you. All he knew was how to moan out your name as you ravaged his body. Though, you let him do that.

Because bringing someone as merciless as Obanai down to his knees was something you took pride in. It's a personal achievement. Nobody could make him beg the way you could. You're determined to rewire his mind, so that he'd worship the ground you walked on.

"Words, pretty boy." You tapped on his waist. "Do you want my mouth? Or do you want me to ride you?"

You were aware of his state, so far gone he couldn't even form a complete, coherent sentence.

"Ride me..."

You immediately pushed him to lay on his back. It's your turn to straddle him, hovering over him as you fingered your hole a little to prep yourself. He watched as you did so.

You smirked, "Like what you see?"

He nodded. You couldn't help but coo a little.

Once you're ready, you positioned his cock under your hole before slowly sinking down. You sighed. Obanai's cock might not be the biggest one you've ever taken, but his surely made you feel so full and stuffed. It's like a taste of heaven, especially when you started moving, emitting shy yet needy moan out of his pretty lips...

...and that's exactly what you did. Bouncing on his cock, letting him moaned out your name repeatedly like a prayer. He might cum inside soon, but don't worry. Just keep using him and you might feel his second and third spurt of cum drip down your thighs later on.

#kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #kny drabble #demon slayer drabble #kny smut #demon slayer smut #kny x reader #demon slayer x reader #obanai iguro #obanai smut #obanai x reader #reader insert #kny fanfic #demon slayer fanfic

[i-turned-into-the-stone]

Thoughts on mind breaking gfriend sowon?

Sowon was in the middle of shutting down her cafe for the night. She had finished cleaning up and was ready to bounce and get some well-deserved rest. Just as she was about to flick off the lights and lock up, she heard this loud noise coming from outside.

Thinking it was just some customers walking by, she didn't really care. But then, she heard more noises and realized they were getting closer. She quickly locked the damn door and turned off the lights, hoping they would just pass by.

But to her horror, a group of big, burly guys busted into her cafe. Sowon recognized them right away – they were her hardcore fans. She had seen those mofos at her concerts and fan meetings, but never expected them to show up at her cafe, especially at this late hour.

Before she could even react, the group had already surrounded her. She tried to push her way through, but they were too damn strong and kept her in place. She could feel their hot-ass breath on her skin as they started touching her body, groping her ripe tits, and squeezing her ass.

Sowon felt a mix of fear and disgust. She begged those assailants to stop, but they didn't give a shit. They were dead set on having her, and nothing was gonna stop them.

One of them started undressing her, tearing her clothes off like they were nothing. Sowon tried to fight back, but there were too many of them. Soon enough, she was butt-ass naked, her body exposed to these strangers who were now salivating over her.

They wasted no time using her body for their own sick pleasure as one of them forced her down on her knees, shoving his thick cock into her mouth. Sowon gagged as he roughly fucked her throat, making her tears and drool run down her chin.

Meanwhile, another dude bent her over the counter, slamming his cock into her tight pussy. Sowon screamed out in pain and humiliation as he pounded into her mercilessly. She could feel his thick cum filling up her insides, dripping down her thighs and mixing with her own juices.

But those guys didn't stop there. They flipped her over and took turns pounding into her from both ends. Sowon lost count of how many cocks she took that night. They were all rough and aggressive, taking her without giving a glance about her well-being.

Her body was bruised and sore, but there were no signs of stopping. They wanted her to submit to them and give them everything they yearned for. Sowon's mind was all fucked up as she lost track of time and reality. All she could think about was the pleasure that came with each rough thrust and how it made her crave more.

Hours passed, but those men showed no signs of slowing down. They flipped her onto her stomach and took turns fucking her in the ass, stretching her out and filling her with their hot cum. Sowon was in a daze, her mind filled with nothing but the empty bliss of being used and dominated.

As her body got ravaged, Sowon's mind slowly started to crack, becoming blank. She stopped fighting back or begging them to stop. Instead, she craved their cocks and their cum. She had become nothing but a willing fuck toy for them.

A/N: Wrote this at almost 6 a.m. but I wanted to try writing short smut for a while now so, why not start with this one, right? Please excuse any mistake present.

Sincerely, a sleep-deprived author.

#kpop smut #short smut #gfriend sowon #sowon smut #sowon

[aikatoru]

hi bby !!! wanted to request if u could write smth angsty where reader has a bad experience with relationships and geto or nanami (or any jjk character u prefer !!) helps experience what love is again (it sounds a lil corny im sorry 🥲 but the plot is based of a poem i made jajejajww)

thank you bby and have a nice dayy !!! 💛🩷

Someone You Love Note: (Hope you like it Riri!!)

Nanami x female reader angst

Word count: 1.5K words.

Warnings: Angst, cheating, kissing, making love, unprotected sex, pulling out, aftercare.

Summary:

When you found out your boyfriend cheated on you, you swore to never love again but fate had other plans when they intertwined your path with Nanami’s.

(Not proofread so please be kind)

Tagging: @planetoshun

Dividers are by myself

Love has always been such a funny little thing. The very word fascinates you. It’s just a four letter word and yet it carries so much weight. It can make a heart flutter, butterflies appear in your stomach and a smile form on your lips, as you hear your boyfriend told you that he loved you for the very first time.

It made you dizzy and filled with tremendous joy and in your daze, you pulled him in for a kiss. In that moment that was love, cause that was all you knew.

You never once thought that someone could just throw “I love yous” so easily, never once doubted him. In your naivety, you believed him as he held your hand and told you that you were the most beautiful woman in the world, you believed him when he told you that you’re special.

You let him make love to you, cause you were in love. He told you that you’re the best he’s ever had and you believed him. You let your guard down because you believed that you could trust him.

He was your everything. He made you feel safe and loved, he made you feel okay to be emotionally dependent on him. He was your best friend, until he started getting distant.

He stopped answering your texts as often and miss your calls a few times. Started coming by in the dead of the night, always wanting one thing, sex. And you would always give in, because you loved him and you thought he loved you.

It was only when he completely ghosted you, ignoring all your texts and calls, never once coming to see you, that you started to doubt. And yet, you held hope that he still loved you, so you went looking for him.

Hope came crashing down like a ton of bricks as you watch your boyfriend smiling and talking with another woman, reciting the same words he had once said to you on your dates, telling her the same “I love yous” you’ve always loved hearing.

Tears quickly formed and flowed down uncontrollably and you left, afraid of getting spotted, afraid of what he might think if he were to see you like this, because even after all that, you still care what he thought.

Yes, Love was a funny little word. And at that point you were done with it.

No longer will you love again, you swore to yourself.

But fate had other plans when they intertwined your path with Nanami’s.

He was overworked and sleep deprived. You had met him in the bar where you worked, nursing a glass of beer one night. He had just been staring at his glass the entire time and so you felt the urge to ask him if he was alright.

He snapped out of his thoughts and cleared his throat as he nodded and told you that he was fine, grabbing his glass and taking a large swig.

He ordered two more beers and a couple of shots. By the time he was done, he was stumbling all over himself, struggling to stand even. You managed to catch him just before he falls over. You tried asking him where he’s staying but he couldn’t form a coherent answer, your boss told you to just leave him on the bench outside but you refused and dragged him back to your apartment.

Nanami wakes up with a raging hangover the next day, his head was pounding and he looks around not recognizing where he was, slowly getting up to look around, only to find you in nothing but an oversized t-shirt…if you were wearing shorts it did little to cover your exposed thighs from his wandering eyes.

Your back was facing him as you were cooking in your small kitchen. He cleared his throat to make his presence known and you jumped, a little startled from it. Turning to face him, you gave him a small smile telling him that breakfast was almost ready and to take a seat at the table.

Fascinated by the unknown, he decided to not question it and just do as you said.

After a while he was greeted with a plate of pancakes and a glass of warm milk as you took a seat in front of him. You pass him an aspirin and he said a simple thank you before downing everything, he was hungry, he hadn’t eaten anything since last night.

You watched him eat in fascination. Taking small bites of your own plate, you didn’t quite realize just how good looking he was, you didn’t get a very good look last night.

When he was finished eating, you giggled as you told him that he had some syrup on the side of his mouth. He tried wiping it off but didn’t get it so you offered to help, leaning over the table, reaching out your hand to gently wipe at his mouth, but you lingered there, hand still resting on his face, eyes meeting his, searching, for something you’re not quite sure until finally someone leans in and your lips meet in a tender kiss.

And there it was again, the butterflies. That damn awful feeling again. It was addictive and that was how you find yourself spread out on the table getting fucked by the stranger you had just met last night. Dirty plates crashed on the floor as you continued your sexcapade.

You gasped as his cock pounded into you, scratching up his back, you never had someone as big as him before and the stretch was absolutely delicious.

He couldn’t help but rip your shirt to shreds desperate to see more of your skin, kissing every single inch of your expose flesh.

It was all so good, you were so good and he wanted more, he wanted you. Your tight wet pussy was so inviting as it squeezes around his thick girth.

His hips meeting yours in a sinful manner, his tip bruising your cervix with every thrust, causing you to squirm and moan in his hold.

But the lewd sounds of your increasing slick was a dead indicator that you were enjoying this just as much as he was.

You couldn’t help but scream as you hit your climax, walls squeezing, creaming all over his cock. Nanami chokes, quickly pulling out to spray all over your stomach.

Pumping his cock a few more times to coat your pussy in his cum.

After the high wears off, Nanami was the first to get up and head to the bathroom, coming back with a wet towel to clean you up. And after that he carried you bridal style to your bedroom, lying you down on your bed, getting you under the covers and spooning you.

It was funny, it was strange. You had just met this person and already you felt like he has done so much more for you, than your ex boyfriend ever has. Or probably you were just not used to aftercare.

But being in Nanami’s arms made you feel safe and you find yourself falling asleep sooner than you’d expected.

And that was how your relationship started, you found out that his name was Nanami Kento and that he was a salaryman with crazy work hours and a measly pay, when you had questioned why he continued working there, he kept quiet about it and you didn’t want to push him. You were not one to talk after all, working as a mere waitress in a bar. It wasn’t exactly first class either.

Since you both weren’t making much money, you couldn’t afford to go on much extravagant dates but what you both lack in money was more than made up for in sex.

You literally spend almost every single night fucking each other like rabbits, never getting enough of each other. How could you when Nanami Kento was a fucking menace. Always acting so gentle and sweet but rutting into you so aggressively leaving bruises in his wake.

You started spending more and more time together and on one lazy Sunday afternoon, while you were lying in bed and Nanami was stroking your hair, you finally confessed, telling him that you love him. And you didn’t miss the way he paused in  his movements and sighs before giving you a smile, asking you if you were hungry, diverting the conversation.

Maybe you should have taken that as a warning sign, maybe you should have seen it for what it was, but you were so blinded, so wanting to be loved that you overlooked it all.

And maybe that’s why one day, he stops contacting you altogether. No calls, no texts and no more coming over.

At first you thought he was just busy, maybe work just got way too much for him so you decided to visit him at his workplace, only to find out that he’s quit his job and no one knows where he went.

It was as if he was a ghost, there was no trace of him except for the scent he left on your sheets. And as you sobbed on your bed, wrapping yourself up in the blankets that smelled so much like him, trying to remember what it was like to have him hold you…you couldn’t help but wonder if he was thinking about you too even for just a second…

…left to nurse your broken heart once again, you were just getting used to being someone he loves.

The End

© Aikatoru - I do not give permission to plagiarize, translate or repost any of my works.

#aika writes 🤍 #aikatoru blog #nanami kento #jjk nanami #nanami x reader #nanami smut #nanami x reader smut #nanami x reader angst #jjk x reader #jjk angst #nanami angst #nanami x you #nanami x y/n

[dekus-fellow-crybaby]

Bibliophile Brew

Pairings: Bakudeku x barista!reader

Summary: When managing your parent's book cafe while they're away, you meet Wonder Duo Dynamight and Deku.

Warnings: SFW. No smut, but (bc I'm me) it may be included in part 2, so Minors DNI. Fluff, aged-up characters, minor SA mentioned briefly but not described (old perv gets handsy with a teenage barista), language, misunderstanding, eventual BKDK x reader. Lmk if I forgot anything!

I’ll release part 2 when this reaches 100 likes and 25 reblogs!

Word Count: 5.5k

God, the morning rush sucks. You wish something more creative or productive was swimming in your head while looking at the long line of impatient people crowding the cafe. You send a silent prayer that you don’t catch whatever illness plagued your morning barista that caused her to call out so suddenly before her shift that caused you to cover for her…on your one day off. Sometimes helping with running your family's business sucks.

"Thank you, and have a great day!" you say sweetly as you hand the customer their order before rushing back to the cash register for the next order. The entire morning was a back-and-forth of rushed orders, messily thrown together coffees, and half-listened to thanks. Luckily, most were your regulars, and you had a fairly solid routine down for the typical orders. It was all going very smoothly for a solo shift. Until near the end of the rush when some new people came in.

The dwindled crowd of customers parted like the Red Sea with the presence of a spiky-headed blonde with red eyes and a bubbly man with a black cap over a head of curly green hair. That man stopped to talk to a few of the customers who swarmed him, pulling the mask down his face and offering a dazzling smile. The other man's face fell into indifference while his partner busied himself with chatting, and he made his way up to the front of the line as the rest of your customers broke formation in crowding the other man. If you hadn't been so sleep-deprived from the closing shift the night before and running around the entirety of the opening shift, you might have recognized the customer in front of you and his friend as pro heroes number one and two in their streetwear, but you were dazed and too tired to realize that fact. You give your signature customer service smile—the exact same one that you give to all your customers—and then ask for his order. In a gruff, perpetually agitated tone, he recites his and the other man's orders. The rest of the cafe seems to be bursting with nervous energy, something you dismiss, thinking that maybe these people know each other (you don’t know them so can’t rule it out)—the green-haired man certainly is friendly enough with everyone to have so many connections—or maybe these men were idols—they both are by far pretty enough, and it's not like you'd know either way since your life was far too busy to keep up with the trending celebrities. But something about them does strike you as familiar...whatever, you don't have time to ruminate on that now.

You scribble down both orders and you utter the simple question, "Name?" without looking up while you're writing. A moment passes and you look up at the blonde, confusion hitting you at the shock on his face.

"You...don't know my name?" He almost scoffs while asking the question, and a huff of a breathless, disbelieving laugh passes his lips as if that explanation is utterly ridiculous.

"Umm," you felt stuck. If you answer honestly, you have the feeling that he would take offense. If you lie, well, you don't lie. You hate liars and you've learned that dishonesty has a way of making any situation worse. Not to mention, he would be expecting you to write his name on the cup, and you seriously doubt your ability to pull a name out of your ass and be right about it. "I—umm—should I?" Yeah, he seems mad, or at least, incredulous at the idea that you don't know who he is.

He opens his mouth to respond but before a syllable leaves him, the green-haired man comes behind him, patting him on the back while sending you a charming smile over his shoulder. He maneuvers to stand next to his partner, circling the three of you in your own conversation. "You can just put it under Kacchan," he says sweetly, smiling brightly. The blonde scoffs while the greenette pulls out 10,000 yen from his wallet and hands it to you. You scramble to gather his change before he waves off your slightly panicked monetary calculations. "You can keep the change."

"But..." you're dumbfounded while staring at the half-collected change in your hands. "But I can't—I mean, you're order was only 1,700 yen–"

"He said take the fucking change!" the blonde bursts out, crossing his arms with a scowl and sending your shoulders jumping from the harsh sound. "Just be grateful for it! Geez!"

“Kacchan!” The green-haired man pats the blonde's arm soothingly with a juxtaposed pointed look on his facial features.

"I-I am grateful!" you stammer, bowing slightly to the two men. "I apologize, I just didn't want to unwittingly take advantage and wanted to be certain. It-it was just a bit shocking, is all."

"Oh, no need to apologize!" The greenette man begins to ramble, shaking his hands in front of himself. "I really appreciate your integrity! It means a lot! Not a lot of vendors are so honest, so it is a really admirable quality! N-not that I meant that I don’t trust workers! I’m not making a generalization to your profession or anything! We're sure you work very hard and that it’s a difficult job! You know, you just hear all these horror stories about service industry jobs and the sort of nightmare customers you're sure to put up with. Not that anyone in here seems like a nightmare customer! Though, I am sure that you put up with plenty of those kinds of customers too...I'm sure that we seem like nightmare customers...Just ignore Kacchan, he's always had an--umm--explosive personality. But consider this as a tip. Not that--uhh--not that it looks like you need it or anything! This isn’t charity...It's more like an apology, I guess. The point that I was trying to make is please keep the change and please don't feel uncomfortable about it at all." He ends his ramblings with a somewhat nervous smile and a slight blush over his cheeks, which oddly enough, eases your own anxiety. You offer a shy smile and nod.

"Thank you, sir," you say as you put the change back into the till. You give them the receipt and move to make the drinks, finally noticing the amount of eyes that are on the two customers. Were they all watching?

You make the new order with lightning speed and accuracy, giving them their drinks with a sweet smile and a friendly, "Thank you, and have a great day!" The boys smile at you—well, the green-haired man smiles and the blonde offers a half-hearted nod of recognition—and you hop right back into your flow, taking the next customer while the blonde grabs the greenette’s arms to drag him away from heading to the door and instead taking the corner booth. You can't help but notice the number of people whose eyes are instantly drawn to the two, even as you're taking orders from your newly distracted patrons. Eventually, the crowd dissipates, each customer making sure to pay a visit to the corner booth before leaving. You can't help the way your eyebrows pull together at the way everyone is acting towards the two. You decide that they have to be idols or something, but it's not your place to ask or bother them about it. They're your customers, their business is their own.

With the sudden lull of having only a few patrons left, you start making the cleaning rounds, wiping down every inch of your parent's cafe with disinfectant, bouncing from table to empty table, picking up trash, and cleaning every surface. You try not to let your eyes drift to the mystery men, but you can't help the way your curious mind keeps drifting back to them. You could swear that they look familiar, though you're also sure that you would remember two handsome faces such as theirs.

While you're distracting yourself by cleaning the front glass on the display case, you feel an unnatural heat coming from behind you. Turning your head, you jump back into the glass case, startled by the blonde's sudden appearance and close proximity. You gather that this man isn't well-versed in social normalities, otherwise he wouldn’t be invading your space. He's not even phased by your skittishness, though you're suddenly sheepish about your dramatic reaction.

"Sorry," you stutter softly, nervously scratching a nail at the back of your ear. "Can I help you?"

"Sorry," he huffs, turning away instantly to pout at the ground.

"Umm, I don't—"

"For earlier," he interrupts. “It’s been brought to my attention that I was apparently being rude.”

"Oh no!" You wave off nervously, smiling sheepishly. “It’s really okay! No need to apologize.”

"SEE??" He snapped, whipping around to face the other man who was sitting at the booth shaking his head in his palms. The sudden shout pulls a small yelp from your lips in surprise. "I told you, ya damn nerd! Making a big deal outta nothin'!" You look away bashfully, your face hot when the few remaining patrons direct their attention towards the two of you. You turn to walk back behind the counter but you're stopped by an arm that reaches out between you and your exit route to lean against the freshly polished glass. You pout at the new smudges and meet his vermillion eyes with your own sad ones. His eyes study you for a moment, looking for something on your features. You felt like a bug under a microscope with the scrutiny you felt from his glare. "So, before...did you really not know who we are?"

"Umm," your eyes dart to the side, noticing the other man dragging his feet towards his comrade. You suddenly feel cornered, wishing that you could be back behind the safety of the counter. "I—sorry..."

"Hey," the emerald-haired man smooths, "no need to apologize. We should just introduce ourselves. I'm Midoriya Izuku, and this is Kacch—I mean, Bakugo Katsuki." Oh. Those were names that you knew. You stand stunned for a moment, tired eyes wide and a blush spreading at the embarrassment of not knowing before.

Bowing your head, you shyly say, "It is nice to meet you both."

While you're still bowed to the two men, a look passes between the both of them over your head. By the time you lift your face again, their eyes are back on you and your eyes are shifting to look at anything besides the bulking pro heroes in front of you as you give your name.

"It's nice to meet you, as well," Midoriya says while Bakugo folds his arms over his chest and nods in acknowledgment. "The tea was amazing, by the way."

"Thank you," you softly reply. "It's a fan favorite here. My mom taught me how to brew it perfectly."

"Well, it was delicious," he answers. "Your mother taught you well." Your lips turn up bashfully as you nod.

"I'll be sure to let her know, thank you."

"The coffee was good," Bakugo muttered. His voice was so quiet, you nearly missed it, already used to his typically booming voice since you met him the mere hour beforehand. You weren't expecting him to express his delight in the drink, and you could tell that he was one to withhold such approval. Your smile couldn't help but widen at his comment, instant pride filling your gut with flutters at the praise. While his words fill your stomach with butterflies, the brightened expression on your face sends the pro heroes' stomachs flipping.

"I-I'm glad you enjoyed it," you beam. A moment passes between the three of you, eyes flickering between one another before the front door rings with a new customer. "I-I should get back to work...but, let me know if you want anything." You smile sweetly and scoot away from the men, padding around the counter to welcome your new patron with a sugary, “Welcome to the Bibliophile Brew.” Katsuki smirks as he watches you kindly speak with your customer, turning to Izuku and leaning in to lowly say to him.

"I know what I want."

Some days you cursed yourself for being such a good daughter. Days like today when you sat crammed into a corner booth to keep an eye on the cafe while also juggling between the reading assignment you had for your college literature class and organizing the barista schedule for the next two weeks—a task infinitely more difficult now that you had two baristas out because of sickness. Thank God for Michi who agreed to take a couple extra shifts in their place, taking a bit of the load off of you!

While your new load of responsibility was exhausting, you figured that it was the least you could do for your poor parents who had to travel across the country to take care of your grandparents in their old age. You wanted to help your family as much as possible while your parents were away, meaning that for the rest of the summer, you’d be bouncing between your summer classes and managing the cafe. Luckily, you decided not to take on too many classes during the off-season, and what you did enroll in were all online courses, so you could focus on the classes in your own time—though that time was becoming less and less with the sudden boom in business the last few days. Word got around that your parents’ cafe was a hang-out spot for pro heroes—not true considering the number one and two heroes only came in that one time—but the rumor still helped business so you weren’t going to complain about the sudden influx of cash.

You also weren’t going to turn down more tips for yourself and your baristas. Apparently, someone had also posted a video of Deku’s rant on the difficulties of the hard-working service-industry employee and the importance of tipping—not what you thought was the intent of his rambling but you still appreciated the sentiment of it—and people just took off with it. You noticed an inflow of better tippers and friendlier customer-barista exchanges since then. The impact that a simple video with the Symbol of Peace had over a nation was astounding to you. It left you in complete awe of his incredible influence.

“Hey, boss,” Sukki’s voice called out, bringing you out of your Deku daydreaming, and reminding you of the focus you should be having on your mountain of work. Turning your eyes up, you take a look at Sukki’s concerned features through your reading glasses. Your mind immediately drowns in word, and you begin looking past her around at the café.

“What’s wrong? Something happened?” She’s place is a hot cup on the table in front of you.

“Nothing happened,” she says. “Everything is running smoothly. Almost perfectly.”

Your brows pull together and confusion. “Then—”

“So smoothly in fact,” she interrupted, kneeling at the side of the booth, and looking up at you gently, as if speaking with a toddler, “that we don’t even need you here.” She gently prize the schedule paper from your white-knuckle grip.

“But—”

“How much sleep did you get last night?” Ooh, you did not want to answer that. However, you didn’t have to verbally answer since the way your face contorts into a cringe is answer enough. “Go home, get some sleep. Me and the girls can figure out the schedule for you.“

“But you shouldn’t have—”

“And you shouldn’t be working yourself like this. It’s unhealthy.” You want to argue, but you can’t, so instead you pout.

“Why did you bring me a coffee then?”

“It’s hot chocolate. I don’t like giving you any sugar, but I also know that you need a treat, it’s better than another cup of coffee.”

“So you're trying to make sure I crash on sugar, then?”

“At least you may actually get some sleep, then.“ You snort and roll your eyes, trying to hide your touched smile behind the lid of your cup. Suki has known you since your high school days, having started as a classmate, then best friend, which led to being coworkers, too. Because of this Sukki would take care of you, whenever you would be teetering on the edge of burnout, which was often as of late. He struggled to take breaks for yourself, fearing that your responsibilities will pile up, and you’d eventually let everyone else down.

“Can I at least finish the reading?”

She takes a moment to consider this before sighing. “Fine. But if you’re staying here, you’re not working.” She swipes the handwritten schedule from the table and holds it out of your reach. “And I am taking this. Now, finish your homework, so you can go home and sleep.” You offer her a two-finger salute as she walks away, mumbling about how she doesn’t understand why you’re still handwriting your stuff.

After a while of reading, the words begin to blur together, and your eyes grow heavy. The hot chocolate—half drunk and lukewarm now—seems to be the only thing your tired eyes could focus on. For the past moments—God only knows the true measurement of time, but it only felt like a mere few minutes—your gaze had been trained on your abandoned beverage instead of the words dancing over the numerous pages. You didn't look away from the abnormally interesting cup until a tall figure plopped into the booth seat across yours, a large shadow being cast over the object of your attention. The sudden presence drew your eyes to your unexpected visitor and to say you were shocked by the identity of your mystery guest would be an understatement. You gape at the green-haired pro hero sitting across from you, smiling brightly, his eyes sparkling underneath the curls falling in front of them.

"Umm..." You look around, wondering if you were seeing things correctly or if you had actually fallen asleep in the booth and were now dreaming. But looking around the cafe, everything seems normal, except for the amount of eyes on you and your surprise guest. Your eyes fall back into Deku as you swallow thickly. "Hi?"

"Hey!" he beams, the freckles and dimples on his face becoming more apparent with the brightness if his features as he spoke. "It's nice to meet you again," he says sweetly, and you can't help the way your stomach flutters or how your heart picks up pace, a flush filling your cheeks.

"Yeah, it's nice to see you, too," you reply. "You here for another matcha?"

He chuckles a bit, flattered that you remember his order from his first visit. "Well," he states, leaning forward with his elbows on the tabletop, his voice lowering, "I couldn't think of anywhere else I could get tea as delicious as yours."

You didn't know what his was about that compliment that sent your heartbeat racing. Maybe it was his pretty virescent eyes trained on you or maybe it was the hush in his voice that made it feel as if his words were meant for you and you alone, but whatever it was, the comment had your face flaming.

"Thank you, Mr. Deku," you bashfully say. "I'm not sure I'm deserving of such high praise."

"You are," he states matter-of-factly. "And you can call me Midoriya. I doubt that I'm much older than you are, and I'm definitely not old enough for 'Mr.'" He teasingly cringes at his own use of the title, causing a giggle to slip from your lips. You don't notice the pride that puffs out his chest as he watches you laugh, knowing that he caused such a sweet sound to bubble from your throat.

"Sorry," you say, your tone much lighter and relaxed after your small giggle fit. "I won't make that mistake again, Midoriya."

"Please don't," he chuckles. He nods towards the book sitting on the tabletop with your hand resting atop the open pages. "So, business or pleasure?"

"School, actually," you answer, tucking your bookmark between the pages and closing the book to offer the pro hero your full attention.

"Oh, then both." You giggle again and he can't help but join you until Sukki stops at the table with Deku's tea and a second hot chocolate for you.

"Your tea, Mr. Deku," Sukki says tightly, obviously starstruck and nervous, it reminds you of Deku's early interviews where he seemed so frightened of the camera. It only worsens when he flashes her his number one hero smile, followed by a sweet and peppy, "Thank you!"

Sukki squeaks a bit, face flushing, and she bows slightly as she utters, "Umm, my pleasure, sir!" When she straightens her spine she gives you a pointed what-the-hell-is-happening-here look which you answer with a subtle I-have-no-idea shrug. You decide that you should get some answers.

"So, is there anything I could do for you, Midoriya?" He stops to look you in the eyes, the cup stalling in mid-air before completing its journey to his lip. He chuckles and sets the beverage onto the countertop.

"You assume I have an ulterior motive for being here?" You shrug, not wanting to offend him with an accusation, but that's exactly what you were implying.

"I'm just curious why you want to sit with a stranger."

"But we're not really strangers, you call me Midoriya now." You raise an eyebrow at the evasiveness, and he relents with the simple motion. "Okay, I'll admit that I didn't just come here for the tea." You fake gasp, dramatically smacking a hand to your chest in faux disbelief. He rolls his eyes. “I came to apologize.”

Your nose wrinkles at that and you can’t help the disbelieving chuckle that escapes your lips. “For what?”

“For that video,” he answers simply, obviously. “I’m sure you’ve seen it by now.”

“I mean, yeah, but I was there so I didn’t really have to watch it,” you giggled a bit. He didn’t seem to find it as funny as you did though.

“I’m sure it’s made things more difficult around here, too, though. Right?” You watch the crinkle of his brow, realizing how much he was internalizing any slight inconvenience he may have caused you.

“Business has actually been great since the last time you were here,” you beamed, trying your best to ease his misplaced guilt. “And the tips are better, too.” He seemed to perk up at that.

“Really?” God, this grown man was practically a puppy dog wagging his tail in front of you. It takes everything in you not to giggle at the thought.

“Really.” You shrug. “There's nothing to apologize for so don't worry about it.” He looks a little shocked at your response, the tips of his ears and the apples of his cheeks brightening with pink. He smiles at you gently.

“Well, good. I’m glad," he says sweetly, flashing his signature adorable smile. "I--well, I also wanted to make sure that you weren't having any issues. I know how some, umm, super fans can get outta hand with people they see me in a video with. Speculation can get out of hand."

“Oh," you respond, slightly taken aback. "No, I haven't had issues. Do people actually harass random video extras though?" Izuku snorts a bit at your choice of words, causing your brow to twitch and your head to tilt in confusion. Clearing his throat, he presses his lips into a disappointed line, nodding in confirmation.

"Unfortunately, yes," comes his mirthless reply. "Don't get me wrong, I love all my fans...but some of them make it a bit difficult to love them all equally."

You can't help the giggle that bubbles past your lips, the tingling sound building into your lovely laugh. "Y'know, it's okay for you not to like everyone, Midoriya."

"Oh, the nice guy in me disagrees," he sasses back, smirking to himself as he makes you laugh again.

"It's also okay to not apologize for every minor inconvenience you may or may not cause someone," you accuse pointedly. He at least has the decency to look slightly embarrassed for the point you're trying to make. "And I hope you didn't make the trip here just to check on me. I'm sure that there are more important things that deserve your attention, and I'm sure this is time you could have used for yourself."

"Well, as long as we're pointing fingers, you're allowed to take time for yourself as well," he retorts smugly. You suck a harsh breath before you bite your bottom lip sheepishly.

"How'd you know?"

"It looks like you've been overworking yourself," he answers matter-of-factly. "I'm assuming this," he starts, thumbing the book's pages that rest in front of you, "and this," he gestures to the cafe, looking around at the bustling space full of patrons who are beginning to take notice of his pro hero presence, "are responsible for your lack of self-care."

"I think you're forgetting that anything can be a form of self-care," you point out. "This can be self-care," you say holding up your cup of hot chocolate.

"A lukewarm beverage is self-care?" He raises a pensive brow.

"You're one to talk, Mr. Pro Hero Deku," you snort. "You're spending your free time here. I wouldn't exactly call that self-care."

"Well...what if I told you that this is what I wanted to do for my free time?" he shyly answers, suddenly sheepish. "If I'm honest, I kinda wanted a do-over at meeting you."

"You...did?" He nods, and you stare for a moment with wide, ruminant eyes. "How come?"

"Well, that first meeting was such a disaster," he chuckled. "It's not exactly the kind of impression I wanted to leave on such a beautiful person." He bashfully flirts, his cheeks dusting pink over the constellation of freckles over his face, and it's a whole new type of flustering when a big, beefy hero like Deku looks at you so adorably through his thick lashes with a ducting of blush gracing his freckled cheeks.

You feel your own cheeks flush at the sight, squirming in your seat and bringing your hands up to cover your burning cheeks, mumbling, "Oh...Oh! God, I'm too sleep-deprived for this kinda conversation." Your blush only worsens when he chuckles and coos at you.

"Well, m-maybe after you get a good night's sleep, we could have that conversation then," he offers. "Perhaps with...dinner while we talk about it..."

"Are you...asking me out?"

"I was trying to," he chuckles softly at himself.

"I think that I'd really like that," you answer, your face heating as a shy smile graces your lips. The greenette's face lights up in an elated grin, jade eyes sparkling with glee.

"Yeah?" You nod sheepishly. "Can I walk you home?" He asks sweetly. You nod, shyly avoiding his eyes as he snickers. You silently pack your belongings, your eye flitting toward an elated and shocked Sukki who watches from behind the counter, the coffee pot in her hand drifting away from the cup in her other hand to spill on the floor. For some reason, the sight puts you a bit at ease as you allow Midoriya to lead you out the door, his hand affectionately resting on the small of your back as if the rest of the cafe wasn't watching the scene.

Taking a deep breath, you pinch the bridge of your nose and steel yourself before fixing the offending table with a hard look. Your day was going so well, especially after your walk with Deku Midoriya the night before. You walked into work moments ago with a good night's sleep, wonderful memories of your day before, and brighter outlook on life. However, that sunny demeanor was promptly killed the minute you walked into the shop to see a sobbing teenage girl in your office being comforted by Sukki who then explained the situation in hushed tones. The righteous fury in you burned as you looked at the handsy customer leisurely sipping his beverage as if he hadn't assaulted a young lady. Turning to the teary-eyed employee you offer a sympathetic look and gently smile at her. "Amai, how about you stay in my office and take a break? I'll handle this." Making your way over, you grab an empty cup and lid from the counter.

"Hello, sir," you say in an overly sugary tone. "Hope you're enjoying the coffee. Here's a to-go cup so you can enjoy it on the go. Have a lovely day. Buh-bye now."

"What? The fuck you talking about, girlie?"

"Well, see, you broke our number one rule by harassing one of our beloved staff members," you continue in a tooth-achingly sweet customer service voice, despite the pure condescension dripping from your honeyed timbre. "Therefore, you are no longer welcome here. So, leave while I'm still being nice. Oh, and don't come back again, 'kay?"

"Look, tits—"

"That is not my name," you snap, niceties long forgotten. You also noticed the small audience that had begun to gather, the surrounding dining area falling into a slight hush with only scandalized whispers being exchanged between the audience. "Though you don't even deserve to know my name. However, if you must address me at all you may do so by calling me 'ma'am' or 'miss', but you will not address me or any woman in that manner."

He tsks and rolls his eyes at you. "You don't even know the whole story. That bitch was asking for it."

"Really?" you ask, voice coated in sarcasm. "The teenage girl was vying for the attention of some fat, old fuck like yourself? Hmm, very interesting. In that case, maybe I was too quick in my earlier words. I was being far too kind in letting you leave gracefully and quietly. So, instead, I will be calling the police. Please, sit, finish your coffee, and wait for the cops to haul your ass off."

"Why you—" His hand raises, poised to strike you while you stand emotionless with a fixed, unmoving stance. Before he gets the chance to slap you, a grenade-gloved hand catches his wrist.

"Touch her and you lose it." It's safe to say that both you and the offending customer are shocked by the tall blonde practically made of muscle standing between you and the now stuttering mess of a man. "What? Why suddenly so quiet after spewing such shit?" You're surprised that Dynamight's sharp glare isn't literally cutting the man down in front of you. "Apologize." The man's eyes shift towards you, the venom in the gaze when looking at you, however, is not quelled by the threats of the pro-hero.

"But...she's—" The grip around the man's hand becomes increasingly tight, interrupting whatever insult on the tip of his tongue with a pained grunt.

"Apologize."

He spews his false apologies with tearful pleads accompanying them before Dynamight drops his grip and sends the sniveling man scrambling on the floor and running out the door. The small crowd claps and cheers for the hero before dispersing back into their own activities. He shrugs off the praise, grumbling about how useless the crowd of people is, watching while an old perv nearly puts his hands on you.

"Thank you," you say as he passes you, seemingly lost in his own complaints over the situation. Stopping with his back to you, Dynamight takes a few deep breaths to calm himself before turning back to you.

"You got a mouth on you," he simply says, his tone almost bored.

"Oh," you say, blushing. "Umm...thank you?"

"It's a compliment," he assures matter-of-factly.

"Oh!" you drawl, recognizing the actual weight of the stone-cold Dynamight giving someone a compliment. "Then, thank you!" You flash him a glowing smile, a sign of your gratitude, but you fail to recognize the damage you've inflicted upon Bakugo's poor heart, causing the normally stoic hero to lose his breath, flush invading the apples of his cheeks.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm just doing my job," he grumbled, awkwardly crossing his arms and looking away. You tilt your head at the sudden aggression in his tone. He takes a moment to calm down with some calming breaths before he peeks at you from the corner of his eyes. He huffs before mumbling out, "Y'know...if you wanted to thank me you could join me for dinner." For some reason, you found his roundabout offer oddly adorable for such an explosive man.

"Are-are you asking me out?" you ask, smiling sweetly as you watch the tips of his ears brighten with a red hue.

"Yes or no?"

"Hmmm," you hum pensively, your finger tapping on your chin in thought. You mentally cackle at the way he groans impatiently, embarrassingly. Giggling, you finally decide to put him out of his misery, "Yes, I'd love to." His face proudly morphs into one of triumph.

"Good," he nods. "Be ready by 7. I'll pick you up." With that, he marches out the cafe doors, and you don't miss the "Fuck yeah!" he shouts once he's outside, startling a few unsuspecting bypassers.

You giggle as you watch his figure swagger down the street. Sukki comes up behind you, clearing her throat. "Did Dynamight just ask you out?"

"Mhmm," you hum out, biting your bottom lip giddily.

"After you agreed to go out with Deku?"

"Mhmm—oh," you blanch. "Oh, shit!"

#18+ only #minors dni #bkdk x reader #bakudeku x reader #dkbk x reader #dekubaku x reader #poly!bkdk #poly!bakudeku #poly!dkbk #poly!dekubaku

[roosterbruiser]

Hi, please could I request a super fluffy, adorable and sickeningly sweet blurb for Bradley Bradshaw??

Sweet Rooster has a ridiculously tight hold on my heart right now

🐓

𝐒𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐲𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝

𝐚 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐰 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐛

Rooster didn't realize how touch deprived he was until he met you. It's silly, really, because how could he not know? He was almost always alone and--more often than not--on a carrier in the middle of an ocean surrounded by testosterone. Maybe he didn't notice for so long because he didn't really care--or he thought he didn't care.

But then one night, only a month into what would become a very serious relationship, he was blinking himself awake as the two of you tried to get through Kill Bill: Volume 2 for the third time that week. He couldn't help that he was so tired, really. He got up at the crack of fucking dawn (which you thought was endlessly funny given his call-sign) and pushed his body to its limit all day on base in the hot sun. You didn't mind, really, and only teased him lightly about it. He obviously wanted to spend time with you, which was why you were sitting in his dark living room despite his desire to just sleep.

You're pretending not to notice him blinking himself awake and his big, brown eyes that are cartoonishly drooping. He's slumped over on the couch with his arm wrapped lazily around your waist.

In the middle of the movie, just after he dozes off for the third time, you turn to look at him. He's so dazed with exhaustion that he doesn't even feel your gaze, his thumb stroking long and complete circles over your bicep in a repetition that is surely aiding in lulling him to sleep.

"Roos," you whisper.

He slowly turns to look at you, raising his eyebrows, giving you a pathetic excuse of a smile. For a moment, he's worried you're mad at him. He really doesn't want to give you the wrong impression by watching the same movie three times in one week because he keeps fucking falling asleep while you're here. But when he sees your face, partly made up of shadows and partly made up of the flashing TV lights, he sees how open and gentle you look. Your eyes are soft and wide, lips tugging upwards, eyebrows blanched. You're not mad at all and he knows that immediately.

"M'so sorry," he says despite knowing you're not angry. He still wants to kick himself for not being able to just stay the fuck awake. "I really want you to know that I like you so much--like so, so, so much and you aren't, like, boring me or anything it's just that--!"

You don't know exactly why you do it, but you're glad you do. You have delicately tangled your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck and it has rendered him entirely speechless--sentence coming to a screeching halt. It literally takes his breath away when you begin to very lightly scratch his scalp.

"Found your off button," you whisper, a grin creeping up your lips.

He wants to say something back, something witty and sharp, but he is so overcome with the desire to lean into your touch that he can do nothing but. His head grows heavy in your hands and you accept it with grace, laughing softly. It's a laugh that tells him for once in his life, he shouldn't be worried about imposing himself on others. He should just let you play with his hair.

"That's...that's real nice," he whispers finally, his voice thin.

You love seeing him like this: his lips parted, his eyes slipped shut, his Adam's apple bobbing thickly, his eyebrows pinched just so. He looks even more beautiful to you now than he did before--and it's because he's letting you get closer to him.

"Why don't you lay on my lap?"

Any other time, he'd have some sort of retort. But he just complies in silence, reeling at the loss of contact when you situate yourself so your lap is open and free for his head to lay upon.

But just before he lays down, a fear grips every nerve in his body. He hasn't laid on anyone's lap in years--fuck, he can't even remember the last time he laid in anyone's lap. Surely it was his mother's all those years ago--before she got sick, before he grew up, maybe even before his dad died. He feels, suddenly, like he's giving into something he didn't even know was tugging him.

But then he sees your eyes gleaming in the dim light. And maybe it's because you have the most beautiful face he's ever seen and maybe it's because he's lonely and maybe it's because he really does likely and maybe it's because he's so dead-tired, but as soon as you nod towards your lap, he complies.

Really, it's the closest you two have been before. You've had your fair share of over-the-shoulder cuddles and some polite goodnight hugs and quick kisses. But this--his cheek pressed against your thighs with one of your hands tangled in his hair and the other laying peacefully in the middle of his back--it's the most intimate thing you've done.

"People could pay you to do this," he mumbles, slurring against the material of your yoga pants.

You have to bite a grin as you gaze down at his profile; his features have all gone slack and you know he's on borrowed time now, slipping easily and restfully into dreamland.

"First one's on the house," you mumble, delicately outlining the scar across his throat. His long eyelashes flutter against his smooth skin and his mustache twitches very lightly when his mouth parts. "You're a very beautiful man, Bradley."

Heat gathers in his cheeks. You've rendered him speechless again.

In response, he wraps his arm around your leg, the one he's laying on. The crook of his elbow rests flush against the backside of your knee and he draws a careful line down the line of your calf. And then, very gently and with quivering lips, he turns and presses a lingering kiss to the inside of your knee.

And that's when you know. Really, that's when you both know: you're it for each other. Everyone else can go home.

here is my tag list!!

𝐬𝐮𝐛𝐦𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐛, 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧, 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐬! 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐲, 𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐨𝐛!

#m answers #rooster bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw x oc #rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fluff #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw angst #bradley bradshaw top gun #bradley rooster x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x female reader #bradley rooster x y/n #rooster top gun #rooster x reader #top gun rooster #rooster angst #rooster fluff #rooster x you #rooster drabble #rooster blurb #rooster fanfic #rooster bradshaw imagine #rooster bradshaw fluff #rooster bradshaw x you #rooster bradshaw x female reader

[sirensvcubus]

Daryl Dixon FanFic-Rough Hands

Relationship: Daryl x Reader

POV: First person

Where: Alexandria

When: First night

———————————————————————

For years I barley knew him, I respected him but he’s distant to everyone, I cant help but notice the scars on his back, and the fleeting look whenever family’s mention, for years Ive known Daryl but I know nothing about him nobody does. Daryls shy in a way, hiding his emotions and showing no sign of fear. I never thought to much about him. Until all I could do was think about him; Miss him and his touch, crave it even, but nobody could know… he couldn’t know. I had a school girl crush on Daryl Dixon.

I thought it would go away, just pent up energy in the apocalypse with no were to go, but it never did.

Life wasn’t about living but about surviving, Then we got to Alexandria.

Covered in blood and dirt we crawled are way into this surreal town frozen in the past, a past I barley knew.

Together on the cold hard floor of the living room huddled around like wild animals in a pack. That was the first night in Alexandria for our little group.

But not for me I chose to sleep next to him, where I felt most safe, especially in an unfamiliar place. I rolled on my side where I found you staring up at the ceiling not even trying to sleep.

He reeked covered in dirt and blood, his greasy long hair resting on his face covering those beautiful blue tired eyes.

He turned looking at me, the eye contact made me shutter in the dark.

“Like what you see” Daryl said.

“Always do” I smirked.

We always joked, but I never got to know him, which I desperately wanted.

“I don’t trust this, I want to but I’m scared”

“I’ll protect you, always do” He mimicked jokingly.

Wether it was sleep deprivation, dehydration, or a sudden boldness I felt covered by darkness; I reached out and laid my hand on his bicep.

“I feel safer when your around Daryl”

And I rested my eyes trying to look like id dazed off. I felt his arm twitch under my fingertips and after a few minutes past he rested his hand over mine.

His fingertips were rough and wide, yet I would take his touch over any smooth gentle hands.

I barley slept just laid there with my eyes closed feeling his arm, and his hand on mine. My thoughts raced all night. Maybe I could do far more than survive.

I woke up late in the afternoon, it felt like I hadn’t slept in months and truthfully I really hadn’t. Everyone was gone from the house as far as I could see. There was a pleasurable familiar feeling, which I deduced was the smell of a freshly brewed pot of coffee.

As I approached the kitchen I saw Daryl, showered and smelling of mint and sandalwood. His hair tucked behind his ears with the exception of a strand peeling over his eye like always, the one with the scar.

“Im sorry do I know you.” I said sarcastically.

“Whats that saying, early bird gets the worm? You would not be getting any worms today ma’am.” He said with an unfamiliar smile on his face, while holding out a cup of coffee.

His voice was rough and deep, with his withered accent. It was like hearing my favorite song play after years.

“Well I why would I need to when I have you to make me coffee.” I said, accepting the coffee with a warm smile.

We both sat on the living room floor leaning against the wall, sipping coffee glancing over at each-other; and occasionally making small talk.

You leaned your head up against the wall facing him. “Why do you always have this here?” I said wiping the strand of hair behind his ear.

He looked deep into my eyes glancing at my lips.

“Just how it falls I guess.” He mumbled with a shrug. “Who would wanna see my ugly ass face anyway.”

“Me, your face is beautiful, don’t even get me started on your eyes.” I smirked innocently.

“Don’t play with me girl.” His voice said in a deep grumble, looking away.

“Im not” I said sincere “not about this.” You said looking over at him as you pit your hand in his.

He slowly turned dazzling me with those dark blue eyes. He turned his hand with mine still on top of his and slid his fingers slowly between mine.

“Ok.” He said scanning my face, taking time to stop at my lips in his gaze.

He slid his other hand up my arm turning into me slowly as he made his way and stopped at my cheekbone pulling me in closer. I didn’t resist and ran my fingers through his hair shuffling onto him.

We kissed slow and passionately. Pulling my lip as he made his way carefully out of each kiss. It was warm and I felt a rush of excitement and joy. One kiss and already I was falling in love with him. He softly caressed my cheek with his rough hands and I could have died happily the next day as long as this was how I spent my last hours.

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon fluff #twd fanfiction #twdfanfic #daryl #daryl / reader #daryl dixon x reader #first person pov #the walking dead #fanfiction #smut #story #netflix #popular fanfic

[theamityelf]

what do you think of aus where makoto goes through the Kamukura Project instead of hajime? i've seen a few around, but im curious about your take on the concept

Ooh, that's a good question!

For my own headcanons, I imagine, in his early days of consciousness as Izuru Kamukura (or Izuru Kamukura Iteration 2, if the Hajime version still exists in this timeline), he isn't aware of himself as a person pretty much at all. Even when the scientists talk to him, he isn't really aware that he's a person who is alive. He's really focused on them and understanding what they're saying and doing and why, but the fact that he doesn't process himself as a participant or agent in anything that happens to him means he's more witnessing the scene from a perspective of "I understand. This is a laboratory, and they're experimenting on a test subject. I wonder if their work will ever be done. They don't look happy. How do I know that? Because they hold tension in their faces. Because of the diameter of their pupils. They looked happier when they walked in than they are now. Why is that?"

(In contrast, I believe Hajime Izuru's analysis of the situation always included himself. I imagine, around this point in the Project, he saw things more like, "When *this stimulus* happens, it results in them doing *this thing* that hurts me. I have a vested interest in preventing this outcome." Makoto still experiences pain, but since he doesn't consider himself a person with agency, he just takes it as a thing that sometimes happens.)

It isn't until he's placed in a room with a two-way mirror that he sees things differently. (Similar to a thing I said about Izuru in Panel, but a little different.) He's looking at his reflection while the scientists run tests on him, and he's thinking, There are five people in this room. I only see four, until I look in the mirror. Right. The fifth one...That's the test subject. The one they're always talking to. He's bleeding. He shouldn't be; it looks like they made a mistake. Probably related to the visible signs of sleep deprivation in Dr. Sano. They shouldn't be handling the injury that way. That's not the way a normal medical practitioner treats a patient. Ow. They're very accomplished physicians; they know better than to treat someone this way and allow them to feel unnecessary pain. Ow.

And then he watches a drop of blood run down the middle of the test subject's face at the same time that he feels it happening, and it fully registers: That's right. I'm the test subject. The surreal feeling of realizing he's Someone dazes him for a second. If he's Someone, it's possible he can move. He can...talk?

"Dr. Sano?" he says, startling everyone in the room. "You usually use the polydioxanone sutures for lacerations like this. What made you choose the non-absorbable polypropylene this time? If it's related to your conversation with Dr. Fujita at your last shift, I don't find it likely that he actually felt that strongly about your work. He murmurs to himself about his family a lot; I think his frustrations about his son's grades fed into a mild complaint he had toward you."

The scientists all look at each other, because this test subject has been anomalously unresponsive, and suddenly he throws out not only a full sentence but an extremely comprehensive take on everything that's happening and everything that has happened.

They call in a bunch of other doctors to just assail him with questions, but while it's exciting that he's become responsive, they soon determine that it's easier to get a direct answer to a direct question out of him when there's fewer people to draw his attention. He doesn't treat them hierarchically, like he should. If the head doctor, in an otherwise silent room packed with lesser doctors, asks Makoto something, he might choose to ask one of the lesser doctors where his usual pocket protector is, or observe aloud that someone smells like watermelon.

Like the first Izuru Kamukura, this one is unemotional and largely unmotivated. Unlike the first Izuru Kamukura, this one doesn't resign himself to the tedium of life or live in pursuit of an end to that tedium. He just kind of lives vicariously through those who care. His thought about any given thing is, This is completely uninteresting to me, but it must matter, because someone cares about it.

(Possible scenario: "Makoto, kill that guy!"

"Okay." (starts strangling) (stops strangling) "Never mind. I think he doesn't want me to kill him."

"I know, but do it anyway."

"Why? He doesn't want me to.")

I can't stress enough how much he can't be motivated by pain or harm to himself. Unless someone else expresses that they don't want him to be hurt, it doesn't occur to him to make avoiding that a priority.

#danganronpa #makoto kamukura au #makoto naegi

[nowritingonthewall]

I just called to say I love you

Fandom: Star Wars

Pairing: Poe Dameron x gn!reader

Words: 1500

Summary: When you are worried about Poe on his mission, he tries to put your mind at ease.

Warnings: Mostly fluff with some sprinkles of angst, reader is extremely anxious in the beginning, no gender specific descriptions of the reader but Poe refers to them as Beebs’ mommy

The buzzing of your holopad made you wake from your troubled dreams with a start. Still in a daze, it took you several seconds to become aware of your surroundings and realize that you must have fallen asleep on your bed after tossing and turning for hours.

Slightly disoriented you groggily tried to grab your holopad from your nightstand, when you realized with a jolt that there was only one person who would try to contact you at this time of night. The reason why you hadn’t been able to find any proper rest for more than three weeks now: Poe.

Suddenly wide awake, you quickly unlock the holo call while trying to find some clothes between the sheets in case you would have to jump into action immediately.

“Poe?!”

“Hey, Koyopoo!”

“Are you all right? Do you need back up? A mechanic crew? An emergency medical team? Substitute transport?”

“Actually I just – “

“You didn’t accidentally blow up another X-wing, did you? Did you blow up another X-wing? Please tell me you didn’t blow up another X-wing!”

“No honey, I just – “

“Why didn’t you contact the control room? Did Lt. Prebun mix up the frequencies for the emergency channels again? I swear, this guy…”

“Sweetheart, could you just – “

“I told you, you should have taken more pilots to the rendezvous point, didn’t I? I told you…”

You were half way finished with trying to pull the next best shirt over your legs when your sleep-deprived brain finally caught up with the lack of urgency in Poe’s voice. You hesitated.

“Wait, why… why are you so calm?”

“Because you seem to be excited enough for the two of us?”

“Sh… sorry, sweetie!” You tried your best to calm down taking a deep breath before asking, “What do you need?”

“First of all, I need you to relax, bups, everything’s fine!”

“I am relaxed!!!” you shot back with the calmness of an exploding death star.

“Snugglebums…” he cooed gently.

“Kriff, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m just… slightly on edge.”

“I know, pumpkin, that’s why I wanted to tell you the we’re all okay as soon as the comms were safe to use again.” His voice was so soft and soothing that you could actually feel some of the tension being released from your body.   

“Also…”

There was always an ‘also’ with Poe, wasn’t there. As if reading your thoughts, though, he immediately assured you, “Everything is fine, really! I just… I just needed to hear your voice.”

Even through the blurry image generated by your holopad you could see the warmth and adoration radiating from his eyes as he lovingly touched the screen of his device.

You could only imagine how much of a mess you probably represented right now, with your tousled and tangled hair sticking up from your head in every direction, your puffy eyes heavy from sleep deprivation and your face crinkled with worry lines. Yet Poe’s eyes seemed to glisten as if he was looking at the most precious treasure in the galaxy. He might have been at the other end of the universe and yet you could sense his feelings for you flowing through you, warming your heart and soul as if he was right there beside you.

Despite your best attempts at trying to sound serious, you weren’t able to keep your emotions out of your voice. “Poe, you know what the General said about keeping the comms clear during missions...”

“I remember, peachy!” He grinned. “But I have a very important message for you, you see?”

“Wait, what, you do? Hang on a second…”

Switching into mission mode again, you frantically rummaged through your sheets looking for your datapad to write down Poe’s message. When you finally found it, you unlocked it as quickly as possible, nodding in Poe’s direction, “Okay, I’m ready, shoot!”

“Right.” He cleared his throat a little overdramatically.

“I just called…” he began.

“I just called…” you repeated typing as fast as you could.

“…to say…” he continued.

“…to say…” you repeated, wondering why nobody had informed you that the secret code for transmitting messages had obviously been changed again.

“I love you!”

“I love… Pohoe!”

“Awwwww did you hear that, Beebs? Your mommy loves me!” The mischievous glint in his eyes accompanying his cheeky smile was framed by the most gorgeous crinkles in the galaxy.

Fighting very hard to refrain from simply covering the holo projection in smoochies, you tried to remember your professional training when you asked him cautiously, “Poe, what did you do?”

“What makes you think I did something?” He raised an eyebrow without losing his scrumptious smile.

“Well, for starters, you calling me Beebs’ mommy usually means that you fear you might be in trouble.”

As the transmittance became a little wibbly-wobbly, you were only able to catch a few excited beeps before you could hear Poe again, “Beebs wants to know if you love him, too!”

“Changing the subject, are we, sweetie? Of course, I love him, too!”

“I’m sorry, peanut, I don’t think he heard that.”

“I love you, Beebs!” you exclaimed a little louder.

“Whaaaaat?”

“I love you, Beebs!” you basically screamed at your holopad.

“Geez, babe, there really is no need to wake up half the base!”

Spinning around you nearly fell of the bed when you realized that the man you had assumed to be several systems away was suddenly standing in the door to your room.

“I am going to ki…” – “kiss me?” he chimed in hopefully.

You were about to tell him that he got it half right and look for a pillow or maybe something not so soft to throw at him, when the relief of seeing him safe and sound took over and you leapt to your feet closing the distance between the two of you in a heartbeat. Throwing your arms around him, you bury your face in the crook of his neck, not quite succeeding at suppressing a few sobs of relief.

Whatever cheeky grin or witty comment might have been on his lips, was quickly wiped away as he pulled you as close to him as humanly possible. “Hey, Koyopoo,” he whispered softly, placing a gentle kiss on top of your head.

You allowed yourself to cling to him just long enough to convince yourself that he was actually back and safe in your arms before pulling back to examine him for possible injuries. At least that had been your plan. Which was significantly hampered by the fact that Poe was not ready to let go of you yet by a long shot.

“Poe, sweetie, just lemme…“ – “I’m fine,” he said, knowing exactly what you were about to do and not loosening his hold on you one bit.

“The last time you said that you had to spend two weeks in intensive care,” you pointed out,  drawing a sheepish giggle from him. 

“I’m fine, love,” he repeated a little softer before pulling you even closer to his chest. Closer than you could remember ever being held by him. Close enough for your relief to be dampened by concern.

“Poe, what happened on that mission?” you asked him softly.

“Nothing. I mean, nothing to worry about. I just really really really missed you, boo.”

Gently cupping his cheek you scanned his face carefully, finding nothing there but pure sincerity and endless affection.

Before you got the chance to lean in for a proper kiss, you felt a nudge to your knee, which was followed by a few impatient beeps.

“Oh yeah, Beebs would like to tell you that he loves you too!” Poe explained laughing.

As you knelt down to give the little droid a few belly rubs, he began to wiggle excitedly and chirp happy beeps at you, which became even happier when you leaned forward to place a little kiss on his dome.

“Oh, so *he* gets a kiss?” Poe pouted.

“That’s for bringing him safely back to me,” you explained partly to him and partly to the little droid. “Thank you, Beebs!”

“I had a little to do with it, too, you know.” As he crossed his arms as if he had been mortally offended, his pout intensified.

“Sure you had, flyboy!” you grinned, patting his knee sympathetically.

“C’mere!”

Pulling you back up and into his arms, he gently rubbed his nose against yours before hugging you even tighter than before. As your head came to rest on his shoulder, he put his cheek against yours, tenderly swaying you both from side to side, as if dancing to a silent and soothing rhythm.

“Baby, we really need to find a way to help you relax and stop worrying so much whenever I am on a mission.”

“Mmhhmmmm…” you hummed against his shoulder. “You mean like when you start pacing across the landing pad three hours before my scheduled return? Like when you personally double-check each first aid kit on our transports? Like when you ask my mech at least five times if they are sure my wing is in ship shape condition before every flight? Like when you nearly lost it with the new comm officer for losing contact with me during our last mission?” You raised your head to be able to look at him. “That kind of relaxing?”

“Hold on, I didn’t… how do you even know about this?”

Unable to hide your smile, your gaze flickered involuntarily towards BB-8, prompting Poe to grumble, “You little snitch!”

Appalled by the accusation, the little droid rolled backwards chirping a few indignant beeps that were followed by a long and sad one.

“No, no, of course I am not mad at you, buddy!”

“Whoooeeeeeeh! Bleep blob da blibbo?”

“No, I have no idea why they are wearing my shirt on their bum,” Poe laughed before turning back to you. “Sweetiepie? Why *are* you wearing my shirt on your bum?”

Letting out a groan you leaned your forehead against his shoulder. “Because.”

With a chuckle, Poe pulled you closer towards him.

“I think I kind of like it.”

“Really…” you murmured into the fabric of his flight suit.

“Can I tell you what else would look really good on your bum?”

“Mmhmmm? Of course you can,“ you mumbled as you nuzzled your face deeper into the crook of his neck.

With the fast decrease of adrenaline in your system now that you were back in his arms, you could feel the last weeks of worrying catching up with you quickly and your head was growing heavier by the second. If it hadn’t been for Poe holding you upright as you melted into him, you probably would have collapsed already.

“Maybe some other time,” he smiled. Keeping you steady against his chest, he carefully guided you to your bed. After gently helping you to lie down, he took a moment to smile at the way you seemed to be drifting back to sleep already.

Having made sure that BB-8 was properly docked into his charging station, he swiftly got out of his boots and his flight suit before climbing into bed right next to you.

As he pulled the cover over both of you, you snuggled up against him laying your arm around him, melting into his comforting warmth with your head tugged safely beneath his chin. Slowly stroking his hand up and down your back while leaving the softest of kisses on your temple, he could feel you smiling against his chest.

“Hey, Poe?”

“Mmhhhm?”

“I love you, too!”

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed this little blurb, I would love to hear from you 💜

#poe dameron #star wars #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x you #poe dameron x gn!reader #poe x reader #fanfiction #poe dameron fluff #tw: anxiety #chrissie tries to write #chrissie gifs #oscar isaac

[myillusions]

Noisy Sunday (Joel Miller x f!reader)

Summary: You've entered a mindset you're unsure how to come back from, your own emotions drowning you in a pool of despondency. Joel is there, trying to help you pull away from it.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: HEAVYYY angst, fluff, cursing, large descriptions of depression, anxiety, dark thoughts, undefined age gap (reader is of age), kind of dark themes its very somber

A/N: hi hi!! oh my, im so sorry i havent posted in so long. life has been so busy lately with exams and work, but here's this whilst i struggle with that and writers block! sorry (not rlly) that its so angsty, THANK YOU SO MUCH to anyone who reads, i hope u enjoy lovelies! also please please PLEASE i cannot stress this enough; if any of the warnings i've stated make you uncomfortable, please DO NOT read this!! and for anyone who may need to talk, my messages are always open <33

It’s peculiar, you think. How it eats away at you, gnawing down against supple flesh when you’ve already been forcefully spiralled onto the floor. Most say it’s like greeting an old friend; and you agree. It’s almost like reuniting with a family member whom you rarely see at a gathering. The one which then continue to pester you with inquiries you don’t have the vigour to answer. 

It comes in a moment. Sometimes for no reason at all. It reminds you of the subject which stops your musical theatre production mid-way, shining a glaring light towards you whilst you stare wide-eyed back; a deer caught in the headlights. Your character starts to break down around you whilst you’re stood onstage, its pieces cascading along your incapacitated physique like thrashing water which you’ve just dived into from a twenty-foot jump, limbs flailing by your head until the inevitable crash through the translucent liquid stings at your skin.

It attaches itself like a shadow to you, not always so visible yet constantly looming from around your shoulder. It never really made sense to you, how the more the light shines against this tenebrosity, the darker the shadow it casts. Shading you. Smothering you. A copiously adamant fire which refuses to be extinguished, its embers dancing up past the hillocks perched in the distance and threatening to singe anyone who comes near.

It made you yearn for a reposeful night, where the stars shimmered like pools of water in reflection to the sea rather than your own tears surging down your cheeks. Where a modest zephyr tapped gently at your swaying hair, twirling locks around its invisible finger gingerly. Where the whole world paused on its axis, bringing forth those few moments of pure solace. Nothing to bother you, and nothing for you to bother.

“How long has it been since you’ve slept?” A husky voice drawls out from beside you after the door to the front patio squeals open on its hinges, revealing Joel; adorned in his sleepwear of blue plaid print trousers and a black long-sleeved sweater. Considering his normal attire of worn-down jeans and a permanent scowl, he looked almost ridiculous, but in an admiring sort of way. His inquiry forcefully dragged you from the dazed state you had found yourself caught in, your eyes hauling themselves to face him laboriously slow, like it was strenuous to do so. You blinked a multitude of times to attempt to clear your head of its cloudiness.

You gave a harsh swallow before you even attempted to reply, “Not long. I just needed some water and air.” You lied right through your teeth, wincing towards the factor that a glass of water was sitting idly beside you on a tall and round wooden coffee table, still full to the brim with the reflecting liquid. Joel didn’t look convinced. To be honest, you had maybe caught a total of eight hours of sleep in the past three or four days, if lucky. Your body drums with craving for rest at the deprivation, but you couldn’t bring yourself to relax for long enough to lull into even a light rest, thoughts striking their way through forcefully in the canvas of your head, ripping downwards to leave their mark fiercely, consistently reminding you that pain is not an easy thing to ignore.

If you could say the apocalypse surfacing has brought you anything, it’s that it’s made you tired. So tired. But there are two types of tired, you suppose; one is a dire need of sleep, the other is a woeful need for peace.

Joel exhales past his nose harshly, his head dipping downwards for a moment, maybe in disappointment- you’re not sure. Either way, your stomach lurches with guilt, and you turn your head to face forward once again and pay rigorous attention to each detail lining the Jackson street in front of your given accommodation. The street was entirely empty, the only sound to be heard within earshot being the light whisk of the breeze against your supple skin, reddening the tip of your nose and turning your fingertips numb. You should’ve guessed Joel wouldn’t believe your white lie. Knowing him, he likely noticed you retracting the sheets from your legs and his arms strewn around your waist at just the start of the night, before tiptoeing down the stairs as quietly as possible to weave through the kitchen then to the front patio, where you have been set for a couple of hours now.

You’re both silent for multiple pregnant pauses, and you have to fight the urge to nibble nervously against your bottom lip, apprehension swirling within your chest.

“Do you want to come back to bed?” Joel tries cautiously, to which you visibly tense. You tilt your chin downwards dubiously, before giving an almost indistinguishable shake of your head from side-to-side.

Joel doesn’t give a response to your discreet answer, but instead pushes himself forwards from where he’s leaned against the doorframe to move past you and settle against the uncomfortable wooden chair opposite your own. The chair creaks as he perches himself there, the only intruding sound to the tranquillity before it swallows you both whole once again, thudding against the thin air which is gradually turning palpable. It’s suffocating.

“…Would you-“ He starts, his gaze turning upwards from the patios surface to face you, “Want to talk about it?”

Your heart throbs agonisingly at his offer, your fingertips tracing the wrecked linen material of your pants. You try a small, consoling smile, one that barely reaches your eyes; your head lifting to face him.

“There’s nothing to talk about.” You murmur back, sombrely. You weren’t fibbing about this, though. There was no explanation as to why you were feeling this surge of perplexing emotions. It appeared as if it were just a protruding root sticking awkwardly out from the soiled terrain, its only task to trip and surprise anyone who were unfortunate to tread along. Even if you wanted to talk with Joel about it, you weren’t sure how to put it into words. It’s fine, until it’s not; a surprise.

“I can’t help you if you won’t let me.” Joel speaks, his voice softer than usual, as though he was afraid for what your reaction would be.

You bottom lip purses as you bite down against your tongue roughly, almost drawing blood to quarrel against the melancholy rising in your throat. You’re not sure how to reply- you don’t wish to reply. You would rather descend into the quietude than face this situation. It’s not that you liked the silence, no- you actually despised it. Silence gave any thoughts swirling around the midst of your head permission to inflate and rise to the surface, bobbing up and down there, whilst its limbs helplessly thrash around, wishing to get back to shore.

It's only after you notice that Joel is still peering over at you expectantly do you swallow gratingly, opening your mouth to answer.

“Well, I- It’s not anything, I’m fine-“

“Why can’t you just stop for once in your life?”

“What?” You ask, your voice cracking at its edges. Your brows shoot upwards at his words, taken aback.

“You lie to me, act like you’re okay- when you’re so clearly not and you won’t even let yourself realise that you need help.” He speaks sternly, eyes firmly trained on you- whilst you can’t even meet his gaze, eyesight shifting to anywhere but where he’s sat opposite you.

You weigh over your words, a trepidatious lump forming inside your throat. Your vision blurs at its corners, your brain fogging over with despondency.

“Please don’t make me say it.” You eventually speak again, your voice strained painfully, as your head drops down in a swaying motion, defeated.

Joel doesn’t reply, but instead reaches forward, gently placing his hand atop your own where its set against your thigh. He gives a gentle squeeze, urging you to blink back up towards him, where he’s peering at you with a softened gaze; and you can’t fight off the tears that instantaneously build up against your vision, attempting to rip past your shields and barriers which are gradually toppling down around you.

“I am barely holding on.” You admit, your shoulders slumping forward with the heaved effort of speaking without letting a cry rip through in interruption, causing a few teardrops to plunge down the canvas of your cheeks. A harrowing headache thrums against your forehead, your field of view only worsening, but not enough that you can’t see the way that Joel’s expression is overcome with visible empathy, which only results in making your stomach lurch more.

“And I-“ You exhale sharply, “And I can’t even tell you why. I just- there’s this thing, and it’s weighing over my shoulders. I can’t shake it.”

“You don’t have to find the perfect words. Just tell me what you’re feeling. I’m here.” He encourages softly.

“It’s like- like I’m here, but I’m not. I’m away from my body, watching over myself; whilst continuously being dragged backwards by this unknown force- pushing me somewhere I think I know. It’s like déjà vu, when you walk into a room, and you don’t where you know or remember it from, but you can feel that you recognise it. I-I’m angry, I’m sad and I’m confused. Maybe I just have a built-up resentment against the world.” You speak rather sullenly, but try to mask it with a small, tight-lipped smile towards Joel once your brief monologue comes to an end.

“I can’t say I know exactly what you’re feeling. But… I don’t want you to push me away. I want to try and help you, in any way that I can. But I can’t if you won’t allow me to. And… I don’t want it to seem like I’m tryin’ to coddle you, or anythin’. It’s because- y’know, I care about you.” Joel speaks steadily, his gaze shimmering with uncertainty.

Your heart lurches downwards in repentance with his words, as though you were liable for your own shifting thoughts and feelings. It bruises you; how much you’ve allowed your emotions to take hold, guiding the wheel in a swerve as rubber burns against asphalt distastefully. How far you’ve come, just to end up here. You know you need help. You’re just unsure how to accept any. But you know that you wish to breathe again. To hold out a hand to loved ones. To be afraid of death again. To have excitement at the idea of different winding roads. To feel free as a light breeze washes against your skin, clearing any distress from you in a wave. You wish to dream again. This longing is what powers your words onwards, as you peer over at Joel, vulnerable,

“I need help.”

Joel’s hand raises from the back of your palm, and instead encompasses your icy fingers with his warmer ones, intertwining them. He searches your eyes for a moment, and once he discovers a bold outline of authenticity, he promptly nods towards you.

“Together?”

“Together.” You reply.

It evokes a memory of a familiar oak tree. One you were very accustomed to when you were younger, before the outbreak. As a child, you used to wonder down the street to the park perched at the end after every school day. Outlining the grounds, just opposite a wooden bench, was an oak tree. Tall and mighty; confidence resonating from its stance, daring anyone to meddle with it. Thick arms branching from its moss-coated wood, whilst the lime-coloured leaves bundled against each other cascaded the surrounding distance in shade. You would lay beneath it, basking in the frigid yet reassuring atmosphere it created, hair messily sprawled out around your head. You would frequently come to the spot to just rest within the constant spiralling of the world, watching as the tree’s features changed with the reoccurring seasons; its leaves shifting from green to gold, from gold to ginger, then from ginger to cherry, and then falling, oscillating down to the soil with the wind, before repeating its cycle. It was almost soothing, watching its colours shift around with the change of the earth, whilst resolutely remaining staunch in its attitude, its branches a prime symbol of vigour. Changing, but still remaining what it is; strong. You deeply envied that, and hoped- wished, that someday you would build yourself up to resemble that oak tree.

"We drink the poison our minds pour for us and wonder why we feel so sick." - Atticus

Noisy Sunday - Patrick Watson

Comments and feedback are appreciated!

#joel miller fanfiction #Joel Miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel #hbo the last of us #the last of us #help idk what im doing #pedro pascal #tlou #tlou series #hbo #joel miller x f!reader

[whumpshaped]

drained for your bingo?

masterlist bingo card

tw vampire whumper, noncon biting (like my guy is unconscious, its fucken vampire somno), home invasion, invasion of privacy, violating bodily autonomy big time, dehumanisation

In a moment of gross selfishness, Beck decided to crawl under the covers before Helle arrived. He didn't feel like waiting any longer. It was already late, he had work tomorrow, and he was exhausted. All he wanted was some rest.

He closed his eyes and let out a pleased little sigh, almost unable to believe that he was alone in the apartment. It was so peaceful. The buzzing of electronics and the noise of the street below began to fade rapidly, and he soon drifted off into a relaxing sleep.

His eyes fluttered open a single moment before Helle bit down. He let out a startled yelp and tried to push them off, but he couldn't even do as much in his half-asleep daze as he usually could — which already wasn't a lot.

They didn't even wake him before feeding. They just waltzed in and helped themself to a generous serving of his blood without him even being conscious. Maybe this was his fault for having fallen asleep before they arrived, but holy shit, this was a new level of terrifying.

He let them have their fill while he stared at the ceiling, only illuminated by the faint moonlight from the living room. He couldn't help it when he began to cry softly. He had no idea why he thought Helle would be considerate enough to let him rest. It was stupid. He was stupid. He should've known better, he should've known that sleeping away his problems wouldn't work if the problem was nocturnal.

Helle licked the wounds closed, then rolled over to the other side of the bed like a cat that got the cream. The low hum of contentment they let out was almost a purr, and he couldn't understand, he couldn't imagine being this comfortable with violating someone's living space and body.

"You went to sleep early," they whispered.

"Y-yeah." He was still shaking from the experience, and his brain was screaming at him to go and clean out the fresh wounds. He couldn't. He'd thought he was drained when he got home from work, but... Helle always found a way to make him feel just a lick more empty. "Could you... could you wake me next time?"

"Mmm, but I liked you like that. Calm, peaceful... unaware."

"Please."

His desperate plea hung in the air between them, and the knowledge that he was the only one so distressed by the situation weighed heavy on his heart. It made sense, of course. Helle wasn't the one whose autonomy was being ripped away. But he hoped they would at least understand. Sympathise?

"Is it scary?" they asked quietly, and Beck realised it wasn't even that they didn't care; they loved making him uncomfortable.

"Yeah... It's... it's very scary."

"Would you stay up for me every night, just so this could never happen to you again?"

Beck swallowed. "I... I don't want t-to..."

"Would you? If I began visiting well after midnight, would you deprive yourself of precious sleep to put your mind at ease? I wonder how many nights it would take until you fell asleep anyway. I wonder if you would be exhausted enough not to wake while I drank from you."

He choked out a sob, curling up into a little ball of terror and misery. "P-please... I just– I just want to be awake for it, is– is that too much to ask for..? I d-don't want to wake up to this... I don't want t-to wake up with– with new wounds... I just... I just want to be awake..."

Helle let him cry, and he felt like they enjoyed the sound of it. They must've, they had no other reason to mock and taunt him to the point of tears. Still, he wished they would at least answer him, and assure him that this was a one-off.

No such assurances were given. Beck couldn't sleep for more than five consecutive minutes for the rest of the night.

~

taglist: @whumpsday @the-scrapegoat @hidden-dreamland @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @delicateprincepaper @whumppmuhw @florissimps @nicolepascaline @oliversrarebooks @the-cyrulik @pirefyrelight @there-will-always-be-blood @pigeonwhumps @echo-goes-mmm @whumpycries

#at my beck and call #whump #whump writing #beckett #helle #vampire whumper #home invasion #invasion of privacy #dehumanisation

[thesixenthusiast]

ruby – eddie roundtree

part two (part one, part three, part four)

pairing: eddie rountree x fem!oc (may change to x reader) warnings: drinking/drugs (billy/daisy's addictions) word count: 1.5k author's note: please bear with me in this, if there's a few time mix ups just with the order of things, please do let me know but i'm trying to find an equal balance between the book and show and it's a little difficult lol

BILLY DUNNE: At one of our gigs we were talking to Rod Reyes, he gave us some pointers, told us what to do and what not to do, and then he told us to go west. We were all out of school by then and decided maybe it was the best option for us.

ROD REYES (tour manager, The Six): The band had the look they needed, Billy was a natural born rockstar, the long hair, the deep voice, that deadpan look when he doesn’t get his way. Juliet had the rockstar look down, she had this long hair, big hair too, and dark makeup that she never really learned how to use properly.​​ The girls wanted to be her and the guys wanted to sleep with her. And her voice.. she had this raspy voice that she never seemed to tire out. I told Billy, I told him, get her out from behind you, get her out of singing back up, sing a song or two with her, mix things up, people’ll get bored of just hearing you. Most importantly, I told them to get the fuck out of Pittsburgh.

GRAHAM DUNNE: The six of us decided to move out to L.A..

–

The Six settled into life in Los Angeles, renting a house in the hills of Topanga Canyon. They prepared to begin recording their debut album. Teddy, along with a team of technicians, including lead engineer Artie Snyder, set up shop at Sound City Studios, a recording studio in Van Nuys, California.

The band, Camila alongside, started getting their name out there. They played gigs at clubs and bars, doing near-anything to make a name for themselves on the Sunset Strip. Not too long after, they decided to record an album.

“I feel fully content with my decision to not take your bedroom, Warren,” Juliet hummed in response to Warren’s bragging over having the only bedroom with a bathroom, “Very few people would consider a stray toilet in the corner of your room to be a bathroom, I am proudly not one of those people.” Eddie waltzed into the kitchen, where the group was situated getting ready for the day.

“I’ve been thinking,” he started, taking a seat next to Juliet, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, “We need a new name, The Dunne Brothers isn’t cutting it for us.”

“Thank you!” Karen yelled, propping herself up against the counter to face the rest of the group.

“I agree, but let’s be realistic,” Juliet reasoned, “you’re never going to get six people to agree on a name.” She leaned against Warren’s shoulder, who was contributing little to the conversation due to how stoned he was.

“We could take the easy way out,” Graham piped in, “The Six.”

“The Six,” Warren hummed, nodding blissfully at the suggestion.

–

JULIET OPAL: The Six. [Smiles] Warren admitted later that he only liked it because it sounded similar to “The Sex,” I don’t think that was a big part of it for anyone else.

EDDIE ROUNDTREE: Julie really liked the name, that was a big part of it for me.

GRAHAM DUNNE: We finished the album, we were going on tour, we needed a real name, it felt right. Plus it was kinda my idea. [Smiles]

–

Karen and Juliet were draped across the living room carpet, attempting to escape the California heat as the fan that was weakly shackled to the ceiling rotated above them. The girls were taken out of their silent daze with a yelling and laughter radiating from the porch as the rest of the group made their way inside mumbling something about a wedding.

The girls sat up, exhaustion dissipating from their bodies when Camila announced that she was pregnant and her and Billy were getting married that night. They jumped up, Juliet hoisting Karen up from the rug and her sleep deprivation-ridden state, and ran over to congratulate the couple, pulling Camila away from the group and to her closet to pick out her dress.

Later that afternoon, Juliet stood in the dimly-lit backyard, and strung pieces of aluminum foil through the various trees and rosemary bushes speckled across the yard. Eddie crept up behind her, grabbing her wrist, which ultimately led to her dropping the wad of foil into the grass, and spinning her around to face him.

“Eddie!” She looked down at her spilt decorations with a lackluster expression, though a grin was pulling on the corners of her mouth, Eddie made sure not to miss that.

“No, eyes up here,” he lifted up her chin with his other hand and smiled at her, grabbing her other hand and intertwining their fingers as he started to dance with her, “I need practice for tonight, don’t want to make a fool of myself on the dance floor. What time is the minister getting here?”

“I’d hardly call it a dance floor, it’s the same bed of grass you passed out on last week and Warren puked on yesterday,” he laughed, spinning her and then pulling her closer as they continued to dance, “He’s supposed to be here in 40 minutes, but it’s L.A., no one is ever on time, it’s anyone’s guess.”

“Well,” he licked his lips and cleared his throat before continuing to speak, “then you have plenty of time to finish decorating once we’re finished.”

“Nuh uh, I need to help get Camila ready too, pre-wedding jitters. You’ll understand someday,” she leaned her face in closer to his before whispering, “that poor woman.”

“You wound me, Julie, you really do. But alas, a woman’s job is never done,” he stopped moving and let go of her hands, “I’ll finish up here, make her feel real pretty.” He smiled, she quickly ducked down and scooped up the mass of foil and handed it to him, before scurrying inside.

–

INTERVIEWER: What can you tell me about that night?

EDDIE ROUNDTREE: [Smiles]

JULIET OPAL: Oh, I don’t know. What’s the maturity rating on this?

–

“Smile for me,” Warren teased, positioning himself for the perfect shot of Camila and Billy, “I need a nice big smile, Billy, knock off the frown, it’s the happiest day of your life!”

“Your lens cap is on!” Camila leaned forward, pulling it off and tossing it to Juliet, who caught it with one hand and handed it to Warren, who stuffed it inside of his pocket and immediately returned to trying to get the couple to pose.

–

WARREN ROJAS: Mescaline is a powerful drug.

–

Juliet laughed as she watched the numerous failed attempts at photographing the wedding and muttered something about how maybe Warren should stick to music, before she was tapped on the shoulder. She turned around and was greeted with Eddie smiling at her, his hand extended towards her.

“May I have this dance?” He smirked, raising one eyebrow at her.

“Oh, of course,” she took his hand, tilting her head to the side and smiling, “if not all of your practice will have been for nothing.”

He pulled her away and the two of them found a position only a few dozen feet away from the rest of the group, who was still struggling to take photos. They danced, her head resting on his right shoulder and his hands around her waist, before one of them got the courage to break the comfortable silence.

“I can’t believe they’re gonna be parents,” she marveled, “I still feel like I’m new here and my biggest concern is trying to make him like me. When did we stop being little asshole kids who bummed garages off our parents for practicing space?”

“I’d like to think when we left Pittsburgh, but I think we still are,” she laughed, leaning her head into him.

“Do you think you’ll ever be like that?” He raised an eyebrow at her, “I mean like, ready to settle down? If we get to where we want to be, if we’re as big as we came out here hoping to be, is it even in the cards for us?”

“I think it’ll be tricky, but it always is, whether you’re leaving for a 30 city tour the morning after you get married, or if you just don’t know if you can do it with the kid staying in one piece.”

“I guess so,” she got quiet, swaying to the humming of the music until Eddie eventually decided it was time to rejoin everyone else.

The next morning, Juliet loaded her bag into the van, crawling into the passenger seat next to Eddie behind the wheel. After finalizing her spot, she climbed out and walked over to Camila, throwing her arms around her and leaning into her ear.

“Don’t be a stranger,” she looked at the tears welling up in her eyes before continuing to speak, “I’ll watch out for him for you. Call me if you need anything, I’m serious. I’ll drive back to California from Boston to bring you orange juice if you run out, I’m here.”

Camila hugged her back and Juliet shielded her from the group as she wiped the tears from her eyes, then she climbed back into the van, a stoic expression taking over her face. Eddie noticed and placed his hand over hers on the console, bringing her attention to his face. He nodded and gave her a weak lipped smile. As the group piled into the car, the energy lightened and Eddie let out a “alright, let’s get out of here,” before pulling onto the road.

–

JULIET OPAL: And then we were off.

#eddie roundtree #eddie roundtree x reader #eddie loving #eddie roundtree fanfiction #eddie loving x reader #eddie loving fanfiction #daisy jones and the six #daisy jones fanfic #daisy jones and the six fanfiction #daisy jones and the six fanfic #daisy jones x reader #warren rhodes #warren rhodes x reader #warren rojas x reader #warren rojas #billy dunne #camila dunne #karen sirko #graham dunne #eddie roundtree x oc #eddie roundtree smut

[kaisazen]

you call it love, i call it insomnia

SYPNOSIS. In which a specific harbinger keeps coming into your diner at the oddest times because of his weird job, to your surprise, things don't go very well when a tired snezhnayan man shamelessly flirts with someone he's barely met before.

THEME.

AU: Canon Universe (Genshin)

Character Ship: Tartaglia x Gn!Reader

Prompt: "you come into my 24hour diner at the oddest times bc of your weird job but you keep forgetting that we talk because you're always sleep deprived"

Content: Flirting!!!, mentions of sex/intercourse, two flirty insomniac idiots being questionable.

"Well look who the cat dragged in", you murmured as a tired looking man entered the store with his head hung low.

He does a double take to make sure his eyes were seeing things right, and they were. It was you, working on the same time he came. He released a relieved sigh, and made his way to the counter.

"I'll have a cup of coffee, no milk, and no sugar." He looks back at you with a dazed expression that didn't make his tiredness obvious.

"Would that be all?"

"Actually, I want to add an extra. I wanna get the charming and cute worker here that's working hard to serve me during these ungodly hours." The man said as he rested his arm on the counter, his face staring awfully close to yours.

You roll your eyes as you move his resting arm away from the counter that reflected the fluorescent lights. Of course, you weren't a stranger to weirdos like him. There were a lot of people ranging from hobos to potential criminals that you'd encounter during your midnight shifts.

"I see you're not the type to converse"

"I pay no heed to weirdos like you that go into my diner at ungodly hours. And oh my archons, you even think that's attractive." You lay his coffee cup infront of him with utter caution though you'd rather spill the hot substance onto his face at any given moment.

"I just wanted to find a way to talk to you"

"Well that's awfully direct. I go by the name of (Name)".

The man smirks and helds out a hand for you. "You can call me Tartaglia, though most people call me Childe. It is a pleasure to meet you."

"It's nice to meet you too, fellow insomniac."

And after that first night of name exchange, Childe kept coming for the next consecutive nights. You found it awfully strange of how you have never seen him in Liyue before. But you get to see the flirty outlander whenever night hits and people no longer open those doors except for him. You just wonder what his job in Liyue might be.

"Hey (Name), aren't you at least curious for what my occupation in Liyue might be?"

You put down the glass that you were wiping dry, only to be met by drunken eyes that were starting to shape like hearts if you squint enough.

"No, as a matter of fact. I don't think I need to stick my nose that far out of people's lives."

You can see from the corner of your eye at the slight twitch of his lip, insisting on showing his smirk.

"How would you feel if I told you that I'm feared by nations and recognized as part of the most powerful organizations in Teyvat?"

"And how would you feel if I told you that you're looking like I could totally fuck you right now?" You murmur jokingly but you made it audible enough for him to hear.

Perhaps you did mean it. Was it the smell of chemical alcohol getting to your head? Or was it the number of times this man had been visiting the place, always wondering how his sultry voice finds its way into your own heart?

"Oh, so you're saying you wanna fuck with one of the Fatui Harbingers?"

"Even better. So stop coming to my diner when you can go to my place instead."

You cut of his lustful trance with a smack of a card right between his dazed eyes. The card had your home address and with your contact number.

"What was that for?!"

"That's what you call seduction. Not bad for a mere diner owner that now knows how to woo a Harbinger, no?".

After that night, you didn't know whether Childe was only bluffing about him being part of the Harbingers or if he was actually dead-ass serious.

#genshin impact #childe #genshin #genshin impact x gender neutral reader #genshin au #tartaglia #childe x y/n #childe x reader #fatui childe #fatui harbingers #teyvat #harbingers x reader #genshin fatui #genshin harbingers #genshin tartaglia x reader #ajax x reader

[cuddlepilefics]

But if you stay, you'll get sick too

Fandom: Ateez

Sickie: San

Caregiver: Hongjoong & Wooyoung

Prompt: @sicktember

No one’s POV.:

San couldn’t tell how long he had lain awake staring at the ceiling. They had returned to the dorm about two hours ago and while San had gone straight to bed just like the rest of the group, he just couldn’t fall asleep. He had been a little uneasy all day but couldn’t tell where the tension was coming from, all he knew was that he had to fall asleep fast if he didn’t want to be wrecked completely tomorrow. His stomach gave a low rumble and San lightly ran his hand over his middle. It was probably just nerves over having to face a full day of schedule while being sleep-deprived, so he didn’t think much of it. Until he sat up that was. Desperate to fall asleep, San decided to go to the kitchen and have some water but as soon as he was upright, his head spun and he broke into a sweat. Drawing in a shaky breath, he rested his head in his hands and waited for the dizzy spell to pass.

When San finally deemed it safe to move, his muscles protested the movement aching deeply as he got to his feet. Every step towards the kitchen seemed to take unspeakable effort and by the time he reached his destination, he was drenched in sweat. San grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and downed a few sips before resting his forehead against one of the kitchen cabinets. He had felt kind of rundown all day but that had been nothing compared to what he felt now. Bracing himself against the kitchen counter, San lowered himself to the ground. He felt faint all of a sudden and weakly leant against the wall as he stretched out his sore legs in front of him. The cold water in his stomach made him shiver as goosebumps spread down his arms and legs but he was still glad he had had some water because it might help the headache, that was forming behind his brow.

“What are you doing out here, Sannie?”, Hongjoong yawned as he approached his dongsaeng in the dark. Too dazed with sleep, San didn’t manage to answer the leader but his stomach did so for him, giving a loud groan. Taken aback at the sound, Hongjoong muttered: “Upset stomach?” Humming in confirmation, San took a deep breath. “Can’t sleep”, he admitted quietly, dropping his head back against the wall. Scratching his head, Hongjoong offered: “Do you want some tea? See if it settles your stomach so you can sleep….” The younger didn’t feel like he had anything to lose and weakly nodded his head. However, he made no move to get up or out of the way as Hongjoong stepped around him to turn on the kettle and grab a cup. “Why don’t you go and sit on the couch?”, the older asked as he watched San shudder. The kitchen tiles were cold, so no wonder the other felt chilled.

Hongjoong didn’t get a reply and expectantly glanced down at his dongsaeng. “Help?”, the leader asked and San nodded weakly. His hands were clammy when he gripped Hongjoong’s and his vision darkened for a moment upon being upright. The leader’s brows furrowed in concern as he supported the younger to the couch. Sure, San could be dramatic at times but right now, he was just so out of it. Plus, his skin felt unusually warm to the touch, so Hongjoong suspected he might as well be running a fever. “Wait here and I’ll get your tea”, the leader instructed.

Protectively wrapping his arm around his stomach, San curled up on the couch. His eyes stung as he finally accepted that he had most likely come down with something because simple indigestion couldn’t explain the amount of discomfort he was experiencing. He swallowed hard as Hongjoong approached him with the steaming cup of peppermint tea. The leader placed the cup onto the coffee table to let it cool down a little first and hummed: “How long have you felt bad for?” San shrugged as he drew his legs up to his chest. “Just felt tired and rundown but when I went to bed and couldn’t fall asleep, it just progressively felt more wrong”, he yawned, rubbing at his reddened eyes. “You felt pretty warm to me just now. Did you take your temperature or do you feel like you might have a fever”, Hongjoong asked softly as he studied his pale dongsaeng in the dim light. San gave a hesitant nod, admitting: “I’m really sweaty but cold, my head hurts and my whole body just aches, so… I think that’s a fever.” The older hummed in agreement, getting to his feet to retrieve the thermometer.

When they had confirmed that San was indeed running a fever, Hongjoong handed him his tea and sighed: “Sip this slowly and see if it helps your tummy some. Want me to call management for you in the morning?” – “Hm, wanna try an’ sleep it off. Might be fine then”, San mumbled as he took a tiny sip of his tea. Hongjoong doubted the other would be fine by the time they had to get up but agreed that they’d decide how to proceed in the morning. Though the leader was hesitant, he let San convince him to go back to bed as the younger promised he’d do the same. San didn’t want to keep his hyung up, so he too snuck back to his room, careful as to not wake Yunho. Shivering, he huddled under his blanket as he sipped his tea in the dark.

The tea hadn’t really helped San’s stomach at all and he soon found himself wandering out to the common area again. He had put on an oversized hoodie to help with the chills, rubbing his sweaterpaw against his temple to soothe the headache. For a moment, San contemplated curling up on the couch but he felt to restless to settle down. Pulling his hood up, he popped a mint between his lips and drew a deep breath through his nose. San shakily exhaled through his mouth before repeating, trying to calm his churning stomach down. A small trickle of sweat made its way down his temple as he sucked on the mint.

San’s heart stopped for a split second when someone touched his shoulder. “Hyung, quit pacing”, Wooyoung whined sleepily, “I thought someone broke into our dorm.” It was only when San turned and the hallway light illuminated his pale face that the younger realized something was still really wrong despite there not being an intruder. “Well, shit”, Wooyoung exclaimed, suddenly wide awake, “What happened to you?” San only gave a weak shrug as his stomach gurgled sickly. He stifled a burp before muttering: “I have a fever.” – “Okay”, Wooyoung hummed, “Does anyone else know?” The older gave a tired nod. “Hongjoong-hyung made me tea and took my temperature. I was supposed to go back to bed but I still can’t sleep”, San pouted, dazedly blinking at his friend.

Since he wasn’t sure what to do, Wooyoung guided San to sit on the couch. Running his hand through the other’s hair, Wooyoung whispered: “Why don’t you lay down, hm? We can cuddle, see if you manage to drift off….” San however sat stiffly on the couch, his shoulders tense as he stared at the opposite wall. “Come on, Sannie. Work with me a little”, Wooyoung cooed, cupping his friend’s flushed cheeks, “How can I help you?” He winced at the hot touch of San’s skin and the other’s glossy eyes seemed to look right through him. Pressing his palms to his eyes the older grimaced and swallowed hard. This was just so wrong, he felt so wrong.

San hiccupped as he held his head in his hands, lips pressed into a thin line. His breath was quick and panting as sweat beaded his forehead, lips turning white. Wooyoung was caught off guard when San pitched forward gagging into his sleeve. He rushed to grab the other by the shoulder as he had almost fallen from the couch. Before Wooyoung could decide whether to drag his friend to the bathroom or fetch a bucket, San’s stomach lurched and a hot waved of sick gushed out behind the sweaterpaws he had clamped over his lips. Seeing the damage was already done, the younger carefully patted San’s arms and hushed: “Move your hands, it’s okay.” Wooyoung helplessly rubbed his friend’s back as the older retched again, eyes flooding with tears. “You’re okay”, Wooyoung promised, glancing away in an attempt to protect his own stomach as he listened to the splattering noise. He was brought back to focus when a sob tore from San’s throat, the sound hoarse from the strain.

Wooyoung startled when an arm snaked around his waist, someone gently moving him aside. “I got him, Woo”, Hongjoong promised, carefully removing San’s hood to comb his sweaty hair out of his face, “You didn’t tell me it was this bad.” The leader patted San’s back when the younger coughed, grimacing at the string of saliva dangling from his lips. “Let’s get you out of that hoodie”, Hongjoong decided, pulling the back over San’s head to keep the mess on the sleeves contained inside. Using a clean edge of the hoodie, the leader wiped off his dongsaeng’s chin and hands before he hummed: “Are you okay to move?” San only whimpered as his friends pulled him up by the arms, steadying him against the dizziness. With Wooyoung’s help, Hongjoong maneuvered San to the bathroom and immediately shoved the other’s soiled hoodie into the washing machine.

Relieved to not be in charge, Wooyoung was able to collect himself and helped San settle in front of the toilet. The younger lightly traced San’s bare back with his nails in hopes of providing him some comfort, while Hongjoong ran a washcloth under warm water to properly clean his dongsaeng up. “Hyung, I don’t feel good…”, San slurred before burying his head into the toilet bowl with a guttural retch. Wooyoung made eye contact with Hongjoong, who sighed: “I know you don’t, Sannie, and I’m most definitely calling you in sick in the morning. Can you lift your head for me?” The leader dabbed the sweat off San’s forehead before wiping his lips and chin. Last he cleaned the other’s hands and went to rinse the washcloth under cold water now. Hongjoong squeezed out the excess water before draping the cold washcloth across his dongsaeng’s neck. San shuddered as goosebumps spread down his arms but they really needed to bring his fever down.

“You feeling okay, Woo?”, Hongjoong asked quietly. The younger had taken a seat on the edge of the tub next to San, rubbing his friends back and shooting the leader a questioning look. “You looked a little pale earlier”, Hongjoong breathed, studying his two dongsaengs, “If you got him, I’ll clean the living room, yeah?” Wooyoung nodded, tangling his fingers in San’s hair, lightly scratching the other’s scalp.

San’s eyelids were drooping and Wooyoung gently pulled him back to rest against his legs. “Where do you want to sleep, hyung”, Wooyoung whispered, “Your bed, my bed, the couch, …? We’ll grab a bucket and see how we can get you comfortable. I could rub your tummy if that’d help any.” San released a shaky breath, resting his forehead against Wooyoung’s knee. He was really craving the younger’s cuddles now. They always made him feel better. When San tried to speak, his voice was faint and he slurred his speech a little with how exhausted he was, admitting: “’M really craving some cuddles. …would love you to rub my tummy ‘cuz… my tummy’s really not happy right now. Can you stay, Woo?” Before Wooyoung got a chance to reply, San’s feverish rambles continued. “No”, he whined, “You can’t stay, Woo.” – “I’d say, I surely can”, the younger disagreed. “But if you stay, you’ll get sick too”, San croaked, making his friend sigh.

When Hongjoong returned, he and Wooyoung helped San to his feet to rinse his mouth and wash his hands. They then walked their friend to the couch, where Hongjoong had already set up a bucket, tissue box and water bottle. Like he had promised, Wooyoung laid down alongside San and lightly drew circles over the other’s gurgling stomach, finally luring him to sleep.

#fanfic #fluff #comfort #fanfiction #sick #sickfic #sicktember2023 #sicktember 2023 #ateez #atiny #emeto

[bookishly-ariel]

Just saw a post mentioning how the cauldron loves Elain and I think that's cute as hell (especially since I was writing earlier to clear my mind and had it talking to her in her Seer daze) but the gremlin part of my brain went, "What if it made Lucien her mate cause it looked at Az and got jealous they were meant for eachother and said "Nuh uh, he's perfect, he can't have everything."

Then released her, hoping she'd stay away from his rival 😂

Dear Dracula I'm sleep deprived

#elriel #elain archeron #elain acotar #elain x azriel #pro elain #sleep deprived thoughts