#I remember my dreams better when I smoke less

[singedbutter]

.

#I think weed has been giving me anxiety lately #I’ve been so busy and away from home my smoking schedule is super thrown off #I like smoking less #sometimes I feel self conscious if I smoke a lot through the day #I remember my dreams better when I smoke less #which is bittersweet #I like dreaming #or being able to remember them #but they’re always so stressful #and then I feel silly for having shit dreams #I’ve been dreaming about work recently and the people close to me #I just want to wake up feeling better than the night before but it’s so far from the opposite #tbh today probs wouldn’t have been so hard if I’d just had a bowl #definitely don’t need any other vices though #brb gotta go make myself cry to tire myself out #I don’t think I have the time or energy to smoke and let that make me sleepy #goodnight forever for real this time lol #personal

[lovebugism]

i have a lot of nightmares and shake a lot when nervous. could u maybe write something abt a reader that goes through similar issues, and eddie comforts them and tries to make them feel safe? u can do whatever u like with this, i just need some fluff! :]

as someone who also has frequent nightmares, this was very self-indulgent heheh i hope you like it :D — eddie calms you down when you have a bad dream (hurt/comfort, established relationship, cw for mentions of panic attacks, 1.2k)

Eddie didn’t know he loved you until now. Like, right now.

He’d always had an inkling, at the very least, but he didn’t know for sure until he got you into his bed — bare-faced and swallowed whole in an oversized t-shirt older than you are. You share a single pillow with him despite having your own, leaving your noses mere inches apart. His tired eyes go a bit cross-eyed when he looks at you.

Despite his heavy head and heavier eyelids, he doesn’t want to stop looking at you. He doesn’t want to stop talking to you, either. He doesn’t want to fall asleep at all ‘cause he’s scared he’ll miss you too much. 

And that’s when he realizes that he’s head over heels, completely, utterly, and hopelessly in love with you.

“You asleep yet?” he whispers into the dark bedroom, lit only by the streams of silver moonlight slipping through the curtains.

You shake your head against the pillow you share with him. “No,” you mumble — voice thick with exhaustion, eyes fluttered shut.

“Good,” Eddie replies, shifting on the mattress until he melts further into it. Your cold feet entwine with his warmer ones. He exhales a contented sigh through his nose. “Me neither…”

You can’t be entirely sure who dozed off first, but you know for certain you wake up before he does. 

3:47 A.M. blinks at you in bright red numbers on the nightstand. The witching hour greets you along with a rapidly beating heart, thrumming hard against your ribcage like it’s trying to escape from its confines.

The nightmare was a vivid one when it painted the backs of your eyelids, but you can’t really remember it now. You think that might be worse. Now you don’t know why you’re so scared — you just know that you are.

Fear, that’s all you can think about now, as your body trembles with a heavy, ice-cold feeling. Fear. Panic. Dread. 

The nightmare fades. Eddie’s body, warm and comforting next to yours, becomes a much more tangible thing. But you just can’t shake the feeling it left behind. The bad dream clings to you like smoke and swallows you whole before you can blink.

You shake with the longing to hold the boy beside you. If only you could clutch onto Eddie like a life vest, or a life-sized teddy bear, maybe then you could soothe your racing heart. But you know you don’t want to wake him, just like you know you don’t want him to see you like this — so torn up over a stupid bad dream.

You sit on the edge of the mattress and try to calm yourself down. The attempt is futile. You end up with a tight chest, a pounding heart, and two cheeks damp with fat tears. 

After no longer than five minutes of trying to stave off a panic attack by yourself, do you notice the bed shifting behind you. A wide palm smooths over your trembling shoulders a second later.

Eddie squints at your shivering silhouette, trying to see you better through the darkness and bleary haze of sleep. He finds you slouched over and clawing at your chest like something’s wrong. Your choked-back sobs and quiet sniffles aren’t any less concerning.

“You okay?” the boy slurs as he sits up behind you.

“‘M sorry,” you blurt, voice wet with emotion. You don’t know exactly what you’re apologizing for. You just feel like you should. Through hitched breaths, you manage out, “I didn’t— I didn’t mean to wake you— I’m sorry.”

Eddie shakes his wild head in response. The mattress squeaks under his weight as he shifts closer to you. “It’s okay. I woke up on my own,” he tells you, even though that’s not exactly the truth. “What happened, huh? Are you okay?”

You sniffle and try to respond through feeble gulps of air. “It was just a bad dream. I’m okay—” you blubber through tears, breath catching halfway through.

With his palm pressed to your spine, Eddie can feel each of your rattling breaths as you fight to drag them in. It makes his own chest ache. Your panic is his own.

“Breathe, baby, c’mon,” he urges gently as he slips in beside you. With one hand over your trembling shoulder, he slides his other over your heart. The delicate organ patters with an inhuman vigor against his palm. 

“Gotta calm down, sweetheart,” he murmurs against your temple before pressing a kiss there. “‘Fore you heart explodes on me. Breathe, babe. You’re okay.”

Your swelling throat tightens. “I don’t feel good,” you confess through tiny whimpers, ‘cause you don’t know how else to tell him it feels like you’re dying. You put a cold, trembling hand over one of Eddie’s — the one gently cradling your heart — and fight to stay grounded.

The boy’s brows pinch with concern. “Do you feel like you’re gonna be sick?”

You think for a moment. Then shake your head.

Eddie rubs a hand up and down the length of your back. “You’re doing good, babe. Just keep breathing for me. That’s it.”

He pulls you closer, embracing you despite the awkward angle. Your shoulder presses into his chest as your head nestles between his jaw and shoulder. You rest there until it no longer feels like you’re fighting for each breath. Until your ragged sobs turn into mousy sniffles.

The first thing you think to do after you’ve calmed is apologize.

“‘M sorry,” you murmur, thick with leftover emotion.

You feel his head shake against you, untamed curls tickling your skin. “Don’t apologize. It’s okay.”

You snivel. “I feel like such a baby…”

“Everyone has bad dreams, babe. That’s life,” Eddie tells you with a lighthearted laugh. “I can’t count how many times I’ve slept on the couch after having one just so I could be closer to Wayne. Like, that’s embarrassing.”

“No, it isn’t,” you argue with a scrunched nose, cracking a small (but no less sincere) grin.

Eddie smiles at your smiling. He squeezes your shoulder with a gentle hand. “Wanna talk about it?” he offers, watching as you visibly ponder the question. You shake your head in response. He nods in understanding. “Wanna go back to sleep?”

You shake your head again, much less hesitant this time. You’re too scared to shut your eyes for longer than a blink now — lest the nightmare threaten to plague your mind again.

“Wanna sit in the kitchen with me while I make us some hot cocoa?” Eddie offers then.

You nod slowly, pursing your lips to the side of your mouth to hide the smile pulling there. You can’t help but beam, though, when he smacks a kiss to the warm apple of your cheek.

“C’mon, sweet thing,” he urges as he rises from the bed, pulling you gently with him. He guides you out of his bedroom with a warm hand cradling your smaller one. The quiet trailer fills with the sounds of creaking floorboards, bare feet shuffling against carpet, and Eddie’s tender voice.

“I’ll even pick out marshmallows from the Lucky Charms box to put in your cocoa—” he says before a yawn cuts him off. “—‘Cause that’s how much I love you.”

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #stranger things imagine #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble

[amongemeraldclouds]

spoiler alert

Life can be complicated when you possess a rare kind of magic: the ability to see your future with someone upon meeting them. A chance encounter with Mattheo Riddle reveals more than you bargained for.

(Choose your own ending)

Mattheo Riddle x f!Reader

Warning: Mostly angst, some fluff, no use of y/n

✿ Masterlist | 1k words

You cradled the warm cup of tea in your hands as you made your way up the Astronomy Tower, careful not to spill any drop. It was a clear evening, the cool breeze floated lazily through the sky and the stars twinkled brightly. It was the perfect spot to unwind from the pressures of the day.

As you neared the arched balcony, a small orange glow caught your attention. Someone else was here, smoking. He turned upon hearing your footsteps approach.

“Hey stranger,” he called out. You took in his features, curly hair and bright eyes with a lopsided smirk, he was adorable.

“I’m Mattheo, care to smoke with me?” He asked, offering a fresh one from his pack of cigarettes.

You felt it then, magic coursing through your veins from the encounter. Time slowed down as it always did, vague images flashed in your mind and the all knowing voice of your future self spoke to you:

I tried to find all the words to tell you about this boy and how much you’ll love him. Oh the adventures you’ll have together and all the ways it will break your heart. One day you’re sixteen and you’re falling in love for the first time. Everything feels new and exciting. The warm buzzing in your veins when Mattheo bumps into your shoulder and runs his hand through your hair to brush off a leaf that fell. As if, as if. You’ll know it’s just an excuse but you won’t mind it at all. You’ll spend countless evenings in the Astronomy Tower, you with your tea and him with his cigarettes. You’ll talk for hours even though you’ll never remember every word you exchange. It’s enough to get to know him and hear his voice, a melody you’ll want to keep as the soundtrack to your life. You’ll find yourself spinning at the Yule Ball in a lovely dress feeling like the most beautiful girl in the world. You’ll laugh with him, his hand placed perfectly on your waist, bodies flush as you danced in sync, as if you were made just for each other. His other hand in yours, firm and warm as if he’ll never let go. Of course you had grown up with magic, it belonged in the air like oxygen and it sang in your bones. So you’ll wonder how it’s possible that the world is even more magical when you’re around him? Fast forward to when your wedding dress is tucked away at the back of your closet and his vows are on a crumpled paper in a drawer somewhere.

He’ll be good at forgetting dates and breaking promises. Too busy with his plans and ambitions, none of them will seem to include you anymore.

You’ll be good at forgiveness and do overs. After all, his jagged words and actions will be served in bite sized pieces so you’ll think you can stomach it all. You won’t realize it until your friend tells you that you smile less and stopped talking about your goals. You’ll figure out too late that you hacked away who you were to fit into his life, a wild hedge now perfectly manicured in his front lawn. You’ll tell him what you need, afraid you’re asking for too much. That you are too much. He’ll reassure you he can do better and for a while he does. Spoiler alert: it never lasts long. But here now, you are sixteen and evergreen. The stars are bright and so are your eyes. Your heart burns with dreams unrealized and passions you have yet to discover. Don’t take it for granted. My love, life is short but if you stay where you’re unhappy, life becomes insufferably too long.

You blink as the quiet returned and time resumed its course. The cool wind caressing your face brought you back to the present. You took a deep breath, warding off the looming nausea in your head. You’ve never seen that far off in the future before, someone potentially so significant in your life.

A crossroad: Do you choose to stay or leave? Scroll down for your answer.

Stay

“Well hi Mattheo, it’s nice to meet you,” you say as you walked towards him and introduced yourself. You take him up on his offer and held the cigarette in between your lips. Mattheo lit it for you so you inhaled the smoke, the first of many, and watched the wind carry away your exhalations. The air hummed with possibilities, romance, and heartbreak. That’s the thing about your visions, there was no way to know for sure if it would play out exactly as you’ve seen it. Where does one draw the line between destiny and our influence on the outcome? If you considered yourself seriously, you could say you’re an adventurer aspiring to chart her own course. But if you were more honest, perhaps you were simply in denial. Either way, you made your choice. You turned to Mattheo and watched him expertly take a drag from his cigarette. You studied the flex of his jaw and the curve of his lips. How can one stranger grow into something more and take up so much space in your life? Soon, you’ll be in love and dancing at a ball. You’re about to have some of the best years of your life and some of your worst. But maybe it’s worth it.

Leave

“No thanks,” you replied to the boy with curly hair and eager eyes and waved goodbye. You walked away without glancing back. Mattheo simply shrugged and returned to his cigarette, lost in his own thoughts once again.  You retreat down the stairs, each step distanced you from a future of bliss and grief. No boy had to be worth your dreams, you thought. It was better this way. As you swivel back to the corridor, your mind swam in the power of choice as future regrets faded from your periphery. You yelped when you stumbled onto someone’s hard chest and warm tea spilled down his shirt. “Shit, I’m sorry,” you exclaimed, far too exhausted with the evening’s surprises. “It’s okay, nothing a little magic can’t fix,” said the boy with perfectly wild hair and a kind smile, already casting a spell to return his shirt to its once pristine condition. You didn’t know him personally, but you recognized him as Lorenzo Berkshire. 

“Now about your spilled tea, can I help you get another one?” he asked. You smiled back at him as magic thrummed in your veins and time started to slowed down.

✿ Masterlist

Author's note:

✿ Based on the question, “if you knew how things would turn out, would you still make the same choices?”

✿ Another moment I was in my feels and spilled ink instead of the alternative. May have spilled the alternative anyway.

✿ If you chose to leave, of course I had to sneak in my sweet and lovely Enzo in there ♡

#mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo x you #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo x y/n #mattheoxreader #harry potter fanfiction #slytherin boys #hp fanfic #slytherin boys x reader #amongemeraldcloudswrites

[sturnioloskyline]

smoke sesh

pairing: dealer!chris x fem!reader

warnings: use of marijuana, awkwardness, making out, not proofread

summary: you decide it’s finally time to smoke weed. you’re inexperienced, but maybe your dealer, chris, can guide you through it.

a nervous pit began to form in y/n's stomach as she paced around her bedroom. for the first time in a while, she was expecting a guest.

y/n's personal life was rough at the moment. she just moved out of her parents' house to live on her own, she was struggling to find what she wanted to do with her life, and, on top of it all, her love life was going terribly.

she tried it all — dating apps, clubs, frat parties, coffee shops — y/n couldn't seem to find love anywhere. her friends even tried to set her up, but all of her dates ended the same: y/n either had no interest in the men she was set up with or got horribly mistreated by them. all that y/n had been dreaming of recently was a hot guy who also happened to not be an asshole, but that seemed to be a rarity these days.

overall, y/n had been down in the dumps and was in desperate need of a pick-me-up. that was when she remembered her best friend recommending a soothing solution.

...

"seriously, it just makes you feel... better," y/f/n explained, sitting next to y/n on her bed.

"i don't know. it just makes me nervous, i guess, losing control." y/n said to her friend. "like i want to be in full control of my brain and my body at all times."

"you are in control. you're just less scared," y/f/n smiled at y/n. "y'know, i think you would really benefit from smoking weed."

y/n scoffed. she was an adult now, and she had never tried any substances before. she wasn't against recreational drugs, she just never had the urge to partake in them. "yeah right. as if you'd catch me casually with a blunt in hand."

y/f/n giggled at the image of her friend smoking. "yeah. but you would be a lot less stressed. if you ever change your mind, i have a dealer, just saying…"

y/n rolled her eyes. "yeah. I'll keep you posted."

...

and now here y/n was, in the middle of the night, chewing on her fingernails as she waited for a response from the man whose snapchat she'd gotten from her friend the other day.

y/n's phone pinged and she immediately brought the screen to her face to read the notification.

chris sturniolo

yeah i can be there soon

y/n's heart raced in anticipation. surprisingly, she was more excited than nervous. she'd been so tense, she was looking forward to anything that could take the edge off. y/n hearted the message and made her way to the kitchen so she could wait closer to the door.

y/n didn't really know what to expect for the interaction she was about to have. she assumed that it would just be like any other transaction: he'd show her the options, she'd pay him, and that would be that.

but as she waited, y/n grew more nervous about the purchase. she quickly pulled out her phone to google "what happens when you buy weed from a guy on snapchat", before she caught a glimpse of a certain notification.

chris sturniolo sent you a snap

y/n curiously clicked the notification, opening to a picture of chris in the driver's seat of his car, taken from his lap. he face hung over the camera but his blue eyes were focused on the road in front of him. his soft brown hair stuck out slightly under the grey beanie he was wearing, and a silver chain dangled from his neck.

y/n was left in awe. she didn't really know what she expected him to look like, but it was definitely not that. this guy looked good, the kind of look that made y/n's cheeks heat up from just one picture. y/n was only more anxious about the whole situation now that she knew a really cute guy was involved. before she even had time to process the whole thing, another notification pops up at the top of her screen.

chris sturniolo is typing...

y/n hesitated for a second before opening her chats with chris. he had only sent one word.

chris sturniolo

here

y/n silently cursed herself for her impulsiveness in inviting chris over. she was way too eager, and now everything was becoming way too real. soon enough y/n could hear footsteps outside her door, and three rapid knocks echoed in her ears. she apprehensively made her way to the door, opening it to reveal chris standing there with a backpack slung over one shoulder.

"hey."

"hi," y/n replied awkwardly, cracking her door farther open. chris took this as an invitation to step inside, and he walked in and glanced around the area.

"nice place." chris mumbled, making his way over to y/n's kitchen without any instruction. y/n just watched him as she locked her front door, unsure of what to do. chris took off his backpack and set it on the counter, beginning to take out various plastic baggies and laying them out.

"so... how does this work?" y/n asked, slowly approaching chris in the kitchen as she watched him move.

"um, what do you mean?" chris's eyebrows furrowed, but he kept his attention on the task at hand. y/n remained silent, unsure of how to answer. chris stopped and looked up at her. "have you ever bought weed before?"

"no..." y/n replied meekly, slightly embarrassed. chris chuckled and shook his head.

"well... do you know what you want?" chris asked. he tilted his head at y/n as she approached the counter, letting her take a look at the different strains, labeled by sharpie on the baggies.

“what’s the best one, for um, beginners?” y/n squeaked out, nervous under chris’s gaze.

chris walked up behind y/n, and placed his hands on the counter on either side of her waist. y/n breath hitched in her throat as she felt chris's abdomen press lightly against her back. he looked over y/n's shoulder at the bags on the counter sighing.

"i mean, personally, i don't think the strain matters," chris explained casually picking up a bag and examining the bud inside. "but i guess since you haven't tried anything before, you could try a hybrid first."

y/n nodded absentmindedly, not really focusing on what chris was saying. she was more focused on how his bicep slightly flexed as he flipped the bag of weed around in his hand, and the faint smell of cologne that wafted past her nose as she moved. her eyes drifted to his fingers, fiddling with the bag's seal. chris noticed, a small smile forming on his face.

"wanna try it right now?" chris asked, snapping y/n out of her trance.

"what? oh! um, yeah," y/n mumbled, stepping away from chris to face him. "uh, how much?"

chris chuckled and shook his head. "it's okay. on the house."

"oh no, you don't have to-"

"it's your first time, enjoy it." chris interrupted, setting the bag down on the counter and reaching into his bag for supplies.

y/n watched silently, butterflies swarming in her stomach. she had never felt this way about a guy before, let alone a guy she had just met who also happened to be dealing her drugs. it was something about the way chris's black tank top hugged his torso and the way his jeans hung low around his hips, revealing the waistline of his boxers. chris had undeniable sexual appeal, and y/n just couldn't help herself from feeling flustered around him.

chris pulled a grinder, rolling papers, filters and an ashtray out of his backpack. y/n finally ripped her eyes away from chris to focus on what he was doing. he took a bit of the weed and ground it down, turning his head quickly to glance back at y/n. he caught her watching him and flashed her a grin before focusing again. y/n blushed profusely.

a few minutes of comfortable silence passed as chris tightly rolled two joints, gliding his tongue along the wrapping paper to seal them. y/n was mesmerized, both by the meticulous process and the fact that chris was the one doing it. chris set down the joints and backed up from the counter.

"have you ever smoked anything before?" chris asked curiously, watching y/n's face. he could sense that she was nervous, from the way she was fidgeting to the way her voice was barely audible with every response she gave. y/n bit her cheek as she looked into chris's eyes, shaking her nead slowly. "do you want me to.. smoke with you?"

"would you?" y/n seemed to have a weight lifted off of her shoulders as soon as chris asked. the reaction made chris smile.

"yeah, of course," chris chuckled, sticking his hand in his jeans pocket and fishing out an orange lighter. "you're gonna want a water bottle or something."

y/n nodded, walking around to the fridge, grabbing two water bottles. she walked back over to chris's side, handing him a water bottle. chris flipped it in his hand effortlessly, thanking her soflty and picking up the ashtray, joints, and lighter in his other hand.

"is there a window we could sit by? don't wanna leave your place smelling too bad." chris looked around for a place to sit.

"yeah, here," y/n replied, turning around and leading chris to her living room. where she sat on a small couch just below a window. chris sat down next to her leaning over to the wall and helping her push the window open. they sat back down on the couch and faced each other as chris set down an ashtray on the coffee table in front of them. y/n took a deep breath as chris took a joint in his left hand, holding it between his thumb and pointer as he held his lighter in his other hand.

"okay. so," chris began explaining, looking at y/n's face as he did. y/n's eyes flicked up to meet his, and the two maintained eye contact as chris talked through the process. "i'll take puff first, i guess, to show you how."

y/n nodded, watching as chris brought the joint in front of his face and light it, bringing it down the tray and tapping it before bringing it between his pink lips. his cheeks hollowed as he took a long inhale. he took the joint out fo his mouth and passed it to y/n, who shakily took it in between her fingertips. chris's eyebrows furrowed from the slight sting of the smoke he was holding in his lung, watching y/n's hands to make sure that the joint stayed lit. he tilted his head to the window to release the smoke from his mouth, blowing it out into the night air. y/n watched the whole thing, only growing more anxious.

"so you just wanna inhale with it in your mouth, lightly," chris spoke, nodding to give y/n the go-ahead. y/n brought the joint up to her lips, her hand trembling. she stuck the joint in her mouth and tightly wrapped her lips around it.

"like this?" y/n mumbled around the joint. chris chuckled and brought his own hand to y/n's wrist.

"here, relax," chris moved y/n's hand away from her face a bit. "open your mouth more. just rest it there, gentle."

chris's voice was quiet as he readjusted y/n's form. she watched him as his face leaned in closer to her own. "better. now inhale."

y/n inhaled softly, feeling the smoke travel through her body, her throat scratching a bit.

"once it kinda burns, stop and hold it in your lungs." y/n brought the joint down, handing it to chris and holding her breath. her face scrunched up as she felt a burning sensation in her chest begin to grow. out of reflex, she quickly turned to the window and coughed out smoke. chris's hand flew out to her back for support. "woah! you okay?"

"yeah, just—" y/n cut herself off by coughing. chris kept his hand on the small of y/n back as she coughed. he set the joint down in the tray and reached over to grab a water bottle from the table, unscrewing it and bringing it up to y/n's lips, she reached out and took the bottle, taking a sip to sooth the fire in her lungs.

"it's okay, deep breaths, you'll be okay." chris murmured affirmations as y/n worked through her cough attack. eventually, y/n calmed down and brought her hand up to wipe the few tears that pricked at the corner of her eyes.

"i'm sorry, i think i inhaled too long," y/n chuckled awkwardly, embarrassed at herself for coughing like that in front of chris. it was then that y/n became hyperaware of chris's hand on her back, causing her to blush.

"it's okay, it happens to everyone," chris grinned at y/n, finding her shyness endearing. "we'll take it slow. you feelin' anything yet?"

"nope," y/n smiled awkwardly, watching as chris effortlessly took another hit. chris handed the joint back to her, and she took a short puff, blowing the smoke out the window with a few coughs.

"better!" chris grinned, causing y/n to giggle.

"thanks," y/n mumbled, taking another sip of water. chris tapped the joint against the ashtray and bringing it to his mouth. "so, when did you start smoking?"

chris chuckled at the icebreaker, smoke spewing out of his mouth. the two of them fell into small talk as they shared the joint, growing more and more comfortable with each other as they lazily passed the weed back and forth. suddenly y/n felt a wave wash over her, and her sensed heightened. her body stiffened, and chris noticed, his eyes flicking over her face.

"you okay?" chris asked for a second time, lightly reaching out and grazing his fingertips against y/n's arm.

"yeah..." y/n spoke lowly, her eyes landing on chris's. something about chris seemed different now. his features were more prominent and detailed, and she was definetly even more drawn to him. without thinking, she reached out and touched chris's silver chain, fiddling with it in her fingers, the sensation feeling unique. "chris?"

"yeah?" chris's voice was just above a whisper, his eyes not leaving y/n's face. something about the way her delicate hands pulled at his necklace made his breath hitch. he found himself craving her touch, but pushed the thought away, blaming it on the marijuana in his system.

"i think it's hitting me." y/n looked back up at chris, her eyes flicking between his. chris swallowed.

"how's it feel?"

"feels like... i'm in a dream," y/n spoke absentmindedly, not breaking eye contact with chris. chris smiled and nodded at her explanation. y/n couldn't help but smile back. "you're really sweet, chris."

"is that suprising?" chris asked, a heat slowly rising to his cheek at the compliment.

"yeah, kinda," y/n whispered. chris's eyes flicked to y/n's lips as she spoke, and before he could stop himself, chris was asking y/n a question.

"can i kiss you?"

y/n's jaw fell slightly open at the question, completely taken off guard. chris's own eyes widened, and he quickly pulled himself away from y/n, his face quickly reddening. "i'm sorry, i didn't mean to say that out loud, i mean, i want to, i mean—!"

with a sudden boost of confidence, y/n leaned closer to chris and looked up at chris through her eyelashes, leaving chris too flustered to keep defending himself. "please kiss me."

chris needed no further encouragement, his hands finding y/n's face and pulling her up to meet him. his eyes quickly flicked to y/n's before he leaned in and pressed his lips to y/n's. his lips were surprisingly soft, moving slowly against y/n's. chris's tongue slipped past his lips, and y/n opened her mouth, allowing him in. y/n's hands moved to chris's neck, one of her hands travelling under his beanie to grip at his hair.

chris kept one of his hands on y/n's cheek, letting the other one fall down to hold her waist. he spread his legs apart, pulling y/n towards him. y/n broke the kiss to yelp in surprise, sending the both of them into a giggling fit. warmth spread throughout y/n's body as she watched the way chris's eyes crinkled as he laughed, flashing his teeth. the image only made her smile more. y/n leaned into chris, tucking her face into the crook of his neck. chris wrapped his arms around y/n's frame without a second thought.

it was all too natural, the way chris leaned back into the couch with y/n in his arms, holding her softly. y/n hummed in content, her eyelids suddenly struggling to stay open as chris sighed underneath her.

"thanks chris," y/n mumbled lazily, letting her eyelids flutter shut as she sunk deeper into the warmth of his body.

chris hummed back, peering at the girl on his chest. he was shocked he had ended up in this position, but lord, he was not complaining. chris smiled to himself before letting his own red eyes fall shut. the drugs in chris and y/n's systems lulled them both to sleep, and they stayed like that for the rest of the night.

...

author's note: wow that felt LONG. i need to smoke after that one. let me know if u want a (potentially smutty)part 2. 😚 love u bye!

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo x reader #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #fanfic #sturniolo fanfic #x reader #au #help

[ellabehavior]

You’re on your own kid ~ Rafe Cameron ☼

Summary: Rafe and you have been best friends since you were young. However, now that he got his new girlfriend you suddenly realized that you could possibly like him more than simply as a friend.

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Fem!Reader

Warnings: anxiety, mentions of drinking

A/N: Its been a while yall, but i’m back!! I hope y’all enjoy :)! ( i hateee this but i hope y’all love)

angst to soft!

-

Summer went away,

You’ve been best friends with Rafe since as long as you can remember, but last summer was the summer where everything changed.

The summer before your first year of college.

School was back up and you were also starting to look at Rafe with a different eye. He was taller, tanner, smarter, he’s growing up.

Still the yearning stays.

Everytime you’d pass Rafe in the hallway hed give you a short smile but never really acknowledge you.

You missed last summer when you guys would hang out everyday, tell eachothers every little secret, and have the best deep conversations at 2am.

You knew at this moment that things might never be the same again.

I play it cool with the best of them.

For the first time in months Rafe contacted you, he invited you to go to a party with a lot of people from your school.

When you arrived, that’s when you seen him with her.

He had his arm around her neck and her long blonde hair rested on his lower arm.

I wait patiently, he’s gonna notice me.

“It’s ok, It’s ok” You whisper quietly while gaining the courage to go up and talk to Rafe.

As you walk up to him he gives you a half-hug due to the blonde on his right.

“Hey Y/N i haven’t seen you in a while.” He grins.

“Yeahhh, I guess i’ve been busy yknow with all the test and s-” Immediately you get cut off by a high pitched voice.

“Rafeyyy cmon let’s go play some games this is boring.” She says with a pout.

“Mkay babe. Bye Y/n” The boy said walking away without a glance at you.

It’s ok we’re the best of friends, anyways…

About a week after the party Rafe finally calls to check up on you.

“Hey y/n.” He drowsily says .

“Rafe? It’s 1:00am what are you calling me for?” You voice concerningly

“I just miss my bestie that’s all” He laughs.

I hear it in your voice,

You're smoking with your boys.

I touch my phone as if it's your face.

“Rafe are you high right now?” You almost shout.

“Yes, Maybe, No.” He giggles.

“Rafe do you need me to come get you?”

You rush to grab your keys and your wallet to go pick Rafe up.

“No i’m here with my girlfriend.” He says.

You stop in your tracks, immediately getting a sick feeling in your stomach as soon as those words come out from his mouth.

“Oh Okay, we’ll I’ll talk to you some other time okay?” You suggest.

And with that he hangs up the phone without a goodbye.

I didn't choose this town,

I dream of getting out.

There's just one who could make me stay,

All my days.

As a kid you and Rafe would always talk about how when you guys were 25 you’d move to London together, and to this day that’s still your biggest dream.

You hate this place, it’s full of people who will be rude to you just based off of how you grew up.

Surprisingly Rafe is now dating one of those girls, Lily.

From sprinkler splashes to fireplace ashes

I waited ages to see you there

I search the party of better bodies

Just to learn that you never cared

You promised yourself after last time you would never go to another college party, but here you find yourself at one that Rafe invited you to.

You would be lying if you said you’re here because you wanted to party, you’re waiting to see him.

You see Lily off in the crowd dancing, She’s perfect. You understand why Rafe would pick her. Her hair flows perfectly in the wind, her makeup is never less than flawless, and even though you want to tell yourself that she’s ugly, she’s one of the prettiest girls you’ve ever seen.

As you study Lily you see Rafe come up from behind her and hug her.

You're on your own, kid

You always have been

The whole night Rafe didn’t even bat a single eye at you, so you left.

I see the great escape

So long, Daisy May

I picked the petals, he loves me not

Something different bloomed

Writing in my room

I play my songs in the parking lot

I'll run away

You tried to distance yourself ever since the party, finally realizing this crush is starting to form into something you don’t need right now.

It’s been exactly 2 weeks since you’ve gone no contact with Rafe and if there were 20 stages of grief, you’ve been through 30.

All you want to do is call him, text him, or tell yourself that maybe he’s just using Lily as a distraction because he really likes you.

“Why is it never me.”

From sprinkler splashes to fireplace ashes

I called a taxi to take me there

I search the party of better bodies

Just to learn that my dreams aren't rare

It’s a cycle.

Another party, Another slap in the face.

You can see the other girls also looking at Lily wishing they could be with Rafe.

The realization kills you to know that it’ll probably never be you in that spot with all these options he has.

You're on your own, kid,

You always have been.

It’s a drunken night, and you’ll definitely regret this.

“Rafeyyy babyyy” you slur.

“Y/N? Why are you calling me in the middle of the night?” You can tell he is worried in his tone.

“I don’t like her. She’s rude, you deserve better.”

There is a long pause and then you hear someone speak, “He’s never liked you babe. You’re nothing compared to me, and you know that.”

The phone hung up.

From sprinkler splashes to fireplace ashes

I gave my blood, sweat, and tears for this

I hosted parties and starved my body

Like I'd be saved by a perfect kiss

It’s been hard to do anything since the altercation.

Eating, Getting up, Going to class, Socializing, and pretty much everything feels like a chore.

You’ve tried so hard to get his attention yet he never seemed to care.

And of course as a mean girl, Lily decided to tell everyone about what you said to Rafe. Of course he apologized for what she said, and for what happened but that didn’t stop the whole school for coming at you for a whole week.

The jokes weren't funny, I took the money

My friends from home don't know what to say

I looked around in a blood-soaked gown

And I saw something they can't take away

You received a text message late at night, usual for Rafe.

Rafe: Hey, i’m so sorry for what Lily caused. You’re my best friend and I realized nothing is worth loosing that, me and her are over now after a long talk.. Can we please hang out? I miss you.

Fuck. This is what you’ve been longing for all these months and it finally is here.

You: Yeah sure, Sleepover? my place tmmrw? ;)

Rafe: Ofc. I miss you. Cya.

Cause there were pages turned with the bridges burned

Everything you lose is a step you take

So make the friendship bracelets

Take the moment and taste it

You've got no reason to be afraid

The anxiety levels are high waiting for Rafe to come over, it’s been so long since you’ve had a real conversation through all this time of him being with Lily.

You start to wonder if he still likes Starwars, or if his favorite dancing song is 22 by Taylor Swift.

You then hear a knock on the door.

You're on your own, kid

“Hey!! Can I come in” he says.

“Of course.”

Then the catching up, the apology’s, and the stories start up.

It’s just like last summer.

Yeah, you can face this

While Rafe is telling one of his stories, you start to feel a pit of anxiety in your stomach because you know what you have to do.

You’ve gotten ready for this moment, practiced it in the mirror about 50 times to make sure your facial expressions, or your tone doesn’t sound too weird.

You're on your own, kid

“Rafe.” You stop him mid conversation.

“Yes?” he says with a quirk of his eyebrows.

“All these months i’ve been so distant but really all I wanted was to be near you, since last summer you’ve been the only thing on my mind and maybe you don’t feel the same way but-“

He cuts you off with a kiss to your lips.

“I’ve been waiting since the 8th grade for you to say that” He says as he pulls away.

“So all that practicing in the mirror was for nothing?” you giggle.

“Guess so.”

You always have been

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron one shot #obx #obxfanfic #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe cameron x reader #rafe fanfiction #rafe fic #rafe outer banks #rafe outerbanks #rafe x you #rafe imagine #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafecameronfanfic #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe x y/n #rafe x reader #rafe obx #outerbanks rafe #soft rafe cameron #soft rafe #angst to comfort #angst to fluff

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

in the dream i don’t tell anyone, you put your head in my lap ; shoko ieiri

synopsis; ever since the battle in shinjuku came to its conclusion, nothing’s been the same as it used to. but you don’t think anyone is doing quite as badly as shoko. 

word count; 4.5k

contents; shoko ieiri/reader, gn!reader, canon-typical mentions of death (iykyk), angst, hurt/comfort (but not very heavy on the comfort), jjk spoilers (up to chapter 236!!), mild gore (mentions of blood, autopsies and general gore-ish imagery? nothing too bad tho), shoko ieiri deserves better, includes gojo slander (stay safe gojo nation)

a/n; first of all i just wanna apologize to the shoko girlies for writing angst when we’re already so starved of content, i have like 50 fluff drabbles planned for her but chapter 236 threw me into a mental angst pit so </3 yeah. i love my wife!!

shoko hasn’t been herself for a while.

the thought sneaks its way into your subconscious, as your feet carry you to her morgue — a rotten thought you just can’t seem to rinse away.

it’s not very hard to notice. she doesn’t talk as much, for one. not that shoko was ever much of a talker, but now the silence around her is deafening. thick and heavy like the spine of a knife. and she smiles even less.

you can’t remember the last time you heard her laugh.

the crescents beneath her eyes are darker than ever, darker than you thought possible. a murky purple that you’d find soothing in any other context, but like this it’s just revolting. her eyes are deep and dark, the same as ever, but now they’re glazed over with something you can’t quite put your finger on. 

apathy, maybe.

or bloodlust.

the scent of cigarette smoke that follows her is suffocating. indistinguishable from her natural scent. you don’t know if she’ll ever be able to scrub the tobacco stench off her skin.

(you’ve given up on counting the exact number of cigarettes she smokes each day. you’re not sure you want to know the answer.)

she doesn’t even look alive, anymore. like some part of her already reached its expiration date. a spectre, wandering the hallways, filling the air with the slow, ominous clacking of her heels.

shoko hasn’t been herself for a while — and it’s so obvious. her grief is so heavy, her sleep-deprivation so severe. you’d have to be blind not to notice it. 

so why hasn’t anyone said anything?

you gnaw at your bottom lip, trying to suffocate the bitterness swimming inside your veins. it’s a dumb question, really, because you already know. you don’t want to acknowledge it, because it’s so unfair, but you know. of course you do.

no one has the time to. it’s as simple as that. 

no one’s doing well, anymore. not since shinjuku.

not since gojo died.

shoko’s grief is a fickle thing. always with her, tucked away within those eyebags, in the pockets of her coat. in that smell of tobacco, never-fading, always lingering. it follows her like a ghost, like something she’ll never quite be rid of.

(like something she doesn’t want to be rid of.)

shoko’s grief is a fickle thing, and it always has been. but recently, it’s been downright overwhelming. it used to be subtle, the kind of thing you notice if you look close enough. if you squint. if you even care enough to try.

but now, it’s more like a haunting than a simple ghost.

(geto. nanami. yaga. and now gojo, too.

how many people does she have to lose before whatever’s watching is satisfied?)

shoko hasn’t been herself for a while, and it’s obvious, and it’s sickening. she still does her duty to a tee, but she isn’t quite there anymore. gaze always forlorn, as if she’s trying to convince herself of something.

and yet no one says a thing.

everything is one big mess, right now. you don’t want to blame anyone. everyone’s exhausted, completely and utterly spent, but they’re still planning it all out. even in the midst of their mourning. because they don’t have any other choice. 

this is not the kind of situation where you should be pointing fingers. a part of you is angry, livid even — but you know the others are doing just as badly. it’s not like you aren’t, either.

still, though. isn’t this just too unfair?

”i brought you coffee!”

making sure your voice doesn’t waver is tougher than you initially assumed. just the sight of her sends a tremor running through your ribs; sunken down in her chair, papers in hand, eyes scanning the pages methodically. papers of what, you’d like to ask — but you already know.

(she’s reading through the post-mortem examination report, again. searching for something you don’t understand. you’re not sure she does, either.)

and she looks exhausted.

try as you might, your voice ends up sounding a little stale, as it flows from your lips and reaches her ears. but the attempt is there — the attempt to sound cheerful, calm. normal. to give her something to hold on to.

shoko looks up at you, and her lips curl in a way you think is supposed to form a smile. it doesn’t. her eyes look into yours but it’s like she’s not seeing you at all.

when you go to give her the cup of espresso, your fingertips touch. only for a second, before she curls her fingers around the ceramic handle. she receives the coffee with a small murmur of thanks, but you don’t notice because you’re too busy thinking of how cold her skin feels.

(cold like a ghost. cold like death.)

shaking away the shivers down your spine, you allow your gaze to trail over the morgue. it looks the same as always. cold, empty. foreboding. today, you think it feels just a little chillier than usual. matching the temperature of the outside world, where everything lies buried in heaps of snow and frost.

hesitantly, you plop down in the seat right next to hers. with such a narrow distance, you can smell the tobacco sticking to her clothing. it makes you want to throw up.

(you try not to look over at the couch in the corner of the room, where a certain someone used to slack off. his awkwardly long limbs would dangle off the edges, and shoko would pretend that she didn’t enjoy his company. you were more than content with silently admiring the smile she was trying to hide.)

shoko doesn’t look at you, professional in the way her eyes run across the files. cause of death: damage to central intestines, subsequent loss of blood. from a cut to the stomach, right below the liver and spleen.

you look away before your eyes can read another line.

leaning back in your chair, you exhale a tiny sigh. desperate to fill the silence with something, anything at all. you scramble for topics, racking your brain.

(what could you possibly tell her that she doesn’t already know?)

”the others are still planning everything out,” you speak, playing with your fingers idly to distract yourself. ”i think it’s going well.”

shoko hums, unaffected. ”that’s good.”

she’s speaking to you, but that feeling of unease still won’t go away. her voice sounds still, flat. empty of emotion. but you can tell she’s trying to be polite.

that’s no surprise. shoko isn’t the type to ever show how she’s truly feeling. she’s not the type to ask for help, either. people come to her for help, not the other way around. that’s all she’s ever known.

(in that sense, the two of them were alike.)

but that just makes it all the more important for you to be there. even if you’re a little awkward, and even if you can’t do much. even if it’s only for a moment or two, you want to see her smile. you want to feel for yourself that she’s really there.

looking over at shoko, you wring your hands together, the cold air of the morgue nipping at your sweaty palms. she’s drinking from the cup, one finger around the handle as her other hand flips through the papers.

”does it taste okay?” you ask, softly. if only you could ask her that under better circumstances, with cups of espresso made with better coffee machines than those at jujutsu high. ”i made it myself, so…”

”it’s fine.” shoko takes a sip. dragging her syllables out, as if mustering the will to speak. ”don’t worry.”

short sentences. almost cold, but you know better than that. she just doesn’t have it in her to pretend that everything is normal, anymore.

and it makes you uncomfortable. this silence. 

a couple months ago, it would have felt comforting; a quiet, peaceful kind of solitude shared between the two of you. nostalgic, like the smell of morning dew. or the way moonlight feels on your skin when the world falls asleep.

the silence you had with shoko always felt so tender. a single moment of peace, before the other shoe dropped. just that one moment was enough to give you the hope you needed to make it through another day.

you loved being silent with shoko. you loved her silence, the way she could soothe your very soul without saying a thing.

but now it only stings your skin. you fear that you might drown in it.

there is nothing to say. you want to ask her how she’s doing, but you already know. you want to ask her why she’s still reading the files from gojo’s autopsy, but you already know.

you want to ask her if she can still keep going, like this. but you already know.

she doesn’t have a choice.

(something crumbles, deep inside your chest, like ashes cast into the sea.)

”hey. shoko?”

she hums, again. weak. quiet. absentminded, acknowledging your words but not really hearing them.

you take a deep breath.

”i think i’m going to quit being a sorcerer.”

silence.

for a moment, nothing happens. nothing moves, or speaks. the air is cold and crisp and carries no meaning, no words, nothing at all. 

like time is frozen. frozen like all the bodies shoko’s had to dig inside these past few months. frozen like gojo was when she found him in the snow.

frozen like your youth, a glass marble kept in your pocket for moments when you feel as if the ground beneath your feet is about to slip away. then you’d take it out, and look deep inside it. watch the swirling of greens and blues and purples. that streak of indigo right in the middle of the glass. memories of the past, to give you comfort.

to remind yourself of why you’re doing this. to give you a reason to keep moving forward.

(south or north, it doesn’t matter. stay as you are or move forward, look to the past or to the future — none of it matters if you aren’t alive. that’s the conclusion you came to.)

shoko’s expression, too, is frozen. it doesn’t change, even as you let those loaded words fall from your tongue. you watch her carefully, out of the corner of your eye. she doesn’t even look at you, gaze still glued to the tiny letters detailing exactly what gojo’s pulse was at when he got cut.

but something flickers, in the depths of her irises, so fast you barely catch it. something you can’t identify, but it’s still something. it’s movement. it’s alive.

”not right now, obviously,” you elaborate. suddenly a little nervous, now that the words have been made manifest. ”but… you know. once all this is over.”

not sure what else to say, you trail off, fidgeting with your fingers again. voice wavering pitifully towards the end of the sentence, because deep down you know it’s not a question of once, but a question of if.

(if this ever ends. if i don’t die tomorrow, or the day after that.)

you swallow the lump in your throat, and look at her. trying to find her eyes. trying to keep her alive for as long as you can, this sequence of motion, this moment frozen in time.

trying to reach her.

”you won’t ever have to worry about me dying,” you throw in, like the words are light and not heavy as bricks. but you know she needs to hear them. ”i’ll leave, and then — and then…” 

staring down at your lap, you link your hands together. exhaling, a little breathless. sheepish, in a way. ”… well. i don’t know. i haven’t thought that far ahead, yet.”

you never had the chance to. you didn’t even really think of it as a possibility, as something you could do. and you know it’s not a possibility for shoko. the choice to be a sorcerer was never hers, from the very beginning.

a user of the reverse cursed technique. capable of healing almost any wound, more power and capability than a child should ever have. invaluable. she’s saved so many lives you’re sure she’ll be reborn as a god.

but the choice was never hers.

a soothing kind of ache blooms in both your palms, as your nails dig into the soft skin. hard enough to form crescents, like the ones under shoko’s eyes, that she’ll never be rid of no matter how much she sleeps. the choice was never hers.

isn’t that just too cruel?

they don’t deserve her. none of them do. the elders didn’t, the jujutsu world doesn’t — not even the students. no one deserves it; everything she does for everyone, day and night, just slaving away in the morgue or her office. cutting up curses and old friends. every second of the day, always that same buzzing of her name being called. 

shoko, someone needs healing, come quick! 

shoko, i know it’s 2 am and you have work tomorrow, but there’s a curse that i need you to dissect.

shoko, i think i got a paper cut, would you mind taking a look?

none of them deserve her.

you think of gojo. a flash of white hair, a grin brighter than the sun. a bloodstained smile — one shoko had to wipe away.

something ugly claws its way up your throat.

none of them deserve her. especially not him.

what were you thinking, leaving her all alone like this? so much for being the strongest. you couldn’t even stay alive.

why would you die with a smile on your face? do you have any idea how cruel that is to her?

you idiot. don’t you know how much she missed you?

— yeah. none of them deserve her. gojo doesn’t, the world doesn’t, and neither do you. no one does. 

what shoko deserves is to live a normal life. 

and she never will.

it’s foolish. it’s naive, a juvenile daydream. but you wish for it so, so badly. so much that even just the thought alone feels like too much to bear.

you wish you could bring her with you. 

you wish you could take her hand in yours, and run away. leave it all behind, every single thing, without caring about the consequences. you’d hold her hand and never let it go, and then you’d run and run until you were both high on adrenaline and breathless laughter.

maybe you could go somewhere, together. somewhere better. outside of japan, where there are less curses. money wouldn’t be an issue, you both have more than you know what to do with — one of the perks of having a job that’s bound to kill you. you could settle down in some smaller town, peaceful, maybe a little secluded. just to make sure no one finds you. 

maybe you could open up a little shop, together. or spend all your days tangled up beneath the blankets, catching up on lost sleep. talking and whispering, like you’d do back at the sleepovers you used to have. you’d make her coffee every morning, and tea every evening. you’d spend the rest of your life trying to make her laugh as loud as possible.

there’s nothing you want more. absolutely nothing. there never will be.

— but you can’t ask her.

you can’t ask her to come with you, no matter how much you want to. that’d be the cruelest thing you could possibly do to her.

she would never agree. you’d only be hurting her more. so selfish, all of these wishes. it was so much simpler back when you were just kids. when you didn’t have to care about duties or responsibilities. when your cognitive empathic abilities were just a little more lacking. 

a sigh flows from your lips. resigned, but somewhat hopeful, all the same. tainted with the murmurs of a memory that’ll never happen.

”maybe i’ll open up a bakery, or something.” you tap your fingers against the desk, smiling a little to yourself at the thought. or trying to. ”then you could come visit.”

shoko looks into her cup of coffee. watching the swirling of the vortex, the abyss that gazes back at her. she doesn’t look at you but you can tell she’s listening. then she puts the cup down, and you glance at her now-empty hand. 

shoko’s hands have always been pretty. even when they’re covered in grime, or stained with blood. thin, a little bony, smooth skin obscuring clear blue veins. moles litter her hands like stars in the sky; one right beneath her pinkie, another by her wrist. the more you look, the more you find.

tentatively, you broach the distance between you. curling your fingers around her slender ones, where they rest on her lap. linking hands. it’s a slow movement, drawn out and careful, accompanied by the heavy beating of your heart. 

(her skin is cold to the touch. your skin buzzes with unease, but you don’t let go.)

then you smile. a small thing, not really optimistic, but the attempt is there. something for her to hold on to. looking deep into her eyes, admiring the hazel glow that never quite left them.

”i’ll give you free pastries.”

a moment passes. shoko’s fingers squeeze around yours — weakly, but it’s there. movement, motion, life. a way of reaching out. a way to hold on.

her eyes continue to trail over the page, but you know she’s not reading any of the contents. you’ve caught her attention. a small victory, but you’ll take what you can get.

”i don’t like sweets,” she reminds you, leaning back a little in her chair. allowing her eyes to flutter shut, at last — and it’s not much but it’s something. a moment of relief for those tired, tired eyes. more tired than any 29 year old’s should be.

”i’ll change your mind,” you promise, mustering up enough will to sound smug. ”my pastries will be out of this world. you’ll get a sweet tooth in no time, sho.”

she exhales a breath, vaguely amused. your smile widens, hopelessly. her happiness was always the root of yours, wasn’t it?

then she looks at you, one eyebrow raised in lazy scepticism. ”can you even bake?”

”nope,” you deadpan. ”but i’ll learn. you’ll see.”

this time, shoko almost chuckles — and it’s more than you’ve gotten out of her in recent memory. god, you missed that sound. a little raspy, from all the cigarettes, but still so honeyed and smooth. hearing it makes you feel as if everything will turn out fine, in the end.

(what a powerful thing, for a voice to do. one so lovely it anchors you to the earth.)

a faux pout curls its way to your lips, and you squeeze her hand lightly. ”don’t laugh, i’m being serious!” your pout shifts into a soft grin, a little teasing. ”i’ll get you addicted to sugar instead of nicotine.”

”haha…”

shoko laughs. shoko laughs and it’s beautiful.

shoko laughs, a genuine laugh, and it’s so beautiful that you almost don’t notice the tears in her eyes. almost.

and then you realize your mistake.

a memory comes to you, then. you recall a hushed conversation, beneath a cloudy summer sky. the air was heavy with the scent of lilacs and cigarette smoke. two people were beside you, and all you cared about was listening to the tilt of their voices. that, and nothing more. a time before everything and everyone went south.

(”you know, shoko. you really should drop those death sticks of yours.”

”i don’t want to hear that from the guy who needs 40 grams of pure sugar every day just to function.”

”rude! and as far as addictions go, sugar is a cut above nicotine, don’t ya think?”

”whatever. just worry about yourself, gojo.”)

by the time you realize, it’s already far too late. the tears have already begun to fall. little droplets of grief, sticking to her skin.

they trickle down the contours of shoko’s face, and fall onto the paper in her hand, smudging the letters. she clutches it tightly, crinkling it, just to make the damage worse. her other hand is still holding yours, chipped nails digging into your skin gently.

but she keeps laughing. low, hazy laughter — pained. she sounds like she’s in pain, and that’s because she is. even if no one ever cares to mention it.

(how cruel, for her to be born with the reverse cursed technique. capable of healing any physical wound; leaving her with too many mental ones to count. never to be healed or acknowledged, in this life or the next.)

you can only stare. helpless to her sadness. her eyes are a little red, and she’s biting down on her lip hard enough to draw blood — a drop of scarlet falls onto the paper, and you think of gojo again.

you think of shoko finding him. running to his side. doing all she could to heal him, to patch him up — getting blood all over her hands and clothes. red everywhere, staining the pure white of the snowfall. like something out of a painting.

she did all that she could. pressing down on his chest, positive cursed energy pouring out from her fingertips in tandem with the snow. pressing two shaky fingers to his pulse point, just in case. just to find any sign of life, absolutely anything. hoping so tenderly that she’d feel the flutter of his pulse. that he’d get up, and laugh obnoxiously, and ask her if she really thought he’d leave her behind so easily.

you’d never seen her look so scared. so desperate, a primal kind of fear you’ve learned to associate with self-driven survival. the way some animals can claw their way out of a predator’s stomach if they’re swallowed whole. but she did that to save him. trying to claw him out, herself. from the belly of the beast.

she did all that she could.

but gojo didn’t do anything. he just laid there, split in two. frozen in time, eternally young. watching the sky. smiling.

(what a wonderful way to die. what an awful thing for an old friend to find.)

before your mind can catch up, your body acts. muscle memory, in the way your arms curl around her midriff to bring her close. tucking her into your side while she sniffles and cries. still laughing, like she’s still trying to convince you that she’s fine. like she’s isn’t falling apart at the seams.

the dam breaks. the ice shatters. everything comes crashing down — and you’re there to pick up the pieces. despite everything.

it’s not enough, it never will be. but at least it’s something.

it’s heart-wrenching, the way she clings to you. like you’re the only thing she has. the dry laughter that spills from her throat devolves into sobbing, her chest heaving as she tries to catch her breath, nails clinging to the fabric of your clothing like she’s trying to anchor herself. broken sniffles fill the space between you as she hides away, in the crook of your neck.

(the sound makes you feel like someone drove a knife from your sternum down to your stomach.)

all you can do is hold her. quietly, delicately. as if she could break if you squeeze her too hard. as if she’d shatter like a sheet of glass if you were to say the wrong thing again.

you hold shoko like she’s fragile. because she is, regardless of what anyone else says. because she’s a human being, and she’s grieving, and she needs this.

eventually, she musters up the will to speak — and it’s awful, raspy, broken syllables she has to force out of her throat. 

she chokes on the words like they’re poisonous. like she’s been carrying them around for decades, bubbling beneath the surface, waiting to be let out.

“don’t — don’t end up here,” shoko pleads, voice wavering through the syllables. full of fear. “please.”

you know what she means. she doesn’t have to say it, because you know.

don’t end up in my morgue. don’t end up on my autopsy table. 

shoko sounds meek. she sounds close to falling apart. you’ve never seen her like this before, clutching onto your sleeves as if begging you to stay. 

“you’re — you’re the only one i…”

she doesn’t finish, cut off by a broken sniffle. but she doesn’t need to. 

you’re the only one i have left. i can’t lose you, too.

please don’t die. please don’t leave me behind.

a shaky inhale. your arms tighten around her waist, tugging her closer. praying that she’ll feel the steady beating of your heart, the undeniable proof that you’re alive. that you haven’t left her yet. 

you blink away the tears in your eyes, grasping for control over your wavering voice.

“i won’t.”

and maybe it’s cruel, maybe it’s the cruelest thing you could do to her — making a promise you know you might not be able to keep. but you do so anyway. helpless to her sadness. at the complete mercy of her grief. you’d do anything to stop the tears from falling, to soothe the turmoil in her chest.

“i won’t let you be alone, shoko,” you murmur into her hair, with all the comfort you can possibly muster. ”not now, or ever.”

three words yearn to be spoken, resting on the tip of your tongue. three little syllables, desperate to be heard after living in the back of your throat for so many years. 

and for a second, you think you might say it. 

you think you might say it, breathe life into the statement. you can almost taste it, can almost hear it. can almost see what her expression would look like.

but shoko sniffles, and hugs you tighter. protective, like you’ll leave if she doesn���t. so tightly that it hurts a little.

and you swallow the words, once more. 

right now, this is enough. it’s enough that you’re alive, that you’re here. that’s what shoko needs, right now.

she doesn’t need your love. she just needs you to stay alive.

so you will. you decide that you will, no matter what. you’ll leave, and you’ll open up a shitty bakery that won’t get any customers — and you’ll give her free pastries for the rest of your life. you’ll get her so addicted to sweets that she’ll have no choice but to come back for more.

shoko cries like a child. filling the silence of the morgue with her shaky breaths and quiet sniffles, little hiccups and whimpers. the tears never seem to stop, and you wonder how long it’s been since she last let them fall.

you hold her in your arms, smoothing a palm down her back, counting the bumps of vertebra — and don’t say anything. there’s no need to.

for now, the soft patter of your heartbeat is enough.

ijichi stands just outside the morgue, unmoving. not saying a thing.

it’s muffled, hushed and quiet, but still audible. the sound of childlike crying. the kind all sorcerers do their best to keep to themselves.

in his arms lie a bundle of papers. the final pages of gojo’s autopsy report. it’s important that shoko sees them — vital, according to her. something about the six eyes, the possibilities they hold. the hope that maybe, just maybe…

— he clutches them tightly, and then walks away.

#the wlw urge to leave everything behind and start a bakery together…… #idk how to feel abt this i just!! needed to get some shoko thoughts out!!! she’s my fave jjk girl and i love the way her grief is portrayed #i just hope gege does her justice but i have a good feeling that he will!! if not its on sight #she’s so special to me. the airport scene hurts sm because she really is all alone now :(( its so fucked up i SOBBED into my pillow #well i mean. she still has ijichi. and i love him dont get me wrong but like. STILL #im delusional tho so i think next chapter shoko will use her rct to heal gojo #and then we’ll get a scene of him leaving the airport with shoko. trust me gege and i are like this🤞 #sorry for basing all my titles on siken poems. anyway go read ’i had a dream about you’ its so shoko #shoko ieiri #shoko ieiri x reader #shoko ieiri x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk #jjk spoilers #jujutsu kaisen spoilers #jjk 236 #jujutsu kaisen 236 #…. i think. thats all the tags…….

[stevesbipanic]

Boy For All Seasons

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 Ao3

Eddie didn't get to see Steve much in the months that followed. School was a lot more boring the third time around but it did come with the perk of Dustin Henderson and his little friends. They all had grand stories of Steve's bravery without a lot of details. They were also great at DnD. The kids joining Hellfire did have the added benefit of Steve coming to pick them up, the boys would exchange small waves across the parking lot.

Eddie was excited about his next holiday plan. This time he was sure to make Steve flustered, plus he wouldn't be out of place wearing a costume. Tina Randall was having a Halloween party and everyone was invited, including certain freaks. Eddie had originally thought he'd have to go looking for Steve, come Halloween but at his last trip to Family Video Robin had informed him she'd be going, and wherever Buckley went Harrington followed.

When Eddie arrived at the party it was in full swing, he couldn't see Robin or Steve yet so decided to use the opportunity to make some money. He had neared the end of his rounds when he spotted Robin alone. Well, not alone there was a girl who Eddie remembers from band talking to her, but Robin's side was unusually absent of one pretty boy.

Maybe, Steve had gone to get them drinks, but the kitchen was void of him too. He had practically given up, deciding to leave the house for a smoke outside when he saw him.

Steve was huddled at the back of the yard up against a tree. Worried, Eddie approached him. Steve appeared physically fine, but his face seemed withdrawn and dejected. Eddie plopped down next to him.

"Didn't take you as a princess, Stevie."

Steve looked towards Eddie and sent him a small smile, "Robs wanted to be Westly and needed a Buttercup."

"Well, you look beautiful as ever, sweetheart."

"Suprised you didn't go as one of those singers you like."

"Well I think vampires are equally metal, don't you like my fangs, Stevie?" Eddie flashed Steve a toothy smile.

"Bet you'd love a taste."

"In my wildest dreams, princess."

Steve seemed less sad than before but the fact he was still here alone nagged at Eddie.

"Why are you out here by yourself anyway, like I saw Buck talking to that girl, but there's plenty of people in there that would love some company with the ol King Steve."

Steve scrunched his face at the old nickname.

"Don't care for Halloween much anymore." Eddie wasn't dumb he remembered the rumors that followed the jock last year and they weren't kind.

"Well that simply won't do, as a self-proclaimed creature of the night I must reignite your love for the holiday."

Eddie jumped up and held his hand out to Steve. Steve smiled and grabbed his hand, letting Eddie pull him up.

"This party blows anyway, let me show you a better place, don't worry I'll bring you back to look after Robin later."

They hopped in Eddie's van and he drove them to the top of the quarry. He lead Steve to the edge where they could see the water before laying down, Steve laid beside him.

"This is where you can really appreciate the night, and look we've even got a full moon."

Steve followed Eddie's gaze up to the stars above them, amazed at how many you could see now they were on the outskirts of town.

"It's beautiful."

Eddie flicked his gaze towards Steve, "yeah, yeah it is."

The boys watched the stars pointing out constellations before Steve decided Robin would probably need driving home soon.

"Thanks for tonight, Eddie, maybe Halloween isn't so bad."

"You're welcome, princess."

"Maybe next time I'll let you bite me," Steve grinned and sent Eddie a wink before quickly hopping out.

Eddie could feel a soft warmth spread across his cheeks as he drove home, yeah Halloween was pretty great.

Tags: @zerokrox-blog @smallfrogpleasedtomeetyou @eboyawstenn @sharingisntkaren @goodolefashionedloverboi @the-redthread @steddie-there @questionablequeeries @liorereshkigal @mightbeasleep @carlyv @my2amgaythoughts @gregre369 @space-invading-pigeon @bisexualdisastersworld @epiclazershark @sherrylyn628 @raisedbylibrarians

#we made it to halloween #might finish this all today so keep an eye out #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #fluff #ficlet #steve is still a flirt even when hes sad #sweet eddie #princess bride #halloween

[tetsunabouquet]

Hello again and sorry if i ask you so much 💞😖can i request GoM + Imayoshi headcannons to how they would react to their partner with asthma having a respiratory attack on the court while practicing with the team and they would be scared not knowing that the reader suffered from asthma, I have been kicked from several teams due to this already Either because they discriminate against me or they don't see me capable and many times I hide my illness due to criticism :(

A/N: Baby, I want requests! It's okay to ask, that's why my askbox is open ;). Trust me, I get the drama. I was born with GERD, which is an chronic illness that can also cause the development of other illnesses. Thanks to it, I developped IBS (the radiology appointment I mentioned at the start of the summer was due to that) and you can also develop asthma from it. I actually did became more sensitive to things like fumes and smoking people due to it, so asthma is probably next on my comorbidity bingo card.

When I was a kid, my teachers would always treat me like I was over-exaggerating during P.E and I'll never forget the time when I was like 9, I wasn't feeling too great and a ball was thrown with extreme intensity into my chest by this upperclassmen in a game of dodgeball. Instinctively, I ran to the shower to puke it out, and my teacher's response was to get back in the game and to stop making such a fuss. So I had to, and I remember not trying to burst into tears for the rest of the game. I ended up developping a hatred for working out, and that's the reason I ended up developping a shoulder injury when I finally dared to follow my dreams and sign up for acrobatic classes. Because I exercised less then the other girls outside of our classes which was a shame as I did have talent actually. If only my teachers had taken me seriously on the moments I was too sick to exercise, I wouldn't have been skipping P.E by the time I hit my puberty.

So trust me, I get how painful this topic can be. Because basketball is a single sex sport, I'll be writing this male coded.

Akashi

-Him. Him not knowing his s/o's chronic illness? Not happening. This boy has only been pretending not to know because he's waiting for the day that you'll open up about it yourself. -When the attack happens, this boy's thinking is going at the speed of light. -He does everything according to the book, knowing how to help you. -He's a perfect gentleman throughout the event. -Your coach knows better then to reprimand you or to kick you off the team, feeling Akashi's intense aura even from that distance. -Everyone is too scared to even crack a ligh-hearted joke about it to you in the locker room, they're too scared Akashi will hire hoodlums to set their homes afire.

Midorima

-He actually also secretly knows. This boy might be dense about other people's social lives, he's not that way about his s/o. He cares so deeply about you, he wants to know everything about you. But he always plays dumb because he doesn't wants to be exposed as your secret stalker. -When the attack happens, this future doctor knows exactly what to do. -He's not simply good at knowing what to do, oh no, this is the one area where he beats Akashi. -Midorima even carries around a small pouch in his schoolbag that contains various tea blends that he read work wonderful after a respiratory attack. After you've finished up in the locker room after practise, this boy will start preparing some iced tea with the flavor you picked before you can blink. -You're not the one receiving criticism, or the butt of the joke. Midorima, and his secret nursing pouch is. -Shutoku's coach is a bit worried about you, but considering Midorima is less selfish around you, he's willing to forget this happened as he can recognize you improve the team.

Murasakibara

-This guy, and a medical emergency? Oh, it's hopeless. -First he stands around, just gawking at the scene. -Then he fumbles around, wondering what to do. Himuro is honestly the one directing his actions with instructions. -Coach Araki might be a strong willed bad-ass, but I bet she can have a motherly side to her, so she's worried but supportive of you. After this, she developped a bit of a soft spot that depending on the type of person you are might be a bit annoying, but you understand it's coming from a good place so you shrug her off with a smile.

Kise

-Similar to Murasakibara, but for a different reason. -Like, first you have a short pause where he gawks at you, and then he shoots into panic mode. Kise is trying to be supportive by hyperventilating. -The entire team has to pause the game to help you and get Kise to calm down. -Kise won't calm down until you have recovered and waved your hands in his face telling him to shut up, to which he responses with kissing you. -The coach refrains from making any criticizing comment towards you, fearing another Kise tantrum but he does make the mental notes to be more strict when he was seeing signs of an attack coming up.

Aomine

-This guy is known for not being so sensitive about these things, and thus I think he would have the worst reaction out of everyone. -For one, it needs time with this fucker to sink in that it's serious. -It takes Momoi rushing to you and checking up on you on the edge of a panic attack for Aomine to notice you. -He tries to help, but he's incredibly clumsy about it in a cute way though. -The coach lets this incident go by, I mean, this asshole just ignores Aomine and potentially Sakurai's mental health issues, so I can imagine him to just downright ignore a player's physical health issues as well.

Imayoshi

-Honestly terrified. -But he does manage to keep a cool head and not to go straight into panic zone. -Doesn't knows what the fuck to do but he's willing to learn. -He's very caring when you're trying to recover and practically never stops with petting your shoulder. -Considering he's on the same team as Aomine, the coach's reaction will still be the same. He doesn't gives a fuck about it.

#knb #kuroko's basketball #akashi #akashi seijuro #knb x reader #kise #midorima #midorima shintaro #kise ryota #imayoshi #imayoshi shoichi #murasakibara #murasakibara atsushi #aomine #aomine daiki #asthma reader

[draftsandrecs]

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Summary: Reader and Bucky often dream about each other. Which isn't weird until you realize that they're strangers in two different states who have never met.

Word Count: 3,305

Warnings: 18+, a little bit of smut

Taglist: @jbbarnes-dog-tags

The recurring dreams began about six months ago. At first it just seemed like any normal dream. Walking around your hometown, grocery shopping, being back in high school. But the same pattern wasn’t a place or theme. It was a person, but someone you know you’ve never met or seen online or in other media forms. But anytime you interacted with them you felt drawn to them like you knew them. At first the same man was another customer in a grocery store or someone you asked the time for. But now wherever you go when you dream or what you do, he is there. 

You often wake up not remembering your entire dream the night before. But you do know it had to be with him regardless of adventure or mundane task that you went on. You figured out that lucid dreaming is what you’ve been experiencing. At least based on the few Google and Reddit searches you’ve done. It led you through a rabbit hole filled with academic papers, blogs, and of course Reddit users' opinions. Which actually made you feel a lot less alone and crazy. Lately you’ve been questioning yourself if the dreams you have been having are just dreams or if there’s more to them. There’s a small part of you that wonders if they are just dreams then why is it the same person showing up over and over again. But if it isn’t just a dream and something more, is the dream being shared as well? 

Friday Night’s Dream

You’ve never visited New York before but here it is. The subway entrance nearby welcomes regular crowds, billboards galore light up with ads, and tourists walk amongst themselves. As you stand there watching the world move around you, you hear a familiar voice.

“Hey! Come on, I want to show you a place nearby.” There he is standing in front of you now. A smile lays on his face as he holds out his arm to grab. 

“Lead the way.” You say grabbing his arm. His denim jacket feels warm against your thin top. His presence as always makes you feel warm.

You and him walk through a set of doors that immediately send you down a flight of stairs before coming to an entrance. A bright sign that outlines ‘JAZZ CLUB’ catches your attention. The place is dimly lit with soothing music playing. Patrons are spread out through the place talking to each other, dancing, or smoking cigars. It feels like a time capsule that few people know exists.

You’re led to a table near a wall secluded from most others. A small lamp is attached on the wall by the tables for light to brighten up the dark atmosphere. He gets to your chair before you do, allowing you to sit down. You say a small thank you as he sits across from you. 

“I see you put your best outfit on.” He says teasingly pointing out that you’re wearing pajamas compared to his attire.

“Well excuse me, if I would’ve known you were taking me here tonight I would’ve worn my going out pajamas to bed.” He laughs at your comeback, making your heart swell. His laugh is something you always remember even if you have no recollection of your conversation. 

“You smoke?” He takes a puff out of his cigar that just appeared, letting little rings fill the air. 

“Cigars, no. I’ve never taken an interest.” He hands you the cigar, lighting the end again to get a better burn.

“Don’t inhale, just suck in.” You do as he says, sucking in then removing the cigar as you blow the smoke out. 

“It’s sweet. What is that?” The taste is decadent on your buds. Almost like a dessert. 

He takes the cigar back to taste it again,“It’s like chocolate? Maybe even espresso,” he continues smoking before asking if you enjoyed it.

“Maybe but I probably won't do it again. Not my thing. Though it is by far better than cigarettes.”He hums in understanding as he discards the ashes of the cigar into a tray. 

You’re aware. You’re aware of the building you’re in. The dark lights and little lamps around you. The smoke that travels through out the space. You know you don’t have much time left before you are about to wake up.

“You’re in a dream.” You tell him quickly, wanting to ask him a question.

“I know, you are too.” He says it like it’s the most natural thing in the world. 

“What’s your name?” You’re rushing now feeling yourself half asleep half awake not wanting to forget his reply. 

“James, don’t forget it.” How could you?

Saturday Morning

His voice is still in your head when you wake up.

James. James. You repeat his name a few times letting it settle on your tongue. You’re almost tempted to google his name and the city you were in but lord knows how many James that live in New York there are. (You did in fact look up how many there were and it was well over 20,000 people). You know you’re not crazy. But you wish you had some form of confirmation that it wasn’t just you observing, dreaming, a part of it. This is an experience you’re having with someone.An experience you’re sharing with James.

“I’ll have the french toast please with syrup on the side thank you.” You hand the waitress your menu as she writes  your order down before leaving the table.

“Any new dreams or the same old same guy?” Wanda asks next you as she sips on her mimosa.

“No new dreams but I did get some information. I was finally able to ask a question.” You feel proud of yourself. You know your friends don’t not believe you. But you can even see that you may just be stressed or reading too much fiction.

Natasha’s perked  up at this answer, both girls have been following this ‘saga’ since the beginning. 

“We were in New York and I was wearing pajamas. Don’t know why, but anyway he took me to an underground jazz club. It was really neat and vintage. You know how when you’re dreaming you kinda know when you’re about to wake up? Or like that half asleep half awake?” 

“Yes! I hate that, it’s always during the good part of a dream too. And you can never go back to the dream again.” Wanda chimes in with her own experience.

Natasha nods at you encouraging you to continue.

“Exactly! Well usually I wake up before I can’t even ask anything but I was able to ask for his name. His name is James.” You’re so excited to share the information you’re beaming.

Natasha and Wanda exchange a look. 

“James. Just James? No address or instagram handle? Not even a last name?” Natasha smirks at you poking fun.

You know she means well. She isn’t trying to downplay or hurt your feelings. But she is a realist after all. It’s why you love her. She’s honest and upfront.

“Look I didn’t have much time, okay? I got nervous.” You pout and sink into your chair chewing on your lip.

“It’s okay Y/N, you have his name at least. Maybe now you can figure out more about him.” Wanda’s words of support make you feel a little better. 

Hopefully the french toast can help bury your feelings. 

‘Okay, two melatonins, Or should I do one? I’m a grown adult. I'll do two. It is the weekend after all. If I knock out till the afternoon then who cares.’ You chew both gummies before washing it down with some sleepy bear tea. You can’t recall the name of the brand but it’s the one with the bear sleeping in the chair. Fingers crossed you’ll end up like him soon. 

Saturday Night’s Dream

Your body is relaxed, you feel so lightweight that you feel like you're sinking into the bed. You can still hear the faint hum of the air conditioner and the sounds of cars passing by. You know you’re seconds away from a deep sleep. Until you’re not. Your body is frozen, paralyzed. Sleep paralysis is occurring.

You curse yourself in your mind telling yourself that you should’ve never taken two melatonins. Now. you’re stuck for who knows how long. Your eyes stare ahead. You’re watching the shadows of the car lights pass through the blinds. Projecting slightly onto the wall in front of you. Your dresser sits beside the door. You make a mental note to clean it off soon. There’s way too many things cluttering that piece of furniture. An unfamiliar sound catches your attention quickly, your bedroom door knob is rattling like someone is trying to get in. Now, you’re no stranger to hallucinations during sleep paralysis but hardly ever when on your stomach. But you’re on your back this time. You brace yourself as the door begins to open, trying to scream but only a whimper comes out. Mouth forced shut, heart beating a million miles.

The hallway light is off when the door creaks open a little. You can’t see the figure but you can feel it. You shut your eyes scared to see anything even if it’s nothing. You begin reciting every prayer you know. Praying you can somehow move your body to get you out of this.

“We don’t usually meet like this.” James' voice breaks the silence.

Your eyes shot open, finding him in the doorway with that stupid looking grin he always wears.

Before you know it you’re speaking with ease, “you scared me half to death. How’d you even find me?” Your body relaxes, supporting you to gain control of it.

“I don’t know actually. I thought of you and I was then standing in front of a door.” He walks in, looking around the room.

“Sorry, I just got scared. Sometimes I see scary stuff when I get sleep paralysis,” You’re sitting up in the bed now. Hoping you look someone decent. It feels personal now that he’s in your space when all you know is his name.

“Oh no, I get that. Sleep paralysis is no joke. Especially when you start making up scary stuff.” At least he understands. You aren’t the only scaredy cat.

He motions to sit on the bed which you nod yes in confirmation. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed which makes you feel compelled to get closer. You sit in front of him, knees tucked to the side. Wanting to be in his embrace. Wanting to be as close as possible to him.

“You know my name, It’s only fair I know yours, Don’t you think?” His question makes you stop for a second. This is a confirmation that it isn’t one sided. It isn’t crazy- you aren’t crazy.

“Wait, you remember yesterday’s dream the on-” You’re cut off as he finishes your question.

“At the jazz club, yes.” His answer continues, “I wanted to ask what your name was but you left too soon. I wanted a pretty name to match the pretty face.” His pickup line makes your face breakout into a smile.

“My name is Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N.” You hold out your hand for formalities, half joking half not.

“It’s nice to meet you Y/N. I’m James Buchanan Barnes.” Your hands meet, his overtaking yours and your heart skips a beat.

Even in the dark room the light from outside shines in just enough for you to see his face clearer than in dreams. His eyes are incredible. Pulling you in with its color, He has a stubble that most men can’t get away with but he could probably pull off anything. You realize you’re staring, you both are. You find yourself wanting to kiss him. But would it be wrong or should you ask for consent? Technically it is a dream of sorts, it wouldn't be bad. Oh fuck it kiss him.

Your brain shuts off as you grab his face to kiss him. Your lips meet his and it’s as if fireworks are going off inside your body. You can’t help but feel- actually feel how real this experience is. The softness of his lips along with the roughness of the kiss absolutely make you go feral for more. For him. You're dominating his upper lip, kissing like you’ve been touch starved for ages. His hands find their way to your waist, pulling you closer. You enjoy the control you have as the kiss deepens allowing you to set the pace. 

Before you know it both your clothes are off and nowhere to be found. He’s inside of you, you’re on top riding him. His cock feels so delicious inside of you. Completely stretching you out and deeply sitting inside. Your cunt molds around him to fit like it was made for him. You grind against him wondering how life like this feels. And how you never want it to stop. He’s staring up at you in admiration holding your hips letting you go at your own pace. You feel so full. He’s as deep as he can be and it feels like nothing you’ve ever experienced. It feels incredible, pleasurable, and magical. You’ve never felt so secure in front of anybody especially during something so intimate. It makes you feel free knowing you don’t have to hide yourself as he accepts you for you. James wants you for you.

“I’ve missed you.” His words come out clearly. You know he doesn’t mean miss when it comes to skipped dreams but real life. 

“I know, I’ve missed you too.” You lean down to kiss him, letting him take control this time.

Sunday Morning 

Your body is riddled with anxiety as you and Natasha search for James Bunchanan Barnes. James B Barnes. James Barnes. James, James, James. 

“I’m sorry but I literally can’t find anything about him. Not from his full name or variations. Or even narrowing it to New York. Maybe we got the wrong last name like you misheard it?” Her voice is full of sympathy as she looks up from the computer. You’ve been at this for hours racking through New York’s white pages, Facebook, Instagram, even Linkedin. 

“No, I know I had it right. I know. Maybe it’s just a dream I don’t know.” You sit down on your couch in defeat feeling awful. Maybe you were crazy and your brain just made this man up.

“How about we take a break, we’ve been at this for a while you know?” She gets up to stretch her legs as you continue to sit in your misery.

“Yeah that’s probably for the best. I just don’t understand why the clues aren’t adding up. Like why always place me in New York and take me to places-” Your heart stops for a second as you stop talking to grab the laptop.

“What?” Natasha sits beside you confused as you type furiously on the search bar.

Once you’re done you turn the page towards her. On Facebook there’s a profile page for a bar and cigar lounge called ‘JAZZ CLUB’. 

“No way. There’s got to be a few tagged people or likes.” She opens up the app on her phone to help find the profile.

After 30 minutes you and Natasha were able to cross reference likes, comments, shares, other profiles to find James. Except it’s not James. It’s Bucky. Bucky Barnes.

Monday Morning

You called into work excusing yourself because of covid. You weren’t sick or in bed. You were in New York. You booked a ticket within the same hour you found his profile. Natasha was very reluctant to let you go but she also knew that once you set your mind to something you weren;t going to stop. She made sure to book a hotel for a night in case you ended up not being able to find any more traces of James/Bucky. 

You arrived at 1pm with nothing but your phone, wallet, and the clothes on your back. The profile had no picture, no birthday, or anything except a job location. It was a record store that seemed to sell used and new vinyls of all genres. You used Apple Maps to guide you to the store. You were too anxious to get a taxi and instead began walking. You also wanted some time to yourself to play out some scenarios of what might happen, what could happen, and your plans to cry yourself to sleep if all else fails. 

Your heart performs palpitations as the road on the map gets more narrow counting down how many feet you are. All until you’re standing right in front of the small looking store. The sign looks like it hasn’t been painted since the day it was put on. The store itself looks like it could be run down itself and abandoned until you see a group of teenagers walk out laughing about something that you don’t hear. Just go in. Literally go in. Open the door, step in, and ask for him. That’s all you have to do. But it feels like more than that. It feels like hanging your feet off a cliff and asking yourself to jump. 

‘Okay calm it, You kissed and you had sex. Just walk in, ask for him and leave. Maybe you’ll even get a vinyl out of it.’ 

You’re walking in right as you finish your pep talk. The store is larger than expected. Posters hang on the walls along with shelves displaying records and stickers. There’s aisles of records in milk crates and wooden boxes with scribbled handwriting identifying the alphabetical order and genre.

“Welcome to Lucid Dreaming, I’m Steve, let me know if I can help you find anything.” A male’s voice pulls you from the record stacks. He’s standing near a box unloading a shipment it looks like. He’s tall and blonde, looks far too clean cut for this kind of store. But kind nonetheless. 

“Actually, I was wondering if you could help me find someone.” You almost regret even asking, cringing on the inside in case you made a mistake.

“I can try, shoot.” He’s stops working to focus on you.

“Do you know a James or Bucky? I’m not sure the name he goes by actually.” Your voice trails off not trying to stutter or make a complete fool of yourself.

“Yeah, he’s the co-owner of this place. He said he needed to step out for a minute but let me check in the office. Just give me one sec!”His eyes light up as he heads to the door behind him labeled ‘EMPLOYEES ONLY’. At least he knows a James or Bucky. That gives you some hope.

You can’t believe it. You’re seconds away from meeting your potential soulmate or being crushed. Either way at least you tried. You’re mindlessly flipping through records as the door opens and you look up to find not only Steve walking out but James. Your James. The one from your shared dreams. The one from last night and the night before. Exactly as you pictured even down to the stubble. Your heart feels like it’s going to pound out of your chest as your eyes meet. James looks like a deer caught in headlights. Eyes wide and no words. Steve looks between you and Bucky trying to understand the connection.

“You know her?” Steve asks, trying to get an answer of what’s going on as Bucky walks towards you. 

Bucky’s voice almost breaks in disbelief, not taking his eyes off you as he replies to Steve.“It’s her. It’s the girl from the dreams.” Bucky whispers the last part as he is now standing in front of you, “The girl of my dreams”.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky barns fanfiction #bucky barns imagine #draftsandrecs #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fluff

[imtooscaredforthis]

Tethered

Part III- Chapter Thirty One: Confession

Mentions of: Angst, Memory Loss, and Frank being a desperate lil baby

A/N: Happy Holidays!! Hope you enjoy!!

Tags: @prettycutebunny @dead-bxxxtch-walking @mama-miya @vandeaad @moonshineinasippycup

Susie opened the door to Frank’s room, finding him smoking and slouched back on his mattress. “What the hell, Susie? You can’t just barge in here!”

She ignored his anger, tossing the notebook down on his bed. His expression changed from wrathful to guilty in a heartbeat. Like he got his hand caught in the cookie jar.

“You knew her. You knew (y/n). And you haven’t said anything.” Frank grabbed the notebook, throwing it under his bed. “It’s none of your fucking buisness. Get out.”

He seethed. She flinched slightly, but she didn’t move an inch. “Why?”

He stared at her, and he knew she wasn’t going to leave without an answer. The cat’s out of the bag now. There’s no point in hiding it.

“It’s not like she remembers me or anything. And it’s better if we keep it that way. You know how jealous Julie can get and..I was horrible to her. I didn’t deserve her, not for one second. I don’t know why The Entity brought her here. She’s too damn good for this fucked up place.”

Susie couldn’t help but notice the look in his eye. She had never seen that look before. Not even when he was with Julie.

“So that’s why you and Julie have been fighting. You love (y/n), don’t you?”

“…I did. A long time ago. I don’t really know if I feel anything for her now. I don’t want to. But I guess I don’t want to see her hurt.” He murmured.

“What do we do?” Susie couldn’t help but ask. Frank shrugged. He didn’t know what to do. He hadn’t since you had gotten here.

He thought he knew what he wanted. He thought he knew where he belonged. But ever since you got here, everything’s been flipped upside down. Everything’s been wrong.

He wanted to hate you. He did. But god, how could he? How could anyone?

“Just forget about her. Stop being her friend. It’ll be much less trouble that way.” He replied.

“You can’t be serious.” She said, her eyebrows furrowed. “That won’t solve anything. That’ll hurt her.”

“It’s for the best. Do you have any better ideas?” He remarked.

“Yeah, I might actually.”

—

With a tired sigh, you rested your head on a log, shutting your eyes. You were exhausted after another long day of trials, and you just wanted to sleep. Unfortunately, someone had other plans.

“Psst, psst, (y/n)!” A familiar voice whispered. At first, you thought it was just a dream, but when you felt rocks and sticks getting thrown at you, you knew it wasn’t.

You glared at the pink haired perpetrator with a grumpy frown. “You really need to find better ways to get my attention.”

“Whatever. Will you just get over here? I want to talk to you.” So you reluctantly got to your feet, and stretched a little, before walking over to the younger teen.

“What’s up? Is something wrong?” You asked when you approached her.

“No. I just wanted to talk.” She replied. She was acting weird. “Okay, what do you want to talk about?”

“I’ve been thinking about you and your memories. It must’ve been tough to not remember anything or anyone from your past. I don’t know how I could manage that out here. Speaking of, have you remembered anything new?”

“Actually, I have.” With a grin, you pulled out a plastic card. Your driver’s license.

“This helped me a bit. Now I know I was from Canada, I’m twenty years old, and I was around during the nineteen eighties. I also remembered the most recent stuff, like how I was studying to become a doctor and stuff at college in America. But that’s it. There have also been some people I remember, but when I think about it, it’s too blurry to remember.” You explained.

“So you can’t remember anything? No names or faces?” She asked.

You shook your head in response. “Nope. But I’m fine with it. I mean, if I’m going to be here for eternity, my past doesn’t really matter right? And I know some stuff about who I am..so..it’s okay.”

The fact that you had accepted it so easily made Susie sad. It was like you were a shell of the person you used to be. While you weren’t going to be in the past anymore, wasn’t it important to know? There could be people out there that still care about you. In fact, there are.

“Wanna head back to Ormond?” Susie offered. “I don’t know..I’m kinda tired and Frank kicked me out the last time I was there. Aren’t he and his girlfriend fighting too? I just- I don’t want to intrude.”

“You won’t be. I promise. I’m inviting you so it doesn’t matter anyway. I’ll just kick them out or something.” She replied.

You shrugged. “Okay.”

—

The next thing you knew, you were seated in between Susie and Frank at Mount Ormond’s Ski lodge. After a few minutes, Susie got up and announced she had to leave.

“What are you doing?” Frank mouthed to her, the moment you had your back turned. She rolled her eyes. “Just talk to her.”

Frank cleared his throat nervously, messing with his bandaged fingers. “So, Susie told me about your memory. You don’t remember anything?”

Why is everyone asking you about that? You shrugged your shoulders. “No, I do remember some things here and there.”

“Like what?” He couldn’t help but ask.

“Well, I remember a little about who I was, and some of the things I did. I’m from Canada like you guys. Which is kind of a funny coincidence. I remember some people…but it’s all blurry, like I can’t recognize them.” You rambled.

“You know what would be funny? If we knew each other.” He remarked, causing a confused look to cross your face. “Yeah, I guess.”

He slipped a finger under your chin, tilting your head towards him. He was looking deeply in your eyes now, and you could see desperation and desire deep in them.

“C’mon, (y/n). It’s me. You have to remember.”

Remember? Remember what? Your head throbbed, as something panged inside your heart, but when you looked at Frank, you saw nothing. This has to be some sort of sick joke.

You smacked his hand from your chin, pulling away from you. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Is it fun for you to play with my feelings or something? Is that what this is? Some stupid game to you? You have a girlfriend, Frank! And I don’t know why you’re trying to play these mind games, but I’m done with it.”

You stormed out, with Frank calling after you, but just before you could leave, you bumped into a certain someone.

#dead by deadlight #dbd #dbd killer #dbd x reader #killer x reader #dbd legion #legion frank #legion dbd #frank dbd #frank morrison x reader #dbd frank #frank legion #legion dead by daylight #susie legion #legion susie #julie legion #legion julie #julie kostenko #dbd julie #julie dbd #dbd fanfic

[danses-with-dogmeat]

Day 4 -- Rotface

The (nsfw) details for Kinktober, Day 4 are just below the cut!

Minors, please don’t interact.

Prostitution with Rotface x F!Six

GOODNESS I've waited so long to post something with Rotface 😩 He was like Gob 2.0 for me when I played New Vegas for the first time, just like... INSTANT love for him, ugh ❤️

This one I thought was pretty darn sweet, and a little glimpse into his life on that street corner where Six meets him.

I hope you like it!

Here is the link to my  Kinktober 2023 Event List so you can stay up-to-date, or re-visit these works as you please.

Included: Prostitution, drinking (alcohol lol), cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, dry humping, pining, hopes and dreams.

Words: 4.5k

--

Rotface lounged against his dusty curb like it was an elegant chaise, his body sinking lower and lower down throughout the long, hot day. The coolness of the air was refreshing as the sun bowed its head over the sand in the distance. Patrons, Freeside goers, and tourists alike had all hidden away in their homes or gone off to gamble and sin for the remainder of the night. 

But the ghoul had waited in silence, one ruined finger brushing over the neck of some cheap bottle of liquor he’d managed to get his hands on. Some whiskey, or bourbon maybe. Perhaps even rum gone a little bit… off. He didn’t know or care much, his stomach and tongue were impartial, but his head… Oh, his head needed it if he was to make it through another interaction with his favorite patron to date. 

And, like he'd called her over with nothing but the mere thought, over she came. It was unmistakable, the telltale click of her shoes on the pavement, the pacing of her steps, unhurried, but anything but relaxed. Even before Six rounded the corner, Rotface could catch her scent wafting on the light breeze: cheap perfume, cigarette smoke, and gunpowder. Always a hint of it, no matter what she wished to mask it with. 

It embarrassed him to even think it, but her scent was one he wished he could wrap himself in, like some strange desert creature burying itself in the sand for shelter from the elements, he wanted it to envelop him. 

Need to get over this shit. Hopefully the drink’ll help. 

“Hey, you. Fancy meeting ya ‘round these parts.” Six’s voice broke him from his thoughts, and he looked up at her, gazing wide-eyed, as if he was seeing her for the first time. 

Damn, how it always feels that way. 

Like a bullet to the chest from some Freeside thug, her visage hit him hard.

As per usual, Six was only partially clothed, in some bra-type, cropped shirt thing that only complimented the natural shapely curve of her body, her stomach was left bare, showcasing the smoothness of her skin, making it clear to him again why he’d spent so many hours daydreaming about laying his head upon her for a nap, her plush lap or stomach immeasurably preferable to the curb he usually called his pillow. Her skirt left even less to the imagination, especially from his angle looking up from the floor. Though, no matter what the angle was, the garment was made up of hardly any fabric at all, showcasing Six’s thighs and hips alike, both of which were frequent attendees in his daydreams as well. 

Rotface almost openly sighed as he saw her. Though it was nearly a nightly ritual these days, she still managed to draw his street-sharp mind into a tight bundle of fanciful nonsense. 

“Nice to see ya, Six.” Rotface managed to rasp out finally, pulling his gaze reluctantly from where it was tied to her form, her face, those eyes.

Suppose it doesn’t matter if I’m actually lookin’ or not. Always see her anyhow. Remember her face better than I do my own these days.

And that ain’t no bad thing. 

“Whatcha got there? Something to share, I hope.” 

“Nah, wouldn’t dream of it. Already had my fill, rest is for you, dolly.” 

“O-ho, what a gentleman you are.” Her smile shot straight into him, like a searing beam of light, right through his chest as she reached down for the bottle in his hand. No flinching away, no mildly disgusted look, no light, hesitant fingers as she brushed her hand with his in the transfer of the bottle from his possession to hers. 

“Wish I could take a seat beside you, but… Yeah, gotta stay visible.” She winked at him as she said it, but tipped the bottle back for a long swig a moment later, without even bothering to glance at the label. 

Didn’t seem to matter to her either. 

“It is still your corner though.” Six wiped delicately at her lipstick-framed mouth as she lowered the bottle down. “No matter who stands at it, they still know it as yours. So, if I’m ever intruding–”

“No way, doll.” He said, almost too quickly. “What’s yours is mine.” 

Rotface gestured to the bottle then, a soft expression adorning his face as he looked up at her. 

God, it must be obvious. Way I ogle her, night in and out. Maybe the drink wasn’t the best thought I’ve had… me a lil tipsy, her on her way… Could say something I regret. 

And she could actually hear it now. Not like my daydreams.

“You know, this street corner ain’t the only thing we got in common, I think.” 

Six raised a brow at him questioningly, but nodded a moment later with an odd sort of look upon her face. Another swig of the bottle, and then: 

“Hm. You’re right. Must be… Our fashion sense?” 

His laugh was much too raucous for the little quip she made, but dammit, the ghoul couldn’t help himself. 

Here I am, trying for once to be genuine, and then… 

Oh, but how could he ever be mad?

“Well, you do know how much I enjoy lounging on my curb here in the nude. Or in my leather panties. Heh.” 

Six giggled herself this time, and he felt proud to have inspired such a lovely refrain. 

“Nah, but, in all seriousness, I think… Well, we’re both one of the real people out here, you know? The ones out here trying to survive, yeah, but you’re not an asshole.” 

“Gee, thanks.”

He could’ve slapped himself for ending that sentence prematurely… and with no obvious tracks for it to go down in the highway of his drink-addled mind. 

Trying to speak from your heart is like engaging in an interview while under fire. Hearing the questions, formulating answers, wording them, all while remaining breathless and panicked. Scared for your life, even. 

“No, no... sorry, buzz is gettin’ to me a bit. But you’re just– hell, maybe we don’t even have it in common, I don’t know, but you’re one hell of a person, is what I was getting at. In some fuck-all roundabout way." He rubbed the bridge of his would-be nose, grinding his teeth as his confession only seemed to worsen.

"Just... Six, you doing all that shit for the NCR, for Freeside, The Wrangler, and all those ungrateful, privileged asshats in the strip, and look at you, still out here working street corners for scraps. You should have a fucking penthouse by now, you know? Be one of them fancy ladies with the jewelry and the colorful skirts and dresses. ‘S what you deserve, Six, that’s all.” 

“Glad you feel that way.” Finally relenting to the call of it, Six plopped down beside him, and Rotface felt his heart stutter as her hand brushed his bicep, giving him an affectionate little squeeze as she turned to him. “Nobody else seems to care, so you know… I suppose I’ll just keep... doing it, since I can’t sit by like the rest of those, ahem, asshats, as you put it so nicely.” 

He broke into a laugh alongside her, feeding off the warmth of her smile and wishing like hell he could see it a thousand more times in his life. 

“I couldn’t live with myself if I saw everything that’s going on around here and… didn’t help.” 

Six handed him back the bottle, nearly empty as it was, but with one last, decent gulp left. With a slow hand, careful not to dislodge the one she still had placed upon his arm, he reached out for it. 

“And… I guess I’ll just keep doing this,” Six gestured down to her scant outfit with unenthused fingers, “Until I can afford not to. However long that takes.” 

A pessimistic scoff finished her sentence for her, and Rotface felt his hand gripping the neck of the alcohol bottle so hard it might shatter. And he wouldn’t blame it. If it were possible for him to do the same in this moment, he just might've. 

Even as Rotface's grip loosened on the glass, his jaw stayed tightly clenched. He… had no idea she was that desperate. Some part of him assumed this was-- well, a job, yes-- but maybe she’d enjoyed it? Six always seemed so free, so good-humored, even in the worst of times, even when she showed up on their street corner with bags under her eyes, with bruises and scrapes he wouldn’t let himself imagine the origin of; she still was happy to see him, still made fun and light of their horrid, ruined world right alongside him… Maybe that’s what they really had in common. 

Now that he knew though, now that her dejected voice, her listless mannerisms, the dullness in her eyes confirmed that she hated doing this shit more than he could’ve imagined, more than he hated baking in the sun waiting for a more successful, luckier man’s pocket change to fall into his roughened hands day-in and day-out for ten or so odd years, well... He couldn't just stand by anymore. Not like he has for so damn long. With all she's done in that time, even after being fucking shot? It made Rotface feel like a pretty awful person.

To think too, after all that, all his years of this shit, and how little he's collected in his time on the street corner... 

Another shitty thing we have in common, I guess. If the world decides not to change, we’ll both be doing this forever. 

“Well…” Rotface started a thought out loud, his fingers already twiddling nervously at his imagined proposal. “You know, I-I could start paying you.” 

He felt her body tense, felt her eyes on him, but he couldn’t dare meet her gaze. 

“J-just for this, you know.” He added quickly, “The pleasure of your company here on the corner. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t improve my evenings, having you here with me. But, since I’m taking up your time and all…” 

“I could never accept money from you, R.” 

He smiled at that, her tender voice, her sweet nickname for him. 

“You want to know something?" She continued, her fingers twiddling distractedly over the skin of his arm. "I could stand on any street corner in Freeside. In fact, between you and me, this one really isn’t the best for business, but… Well, I enjoy the pleasure of your company too. And I couldn’t dream of asking you to pay for it.” 

Another comforting squeeze radiated warmth from her grip over him, and Rotface finally gained the courage to set his eyes upon her face.

“No..." A soft, slight smile touched her vibrant lips as she looked right back at him, "We’re in this together, old friend.” 

“If you say so." Rotface's own rough hand, pausing only briefly on its brave journey, now laid overtop hers, giving Six a comforting little embrace of his own. "But... If that’s the case, then… Say I did pay you for a night. A night we don't spend on this street corner, lovely as it is. A-and not anything, ah, promiscuous," He added quickly, "Just… you know. A night. Do dinner or something.” 

“Dinner?” Her brow quirked up on her forehead and her eyes narrowed with mischief. 

She must be onto me. No doubt she is… 

But she keeps playing along. So, that’s gotta be a good sign, right?

“Well, we just shared a nice drink, some good conversation… You wanna just skip dinner?” 

He was wide-eyed at what she suggested, what he thought she might be suggesting.

Could it be?

Nah... Too good to be true, that's what that is. Shit doesn't work out for me that way, not Rotface the poor street-corner ghoul. Not with Six. No way.

And yet, in that moment, her hand turned quickly, taking his in her grasp, and before he could fathom any single bit of it, she hauled him up and the pair set off quickly towards The Wrangler. He was comically giddy the whole way there, all teeth-baring grins and school-child giggles as she tugged him along behind her. 

He didn't understand, but even more so, Rotface couldn't bare to question it.

Sure, the pair got some inquisitive looks on the way and in the bar, both of them well-known in this part of town, after all. The piss-poor ghoul beggar and the Wrangler prostitute who was a sucker for doing the right thing, the kind thing, getting a room together?

The looks all confirmed what he tried not to let himself believe. 

Even if it is pity she has for me… who am I to complain? To judge her? 

Nah, he couldn’t think one wrong thing about the gal beside him, in front of him now in the dim room, leaving even less to the imagination, as she let her skirt flit down to the carpeted motel room floor. 

Six stepped out of the garment like she was trying to seduce him. As if she hadn’t already, from the moment he laid eyes on her. 

“You’re the most gorgeous thing I’ve seen." His rough voice sounded in the dim of the room as his eyes stayed locked to her mesmerizing form, "All my years, dolly, and it’s not even a competition.” 

Rotface couldn’t tear his gaze away from her, not for anything, as she approached where he sat on the creaky, ages-old box spring. The bed dipped from her movements as she crawled up and between his legs, running her hands down over the smooth fabric of his worn shirt until they reached the bottom hem. 

His own hands, rough as they were, gently stopped her movement. 

“Not sure you wanna do that, doll. Might just ruin the moment.” 

Six shook her head, her brows drawn together in sympathy as one soft hand brushed over the side of his face. Her touch was so tender, her expression so kind, yet… so wanting. It made his heart throb and race all at once. 

“It won’t.” Her voice was the firmest he’d heard it. “R… I want this bad as you do. Honest.” 

He blinked, and in the smallest split of seconds, Six's lips were against his. Like an old reel of film, his mind raced and churned behind the scenes, the chaos behind the beautiful picture up on the screen.

She was loud as a symphony, vibrant as a painting, with her passions. A pessimistic part of him whispered that it was practice, it was work, but a louder part shouted, ‘this is happening!’ 

Because that’s what mattered. 

Six was here, with him. She said she wanted this, she followed it up with actions that had him in a frenzy, that had him questioning his sanity, and the life expectancy of ghouls once they go feral. 

His mind scrambled like this, the heat coursing through him, the kiss felt like it was sending him into a metamorphosis. 

Rotface wanted so badly to think, to respond, to ask a million questions and make a million remarks about his many faults to her. As much as he wanted this– more than anything he could remember pleading for in his life, and just… well, look at him, he had plenty he could've wished for in place of this, and yet, it was true. More than anything, he wanted this with her. And he was as afraid of it as he was enthused by it. 

None of that mattered though. Nothing did, but Six. 

Rotface ran his hands over her bare skin, hungry to feel every inch of her, to soothe every hint of pain, every cause of stress in her life, his lips pressed against hers, caressing her softness, like the sun hugs the mountaintops and bathes them in orange, pink and violet. 

It only became more explosive, as he felt himself sink back into the mattress, as she laid her body over his, and he finally allowed her fingers to haul his raggedy t-shirt off over his head. Rotface gazed up at her as they separated, so she could remove the shirt from him fully, feeling like he was trapped in one of his daydreams, only… this was so much sweeter. 

Even in the depths of his imagination, the ghoul never could have seen her like this. Looking at him this way. It was… utterly unimaginable, the affection he saw there. The attraction. 

Perhaps her eyesight is just poor, after the incident in the graveyard at point blank range. 

The sound of a zipper drew his eyes and thoughts downwards as she began to remove his battered jeans, pulling them off over his hips and taking his boxers with them in one movement. 

Rotface grunted as the hem of his pants caught on his erection, already straining up in the air from her words, the sight of her, her attentions. 

Just… Six. 

The liquor had worn off by now, and he could feel himself shaking slightly. Maybe from nerves, or anticipation, though… probably both. If Six noticed though, she didn’t say a word about it. 

“Hmm.” When his eyes snapped back up to her, watching her take in the sight of his gnarled flesh, his bony body, he expected any number of horrid, barely-held back reactions. 

But she just… Smiled. With tears in her eyes, her gaze met his. 

“I don’t know why you ghouls are so cruel to yourselves. You in particular.” She said as she began to crawl up his body, a hand on either side of him, hovering, until she could lay over him. Her breasts prodded his chest as she settled overtop of him, her stomach cushioning his sensitive erection lovingly between their bodies. “You’re no different than any other man.” 

“Gee, thanks.” He said with a breathless attempt at a laugh. 

“No,” Six giggled, letting her head hang for a moment, her hair curtaining her face so charmingly as her eyes crinkled. “I just mean… You’ve got scars, sure, but… we all do.” 

One hand grasped with his, and Six pressed his fingers to the concealed divots in her forehead. He swallowed hard, as he felt the depth of them. 

How lucky I am to be here… With her.

“It doesn’t make you worth any less. No matter what anyone says.” Six pulled his hand to her mouth then, one finger drawing a line over a particularly rigid scar on his wrist before her lips followed suit softly. 

“Doesn’t make you any less beautiful.” 

Rotface had to blink to keep the unwelcome mist at bay from seeping into his eyes. 

What did I do to deserve her? This? 

Just last night we were still only friends, something like this was a distant, unachievable dream. 

Now, he never wanted it to end. 

“Well, doll, you are the authority on all that’s beautiful.” 

“Sweet ghoul.” Six's fingers ran over his bald head in an affectionate caress, and then his lips were back on her. Rotface initiated this time, pushing into her and wrapping his arms tightly around her body until he could flip them on the bed, positioning himself on top. 

His cock twitched as her hips bucked up into him, the swell of her pelvic bone grinding against the underside of his cockhead until he felt himself drooling pre-cum out onto her skin. 

Damn, but she knows what she’s doing. 

“Fuck, alright–” Rotface pulled back from her lips, separating their bodies enough to alleviate the pressure on his erection. “I’ve gotta taste you, doll. That alright?” 

Enthusiastically, and with a bit of surprise written on her face, Six nodded, and he felt that giddiness encapsulate him again. The older ghoul felt like a boy on pre-war Christmas, pulling her legs undone like a bow until her thighs were draped over his rough shoulders. His sense of smell and taste both weren’t what they used to be, but even so, his mouth watered at the sight of her folds; dark and glistening, maybe just with his pre-cum where he'd rubbed on her briefly, but he’d like to think some of it was her own excitement as well. 

As Rotface took his first languid lick, right through the middle of her lower lips and up to drag over her clit, it was confirmed. She wasn’t just glistening a bit, Six was wet. 

For me? Damn, maybe she really is telling the truth about her feelings… 

Grinning, and with a hint of an uncharacteristically smug expression upon his ruined face, Rotface set to work on her.

One hand laid over Six's lower stomach, and his thumb pressed to that sensitive button that made her shudder in slow, teasing circles as he delighted in the sweetness within her folds. He may have been shy about confessing his wants to her, his own feelings, but his tongue showed no such coyness as it explored her so thoroughly. 

Once that first taste hit his welcoming tastebuds, Rotface began lapping at her feverishly, like a starving wasteland dog, until he could hear her breathy moans escaping audibly from above. Chancing a glance, the ghoul hauled his eyes open to take in her expression, and felt himself give an involuntary buck of his hips against the rough-hewn sheet upon the mattress below him at the sight that welcomed him. 

I made her look like that.

He marveled silently, feasting with his eyes as much as he was with his wanton mouth as he poured his attentions out onto her. Six's brows were drawn together from his efforts, her lips half-parted, her lipstick smeared messily against one cheek, her hair like a woven crown, all in tangles around her head. No detail of hers failed to captivate him, even as Rotface continued his hungry mouthing, his thumb’s circling over her clit, growing firmer and faster, just as his hips moved more frantically over the mattress, grinding his cock into the sheets like he was already inside her. 

Six’s eyelashes fluttered, as she took in his humble visage in turn, and his heart soared to see the way she smiled. 

“Didn’t know you had this in you, R.” She spoke, breathless, her voice damn near rough as his own. 

He only growled in response, tearing his eyes from her face to look down upon his labors. Her clit was standing tall against his movement over it, and her lips were becoming darker, more swollen, more slippery. His tongue glided easily around her folds, navigating them as masterfully as he did the streets of Freeside, and pressed periodically up to that sensitive button, giving it teasing licks and kisses that left her writhing beneath the pressure of his arms. 

“Think I’m wet enough for you now, R.” 

Rotface felt a pat upon his head as her voice reached down to where he was buried between her legs, but he didn’t budge. A groan acted as his rebuttal as his attentions hastened. His actions were better than explanatory words anyway. 

“Fuck, okay.” Six giggled out, and her sheer arousal was plain in the way the words left her. A moan trailed shortly after, as Rotface set his rough lips against her clit, and sucked like honey would pour from the spot. And well, it really sort of would, wouldn’t it?

Though, there was one difference. 

Six was much sweeter. 

The ghoul’s eyes rolled back in his head, his grip on her thigh and stomach tightened, he felt his cock give a painful throb from where he was neglecting it, and his hips picked up their pace into the mattress. 

In that moment, he was completely surrounded by her. 

Her moans and breaths were all that entered his ears, her smooth skin all he felt, her musky, succulent juices all he could taste, the colors of her passion, all he could see behind his closed eyelids. In that moment, she was his whole world. 

And what a glorious world it is. 

Six was close now, so close he could feel the way her clit pulsed against his tongue. He smiled into her at the feeling, lowering one hand between her thighs as his lips stayed anchored to her sensitive, swollen nub. Rough, calloused fingers dragged through her plentiful wetness, before two of them tested her entrance, finding it pliant and wanting for him. For this. 

The digits plunged inside without any additional warning, instantly curling against her hot, tender walls and making her release a shout of pleasure that had his throbbing member ready to burst at the seams. 

A few well-placed rubs of his textured fingers against her clenching walls, and one last drag of his tongue over her swollen pleasure point, and Six was crying out her nickname for him into the still, stuffy air of the motel room. Rotface didn’t cease though, his fingers pulsed inside her gently, coaxing her orgasm to last as long as possible, helping her through it as he drank in her spilling essence with his whole mouth. 

Rotface found himself growing almost as loud as she was, with his sloppy groans and the great buildup of pressure in his aching, straining cock, until that too burst out without much warning. The ghoul spurted his seed into the sheets below, humping into the mattress needily as he continued to nurse on her clit, even as Six began to buck away from him in her oversensitivity. 

Finally, with a light push of her hand over his forehead, Rotface tore himself from her. His chin and hollow nose were dripping with her as he caught his breath, he could feel his thighs shaking from the force of his own release, which was still sending small aftershocks through his fatigued body as his cock leaked the last of what it had to offer onto the bed between Six’s legs. And Six... at that moment, she–

--

“R?” A loud snap sounded in his ears, and suddenly, tragically, Rotface was seated back on his curb, his mind swimming and his body aching as his thoughts raced circles around his mind. “Honey, are you okay? You were tryin’ to say something.”

“I– I was?”

“Yeah, you were gonna tell me what else we had in common? Besides fashion sense and this curb, and then you just… went all radio silence on me. You feelin’ alright?” 

Six’s hand pressed down to his forehead, and her touch sent a shock through him. 

Fuck… Another goddamn daydream. And… so real.

Stupid fucking drink. 

He glared at the bottle in Six’s hand as she sat down next to him. 

“You do feel a little warm. You wanna just take it easy tonight? I don’t have to take clients, maybe we could… I don’t know.” She laughed as she trailed off, and Rotface felt his heart renew its frantic pounding once again. 

With one sentence, one confession, one request, I could maybe, maybe, make that dream of mine a reality. 

Rotface took a breath as he felt her eyes on him, trying not to pay her gaze too much mind, as he began his confession. 

For real, this time. 

#fallout #fallout new vegas #fallout new vegas companions #fallout npc #fallout new vegas npcs #fallout nv #fonv #new vegas #rotface #rotface fonv #fallout rotface #courier six #rotface x six #dwd.nsfw #kinktober #kinktober 2023

[missellaneousworks]

Sunny Day Jack Reincarnation AU/Theory - Ella/Meli [Part 1]

I may be a little late on the Reincarnation Theory/AU train, but better late than never, am I right?

This is going to be a little bit different compared to most of my writings.  Half of it is going to simply be me explaining my headcannons for the back story, and then there will be some actual story and dialogue for scenes that popped into my head from a dream I had about this.  I apologize for the odd skips in the narrative or plot holes, as I'm mostly writing what I remember from a dream I had about this AU.  Bear with me and enjoy the ride!

CW: Mentions of unhealthy parental figures, troubingling childhoods, emotional abuse.

____

Melissa Murphy. 

"Meli" to her friends. Only her parents called her by her full name. She hated it.

Physically, she has the same face and body type as Ella, however, in adulthood, Meli dyes her hair dirty blonde and styles it differently from Ella.

Personality-wise, Melissa (aka) Meli is more outspoken than Ella but is just as sweet and creative. But is still a little shy. Surprisingly, she shows less hesitancy when standing up for herself.  Ella does have that same fire inside of her, but it’s deeply suppressed. 

Another main difference between the two are their parents.  Ella’s parents were very loving but imperfect.  Because Ella was their only child, they were a little protective of her, so they were strict during her childhood and early adolescence.  Melissa had several siblings that all moved out of the house before she could finish school, her parents were more… authoritarian, but we’ll get into that soon. 

Joseph and Melissa were schoolmates who eventually became friends.  Meli had both parents living in a dysfunctional home, with her often getting in the middle of their fights.  Her mom wanted her to go to college, as she had to drop out after she got pregnant with Melissa, and her father, who originally wanted a son, pushed Melissa with her studies and image in order to create the perfect child.  “Might as well look good so you can hook a rich boy once you get into college.”  Yeah, he kind of a pig.  Her mother would stand up for Melissa, but the older she got, the more she lost her fire to defend her daughter.  It wasn’t a very healthy environment.

Despite that, Melissa still had plenty of friends but tried to hide how dysfunctional her home life truly was, including her unhappiness.  It was easy to conceal since her parents were good at putting on “masks” to uphold their reputation within the community. 

Joseph came from a broken home, too, and had a reputation for getting into fights.  One day Melissa snuck out of school for a quick smoke behind the gym where Joseph was nursing a wound from a recent scuffle.  He’s suspicious when Melissa asks if he’s all right, and brushes her off at first, then asks for a smoke. Melissa gives him one, on the condition he doesn’t blab that she uses this location to sneak out of her third-period class sometimes.  He agrees and they more or less continue to smoke in silence.  Every once and a while, they’ll both appear at their hiding spot at the same time, and each time, Joseph will ask for a cigarette.  

Eventually… they start talking.  First, it was about music.  Melissa would sometimes bring her favorite cassette tapes for Joseph to borrow, and vice versa.  Eventually, they’d talk about school, mostly what they didn’t like about it.  But other stuff, too.  Things they liked.  Meli tells Joseph she wants to own her own five-star restaurant, he jokes he could taste test her food.  When she does make something yummy, she’ll save a little for Joseph to try. He gobbles it up every time. 

---

"Do you always cook, Melissa?"

"Meli," she corrected him, taking a brush from her bag and fixing her bangs. "I feel like my Dad'll materialize out of nowhere when I hear my full name."

"...right." He glanced back to the homemade chicken pot pie in the ceramic bowl. "Did you really sneak this into school?"

"Nnnnot exactly," Meli flipped her ponytail. "I'm on good terms with the home-ec teacher, Mrs. Billows. Used to stay behind glass to help clean up. Before she cooks something with her class, she shows them a sample. And when she's too lazy to cook it in advance, I make it for her in her classroom since it has a full kitchen."

Joseph wrinkled his nose at that. "And you get free food out of it?"

"If I happen to make a little too much," she winked with a knowing twinkle.

"Heh, I'm not complaining." Joseph shoveled another mouthful, trying to savor every bite, but it was hard on an empty stomach.

"Hey, slow down! You're going to give yourself a stomach ache!"

"Hrmph, yer naht dah bosth ov meh," replied with a full mouth.

"Gross! Swallow your food first, Joey!" Meli wrinkles her nose in mock disgust.

Joseph did so, but then paused a moment. "Joey?" He asked incredulous. "Do I look like a Joey to you?"

Tilting her head ro the side, she thought for a moment before nodding. "I think so, yeah. Joseph sounds a little too serious."

For a long moment, Joseph stared at Meli, as if trying to decide how to react. Looked away, his brows pinched together. "Just don't go spreading it around, sheesh..."

Satisfied, Meli smiled at the stubborn boy as he continued to eat. Joseph partially turned away to hide the blush that started to creep on his face.

---

As the two got closer, Meli formed secret a crush on Joseph. There was… more to him than just a scary troublemaker like she originally thought.  She liked it when he talked about music and wanting to become a musician.  The few times he actually laughed at her sarcastic quips, or when he got his guitar out to play on the few occasions they met outside of school.  Joseph was surprised that Melissa Murphy of all people had more spark in her than most others saw. It was a rebellious ember, just smoldering under the surface but you could feel the warmth of it if you stood close enough. It was… kinda cute. Meli was cute. And the two of them secretly pinned for one another.

Unfortunately, it was not meant to be this time. 

At some point, Joseph ran away from home.  The reason is currently unknown, whether it was one big factor or several events that corresponded in Joseph making the decision.  However, after he has a particularly bad fight on school grounds (again), Melissa tries to find Joseph since he’s been cagier than usual.  She has some idea that his home life wasn’t great, but, there were certain details she didn’t know about.  Meli tries and fails to get Joseph to open up to her, to make him understand that he’s her friend and she’ll help in any way she can, but… while the sentiment came from a very good place, it misses the mark ever so slightly.  Joseph retorts back at Meli, saying it’s not like she could understand, that just because they share smokes sometimes doesn’t mean they’re good friends.  That he didn't need her or anyone else and she should just get lost.

That was the last time Melissa saw Joseph Cullman.

The heartbreak doesn’t end for Melissa there.  When she got home, she was met with a scorned look from her father, and her mother wouldn’t even look her in the eyes.  The principal had called to tell them that Melissa’s grades were slipping in a few of her classes and that one of the faculty members had seen her smoking outside with another student.  Her father threw one horrendous accusation at her after another.  Her mother just… sat there, looking away.  In the past, her mom would to stay in Melissa’s corner, but now she was a shell of the woman she used to be.  No matter what Meli said or pleaded, her father wouldn’t have it. 

She is shipped off to a ‘prestigious all-girls boarding school’ that night. Not being able to say goodbye to any of her friends, including Joseph.

The next day, Joseph waited at their usual hang-out spot, he brought a mix tape he spent the night pouring over, trying to find all of Meli's favorite songs that he knew of. But Melissa wasn’t there.  He didn’t really talk with any of Melissa’s friends, but one of them did say that Melissa didn’t show up to school that day. He skipped the rest of the day altogether and went straight to her house, trying to climb up to her window, but… she was gone.  And there were no signs of life in her room at all. He heard shouting from a neighbor who caught him peeking in the window and he ran off.

He left town shortly after that, never getting to apologize to one of the few friends he had in that god forsaken town.

But they’d meet again years later when Joseph just got started in his new role as Sunny Day Jack. 

After receiving her high school diploma, Melissa decided to get into culinary school, much to her parents' continued disapproval, and promptly cut her off from any financial support, quoting that ‘if she wanted to make it, she’d have to pay her own way.’  Being isolated, she eventually met a young man who became her boyfriend.  He was a senior at the school who was going into restaurant management and tended to get his way with his charms and charisma.  And with how isolated and lonely Melissa had grown over the last couple of years, the two started dating just after a few weeks of knowing each other. 

Unfortunately, Melissa was forced to drop out of culinary school just after a year when her finances ran dry and the scholarship money just couldn’t cut it.  Around this time, her boyfriend made the surprising move and… proposed to her out of the blue.  It was a shock to Melissa because they hadn’t even vocally entertained the idea of marriage yet, but boyfriend’s pitch made it sound like it would solve most of their problems.  He’d get a good-paying job managing several restaurants, and help pay for Melissa to get back into culinary school so she could pursue her dream.  As surprising as it was, it sounded… perfect at the time. 

With seemingly no other options or support, Melissa accepted his proposal and moved in with her now fiance.  Finally, things would be okay in the end, she just had to keep working to save up money for the wedding and school, and her fiance would help with the rest!  Sadly, it slowly became evident that it was too good to be true.  

The first year was relatively blissful until tragedy befell them as her fiance  ‘lost his job’ managing his first restaurant due to ‘office politics bullshit.’  Melissa and her fiance traveled a few states, with his lackluster hold on keeping a stable job putting more strain on their relationship.  Eventually, they ended up in El Paso, and Melisa landed a job as a secretary assistant for the LambsWork Studios.  She worked closely with the director and producer on their newest children’s program: The Sunny Time Show.

___

A tentative knock at the door brought Jospeph out of his dozing.  Grumbling, he called out he’d be there in a second, scrubbing the sleep from his face as he opened the door to see a woman around his age, with wavey chestnut hair. Sleep still plagued him, but there was something about he curve of her face that seemed so familiar to him...

A pan of deja vu washed over him when he heard her voice. Even if it was just his name. An odd sense of nostalgia that tugged at the strings of his memories. 

“Joseph Haberdae?”

“Yeah?”  Confusion swept his face when he heard her voice. ‘It couldn’t be…’

“Hi!  The director said you needed a copy of the revised script?”  She shuffled the stack of papers in her arms before pulling out one that was bound by a massive paper clip.  “I’ve also highlighted the portions that were changed, you’ll find them in Scene 6 and Scene 11–”

“...Meli?”

“Huh?”  Her eyes flicked to his face as she handed him the script, and now the woman got a good look at the famous host of the Sunnytime Show. “Yeah, that’s what my friends call me.  Have we–?”

The words died on her lips as she came to face with the boy whom Meli had once known.  Except, he wasn’t a boy anymore.  His short hair was now full mullet that swept to the side and a piercing adorned his left brow, just above his beauty mark. No longer was he the tall, scrappy kid who picked fights, but a man who held a very imposing silhouette adorned with partially covered tattoos across his hard muscles. 

And yet, his eyes still remained the same.  That warm, yet cool brown that held back that fire in his soul. They saw right into her with shock and recognition. 

Her friend.  The one who used to bum smokes off of her. The one who had the most breathtaking smile when he finally allowed himself to laugh.  The boy who traded mixtapes of his favorite songs with her.  The boy who wore his heart on his sleeve, and all the anger and passion that came with it. 

Her old friend.

Her…

TO BE CONTINUED...

#Sunny Day Jack #something is wrong with sunny day jack #SDJ Joseph #SDJ Jacktor #SDJ OC #Sunny Day Jack OC #Sunny Day Jack AU #Sunny Day Jack Theory #missella's works #got tired so had to stop there but there IS more

[starter-library]

BLACK FRIDAY LYRIC STARTERS feel free to change phrasing/pronouns as you see fit

“Wiggle your way through life!”

“Anything that he wants he can have it”

“Even now, it's a dream the kind that makes you question reality”

“I couldn't hold him still to teach him guitar”

“All I need is a break from the madness”

“He still lights up a room it's just less frequently that you catch him in bloom”

“I hit replay on that night over and over again ‘till it gives up the fight but there's no end”

“All I know is you”

“I'm scared you blame me for your luck”

“I'd give up both my arms to get you on track”

“My mom’s a bitch”

“The past's a virus, babe”

“What the use of wages ff you can't afford a smoke?”

“We survived the crisis, babe”

“It's been real - real bad. I’d say you did your best but I'm not a liar”

“I'd give you an address but I don't want. To don't write, don't call, don't ask”

“I think they dated in high school”

“She's not as hot as she used to be”

“What do you say when you love each other”

“Oh, God, it's a trainwreck. My favorite!”

“We're slashing prices cause you've got vices”

“Did you know if you spend money your kids will love you, maybe”

“You could've shopped any day but you chose today”

“I'll gladly take your money now”

“Remember all your cheques are null and void”

“Your net worth is in my back pockets”

“Do we have any morality?”

“It's my little boyfriend”

“You never should settle for the lifetime that is handed to you”

“If you should find that you're about to get the short of the stick take what you want return what you get”

“No need to raise the stakes when you're on the wall”

“There are monsters that live in your head”

“It's the only chance we have”

“You'd better align your soul with what's good and right”

“Look me in the eye now, sir and make a solemn vow to become your best self now”

“I know it’s hard. The world is pain and distraction”

“It's only a matter of time 'til Christmas Break”

“We're here to make sure you don't screw up Christmas”

“You look just the same as I always remember”

“You and I were meant to be something more than a faded memory”

“Take me back in time to love you”

“You don’t look the same at all as I remember”

“Take me back in time to love you, hold me closer than before”

“It gets exhausting, everyone looking at me”

“You will adore me I just know. You'll kneel before me”

“I demand your love and worship too if I don't get it I will end you”

“You thought that you could outsmart the very thing that runs the blood of your kind?”

“Behold the depths of depravity and decay”

“I'm sorry, [name], I fucked it up!”

“Now the end is nigh, the apocalypse here”

“Is this what I lived for?”

“There's something that's beautiful being awake for my funeral”

“Is there some lesson to learn? Should I never have wanted?”

“Were the decks always just this stacked”

“I don't want your half-baked sympathy. When did it save those in need?”

“Only my ashes will see the sea”

“Did I need her more than she needed me?”

“There are monsters that we all should dread”

“Everyone's dying and that includes me too”

“If I fail you one more time the punishment won't match the crime”

“There' no pain that could ever explain how I let you down”

“I failed you once and I will fail again”

“Maybe he's happy I wouldn't have any idea”

“But deep down it didn't matter I was with him”

“You're not that cute, are you? In fact, you're real fuckin' ugly”

“That I'm the one who wronged what's right”

“Do you all see the memories?”

#roleplay prompts #roleplay meme #roleplay starters #roleplay starter #sentence starter meme #sentence meme #sentence starters #lyric starters #rp memes #rp starters #rp prompt #black friday #black friday musical #black friday starkid

[notmorbid]

we all want impossible things.

dialogue prompts from we all want impossible things: a novel by catherine newman.

you're so gorgeous, i could bite your face.

i have been madly in love with you for __ years.

i'm not ready for this, whatever this is.

you've done 'in sickness and in health' magnificently.

it's kind of my dream, getting you all to myself.

you have a voice like an angel.

don't slut shame me.

this was my home for so long.

turn off hgtv and go back to school.

i feel like i have no memory of you knocking, but here you are.

what does 'hanging out' mean, exactly?

do you have any actual human feelings?

texting one of your boyfriends?

how's your falling in love disorder going?

i can't believe i prayed for this.

i know teenagers are not always what they seem.

i have to express my love or i'll die.

if there's anything more depressing than a sun-dried nectarine, i couldn't tell you what it is.

i just craved the desire. the before part.

i want you to be crazy about me.

have some lox. it's the jewish superfood.

can you please not have an actual heart attack?

do you think when cats hear an owl, they think of themselves as predators or prey?

i can still feel all that rage sloshing around inside me.

did the word 'boo-boo' come from bubo? like, during the plague?

i can't figure out if i should be worried about you.

i feel like i've been poisoned by a fairy tale witch.

you're a sight for sore eyes.

i feel like you should either die and feel good, or feel shitty and be getting better. it's not fair to feel shitty and die.

are you going to end up writing about this?

i would give anything to keep you.

i have ever mixtape you ever made me.

i just want to say yes to everything.

okay, professor mcsmarty-pants.

it's a memoir called 'lies i can't quite remember'.

am i thinking of anne rice or ayn rand?

how in god's name could ernie and bert afford a brownstone in park slope?

diagnose me.

you're the nicest smoking-hot person i've ever met.

yes, i am judging you.

that's all i want. just to love and be loved.

i thought they had a butch doll, but i think it's just a boring actual boy.

where are you seeing so many dicks?

do you maybe want to watch less straight porn?

you probably make your own kombucha.

i think you're going to have to get over yourself a little bit.

you can just go ahead and feel all your feelings.

i think i'm fine. i'm at least mostly fine.

you are secretly a dick, and i'm the only person in the world who knows it.

do you want to come inside and make out with me?

i just want to camp out with you downstairs.

you'll go when you need to go.

try to be forgiving of yourself.

stay gold, ponyboy.

you're not as mysterious as you might imagine.

be with me. please.

because i'm in love with you.

i am not 'banging' your father.

#rp meme #rp memes #sentence starters #ask memes #inbox memes #ask meme

[alchemistdetective]

"Thank you all very much for coming! Hope to see you all next time!"

Makuhari International Exhibition Hall

Virtual idols. Also known as VTubers, for short. Five years ago, people would have laugh at the thought of these kind of people taking the stage, and such things were filled with skeptism.

Fuyuki Shirakami is one such idol.

A white-haired kitsune girl who's known for her acting and impersonation skills, and most of all, her skills in improvisation.

She is, as they say. An entertainer at heart.

But... what came popularity, naturally comes controversy and hate. As they say, when there's fire, there's smoke.

"Didn't you hear? Fuyuki may actually be a boy." "You sure? Doesn't that mean he's just catfishing people?" "Fuyuki's an idol, and she stated it clearly that she doesn't want romance involved!" "I have been her loyal supporter since her debut! If there's anyone who she has eyes on, it's me!"

... Such rumors are around the internet all the time. If someone fancies you as an idol, they will try to dig up as much information about you as possible, and addressing it would make the Internet even more curious about it.

And of course, a few people believe that Fuyuki is, in fact... she may be...

"... a high school boy. Eri Philomele, Age 18, seen leaving school early and sometimes going into COVER offices. But lately, he's not seen going there as much... But no one knows where he is..."

Reimu Hakurei. Or rather... Eri, disguised as her. That form is by far, Eri's go-to preference when it comes to shapeshifting in public.

"Now what did I say about doom-scrolling? Still, stalkers after school again, Fu-chan? I told you to be more careful and take a few detours instead of heading straight to HQ."

Right next to her was Ookami Mio, one of Fuyuki's best friends. Even off-stream, the both of them have been really good friends ever since.

"Ooh, Mio-chi... still in costume? Oooh, wait wait, are we doing costume roleplay this time? Here, I'll quickly shapeshift into you so you could see how you look like in a sexy outfit just like those fanarts of yo-"

BONK!

"Oww!"

"... If I didn't knew you weren't serious, I would have hit you MUCH harder."

Both of them chuckling for a bit. Ah, friends.

"Jokes aside... It's really lucky that this 'goddess' of yours came to you to grant that kind of shapeshifting power, Fu-chan... I don't know how else you'll stay in Hololive, much less continue pursuing your dream of being an idol otherwise. A few more months and your secret may be out."

"I know... I know you find it hard to believe me, but a goddess literally came and saved my entire idol career. If these people kept stalking me, I don't think I could keep working like this anymore."

"... And yes, before you say anything, I won't abuse my powers of impersonating people. I told you that if I did, said Goddess would strike me down on the spot if she found out. Not that I would... you remembered what happened to Aloe, right?"

Passing a canned soda from the vending machine, he proceeded to sit next to his friend, opening the can up.

"Although... Eri, even with that power, you can't keep doing this forever. None of us could. Someday, whether it's our identities being fully uncovered, or fans would inevitably turn on us... if that ever happens, what would we do then? Have you ever thought about that? Five years? Ten years?"

"..."

A deep breath as he looked at his drink, thinking of a response. But...

"I... wish I knew."

Until then, the only thing the both of them could do... is to do their best and make at least one person's day a bit better.

After all, that is what idols do.

#muse: eri #drabble #This is something which was stuck in my head for a while #Because all memes and jokes along with that playful exterior #Eri is in fact an overworked boy with too many things on his plate with a VERY uncertain future #Because after the VTuber idol thing #What then? #Flan is 100% worse but he has his own share of problems too #And I always felt like writing it out asjghlajsg #Speaking of Flan I need to do a drabble about her next about her thoughts LOL #SDM and stuff

[veryhardymemes]

Noah Kahan Sentence Starters Stick Season (We’ll Be Here Forever)

Content Warning For: Suicidal ideations/imagery, mentions of alcohol/drugs, depression/melancholia, mentions of COVID

Northern Attitude:

How you been? Settled down?

How’re your kids?

Where are you?

What does it mean?

Forgive my northern attitude

Stick Season:

I am stuck between my anger and the blame that I can't face

Memories are something even smoking weed does not replace

Doc told me to travel but there's COVID on the planes

I love Vermont, but it's the season of the sticks

I saw your mom, she forgot that I existed

I just like to play the victim

I thought that if I piled something good on all my bad that I could cancel out the darkness I inherited from dad

I’m no longer funny

My other half was you

I hope this pain’s just passing through 

I doubt it

All My Love:

How have things been?

Well, now that you mention it

I'm saying too much but you know how it gets out here

No winter coat could keep out all the cold of your atmosphere

You got all my love

If you need me dear, I'm the same as I was

You burrowed in under my skin

What I'd give to have you out from me

I just hope that your scars heal

I swear I was scared to death

She Calls Me Back:

Oh, there was heaven in your eyes

Everything’s alright when she calls me back

Look at me and don't you lie

For bullshit I do not have time

Does it bite at your edges?

Do you lie awake restless?

Why am I so obsessive?

This town's the same as you left it

The radio is taunting me

I don't get much sleep most nights

I'm seeing you in every dream

If only I could wake you up

If only I could fall asleep

I'll love you when the oceans dry

I'll love you when the rivers freeze

I was too afraid of living life in your footsteps

Come Over:

I’m in the business of losing your interest

Don't you know there's a coffin buried under the garden?

You won't have to guess who they're speaking about

I'm in the process of clearing out cobwebs

I was taking the wrong meds

It feels good to be sad

I know that it ain’t much

I know that it ain’t cool

You don’t have to tell the other kids at school

Someday I’m gonna be somebody people want

New Perspective:

Silence is making me nostalgic

We were kids but that don't make this less hard

If I could fly I doubt I'd even do it

You made Ohio feel just like Central Park

You and all of your new perspective now

Everywhere, Everything:

It's been a long year

Would we survive in a horror movie?

We trust everyone we meet

I wanna love you 'till we're food for the worms to eat

Keep my hand in yours

Orange Juice: 

Honey, come over

We know you got sober

There's orange juice in the kitchen

It’s yours if you want it

We're just glad you could visit

The last time I drank I was face down passed out there on your lawn

Are we all just crows to you now?

Are we all just pulling you down?

You didn't put those bones in the ground

Strawberry Wine:

Darling speak to me

Remember telling me that you thought you were cursed?

I'm in love with every song you've ever heard

If I could lose you I would

We buried your bones in plywood

I said love is fast asleep on a dirt road with your head on my shoulder

For you, darling, for you

No thing defines a man like love that makes him soft and sentimental like a stranger in the park

For a few moments, I see you

Growing Sideways:

So I took my medication

We argued about Jesus

I said I’m cured

I’m still angry at my parents

But it’s a start

I ignore things

At the end of the day I know there are worse ways to stay alive

I'm terrified that I might never have met me

I guess I’ll drive

So I forgot my medication

Now I’m suffering in style

Why is pain so damn impatient?

It's better to die numb than feel at all

Halloween:

I'm sailing away to a place I'm afraid of

I'm drinking my days with the coastal longshoreman

I drink 'till I drown and I smoke 'till I'm burning

I worry for you

You worry for me

I'm leaving this town and I'm changing my address

I know that you'll come if you want

There's a murder of crows in the low light off Boston

Homesick:

Two months since you got back

Are you bored yet?

The weather ain’t been bad

If you’re into masochistic bullshit

This place is such great motivation for anyone tryna move

Time moves so damn slow

I swear I feel my organs failing

I would leave if only I could find a reason

I'm mean because I grew up in New England

I got dreams but I can't make myself believe them

I’m homesick

Still:

I don’t want to say goodbye

You find love that lasts a while 'till you lose the reasons

You miss something that you can't place but you can't deny it

It's like I'm still here with you

It's a bottomless hole I've found out here with a trace of no one

The View Between Villages:

For a minute the world seems so simple

I’m seventeen again

I am not scared of death

I’ve got dreams again

Your Needs, My Needs:

Oh well, who was I?

Who was I to watch you wilt?

You ain't gotta tell me what it means

You'll always be a flower on my skin

I promise to be there this time

I'm naming the stars in the sky after you

Dial Drunk:

I'm remembering I promised to forget you now

I ain't proud of all the punches that I've thrown in the name of someone I no longer know

I don't like that when they threw me in the car

I gave your name as my emergency phone call

Even the cops thought you were wrong for hanging up

I’d die for you

The dial tone is all I have

I beg you, sir, just let me call

Let's wait I swear she'll call me back

Son, are you a danger to yourself?

Son, why do you do this to yourself?

Paul Revere:

This place had a heartbeat in its day

The boys are drunk

But it just ain't that simple, it never was

One day I'm gonna cut it clear

I’m not from around here

I'll leave before the road crew's out

Folks just disappear

If I could leave, I would've already left

No Complaints:

Thought I had something

That's the same as having something

I'd get mad at nothing

Blame my dad for something

I'd pull no punches

Thought I was raised better

Hope the skin heals where the pain enters

I set a time, then I showed up

Now the weight of the world ain't so bad

I filled the hole in my head with prescription medication

Who am I to complain?

And now the pain's different

I can finally eat and I can fall asleep

Call Your Mom:

Oh, you’re spiraling again

Don't let this darkness fool you

All lights turned off can be turned on

I’ll drive all night

I’ll call your mom

If you could see yourself like this, you'd have never tried it

Oh dear, don't be discouraged

I've been exactly where you are

Throw a punch, fall in love, give yourself a reason

Don't wanna drive another mile wondering if you're breathing

Won’t you stay with me?

You’re Gonna Go Far:

This is normal conversation, babe, it's all fine

The college kids are getting so young, ain't they?

I got tired of the frat boys with the brights on

"This is good land" or at least it was

Say whatever you feel, be wherever you are

We're overdue for a revival

We spent so long just getting by

You told me you would make a difference

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